You Learn Something New Every Day.

Since we unearthed the Raffi records, I decided to google him. I'd always been a little curious about what that slight accent of his was, and how old he is. I learned that he's from Egypt and he's 59. But the most surprising thing I learned was, get ready for it, he produced an album for adults! Apparently it was made in 1977 and it's called Love Light.

Now, just try and imagine Raffi singing to adults. I guess it's possible, and only seems impossible because he's more known as a kids' singer. I wonder if he sounds just as much like he's going to cry on that album. Has anyone heard it? I wonder what it sounds like!

Wow! 2006 is over!

It's weird to be writing a blog post today. Why? Because for the last five Newyear's Eves, we've had a party going on, so writing a blog post, if the blog had existed that whole time, wouldn't be happening. But this year we decided not to have a party, so here I am.

The holidays were a zoo. In a way, they were quieter because we didn't end up taking the six-hour car trek to see Grandma for Christmas and just enjoyed a chilled out Christmas at home. But in a way, they were more of a zoo because people suddenly expected us to be more available because we weren't taking that trek and thought we'd just be around whenever *they* had a free moment. Isn't it always the way that the time someone decides to squeeze you in happens to fall right during that window of time when you're actually busy doing something else? Is it a law of nature that you always disappoint someone at Christmas, no matter how you try and fit everyone in? We were trying to see my grandma on my dad's side of the family, hopefully for a meal, my aunt, my cousin and her twins, then we thought we'd at least pop in to visit my other grandma, the one that usually has a big dinner, and maybe see some relatives from around there. Plus, I wanted to zoom over and be with some of Steve's family and such.

Well, we saw my grandma on dad's side, but not for a meal. We saw my aunt and my cousin with the twins, but only when she was getting ready to head away, and in a panic. And I didn't get to see any relatives from mom's side. Mom did, so I guess that's the point. But I did get to see Steve's crew, so that was cool. Ug holidays are great, it just sucks when your relatives are spread everywhere.

I learned something when I went over to Steve's place. Brad got the coolest little tape/CD/record player thingy with a radio on it for Christmas, which made us dig out the 45's and other old treasures and see if they still work. They seem to, with a few skips and such, but for the most part, they're good. One of the records was an old Raffi album. It's really neat to hear that stuff on a record again. Then you really feel like a kid again. We were laughing because one of the songs says "peanut butter sandwich, made with jam, One for me, and one for David Amram." We wondered who in hell David Amram was, and kept joking about that song. When I came back here, because I'm a big geek, I googled him, and he's a real person! I guess he's been composing and conducting music since the 50's, and he's still alive. Shows what I know.

Christmas was good, I got some new clothes, which always rocks...except when they don't fit, and you find out that there's no way in hell you're getting the cash back for them unless you're holding the debit or visa card with which it was bought, which you won't be since it was a, um, gift, , you must exchange them for something else, you have trouble finding something you like, and the store chain is only in Toronto and Montreal, which are certainly not easy to get to from Guelph if you don't have a car! Then you want to scream!
At first, I was so mad at the store chains, making it impossible to return Christmas gifts, what a prickish thing to do? Then I realized it's because of asshole scammers that they make it so hard. God I hate spammers and scammers. So here's a tip for everyone. If you're going to buy clothes for someone for Christmas, look at their iron-clad return policies. If it would make it easier for the person to return the stuff if they have to, buy the clothes with cash! Then at least they can squeeze the money out of the store and the store can't pull that trick of saying "not unless you can show me the card with which it was bought."

I swear, each year becomes more and more of a whirlwind as they go. I don't know what monster ate 2006. It doesn't seem that long ago that it was just starting, I was still living in that little apartment next to Stupidhead, we just started looking for the place we're in now, my resume needed a serious style upgrade, and I had no earthly idea when I was getting another guide dog. I wonder what this year will hold. I guess only time will tell, har har. Happy Newyear everyone!

Help Me Out Here

Right now I'm listening to "Paralyzer", the new Finger Eleven song, and I'm curious about something. In the opinion of anybody who's had a chance to hear it, is it a bigger rip-off of "Trampled Underfoot" by Led Zeppelin or "Take Me Out" by Franz Ferdinand? I can't decide.

What? I Need an Escape Route?

Before I write a big post about the holidays, I just had to write this down because, well, it belongs here.

Attention all dumbasses! When you decide it's time to carjack someone, you might want to know where you're going if you manage to steal their car. Otherwise, you might end up having to admit defeat by calling 911 and telling them you're lost. That's exactly what Claude King of Boca Raton, Florida, did.

After smashing through the driver's window of an SUV that I guess he just had to have, and forcing the driver and all four of her passengers out by punching them, he then realized he had no idea where he was going. He turned south on the highway, hit a car, then turned north and hit another car.

When he got to Palm Springs, I guess he decided he was hopelessly lost. So he drove to a payphone, called 911, and said he'd like to turn himself in, if he only knew where he was. So they came and got him.

Ok, this story is just weird in so many ways. First of all, why would this guy choose a car with five people in it? His chances of succeeding are pretty low, and they can likely all identify him.

Second, why didn't he, um, know where he was going?

And how in hell did he manage to drive around for so long in a car with a smashed driver's window in it? They said he drove around all bewildered for about an hour. What the hell?

What else can I say, except, wow that's weird.

Culture Shock

I'm still laughing about this, so it had to go up. I just listened to Weird Al's CD "Straight Outta Lynwood" the other day. There was a song called Weasel-Stomping Day on it. I think he was making fun of all the crazy holidays that are created, or maybe the way people forget what Christmas is for, I'm not sure. But the title cracked me up, so I decided to use it as an MSN name.

Today, I get an MSN message from that dude from Pakistan I was talking about. All it says is, "really?" He actually thought there was a Weasel-Stomping Day in Canada. After I stopped convulsing with laughter, I told him no, it's a song lyric. If I'd been smart, and able to pull this off, I would have said yes. But then again, I would have scarred the poor man forever, and that wouldn't have been good, even though it would have been hillarious!

Grief is Not a Joke!

Well it looks like I have a little more time than I thought. So here's another post. Gotta get them written down before I go to the hell computer.

Somebody made me a wee bit upset yesterday, and it's still bugging me today.

I ran into an old friend I haven't seen in years, and his girlfriend. She was walking with me, and said, "Didn't you used to have a dog?
I said yes, and went through the speal. Mid-speal, I told her how hard it was to lose Babs, and said that there was a fair bit of greif and heartbreak there. And she started laughing!

Um, when someone says they grieved the loss of something, that is not the time to assume they are a barrel of laughs. That hurt. I told her I was serious, and then I think she felt a little bad, but it never really seemed to sink in for her.

I just had to write that down because it mildly pissed me off.

Happy Holidays Everybody!

You know the drill. It's that time of year again. I'm off to the primitive land of dialup and a computer that's probably choking on spyware and who knows what else. So it'll probably be a while before I can post again, which sucks, becauseI have lots of ideas. Maybe I'll be able to slip one in. Who knows? It's the magical mystery of Christmas chaos, and this one will be even weirder, since Grandma decided, "Screw it, I'm not having Christmas." So we're going to have to zoom around and catch up with everyone. So, until we meet again, have an awesome holiday, eat lots of turkey and dessert, have lots of fun, and be safe!

Tell me why?

Tell me the earthly reason why we must have stockings for pets. They're not going to open them. Christmas doesn't exist in arf arf world or meow meow land. So why pay extra for a bunch of little toys? Why not buy them a bone and some treats or a ball of string and be done with it?

It's the same thought I had when I walked through a pet store, and something on the shelf beside me yelled, "Na na na na na, na!" I said, "What's that?" and the clerk said, "Oh, a cat toy!" Cat toys are built with things to make them talk now? Why why why?! I love pets, but this is nuts. Maybe the guy who invented the pet-petter wasn't so completely insane.

Why Do I Care About This?

So some Miss USA goes to New York and drinks some booze and snorts a little cocaine and gets caught. Woopdy frickin doo! Tell me why this is even on the news now.

But the part that pisses me off is what the snivelling model says in her speech when Donald Trump gives her a second chance by sending her to alcohol rehab. "Hey, I don't need it, but it's free rehab! Why not take it?"

Let that process for a while.

Done yet? If someone walked up to me and offered me free rehab, I'd say, "Thanks, but I don't need it. Why would I take something I don't need and prevent someone who does need it from getting it?" That's completely and utterly ridiculous. I hope she's stupid enough to say that to the rehab people so they kick her out. What an idiot. Arg. I don't think I can say anymore, except, what a selfish idiot. And, Donald Trump sounds completely scummy.

I'm Still Scratching My Head!

And shaking it. Am I awake? I am.

I was watching the news, and the music start sup, and the lady comes on and says, "Tonight, we'll tell you why scratch tickets aren't the greatest stocking stuffer idea..." I'm like what the hell? What could possibly be wrong with a goddamn scratch ticket? Don't take away another shred of harmless fun.

And the ridiculous story starts. "If you buy a child a scratch ticket, you could be gambling with their future." Their demented stupid theory is that the kid will see a scratch ticket like some kind of paper slot machine, and want to buy more and more. Ok, first of all, if the kid is that easy to get hooked on something, s/he must be really young. If s/he is young, the kid isn't buying the scratch tickets! You have to be 18 to play, and any store clerk with sense isn't going to sell to 10-year-old little Jimmy.

Second, if the kid is young, s/he probably doesn't have his/her own money. So mom and dad are buying the scratch tickets, and if the kid asks for too many, well guess who's going into scratch ticket withdrawal? It's as simple as that.

If the kid is old enough to pass for 18 and sees scratch tickets like slot machines, the kid probably has bigger issues, and scratch tickets won't be starting him/her down the path to addictions. There are things like booze and drugs that'll do that just fine.

