I knew it! IknewitIknewitIknewit! I was meant to be a smoker! It’s great news because it also means that I’ll never get cancer!

Last night, I jumped downstairs to my friendly neighbourhood 7-11 to buy a couple of packs of smokes (Buy 2 and get a buck off. Sweet dealz). After the cigarette/money transaction had gone done, I promptly opened one pack and put the other one in my army shorts’ side pocket.
Then today, after I had put my dirty clothes in the washer, I went to go get my unopened cigarettes. Couldn’t find them. After looking through the mountain of clean, unfolded laundry that resides in my room, it occured to me that my cigarettes went for a swim in the laundry: cigarettes + shorts pocket + soapy water = FUCK!

To all of you non-smokers or smokers that live in Ontario–cigarettes here are uncommonly expensive. Even with the awesomely economical buck-off deal I swing with my small consumable goods merchants downstairs. Sure all that excess tax money’s going to pay for all of us that get the black lung when we’re older (except me!), but it’s still unreasonable. Economists generally go by the rule that people will pay what the market will bare, and this is true. But the theory just doesn’t apply to addicts, making current “market prices” completely unfair.

Anyway, I disappointedly moped over to my washing machine and pulled out my laundry, looking for a deformed package of soggy, unsmokable butts. As I reached in to pull out the last remaining garment, I saw the pack, looking up at me from the bottom of the machine’s wash basin. Slightly dented, but not much else.

That said, I have a new working theory: Celophane + God’s Will = YES!

Also, I found a pack of Belmonts on the table of cafe I’m currently sitting at. Here’s another formula for you: absent minded cafe patron – pack of smokes = Andrew’s free smokes.

That said, if Celophane + God’s Will = YES!, and absent minded cafe patron – pack of smokes = Andrew’s free smokes, then: YES! x Andrew’s free smokes = No cancer!

John Kenneth Galbraith can suck my dick.

Advertisements

So I find myself here in Calgary. If it weren’t for a girl, I wouldn’t touch this town with a ten foot pole. Although I’ve been well occupied, amused and entertained while here, the city itself should just cease to exist.

I left warm, sunny Vancouver, and stepped off a plane an hour later to 3 degree Celcius weather. A 45$ cab ride across a barren tundra of construction and poor city infrastructure later, Leah and I arrived at her apartment in what I’m told is the North West corner of the city. Her apartment overlooks some other apartments and a vague silhouette of the Rocky Mountains.

Often called Texas Lite, Calgary is home to the wealthiest people in Canada, as everyone has some sort of vested interest in oil here. It’s also the conservative capital of Canada, which makes it tempting to walk around with a thong and pink shirt that says “My parents don’t know I’m gay” just to see what happens. However, seeing the very end of Brokeback Mountain would dissuade anyone from pulling such antics. Anyway, it’s a city that completely lacks any personality, and is probably the most culturally irrelevant metropolis in Canada, if not the world.

I spent the first day slaying Guitar Hero II, and not much else, as being in the North West corner of Calgary is the equivalent of being in Burlington to Toronto–only worse. When Leah returned from work we indulged in some of the gross things couples do behind closed doors, went for a walk through a park then came back to her place, watched some 24 and went to bed.

Next day was a road trip to Banff. If you’ve never been to, or heard of Banff, well, it’s the prettiest place in the world. The Canadian Rockies is truly the most breath-taking scenery that has ever graced my eyes. I’ll post a picture, but it doesn’t even come close to actually being there and taking it all in.
We went for what was supposed to be a two hour hike, but we quit two hours in as it was another hour to the top and walking uphill for more than two hours is an activity that is exclusively reserved for non-smokers.
We then drove through the Banff area, looking at the mountains, taking pictures of deer, caribou and other pretty things, then met up with my old friend Sean who is earning his keep at a sports store in the town. We enjoyed a couple of beers, then went back to Calgary.

Aside from things that don’t involve heavy breathing and a complete lack of clothing, that was the highlight of my trip.

Dave’s not here

May 23, 2007

To elaborate a little more on my experience drinking Red Bull a mere hour before going to bed, and the hell that has been the last 13.25 hours of my life, I cannot stress this enough: Avoid Red Bull energy drinks at least 5 hours before sleeping. Avoid them all together for that matter.

 

I went to sleep at about midnight last night, a little later than normal, so it was no surprise that I immediately fell into my slumber. It wasn’t even bizarre to wake up at 3am, though that’s usually a result of one of two cats scratching at my door. However, I found myself as awake as one could possibly be, mere seconds after opening my eyes, and without a movement, scuffle or meow in earshot. That wasn’t normal. I was also able to vividly recall some of the dreams I had. That wasn’t normal, either. To further the abnormal nature of my sitting up in bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, was the horrific nature of my dreams. Without getting into too much detail, they were more like watching what I imagine homemade snuff films of the most violent degree to be like than the usual scary dream boogie monster content. I’d like to write more about it, but in all honesty, it’s so graphic and awful that I’m slightly concerned that it came from my own subconscious.

 

I laid back into my bed, still cringing from the incredibly disturbing images that had just danced across my cerebral cortex, and tried to go back to sleep. I sat there staring at the ceiling for another 30 minutes. Went out for a smoke (I’m aware smoking’s a stimulant, thanks), went back to bed, and still couldn’t sleep. Masturbation? Nope. Warm milk? Nope. Nothing worked. At that point I resigned myself to the fact that it was about 4am, and I was an hour into what was going to be an excruciatingly long day. It’s now 4:31pm PST, and I’ve had three hours sleep in the past 32 hours. I feel like I’m not here. I’ve done long stretches without sleep before, but the circumstances were much different. Though I’ve already passed through a second, third and fourth wind, I have the constant feeling of lucid dreaming—not exactly what I’d call fun times in a large office with deadlines and phones ringing off in a multitude of supremely annoying ring tones.