Then they went on this bit about "it's illegal for kids to claim their winnings." Well duh, that's why mom and dad will get the money and give it to the kid! My god! We are getting dumber by the minute. We'll be zombies before my time's up in this world!

The worst was the two news anchors actually took this story seriously and did a little sad banter back and forth about it! Come on! That's one of those stories where you have to take the let's move on approach, not actually stop and think about it.

Ug the news. It's going to make me go mad. No, it's this complete lack of common sense that's going to make me go mad, but the fact that it's made it to the news just shows how serious it is.

Badda, Ba, Ba, ba, I'm a Cheap Prick.

Oh boy. We now have the most corny and cheap gift possible. Mcdonalds gift cards! I saw an ad for them yesterday, and just about died. The chirpy chipper girl on the ad said, "Why not buy them something you know they already love?" Ok, I'm all about the gift cards. They make things easier for sure. But a gift card from Mcdonalds? I'm all about the thought being what counts, and Christmas not being about how much a gift is, but I think only kids under 12 should be allowed to buy those. If anyone older than that buys someone one of those, it just smacks of a line from the song "Didn't I Get this Last Year?" from Bob Rivers where he says, "Surprise...surprise, a coupon for some fries, that was really very thoughtful you guys!" Like come on, I think I can come up with a better Christmas gift than, "Here, go buy a cheeseburger."

Update on the TD Bank Machines

I'm awake, and trying to burn out so I can go back to sleep. So here I am.

Last week, I talked about the new talking feature on the TD bank machines. Well, my number of beefs with them has gone down from 3 to 1. I figured out how to adjust the volume, and you don't have to enter the decimal point. My only beef now is it doesn't seem to speak the select a language prompt. But that's the only prompt it doesn't speak. So maybe when I send a thank you letter to whoever's responsible for these machines, I can recommend some braille be fastened to each machine that says which button to push for each language, if they don't want to tweak the speaking features. I found more cool features, though, so I have more things to rave about than rage about. The machine will even give you an audio orientation to the machine, tell you where your card goes, your money comes out, and where the receipt is printed. It even says please remove your cash when it comes out. You can change where the navigational keys are positioned. They've pretty much thought of everything, so I'm damn happy. After all my, and likely some other blinks' pissing and moaning to tellers, TD now has a machine that's pretty damn close to perfect!

People Are Strange...When You're a Stranger.

I dunno, I just thought that title seemed appropriate.

What is with this tendency for blinks on email lists to randomly add people they don't really know at all to their msn messenger lists? Are they that loneley that they want to get to know new people, and this is the only way they know how?

I'm a little freaked this morning. Wanna know why? I'm on an email list with my email account that is not my messenger address. Still, one of the list members found my messenger address, I don't know how, and added it to his list. Um, why? I don't know him from a hole in the ground.

There's a reason I join email lists with an account that isn't my messenger address. At one time, that was the account I used for lists. Sometimes, several people who I don't know at all, aside from answering some question about screen-readers or Microsoft Word, would all add me. Some of them would repeatedly demand voice chats. Some of them had nothing to say, but had to say it often. Some of them just turned into weirdos and pervs. All of them got hoofed!

I'm no longer as freaked as I was. I figured out that he's one of the guys who added me when I was using my msn address on that old list, and I guess he's changed accounts. But he's one of the ones that had nothing to say and said it often. So at least he wasn't a creep. But I still never understood why he added me in the first place!

Man people are weird.

I don't know Why I'm Telling This Story, but...

It feels like it has to be told, because every time I tell this story to someone, they laugh their ass off. So, since I've been writing all day, I figure what the hell.

In another post, I mentioned some of the weirdos I went to school with. Well one of them gets a starring role in this story.

It's not really fair to call this guy a weirdo, since what made him weird wasn't something he could help. He was deafblind, and something a lot of deafblind people do is make noises all the time. I guess it must feel good, and if you don't realize that no one else is making those noises, why would you stop? Every deafblind person who makes those noises seems to find his or her own unique type of noise. Our starring actor's sort of sounded like, "o-aa, o-aa, o-aa, o-aa-o-aa-o-aa, o-aa, o-aa." If I could leave a clip of me making the noise, I would, people tell me that I do a good impression of this guy.

Anyway, one morning, I was sitting in French class. We had a small French class of five, and once a week, one of the students would go into the back room with the teacher and have to talk to him for a few minutes. This was one of those mornings. There were 3 guys, two of whom were twins, and two girls in the French class, the other girl went in the back, so it was the guys and me out there.

As we sat working on various assignments, we heard our deafblind buddy going by. We didn't think much of it, because they always pass through on their way to somewhere. But this one seemed to be alone, and was taking his sweet time about it. His noise changed from "o-aa, o-aa o-aa o-aa o-aa, o-aa, o-aa," to something that sounded like an evil genius laugh, and we all sort of giggled. One of the dudes started imitating him, and did a damn good job! This kept me and one of the guys laughing, while the guy doing the imitating got scolded by his brother and told to stop it. He didn't, which was fine by us, because it was damn funny.

After each utterance our deafblind friend made, the dude in the class would match it. Then, oh then! Something changed. I thought maybe he'd gotten up and moved around the classroom, because now there was an "o-aa, o-aa, o-aa o-aa, o-aa" right behind my head! Then the creator of that noise shook his head violently from side to side. I said, "Um, dude? That was too real." That's when I heard my classmate across the room, and realized the one shaking his head behind me was the real thing!
Then we all froze, not really because we were afraid, but because we were kind of in shock. Had we called him? Could he hear us or hear that and follow the sound? Where was the staff that was usually with him?

Then, our teacher came out of the back room. He seemed just as confused as we were. Not really knowing what to do, he just sort of gave our noisy visitor a little shove out towards the hall and said, "There ya go." I remember the guy closest to me saying, "And that's going to do what?"

Luckily, a staff that knew him showed up and said to him, "How did you end up here? You're on the wrong floor!" and promptly whistled him back to where he was supposed to be. I wonder how long he'd been missing?

The weirdest part of this whole thing, if it could get any weirder, was what happened after. Without speaking a word to each other, the guy sitting closest to me, the guy who had been imitating him, and I, started having a competition of who could imitate which deafblind. One of us would go, "aaaaa!", someone else would go, "pffft pfft pfffttt clap slap clap slap," and someone else went, "wee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eegguuuuuoouuuu!" And we'd all laugh. What the hell? What made us understand that we all wanted to play a game of name that deafblind dude? And what had the school done to us?

I hope that the story didn't lose something in the writing. Maybe I can come up with more later. I think people will really think I'm weird now.

This is Scary.

I read about this story, and it freaked me out, and continues to freak me out. This woman went in for a colonoscopy. She was put in a twilight state, that is she was partially sedated. She woke up with semen on her face. The doctor, Aniruddha Chitale, was found guilty. His sentence is disgustingly light, considering he did this to four different women, 180 days in jail and 10 years' probation? Give me a fucking break.

Anyway, this whole thing freaks me out for a lot of reasons. First, there was a nurse present while this was going on. Why couldn't she have done something to stop it? I don't expect her to become wonderwoman and beat this guy down, but I'm sure she could get security or call for some more help. That's, among other things, her job. That's the reason they have extra people in the room. To make sure the patient is ok from medical complications, and for extra security for the patient. He did this to four different women. Were these four different nurses? Or does he have a buddy who just happens to turn a blind eye at the right time? I can't find out that little detail.

Second, I had to have a colonoscopy, and believe me, you don't remember anything from the time they start sedating you until...well...way afterwards. Here we go into long story ville. A couple of years ago, I was really really really sick, and nobody could figure out why. Since part of the being sick involved a lot of nausea and diarrhea, they decided to test me for everything. In that battery of tests was a scope into my stomach and my colon. Well, they told me they're definitely doing the stomach, and they may do the other. Isn't that fun? You don't even know what's going to happen.

I'd say the worst part was the stuff they make you drink the night before to clean you out. They call it "go lightly". I want the inventor of Go Lightly to have a good chug-a-lug of his creation and tell me if that is an apt name. I'll tell you it's not. Ug. When they deliver you a 4-litre jug of this stuff and say "drink it all by midnight," it tastes absolutely horrid, and you're fighting over the bathroom you share with 2 other women because they have to go just as bad for different reasons, you're going. Oh you're going. But I would never call it lightly. I still remember the nurse saying, "Do you want a commode? You're going to have to go fast and furious." That's one thing that'll make me cry.

Then the time came for the big test. I was scared shitless, and afraid to do anything. I wanted to have a shower, but I didn't quite know when they were coming for me, so was afraid to go ahead and do it. Plus I didn't really know where the shower was. I knew where the john was, but had no idea about the shower. Then I didn't know what they'd let me wear for this test. I had a pretty good idea they were doing both tests when they told me all I could wear was the gown. I had to take off everything metal. And then they wheeled me in. That was creepy. I was perfectly able to walk, but I had to be wheeled on a weird bed thing. The guy in the elevator really freaked me out. He said to me, "I've met you before." I said "oh?" He said, "Yeah, last week, when you were in the ER...you had had your fill of emerge." I just stared at him, dumbfounded. I couldn't remember what I could have possibly said. I'm sure I would have been angry about the whole process of what happened the two times I went to the ER because of this crazy illness, I waited a few hours and was told to go home. But did I say it to this complete stranger? Hopefully not! Maybe I was on the cell phone home, saying I was coming home and nothing happened. Anyway, enough babble.

So I get there, and they're hooking me up to all these machines, and sticking something weird on my nose for oxygen. I'm glad they were all women, because before I knew it, woosh, they were opening my gown and sticking things to my boobs, I guess to monitor my heart. To relax myself, I started playing games with my breathing to make the beeps change. I'm weird. Then they were trying to find a vein. They couldn't find one, story of my life. I was starting to freak, starting to think I was going to have to do this without any drugs. Then an anesthesiologist came to help. He eventually got it in with a kids' needle or something. As the sedative hit, I looked up at him, grinned, and said, "You rock!" There was a pause, and a British voice said, "Thank you!" I was told that he was beaming, and is very seldom told that he rocks. Then something was sprayed down my throat to numb it. I was told it will taste terrible. I think I said to her, "That's terrible? Try Go Lightly!"

...and...there is a large chunk of time that is absent. Actually, it's more like a camera flashes and someone tells me it's hours later. But there is no lag. There is no sense that I have slept for a while. Even when I was in a car accident that gave me a concussion, I had the sense that time was passing. I just don't have any recollection of a few days except for confused snatches of sounds and smells. But anyway. I was told before the test that I would be kept partially awake through this whole thing so they could ask me questions about pain and so on. I never expected complete amnesia of the time period. I thought I'd just feel stoned or something. Apparently, it's written on my report that I was very talkative. Um what did they give me? Sedative, or truth serum? What exactly did I say to them? Was I a whiny baby? I'll never know.

The next time I knew what time it was, it was about 2 in the afternoon and I had a slightly sore throat, a hoarse voice, and a need to repeat all my thoughts to the nurses and poor Steve, who got a very annoying phone call home. . Apparently, I told him in about six different ways that I was fine, the scope went ok, I don't remember a thing, they made me take my favourite necklace off, I told the anesthesiologist he rocked after he was able to find a vein, I think mom and dad are coming home, or did they come home. But these thoughts all just kept coming in random order and it didn't matter how many times he told me I'd said that before, I'd say it again! I remember asking the nurses, "Is it over? What time is it? Where's mom? They're going home...but how will they get in? They have my keys? What time is it? Is it over? Where's mom and dad? what time is it? ..." you get the idea. Then, mom and dad came back with my mail and my medicine, and this is where memory just becomes foggy. I remember trying to read a braille wedding invitation. I was reading the braille sideways. it made no sense, but I kept on reading it. I'd miss whole lines and just let my hand land on some braille and try and read it. I'm sure that was pretty funny to watch, because they knew what it said! They had the print, and what I was reading, well, wow it didn't make sense.

But the point of this whole rambling mess is the period from the time they sprayed my throat to several hours later when I started repeating myself is non-existent for me. If someone told me what happened during that time, I would have to believe them because it's gone for me. As much as I'm grateful for the lack of memory I have of the scope, as I'm sure it wasn't pleasant, it was still a freaky experience to have a drug have the power to make me forget what happened to me for a time. Now I read the story of a sexual assault, and the freakiness of the whole thing amplifies to horror. A doctor could so easily get away with this. The patient wouldn't remember, and if she didn't wake up with semen on her face and get it swabbed, she wouldn't have had a hope of proving it! I'd seen things like that happening to people on shows like Law and Order, but at the time I went in, I wasn't worried, because there were a couple nurses in there, so I was sure no funny business was going to happen. But now that it has, all I can think is, what a thought! And, that could have been me! I'm so glad it wasn't! But it could have easily been me.

Smart Dog? Dumb Master? Dumb Dog and Master?

A Doberman Pinscher named Victoria figured out that she could turn on a stove, and after one showing of this new trick causing a minor fire, her master didn't fix it so Victoria couldn't get to repeat it. Victoria repeated it while her master was gone. Now her apartment is gutted.

Here's a tip for ya. If you know woofy can turn on the stove, when you leave home, make sure woofy can't get to the stove to turn it on! It's as simple as that. I can't figure out who's dumber here. Is it Victoria for causing a fire once and not figuring out, "oo maybe I shouldn't do that again." or is it her owner, Caroline Wheeler, who was home for the first incident, so knew the dog did it, probably had to pay for the cleanup of the first fire damage, and never made sure that when she was gone, her dog was unable to get near the stove. I think Victoria was smarter, because I can't expect her to make the connection between her flicking a switch and the fire because it probably took a while for the fire to happen. But she figured out how to turn on the stove! That's pretty impressive. She survived the ordeal, and it seems her master has finally thought to prevent it. Now hopefully she doesn't figure out how to turn on the iron!

Tis the Season to...huh?

Am I going deaf, or does anyone else, while not really paying attention to the TV hear, clear as a bell, "Tis the season to wallow?" Then you realise it's "Tis the season to wow them," because a commercial for Best Buy starts. But every single time I hear that commercial, I think it's saying wallow! All I can think is "Now that doesn't sound very festive."

Decisions, Decisions!

Which is more disturbing? Someone who cannot possibly see that they are inconsiderate, selfish, obnoxious and demanding, or someone who suddenly asks you if they are selfish, inconsiderate, obnoxious or demanding, and you say, well, sometimes a little, but it's no big deal, and then they try to force their personality to fit into what you may want like some kind of shapeshifter?

I had an, well, acquaintance, who has already tried to make himself a boyfriend, even though he will never admit it, acted like a semi-stalker, and then wonders why I won't tell him my deepest, darkest secrets. The other day, he said he was having some trouble connecting with people and wondered if he was doing something wrong. He said to me, "I always feel like I'm unloading on you. Am I?"

I thought. and thought. and thought. I'm a terrible liar, and I like to be honest with people wherever I can. I admit sometimes I stay silent, not saying what I think, but if someone asks me a question point blank, well...I have a hard time squirming away from the truth. I thought some more. Sometimes it does feel like he's unloading on me and not leaving me any time to talk. He'll message me late at night and scream that he has a computer question and he needs help right now. Sometimes he'll call and talk for long times and talk about nothing, or ask vague questions where you know there's more to it.

But then again, he's not exactly someone I feel comfortable unloading on. You know how you have certain friends who just make you laugh, but you wouldn't tell them anything serious? Maybe you have some friends who you can always lean on, and they lean on you too, and then there are the friends who seem to lean on you more than you lean on them, and part of the reason is you're pretty sure they can't handle it, or would say something that would hurt. He's one of the third type, and I keep him at an extra distance because of the creepy factor that he's shown me before.

But he does ask me how I am, which is more than I can say for some of my friends who just talk and talk and talk and they might as well be talking to a machine.

So I thought some more. I decided to tell him, "Well, sometimes, when you call late at night and need computer help right now, without asking if I can do it, it feels like you're demanding. But part of it is me just giving in and helping you without standing up for myself. Sometimes, you just call and rant and you don't even ask if I have time or whatever. But at least sometimes, you ask how I am, which is good. So don't really worry about it. It just might be nice to be asked at 10 at night if I'm up for helping with the computer before dumping the problem on me. Other than that, no biggy, don't worry."


Next, I get this creepy email that says something like, "Do you want me to change, or just stay the same?" Um, what do you want to do? It's not about what I want, it's what you want. I don't want to order you to change your personality, and I don't want you to put on an act for me. I told him to just be himself, I didn't want any kind of forced change. I said if change was going to happen, it was going to be an evolution.

Then I get this call. It was so fake. It was like he was holding himself back, thinking about every single sentence as if it was a move in chess. It was mercifully short, interrupted by a call waiting beep, but even as short as it was, It was creepy. It was, just, ug. And part of me wonders if it was ug on its own merits, or if it was ug because of who he is, who he has been.

What is it with people who think a friendship is like a scientific or mathematical formula, and if they just add x and subtract y, it will all work out? It makes me sad, because they must have 0 ability to read social queues, so of course they must be confused. But how does someone learn something like that? How does a person grow a gut instinct? Are they doomed to wander around lost, unable to really take direction and apply it without it looking fake? And then I wonder if I've created a monster by being honest, when I probably should have known that he couldn't possibly take what I said the way it was intended and said "oh no, not at all. Don't worry."

ThenI wonder if I'm doing what I always couldn't stand about dad. No matter what you did, it was wrong. If you were silent when he was yelling at you, you were just being stubborn. But if you said something back, you were being argumentative and lippy. If you helped out, but not precisely the way he wanted you to, you weren't doing it right. But if you tried to stay out of the way, you were being lazy. If you played outside on a Saturday, you weren't doing enough schoolwork. But if you did homework for too long, you weren't getting enough fresh air! Arg! So here I go. I can't count the number of times I've said, "I wish the people who are so inconsiderate would realize how they're driving their friends away and stop to think of others for a second!" Now this person has, and I just want him to go back to being himself, because this new way of acting just seems forced, and fake, and...well...manipulative! I wonder what he's up to! I can't trust that this is genuine! So what do I really want?

Then I think, maybe he's trying, in his own misguided way, to be a better friend, but he's clueless about how to do it, so I shouldn't be so hard on him.

Finally I wonder if I'm making this way too complicated and I should just follow my gut. So am I nuts? Is one worse than the other? Or maybe the key is to meet in the middle somewhere.

A Funky Christmas Quiz

I saw this on another blog, and then Jen emailed it to me, so I think something's telling me I'm meant to fill it out. So off we go into the land of Christmas.

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Oh, it's gotta be hot chocolate, baby! Especially if it's damn cold and you just froze your ass off in the snow.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
Hmm. Whose Santa? When I was a kid, Santa wrapped presents. But now they're usually in gift bags since Santa sucks heartily at wrapping gifts.

3. Coloured lights on tree/house or white?
I don't care. I think mom's tree has white lights. I don't think she likes the coloured lights. I don't have a tree, since well, where would you put a big tree in an apartment?

4. Do you hang mistletoe?
I would if I had any. I just never ended up getting it. Mom hung it once, and dad used to make a big joke about the mistletoe. That was fun.

5. When do you put up your decorations?
I suck. I don't have a lot of decorations, for the same reason I don't have a tree. No room to store them all year. I sometimes feel like a grinch because all we have is a Homer Simpson's Santa Claus and an itty bitty Christmas tree.