 

I briefly discussed this with a co-worker of mine and he mentioned that Red Bull has some sketchy ingredients in it that cause immense alertness and irritability, but a search online didn’t yield any results of what caused those nightmares. Normally I wouldn’t really dwell on it so much, but the realness and sheer horror of them combined with the rarity of actually remembering dreams has had my head spinning all day.

I won tickets to Vfest at work on Friday. Being the music cynic that I am, I really didn’t care to see too many of the bands so Justin and I opted to go later in the day. We saw four bands. And without further ado, I’ll give you a breakdown from worst to best.

AFI – how thou hath fallen from grace, or something. It doesn’t get much worse than this. Davey Havock, you confuse even the gender confused. I’m still totally perplexed on how you’ve managed to stay relevant after all these years. AFI’s last three albums have been direct carbon copies of the ones before it. Every song follows a specific formula, and the stage antics are as contrived as they come. You also played like shit. Kids, don’t give them any attention. You’re only making it worse.

The Reason – Crap. But better than AFI. Why are people still playing screamo?

MSTRKRFT – I checked you out for a second. Seeing Jessie Keeler grooving to French House just made me sad. I promptly left.

Ill Scarlett – I’ve seen you guys a thousand times, and it never fails to impress me. You put on a great show with great tunes, and you got me backstage where I helped myself to free beer. Three gold stars. Thank you.

The Killers – Hate your new album. It doesn’t have the anthem after anthem feel as Hot Fuss. That said, you played a lot of stuff from Hot Fuss. You’re a big arena rock band now and people have very high expectations of you. I believe you’ve fulfilled those expectations. Even though I’m not what you would call a Killers Fanboy For Life, your set evoked emotion, and you didn’t skip a beat. The sunset behind you probably helped, but there’s no real way to actually quantify that.

Redbull Girl – Thanks bitch. Because of your free Redbull, I’ve been up since three am with heart palpitations and there’s nothing I can do about it. I blame you for ruining my day.

All in all, I’m quite happy I didn’t pay any money to go to this. Thanks work.

Once upon a time I was famous on the internet. (I started writing this a month ago, forgot about it, and came back to finish it now. The date of the post, and the actual event are not the same. Duh.)

My 15 minutes of ifame have come and gone, and I didn’t even learn about it until today.

As many of you know, I’m kept knee-deep in smokes and beer by writing web copy for futureshop.ca and bestbuy.ca. Coming from an agency environment, working internally for who I would normally call “the client”–with an obvious hint of disgust in my voice–isn’t normally an appealing positition. But given my technical/creative background, this is the right place for me right now. Plus, it’s got its perks. While I do have to practice some level of self-restraint, the things that I write aren’t constantly under the microscope of someone who thinks they know better. I’m kept on a long leash, and I like it that way.

My leash was unexpectedly tightened today when I notice that the copy I wrote for the new Xbox 360 Elite had been changed ever so slightly. Normally, I call the shots on what written content goes up, so this was a bit of a surprise. A suspicious surpise. Some asking around revealed that one of our analysts, a temp, had made some corrections for typos that were, as he described it to our production manager in an email “being made fun of on a message board”. I reviewed the original file several times, had our content analyst review it several times and neither of us could find any typos. I also noticed an incredible amount of hits going to that particular product. It became evident that something else was happening here.

With Google being the great friend it is, I typed in the sentence that had gone missing from my copy to find this: http://digg.com/gaming_news/Canadian_retail_chain_site_warns_that_the_360_Elite_may_kill_Sarah_Connor?cshow=6050273

For those of you who don’t know what Digg.com is, well, it’s one of the bigger multiple news feed sites in the world. I broke the 1000 Digg barrier. That, my friends, impressed the living waste of me.

At that point, I realized the temp, who had come to the end of his contract before I unknotted this mess, had seen this gotten scared and deleted it. Why? Well, corporate types tend to be very stuffy and afraid to do anything when it comes to upholding the brand they work for. I immediately contacted my boss and got it back up online. The nerve of him.

Anyway, because of the traffic that was driven through Digg.com, Futureshop.ca sold out of 360 Elite pre-orders in around a day. The Bestbuy.ca site, which I wrote different copy for, not so much. Further more, the copy was used in series of commercials for the 360 Elite. I was also nominated for a “Web Idol” award, which is my departments employee of the month type thing. And to top it off, our monthly-company wide meeting commenced with the theme music from Terminator. The terminator music could have been coincidence, but because I’m physically incapable of sucking my own dick, I’ll say that it was, indirectly, my doing.

Doing a different specified search on Google yields some interesting results, too: http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&safe=off&client=opera&rls=en&hs=4YN&q=%22xbox+360+elite%22+%22Sarah+Connor%22&btnG=Search

It’s not exactly changing the world, but it’s a start. Actually, it’s not even a start, but I believe that I’ve earned bragging rights for this.

Disclaimer: The reference to hunting Sarah Connor is a Fark.com cliche. I do not, in anyway, claim it to be my own insight. If you frequent Fark.com, I’m sure that you’ll agree that there was never a more perfect time to use that in an online product description.