6. What is your favourite Holiday (Christmas or Thanksgiving) meal include?
It's gotta have turkey, and stuffing, and mashed potatos! Mmm. *drool drool*.

7. Favourite Holiday memory as a child?
Hmmm. I think it has to be the Lion's Club parties that happened every year. My dad was a lion, and I was always so mystified by the Lions' club Santa Claus. He was so smart! Every other Santa gave me activity books and little generic bags of candy, which were cool, well the activity books weren't much fun, but it was the thought that counted, right? But this Santa always got me a toy that I always wanted! I would get so excited over dinner while they built the suspense for Santa's arrival, talking about where he was flying over, how long it would be...and then singing "Here Comes Santa Claus" when he arrived. Oh how come it took me until 11 years of age to figure out that each kid's parents bought the gift that Santa gave them? That's why they were so good! Even when I knew Santa didn't exist, I just figured there was a committee that decided who was getting what. But the whole night was so much fun, and then the cool gift to top it all off made it perfect.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
*bristle bristle* Why did you have to ask that question? Ug here we go, story time. I had a teacher who was assigned to me to teach me braille and help me understand complex visual concepts. She spent a lot of time with me, so I guess she felt like she was my second mom, and should take over some of those maternal duties. So one day, when I was around 8, I guess she got sick of hearing, "Santa this, santa that." So she told me, "Look, Santa doesn't exist." Ker Smash! There it goes! Just like that! I stil wonder how long it would have taken me to figure it out, but I don't think it would have been much longer. I mean, I was already accidentally identifying some of the Santa Claus's at Christmas parties, I still remember saying to one of them. "Gee, Santa, you sounda lot like Kirk Anderson!" Oh that got a big ho! ho! ho! Because, surprise, he *was* Kirk Anderson. Woops! Mom was pissed, oh mom was pissed about that little bubble-bursting. Anyway, enough pissing and moaning.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Well, because we zoom six hours down to Grandma's for Christmas Day, we open all our gifts on Christmas Eve. But as little kids, we used to open one on Christmas Eve and then take the rest down to Grandma's. I remember crying as we left on Christmas Eve saying, "Santa won't find us! Santa won't find us!" So mom had to stick a note to the tree to keep us happy.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree?
Um all that our itty bitty tree has on it is a paper star. *sheepishly looks down*

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
Ug snow sucks. I used to like it when all I had to do was play in it, but now it's just a giant pain in the ass.

12. Can you ice skate?
Oh god no. I can iceskate if I'm pushing a chair. Otherwise, my ass and the ice have frequent meetings.

13. Do you remember your favourite gift as a child?
Hmmm I remember the gift I obsessed over the most. For some reason, I just *had* to have an ALF doll. I would cry when I saw them in stores because I wanted one now now now! Now I look back and go, what in hell was the big deal? It was a stuffed animal, and apparently an ugly one. But when I got it at Christmas, I ran off with it and they had to call me back to open the rest of the gifts!

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
Seeing everybody, especially now that my cousins have little ones. They grow so fast!

15. What is your favourite Holiday Dessert?
Mmmm...sandies. They're this sugary cookie with chocolate drizzled over top! Mmm. *drool drool drool!*

16. What is your favourite holiday tradition?
Hmmm I think when I was a kid, putting on Christmas music while we decorated the tree was the coolest.

17. What tops your tree?
Remember that paper star?

18. What is your favourite Christmas Song /hymn?
That's a tough one. Stupid as it sounds, Jingle Bells because it's so simple, hahah.

And there we go. Quiz over. Hope you had fun.

People Amuse Me.

I thought this was funny, I don't know if anyone else will even find this slightly amusing. I know Steve will, but that's about it. Oh well.

The other day, I decided to go on an adventure. Guelph just put in a Walmart, and I thought it might have a few things I needed. So I took the bus to where people told me would be good to get off. I went to get off the bus, and the driver told meI had to cross a street that turned into a major highway! As I wondered what I was going to do, he asked a couple who were passing if they were going to Walmart. Luckily, they said yes. So we started walking, and we arrived at the corner of Woolwich and Woodlawn. So I asked them which street we were crossing. "Woodwich," the lady said. Um, Woodwich? Somehow I don't think so.

I don't know why I found that so funny, but I did. I eventually figured out it was Woolwich we were crossing. Woodwich. Ok then.

Somebody Please Set Me Straight on This!

I'm feeling kind of dumb in the money sense department right now as I read this, so I hope someone who knows all about stocks and mutual funds can tell me that I'm not reading this correctly. From what I understand, it sounds like CNIB has sunk to a brand new low and is asking people if they'd like to hand over their investments to the CNIB so they can get some kind of tax break. And they're not asking for part of it, it sounds like they're asking for it all! But...but...but...isn't the purpose of mutual funds and investments to save for retirement? Why would a charity ask for a big chunk of what is supposed to be someone's retirement income? Are they really getting that desperate?

I hope I am thoroughly confused. I really hope I am. I hope someone reading this can explain this to me.

The TD bank machines talk...sort of!

Jen sent me a news story saying that the new TD green machines are supposed to talk! This made me have a sudden, unexplainable need to get out $20, so off I went to the bank with a headset in my pocket.

And I found that the machines do in fact have a headphone jack, which means the only reason for that jack is so you can plug in a headset and get speech! So I plugged in!

I still don't know if it was just a glitch or not, but the machine I was using refused to talk until I selected a language. hey great designer of the audio guideance system. If I need the audio guidance system, no! visual! only! prompts! please! You try completing that first step blindfolded and see how far you get.

Then, when the voice came to life, it was a little too quiet, especially if you're in a room full of beeping, booping, shrieking bank machines. I even had a set of headphones with volume control, and I couldn't make it louder! Please please please make that voice a wee bit louder.

Most of the process was pretty cool though. The only other thing was, when I was entering the amount to withdraw, there was a decimal point that I had to enter. If I didn't, I thought it might try to withdraw 20 cents and protest, or $2000! Since the second was not an option, I had to ask where the decimal point was because it didn't tell me in the audio system whether or not one was needed.

So, to anyone who has TD. If you can shove headphones in your pocket and try the audio out, tell me whether your machine tells you to select a language before it will speak, or whether it will speak right away. I want to know if it was just a glitch or not. Thank youTD for making your machines talk. Now, just tweak those few things and I will be a very very happy camper.

Whatever the hell comes Out.

I just felt like writing a random post. It sucks, because I can't remember one of the things I was going to write about as I sit here. Hopefully it'll come to me.

So it's less than two weeks until Christmas. So why in hell do I not feel in the Christmas spirit? The Christmas commercials are on, I've bought some Christmas presents, the Christmas music is in the stores and the offices. Why do I not feel like singing along? These past few years, I haven't felt like I'm in the Christmas mood until it's like Christmas Eve, and then it's all over and there's nothing to savour! I don't even want to watch A Christmas Carol anymore because I've seen so many versions and I know how it ends, as much as that part is kind of fun to watch. What is wrong with me? I liked all that Christmas fun. Why can't I find it now? But I know if there was no Christmas stuff, December would feel so empty.

*bell goes off in my head, or should I say, ding...dong...ding* Now I remember what I was going to talk about. At last, Canadian tire has found a commercial that doesn't annoy the living hell out of me. No more fiow-plathe kids, no more gift-sniffing dogs. At least this one's mercifully brief. Maybe this one's annoying to sighties, but at least I'm not ready to kill any of the characters. Hell I didn't even know it was for Canadian Tire at first.

I saw Last Laugh 06 on the Comedy Network, and one of the comedians brought up something that had already been swirling around in my head, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on it until he did. Does anyone else, when they hear about KFC famous bowls, want to hurl?

Ok, they've decided to throw popcorn chicken, potatos and corn in a bowl and then, on top of that, slather some kind of gravy and cheese sauce! How did the comedian put it? "Can you pile it all in a bowl so I can eat it like some kind of death row prisoner on suicide watch?" What was his new name for it? The failure pile in a sad bowl? I think I agree!

For a while there, their bowl thing sounded like a nice stew. And then it started to go south. Starting with the, um, popcorn chicken! Why in hell would you put popcorn chicken in a stew? Why not some pieces of chicken that haven't been KFC'd to death? Then the potatos and corn don't sound too bad...until you throw a gravy and cheese sauce on top! At that point, the famous bowl starts to sound like dogfood! But apparently, these things are best selling items! Has anyone tried one? Do they actually taste good? Is it me, or should KFC just stick to what they already know? I guess they never will, since these failure piles in sad bowls are doing so well.

Well I think I'm done for now. Maybe I'll have something else later.

For the Terminally Lazy

Wow. The USB gadgets just keep on comin'. Now we have a USB ashtray! It looks like a little car, but when you open it, a fan comes on to suck the smoke up into a filter so, in theory, others won't smell it. If I ever saw one of these suckers in an office near me, I just might have to launch a USB missile attack in retaliation for their pollution of the air with their toxic gases. Dude, go outside! How hard is that?

Here's One For The Hockey Fans

Somebody sent this to me years ago and I always thought it was funny, but for some reason I never got around to putting it up. If you're not a hockey person there's a chance that you might be about to get totally lost, and if you're blind and using a screen reader, the best advice I can give you is to check the spelling on some of these if they don't make sense right away, because JAWS has a helluva time with hockey player's names sometimes.

So our day begins at the golf course where I have been battling in the Lindy Ruff all day. We call it quits and head into the club house for some Bob Beers and Some Kelly Buchburgers. After crushing many drinks we decided to hit the local night club to check out some Carl Dykhaus and some Joe Nieuwendykes. So I noticed that I was getting eyeballed by some Neil Shehe and she had a bit of a Doug Weight problem. I thought to myself "I can't stoop this Patrick Marleau". She wanted to take off, and I wasn't sticking around for the ugly lights to come on, so I paid the Rick Tabaracci and we hopped in a Tomas Kaberle.

I took her back to my Phil Housley where things got a little hot and steamy. She geared down and not to my surprise her Keri Taco was a bit Joe Reekie and Jason Wooley. I decided she needed a Bill Barber, pulled out my Donald Brashears and shaved her hair diaper down to the Randy Wood. She then proceeded to trim my Harry Snepts and the bush around my Pekka Rautakeileo. I then reacted quickly and popped her Don Cherry but she was too Ken Dryden, so I flipped her over, grabbed my Haken Loob and threw it in her Curtis Brown with no Tie Domi. After a few pumps she started to complain that she was too Marty Mcsorley to go on. So I snapped and quickly showed her to the Daryl Sydor and told her that maybe I would call her Brendon Morrow. Needless to say, she was Grant Fuhrious. The next morning I had the worst Darren Puppa and I was Valeri Zelepukin all day.

Anyways 2 weeks later I noticed a Travis Green drip oozing from my Mike Babcock. So I booked an appointment with Dr. Randy Greg and got a Corey Schwab. But that isn't the end of the story!

A month later I woke up and saw Garth Snow outside. The weather man said that there was going to be a 30% chance of a Theo Fleury. My car wouldn't start so I had to borrow my roommate's car. It's not as Chris Osgood as mine and it takes a Robert Luongo time to start, but I was stuck. When I went in his room to get the keys, there was that same Rick Brodsky with my roommate!

She was sucking on his Mike Pecca while Esa Tikkinen his temperature with her finger. I said "buddy, don't do it! That Butch Goring has the fans clapping! I think she picked it up in Paul Kariya!" But he wouldn't listen to Marty Reasoner. Finally I just said "keep up the Manny Legace", and ran out.

Eeewww! and eeewww! Definitely Not a Fan!

Well here goes Jen, giving me more blog ammo. She just told me about something that almost made me hurl. If you've just eaten, you may not want to read on.

She apparently saw the commercial for those Mapleleaf precooked sausages that you put in the microwave "for those days when you don't have time to make breakfast sausages but still want them." So she thought she'd try them. She doesn't recommend them, and after this description, neither do I.

They are so greasy that they taste like rubber. They are hard and don't taste much like saussages. I could squeeze the grease right out of the fuckers. It says that you can cook them in the pan but they don't taste any better than in the microwave.

Quite the, um, ringing endorsement right there. What is this world coming too? If you don't have time for breakfast sausages, then I guess you're not having them that day. I think you have time for some cereal or toast. The solution isn't to get some pre-made sausages! Eeeww! I wish I had the big long list of adjectives that George Carlin uses to describe himself at the beginning of the album "Life is Worth Losing" because some of them just speak to the laziness of our whole society. At least they did for me. If this keeps going, we're doomed!

Cool! and Cheap! I'm a Fan!

Jen, who used to comment here and sends me stuff, some of which ends up on here, sent me an email the other day that caught my eye. Someone has set up the coolest website. It's called Blind Bargains.com!

Remember back a little while ago, when I raged venomously about vendors of access technology trying to overcharge? Well, things have come around! Someone has put together a site where they compile the best deals on anything blindness-related from vendors, auctions, anywhere they can find stuff that we blinks might use. Of course, when you go look at a product, you have to make sure that the seller does ship to wherever you're from, but the idea is still rockin' cool! They even have a section where you can ask a guy they call Bargain Bob to look for the best deal on a given product. Damn I wish this had been here a long time ago! Happy shopping!

I think We've Found Our Losers!

I think we found the people who just might need the Christmas dinner guests DVD. They're also likely soon to be the proud owners of a USB Secret Base Emergency Button! Let me let the article explain what this thing does, because frankly, I couldn't make it sound any more geeky.

Plug it in, press the top to open the shutter and reveal the red emergency key, hit that and... your PC shuts down. Yes, but it's the way it shuts down that matters.

Up pops an incoming message from your comrades informing you your hidden facility has been targetted by a "suicide bomber" and the only thing to do is to go into lock-down mode. Across your screen the blast-proof steel doors slam, guarding your base from the terrorist's self-immolation, all presented in a lively on-screen animation.

And then your PC shuts down.

All of this geekery can be yours for only $35 US, which, if you're geeking out to this level, is probably a pittance since you're probably a computer scientist or an engineer somewhere. At least I hope you are. Hopefully you're not still living in your parents' basement at the age of 41, currently a virgin, and expecting to remain so for...approximately...the rest of your natural life. If I'm lucky, 3 people will get that and laugh histerically.

Another Quick Plug

And this time it isn't even for something I'm a part of.

This is True
author and publisher Randy Cassingham, who's writing I'm a big fan of, has started his own
blog,
and he's kicking it off with something that I think is pretty interesting.

Starting from 1994 when True was launched, he's posting, in chronological order, historical information about how he grew the business from a crazy idea he had one night into what it is today, one of, if not the longest running moneymaking email publications in the entire world. Along with that, he's also throwing in what he feels are some of the most important things he's written in True, whether they're important from a history standpoint or a contextual one.

Once all of this is done he's not sure what he's going to do with the thing, but I'm sure he'll come up with something good, he always does. For now though, it's a great read for anybody who has ever thought about doing their own thing, or even anybody who's ever been curious about how somebody can make a small business work.

Breaking News!

I just read that the Pope issued a proclamation concerning Michael Jackson today. Apparently the Pope says that if he hears any more allegations about sexual abuse of young boys, he will have no choice but to make him a priest.

Good For Him

I just read a news report that said that since making his return to booking TNA, Vince Russo has been writing twice as much material as the previous creative team. That's all fine and dandy, but it's too bad that A not much of it has been very good and B nobody bothered to let him know that he might want to consider slowing down and not using it all at once. I watch every episode of Impact and every pay-per-view, and when I'm getting lost trying to figure out what the fuck is supposed to be happening, there's a problem.

The most positive thing I can say about the last few weeks of TNA is that at least it's not ECW. This is also a problem. TNA is supposed to be our alternative to what WWE is doing, presenting logical storylines and good wrestling to counteract whatever the hell some of the stuff coming out of the E is these days, and for a good long time, they were. Sure they made a few mistakes along the way, who doesn't? But since the creative change, I feel like I'm watching a slightly toned down version of WCW from 1999-2000, and anybody who knows anything about wrestling is well aware of how that turned out. Anybody who knows anything about wrestling is also well aware of who is responsible for most of the utter shittiness that that period is famous for, so why they would let him try to kill TNA for the second or third time now I have no idea.

In case anybody has forgotten this, and it appears that many in both major companies have, the idea behind promoting a successful wrestling show is to hook people and make them want to watch the product you're presenting, not baffle them with stupid bullshit that hardcore fans either can't or don't want to follow and that casual fans have no hope of understanding. And on the off chance that there is any confusion here, a reverse battle royal followed immediately by a regular battle royal to determine tournament brackets which then play out in a series of matches which culminate in a 3-way to see who gets to face a guy for a title shot who just lost to somebody who wasn't the champion in a match completely unrelated to the tournament in any way doesn't belong in the good idea folder. Neither does a 4 things on a pole match to determine which of those 4 things 2 people are allowed to use to help win a cage match on a different show. And while I'm dishing out free advice, a ladder match that isn't actually a match but rather a "ladder challenge" between 2 people to see who gets posession of a title that neither man actually has the right to possess because neither one of them is the champion, that's also stupid.

You know, the more I sit here and think about it, the better some of that ECW stuff is getting. Actually no, it still pretty much sucks. But at least Raw is good every...now and then I guess. But thankfully there's always good old Smackdown to come through with a good weekly effort...ahh forget it, long live UFC!

Sorry

I need to quickly apologize to everybody over at
Salty Ham,
not just because I haven't been able to do a whole lot over there for the last couple of weeks because of a family situation, but also because I haven't been able to contribute to or plug the hell out of their Top 100 Wrestlers of All Time countdown for the same reason. So if you've been wondering who the last 20 people covered were, you can go
here
and
here
to find out. Ok Salty, consider yourselves plugged. For some reason that sounds kinda wrong, but oh well.

And on a small side note, thanks to everybody who knows what's been going on for their emails and concern. It's all very much appreciated.

Go Leafs Go!

I can't believe they lost another one. That's 6 in a row now. I'm starting to think that these guys could find a way to blow a third period lead during a warm-up skate. Ridiculous, that's all I can say.

Speaking of the Leafs, I went down to Toronto to watch them play Atlanta on Tuesday night. Believe it or not, this was actually my first time in the ACC. I sure am one pathetic Leaf fan. It was a great time other than that whole squandering a 2-0 lead by giving up 5 unanswered goals in the third thing, and I even came away from the experience able to give anybody else who has never been to a game some very important advice.

If you plan on eating or drinking anywhere in or around the Air Canada Centre, you might want to consider a bank loan.

Let's break this down one more time, because I like making myself angry.

• 1 third level obstructed view ticket where the view wasn't really all that obstructed, $30.


• 2 bottles [*not* pints] of beer at the Jack Astors near the arena, $6 each. You might as well double that because I bought a couple of rounds for the guy I went with since he paid for some food on the way down.


As you can see, we're already running into a problem here.


• 2 medium [*not* large] beers from whatever the name of that place on our level of the building was...I want to say the Icebox, damn near $20! I shit you not! And because I am in fact a fucking idiot, you can go ahead and tack another 40 to 60 dollars on to that figure right there.


• 1 burger and fries, 1 burger with no fries and a pitcher of beer at Casey's after the game, $37 and change plus tip. I'm sure it would have cost about that much at McDonald's and there would have been no beer, but still...

Now that I sit here and look at these numbers again, it dawns on me that I probably should have asked at least one of those bartenders to kiss me. I'm not sure about any of you folks, but me, I've always liked a little bit of intimacy while I'm getting fucked.

I know the cost of having fun can be high sometimes and I definitely did have a lot of it, but Tuesday was one of those nights that reminded me why there are times when I voluntarily don't get out much. I also know that there will more than likely be a few people who tell me that I need to live a little, and to them I say this. I live all the time, and I'd prefer to not have to do most of my living on the street because I can't make rent. Call me crazy, but for some reason I'd rather be boring and warm than exciting and homeless.

How Do I Know If I'm Officially A Loser?

Well, if you feel the need to buy
a DVD of people acting like they're eating Christmas dinner with you so that you don't have to feel like you're by yourself,
the chances are pretty good that you might just have a problem.

Woe Nellie! Part Two.

I hate to go on and on about this, but I saw one more thing that pissed me off.

I went and helped out at the vigil I mentioned in Monday's post, and for the most part it was ok. Then, they played a song, and for the most part, it was a good song...until we got to the chorus.

It could have been me,
just as easily.
It could have been my mother or my sister,
left there to bleed.
It could have been my father, or my brother done the deed.
Oh no, don't let me lose this memory."

Hell, even the chorus was good for the most part. But once again, it makes me sad hearing us claim that any man is poised to make an incredible hulk-like transformation into a woman-hating monster.

I noticed there was only one man at the vigil, the sound guy. Poor sound guy.

Woe, Nellie!

Why is it that I always get involved in things, and then see the full extent of what I'm involved in and go, ug! Take this little gem for example. I've mentioned the organization that runs the women's shelter that I do some work for. So anyway, I decided to help out at this little candle-light vigil that they have every year in memory of the Montreal massacre. I figure, no harm in that, right?

Then, I get an agenda, which includes a poem that is going to be read out at this event, and I cringe. I think poetry is great, but this poem is just wrong. Well, tell me what you think of this little masterpiece.

It was a cold December afternoon and the line stretched round the block
And some of them were weeping and some were still in shock
Seven thousand came that day to pay their last respects
To 14 women slaughtered for no reason but their sex.

And the cameras and the mikes were there to record the grief and fear
Of the ordinary people who worked and studied here.
And a woman in her fifties in a gentle quiet tone
Summed up her sister's outrage at the murder of their own

She said "I wonder why, as I try to make sense of this
Why is it always men who resort to the gun, the sword and the fist?
Why does gunman sound so familiar while gunwoman doesn't quite ring true?
What is it about men that makes them do the things they do?

And the man behind her in the line, he started getting steamed
He said, "it wasn't because he was a man, this guy was crazy, mad, obscene!"
"Yes he was crazy" the woman replied, but women go crazy too,
And I've never heard of a woman shooting 14 men have you?

And all the other times came flooding back to me again
A hundred news reports of men killing family, strangers, friends
And yes, I can remember one or two where a woman's hand held the gun
But exceptions only prove the rule, and the questions still remain

And I know there are men of conscience who aren't like that at all,
Who would never raise a hand in anger and who reject the macho role.
And if you were to ask them about the violence that men do
I know they'd say they hate male violence too.

And don't you wonder why, as you try to make sense of this.
Why is it always men who resort to the gun, the sword and the fist?
Why does gunman sound so familiar while gunwoman doesn't ring quite true?
What is it about men that makes them do the things they do?

Ug! And I have to stand there listening to this. First off, I can't really say this poem is, well, the greatest sample of poetry I've ever read. I know, somebody probably wrote this as an expression of grief and I probably shouldn't criticize it. I respect the fact that they had to write it, if that's why they wrote it, I'm just not a fan of this one. But more importantly, how does this further our cause at all? How can feminists sit there and demand that we not be stereotyped if we're going to openly stereotype men and, for the most part, accuse them all of being killing monsters? Sure there's like 2 lines in there that say there are a few exceptions, but for the most part, we're pointing our fingers and saying, "all you men are pigs!" And then we wonder why men don't come out and support our events. Gee, I wonder. Maybe we should reread that poem again. The answer might come to us.

Things You Should Know About Me

• I don't use the food bank. I'm glad it's there for people who need it, but I'm not one of them. So if you see me walking downtown, I'm not looking for it. You don't have to ask me that question now.


• I'm not looking for the Salvation army either. Glad they're there, but unless I'm real close to the door, why would you automatically think I'm going there?


• And, I don't live in a nursing home! Just because I'm getting on a bus route which has St. Joseph's in the name doesn't mean I live at St. Joseph's rehabilitation centre! It is a full loop, you know.

I am sick and tired of being treated like I'm helpless. Sometimes I ask for a little help. I don't think that gives people license to treat me like I'm completely incapable of getting around or doing anything on my own. And sometimes I don't even ask for help, and people are already assuming I can't go anywhere safely. A lady offered me help getting home one night, I said I was fine, and she tailed me home anyway! I think I scared her though, because I phoned home and said, "I hope those footsteps belong to the lady who offered to help me, otherwise I don't know who's following me home!" Then she spoke up and sorta apologized. But gees! What is it about me that makes people think I'm either stupid or helpless or both? And would you walk up to anyone else walking down the street and randomly ask them, "Are you looking for the food bank?" How about, "Are you looking for the Salvation Army van?" Like, I'm walking past the Bank of Montreal, several stores, and you'd think my destination must be the food bank or the Salvation Army? Why? Ug it makes me bristle.

Today was the kicker, though, and it's what made me right this post. I headed down to catch my bus. But apparently, there was some Christmas lights display on, and since our buses don't have a proper terminal, arg, they got redirected to another location so the Christmas lights display could have the square. I discovered this by smacking into a wall of people! A man was nice enough to offer to give me a hand to where the buses were. Then he did the good old "What would you have ever done if I didn't come along? trick. Oy yoy yoy that makes me mad. I appreciate your help, but I would have made it there, it just would have taken a bit longer. You are not a hero. You're a nice person, and you're appreciated, but you don't need a medal and I don't need your pity.

About halfway there, he said, hmmmI don't see any buses down there. That would be, chief, because it's not quite bus time! But he still wouldn't believe me. He had to not listen to me, as I explained where the buses pull in, and he had to go ask some random traffic-directing police officer. Of course, he had no idea. Then I said what bus I wanted. He's like, "Oh St. Joseph's. Do you live at St. Joseph's?" Again, why would you assume I lived there? I wouldn't have even minded, "Do you work at St. Joseph's?" But to assume I must be a patient is, well, bizarre.

Sorry to seem kind of bitter. I hate sounding like a whiner, so I hope that's not how it comes off, but it probably does. I don't mean to sound like you have to tread carefully when you're talking to me. But like the song says, All I'm asking is for a little respect. Is that too much to ask?

Angels, Demons, and Annoyances!

I meant to write this post on Monday, but haven't done it until today. Wow, that's, um, very sucky. But here I go. I figureI should try and accomplish something even though the rain is making me feel like doing sweet dick all.

I just finished the book "Angels and Demons" by Dan Brown. Note to anyone interested in this stuff: Don't read Angels and Demons swiftly followed by the DaVinci code, or vice versa. You'll ruin one of the books. God this guy writes in a very similar style. He's a good writer, just the way he does it is...well...way too similar. I know they're a series, but does the Hassassin have to resemble Silas in his violence and dedication to his so-called master? Does the woman in the story always have to have lost a close relative? But most importantly, Does Robert Langdon have to be so goddamn pretentious, arrogant, and just simply annoying? Maybe he does, if so, way to go Dan Brown, you've done an awesome job. There are moments where I just want to slap him! Am I alone in this?

Like, why is it that in the middle of a high pressure scene, Robert Langdon starts to Reminisce about something he said while teaching some class of Harvard students about Symbology? Dude. When you're being chased by police, being made to lay spread-eagle on the floor, now's not the time to think about the good old days, so much so that you lose touch with reality.

And, why is it that, even in the face of being shown that all his research is somewhat flawed, he insists that he knows the answers? Ever heard of new information, bud? Maybe you shouldn't tell the granddaughter of the dead guy that there's no way he's the head of a secret societey. After the little surprise ritual she witnessed in grandpa's basement there, I think she's a more qualified source than you!

And then there are things he does that just annoy me! Like, when the guy's on the phone telling the church how he's going to murder four cardinals and do it in public places, good old Robert stands up and yells at the speaker phone: "and what are you going to brand them with?" Really, dude, does that matter? And in the same phone call, after the guy makes some reference to something that happened in the 1600's, Langdon has to start rhyming off historical facts. Gees dude, do you want to draw the guy's attention? How about giving them the history lesson *after* he's off the phone?

So, am I weird? Hopefully someone's read the book, or both of the books, and knows what I'm talking about.

Um, I don't think so.

Ok, spammers are really trying to bug me. I'm waiting for word from RBC (Royal Bank of Canada) on whether I got a job. Today, I got not one, but two spam from an address claiming to be Royal Bank of Canada. You can stop teasing me right about now. Somehow, this doesn't look like a job offer.

I've known for a long, long time, Paul. blake boris He loved her so much; without her he would die.

There was a snap as the pin broke in two, the part in the lock falling in, and he had a dull moment to consider his failure before he saw that the door was slowly swinging open with the tongue of the lock sticking out of the plate like a steel finger. It went over the edge and he was still inside it! That's not always how it works, but usually that's it. If not for you I could be home watching TV now with my hand on my wife's leg. I'm here. He reached down, but the tips of his fingers stopped a clear three inches short of the floor, where one of the two or three bobby-pins that had fallen from her hair as she charged him lay. He took three dry, then crawled back to the door and lay down against it, blocking it with the weight of his body. diddle

Um nope.

Is this an epiphany or the product of a sleep-deprived mind?

Have you ever sat there doing what you think is a step in the direction where you want to take your life and then you suddenly wonder if you've made the biggest mistake possible and is this really what you want the rest of your life to contain?

I'm sitting here answering phones at a distress line. one of the people who phones a lot calls and talks. The same shit that has happened to her before is happening and she's sad because of her predicament. I used to care. I used to empathize. I used to try and genuinely listen. But today, I could have given two shits. I just wanted to be off the phone. I am so frustrated, burned out, pissed off. What is the point of giving your heart and soul if it doesn't do any good? More often than not, I see the same thing in every volunteer job I do. I see women going back to their abusers, callers going through the same things, people I help just pulling bullshit. My mind says it's a tough road and there are always going to be setbacks, you cannot judge, you just have to do your part. It also tries to remind me of all the positives. Then an evil part of my mind blames me for feeling this way. it knows I probably invest way too much in everything I do, and if I'd just behaved with some level of sanity, I wouldn't be feeling this. But I don't know how else to be! I'm trying to stop myself from getting so deeply involved in everything, but I've always felt I had to go the extra mile. now I have to untrain myself, and I don't know where to begin.

But my heart just screams! It wants to shut down! it wants to stop trying, and it doesn't know where this rush of complete and utter apathy is coming from. I left this morning tired because my body decided I wasn't getting more than about 2 hours' sleep, but that was it. I hoped I'd have a good shift. That was all I thought. There was no dread, there was nothing telling me this was coming. Now, it's hit me like a ton of bricks, and the suddenness of it is shocking!

So...it's probably nothing. And many have seen worse than I have and they keep on truckin', so what is my problem? My worst thought is if this isn't what I'm supposed to do, what am I supposed to do? Will I find something satisfying ever?

And then another thought yells from inside my head. "Stop being such a baby. Probably everybody has had these thoughts, and there are bigger problems to worry about than whether or not you're happy in whatever job you end up doing. Shut up and wait for the next call."

It's probably true. I'm sure after a good night's sleep, I won't feel this overwhelming need to forget about everything in the social work field and run madly in another direction. I just had to write it down to stop it from eating away at me all shift. Hopefully I'll have something happier to write later.

You're in What Grade Again?

I just got asked by a friend to proofread his French notes for a presentation. I said sure. It's always good to get another set of eyes looking at things you write, especially if it's not in your native tongue. Granted French isn't my native tongue either, but I said I'd help. I knew the last time I'd read his French, it was, well, not good. But that was a couple of years ago, so I thought maybe he had improved.

I get his notes, and I let out a shriek of frustration. If anything, his French has gotten worse! I have to ask myself, how is he getting through university French classes with this caliber of complete and utter incompetence? Are his tutors doing his essays for him? If so, they should stop. If not, why did I bother to work so hard if you could scrape through with this bullshit? I mean, it looks like maybe he's in grade five French. Ug!

I'm looking at this now thinking, why do I give a rat's ass how he does in French? I did well, his marks probably blow goats. So what does it matter? I guess I'm completely amazed that he's still here with the level of crap he's spewing. I wonder what my degree is worth if people like him can write the kind of stuff he does, still be here and get a degree too. The whole thing just makes me wonder why I worked so hard. I'll cry if he graduates with distinction. That'll probably never happen, but if it does, then I'll know the degree isn't worth the paper it's written on.

The Dreaded N-Word!

No, I'm not talking about dear old Michael Richards's outburst of a few days ago. I'm talking about a different n-word. Nation! Sorry, George Stroumboulopoulos, I had to steal your bit from the hour, just because I thought it was hilarious.

Seriously, though, what in hell does all of this mean? Let me try and process this. Stephen Harper has said that Quebec is a nation within Canada. That alone is enough to give me an aneurysm from the amount of brain power required to try and grasp what this even means. Let me define nation. According to dictionary.com, a nation is:

Nation
noun

1.

a large body of people, associated with a particular territory, that is sufficiently conscious of its unity to seek or to possess a government peculiarly its own: The president spoke to the nation about the new tax.

2.

the territory or country itself: the nations of Central America.

3.

a member tribe of an American Indian confederation.

4.

an aggregation of persons of the same ethnic family, often speaking the same language or cognate languages.

So, how does this even apply to Quebec? Definition 1 doesn't make sense, they don't have a government peculiarly their own, because they're still subordinate to the Canadian government. No. 2 doesn't really work because no. 1's already screwed. Since they're not natives, they're colonisers just like the rest of us, they can't take no. 3, and no. 4 doesn't even work, because look at how many English-speakers and speakers of other languages live in Quebec, just like they do in the rest of the country.

Since this motion makes 0 sense on its own, I don't know what it really means. Is it a step towards Quebec separating? Not on the surface, because Harper said that Quebec would never be a nation disconnected from Canada. But what else could it be? It doesn't really satisfy anyone, it's already made the Bloc Québécois mad, saying they won't accept this. So what will we have to do next to make them happy? Make baby steps towards having their sovereign until they need something from Canada Quebec?

If your head isn't already spinning enough, what the Bloc says back makes me very confused. I quote:
"The Quebec nation cannot be boiled down to one of two options: a nation within a united Canada, or a separate, sovereign nation."

So what *do* you want? Are you just fighting for the sake of fighting? Oh of course you are! That's what all politicians do.

And who's going to be next to ask to be a nation within Canada, whatever that means? Could Newfoundland ask to become a nation? What about the Acadians in New Brunswick? What about Toronto because of all the Asians? Or what about all the fragments of Quebec who don't want to separate? Can they be nations within Quebec? You can't do that to a country!

I went and stayed in Quebec for five weeks. That by no means makes me an expert on their history, but it made me see a few things. I know their language is eroding, and that it was suppressed by previous federal governments, and that's not cool. I know they feel that English is pervading their culture, and it kind of is. But unfortunately, that's mostly a product of their geographical location. Let's face it, they are in an English sandwich! The only way they could save their language the way they want to save it is to reloacate everyone to either an island somewhere, or to France or Belgium or somewhere that speaks French. The human brain picks up on its surroundings, and those cannot be legislated out!

I think my head has stopped spinning, but oddly enough, it's right back where it started. I can't make sense of this, and I don't think I ever will. The only way it will ever make sense is in retrospect, after whatever comes of this has time to unfold. It doesn't look, to me, like a good chain of events.

I Hate To Use Something So Corny, But What An American Idiot

I realize that this story is kind of old, but it's so great and I've heard so little about it that it just has to be mentioned. And if anybody knows about any new developments in this case, I'd love to hear about them. I love watching other people humiliate themselves.

Oregon Grocery Store Clerk Claims To Have Written Green Day's American Idiot

McPike is representing himself in the matter and the only evidence he has submitted thus far is a copy of American Idiot and a claim that the words that Green Day vocalist Billie Joe Armstrong sings on the album don't exactly match those printed in the liner notes. The former ski resort employee plans to continue researching copyright law and to resubmit his complaint with additional unspecified evidence.

McPike says he's written songs since high school and, while he's never performed publicly, he's occasionally sung some of his compositions for friends. He believes that a buddy must have recorded him singing at home, and that a cassette of his work somehow got into Green Day's hands.

Riiiiight.

But let's play pretend for a minute and act like this guy isn't either out of his mind or completely full of shit. If he wins his case, Green Day could be in real trouble. I hate to say it, but if he wrote that song, there's no telling how much of their other work he might ultimately be responsible for. I love Green Day, but even I know that a lot of their stuff has a similar sound to it, and they could end up owing him a lot of money depending on how many of those tapes they lifted from his friends over the years.

World's Worst Drivers is the World's Funniest Show.

Well, maybe not, but it's pretty damn funny. If you ever get the chance to watch the show World's Worst Drivers, do it! It's not just that the horrid driving stunts that are captured on video are utterly hillarious. It's not just that the guy doing the narrating is able to keep cracking me up with his descriptions of imbeciles behind the wheel. But you have to see the episode where, when a bad British driver is pulled over, he shouts at the camera man, twice, "Get that camera off me or I'll shove it up your ringpiece!" And the best is he doesn't even seem threatening. Oh he's trying, but failing. Ringpiece? Ya learn a new word every day!

What Year Is It Anyway?

Everybody keeps telling me that it's 2006, but with all this
talk of microphone outfitted security cameras on public streets,
I swear that it's actually 1984. Seriously guys, you're creeping me out here.

And I know I know, you're claiming that the microphones can't pick up words because they're up too high and you can't zoom the audio in to make it clearer anyway, but if that's the case, how can they hear tones? I seriously wish that the general public was half way aware of stuff like this, because the people responsible for this system and others like it should have to provide quite a few good answers to quite a few good questions before anything is installed anywhere.

From: Your Blogger.

Um...ok then. I just got a spam from, and I quote, "Your Doctor," advertising meds. Mysteriously, my doctor has lost her name, and writes me now, just claiming she's my doctor. Uh-huh. Nice job, spammers. But the sad thing is this might work on some people. I can see it now. "Oh. It's my doctor! It must be legit." Oh the creative ways of spammers to prey on the stupid, the naive and the uninformed.

I Didn't Know You Were a Mute.

I swear the strangest things happen to me when I'm out and about. Like this little gem for example. I'll be standing at an intersection waiting for my chance to cross and not get killed. The time comes, andI'll step off. Suddenly, without a word spoken, someone who I didn't even notice beside me will have a firm grip on my arm!

Um dude. I appreciate you're help, but if you don't say a word to me, I have no idea what your intentions are. If I was a more jumpy person, I might think you were robbing me and start swingin'! I can't even say all the ones who grab me without a word can't speak the language, because when I say something like "What the hell?" I get very clear English spoken back.

Why do people feel the need to grab and try and drag me places? I mean, would they like it if random people decided to grab them and help them get into the store and across the street without provocation? Yesterday, the guy's grip wasn't so firm, so I was able to give him a little shove that was half accidental, half startled response and get him away. I appreciate the help, but please ask first before you decide to help me, and please, please, please, speak! With the number of creeps lurking around downtown anymore, I don't take chances!

2 Things I Want For Christmas

It's that time of year again. Time for my friends, family and blog readers [yeah right] to start asking the big question. "Steve, what do you want for Christmas?" Most years I kind of pause and just say "I dunno, just get me a gift certificate or something," but this year I actually have 2 pretty good suggestions for everyone.

Suggestion number 1:
The Vestibules,
one of the greatest comedy troops of all time, have just released a huge collection of their classic material in a 4-volume mp3 set. The details are
here,
and if you're a longtime fan like I am, you'll love what they've included here. Each volume is only $5, and I can safely say that they could charge double that and I'd still buy all 4 of them.

Suggestion number 2:
A roll of Recording Industry Association Of America toilet Paper.

I think Cory Doctorow over at
Boing Boing
said it best when he said, "Jinx is selling $6 rolls of RIAA bumwad -- though it seems redundant. Those four letters are already inextricably associated with dirty assholes."

How true.

And yes, I realize that toilet paper was suggestion number 2. Aren't I clever? I didn't think so either, don't worry.

Plugs Ahoy!

It's actually only 1 plug, but I couldn't think of anything better to call this.

Salty Ham.com,
the list happiest site on the internet, is at it again. This time they've teamed up with the folks from
TBL
and
X Headlines
to present the top 100 pro wrestlers of all time.

Even though I've never been high on stuff like this, I went along with it because it's good for business and I'm cool like that.

Anywho, the first part of the list is now up and ready for you to look over and comment on
here.

More of the list will be released in the coming weeks, and since I plug everything I do and I always need posting material, I'll let you know when they're posted. You can always stop by The Ham and look for them, but you should already be visiting there daily anyway so I shouldn't have to tell you that.

Why I Don't Write Songs

Any time I've been involved in any sort of musical project, I've always been pretty well content to stay away from the songwriting end of things. The reason for that is simple. I don't write songs because I know that no matter what I do and no matter how hard I try, I will never in a million lifetimes be able to do better than
this,
which may just be the greatest piece of music ever composed.

Thanks to our old pal Greg for passing this work of genius our way.

Aaaaa! Not Yet!

I was sitting with a friend yesterday when she suddenly turned to me and said, "You have a big patch of grey hair!" This freaked me out, because I'm only 27! What the hell am I doing with a big spot of grey hair? I know I stress out a lot, maybe I gave them to myself! What a thought?

This started a whole cascade of thoughts. I wondered what it looks like, since I can't really stand in front of a mirror and check. Ug!

Then I thought, how long until my whole head of hair is grey? What if it happens soon? I always said I wouldn't rinse my hair, after seeing my mom's hair destroyed by hair-colouring solution that always smelled more like urine than anything else. I'd watch her walk around with that thing on her head and think, "Why would you willingly wear piss on your head?" I knew it was to look good, but it still seemed wrong. Now her hair is all dry, like straw, and brittle. I don't want mine to feel that way.

But I don't want to look like an old hag either! I mean, some people can pull off the dignified grey hair thing, but I think they have to be actually older first. I don't think I'm that old yet.

Then I thought, god I'm vain. I never wanted to be that way. I'm not the girl who likes to dress up. Hell I hate dressing up. I always feel like I can't do what I feel comfortable doing because I'll rip something or dirty something. Ug. Too much work. Plus it doesn't feel like it suits me.

Then I thought, I think I'm thinking too much, probably adding to my stupid grey hairs.

I wonder how big the patch is now? Maybe after a while, if I get enough of them, people won't think of me as the lost little kid anymore. Maybe this has its advantages.

Arg....Government!

It just never stops. The government's quest for more ways to get tax money out of the people. Here's the latest twist. Get this. There are internet gaming environments like Second Life and World of Warcraft, in which you can play these games and interact with other users. One of the things you can do withother users is buy and sell things. But this is all within the virtual world. This virtual economy is booming, and some of these communities have a virtual GDP rivaling the real GDP's of some small countries. Apparently, there is now a U.S. congressional committee investigating how to tax these virtual assets. Sure, if user a and user b exchange real money, they know how to tax that, but now they want to tax the virtual stuff, the stuff that never leaves the server on which the game is played.

Hey buds, do you not grasp the difference between virtual and real? If the assets are *virtual*, they don't actually exist outside the fantasy land of these servers. Therefore, there is no earthly way you can tax them! What's next? You're going to tax the assets gained in monopoly games? But they're still ploughing ahead, wanting to have a report drafted up on this by the end of the year.

All I can say is, stupid government pricks! Do they not know when to stop? Of course they don't! Why do I bother to ask?

What's He Going To Do When They Make Another Movie?

Right now, somewhere in Britain, there is a man walking around named James Dr No From Russia With Love Goldfinger Thunderball You Only Live Twice On Her Majesty's Secret Service Diamonds Are Forever Live And Let Die The Man With The Golden Gun The Spy Who Loved Me Moonraker For Your Eyes Only Octopussy A View To A Kill The Living Daylights Licence To Kill Golden Eye Tomorrow Never Dies The World Is Not Enough Die Another Day Casino Royale Bond. But the difference between him and the poor kids with names like Superman and Harry Potter [those are their first names] in
this story
is that at least the Bond guy got to make the choice for himself. the others are poor kids who had those names given to them at birth.

I guess the point of this post, other than to point out the complete absurdity of something like this, is to show
Carin
that no matter how bad names get, things can always get worse.

Do I Dare Call it a Debate?

I kind of feel bad not having this up sooner, but time got away from me. Then this whole thing came back to me, and with all the other talk of the municipal election, I felt this had to be posted.

I'm really glad they have debates before an election, not just so you can hear what the politicians' stances are on issues, but so you can get a feel for who they are. But this debate, which had our five candidates for the two councillors in our part of the city, on top of all of that, was just entertaining. I think some of these people should have had a little more practice.

Let's get a look at how our candidates did, or at least how I felt they did. First off, there were the two who were already on council, trying to keep their seats. Maggie Laidlaw was cool. She said things that made sense, was able to joke, and you really felt she was comfortable. I guess other people agreed, she's still here, and got the highest number of votes.

Dan Schnurr, on the other hand, seemed more than a bit nervous. Whenever anyone asked him a hard question, he would sit squarely on the fense and say nothing of any consequence. He confused me, because just when I thought I'd gotten a read on where he stood, he would surprise me. He seemed very conservative, and then he'd talk about his push for social housing. I felt sorry for poor Dan in a way, because as much as I tried to listen to him, his voice bugged the shit out of me. It sounded like he had swallowed one of those king-sized marbles and it was stuck in his vocal chords. I kept calling him Pee-wee Schnurrman.

But oh when you got to the people trying to get on council, that's where the fun began. I guess I can understand it, since they probably haven't had much practice with this stuff. First, there was Craig Chamberlain. You could tell he was obviously reading from his notes whenever they asked him a question. In his opening statement, he said something about "this is not about me and how bad I am at public speaking." I think it was supposed to be a joke, but it was more like a nail in the coffin for me. I don't remember a thing he said. Sometimes because whatever he spewed out didn't relate to the question at all, and sometimes because his delivery was so unbelievably distracting. Not only would he stutter and stammer long enough to run out of time, but sometimes he would drastically change his pace of speech from really slow to almost as fast as that guy in the Expedia.ca commercial. Ok not quite that fast, but you know what I mean. I do remember that his campaign was called the common ground campaign. He only said that a zilion times.

Next, there was June Hofland. She went from making perfect sense, like when she talked about things needing to be in walking distance because we need to do less driving, to being kind of funny, like when she talked about how she would meet with her neighbours to discuss things over butter tarts, to looking absolutely positively stupid! Note: when you're in a debate that could decide whether or not people vote for you, it's never good to get that deer in the headlights look and go "I ... don't ... knooooow!" on several questions. Maybe that just bugged me because it reminded me of other stupid dopes we met in a certain apartment hunt. Come on, show that you know something. Show that you've done some research into what you're going to do for the next four years. At the end, it was like she was pleading for people to give her a chance. "I really want to get onto council so I can learn these things..." Well I guess the pleading worked, she edged out poor old Pee-wee Schnurrman.

But the funniest one of all was Charlie Whittaker, who came in last. Where do I begin? Well, I guess I'll begin by telling him to turn on his microphone. This guy could not grasp the idea that in order for a microphone to work, you have to turn it on, and in order for it to not feed back when it was time for the next councillor to speak, you have to turn it off when you were done, and could not grasp the concept over the course of a two-hour debate. Steve thought that if we'd listened to the debate later, we should have played the "your microphone please, Charlie" drinking game, where you do a shot whenever the poor moderator had to tell dear old Charlie to turn on or off his microphone. But maybe it's a good idea we didn't, because by the end, we would have been completely smashed and unable to understand what they were saying anyway.

But the strangeness wasn't over once Charlie did get his microphone on and started to talk. When asked what his top issue was, all he could come up with was the beautification of Edinburgh Road. That's the best he could do? Make one road in the whole ward look better? There wasn't mention of affordable housing, families, jobs, the garbage situation. Just the beautification of one road.

The best was his complete arrogance. I think he thought he had his seat in the bag already. He must have, because he proclaimed to everyone that he has spent $250 to install a second phone, or "telly phone" as he pronounced it, in his house exclusively for calls from constituents. Well, there's $250 he'll be wishing he never spent. How about waiting until you get elected, and then installing your telly phone? Maybe you should also master the micro phone.

Now I just feel like a big meany. I know I would probably suck heartily if I tried to run for council. But I figure if I'm putting myself on public display, I'm opening myself up to be roasted if I don't at least prepare a little. So I guess they deserved it. But I never knew a debate could be that entertaining!