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Lunchtime at work

February 7, 2008

For lunch I decided to try the velvet tomato and orzo soup with an egg salad sandwich on flaxseed bread. The sandwich itself was uneventful but good none the less. The soup didn’t exactly get me rubbing my tummy, but, much like its egg, mayo, and bread counterpart, it was palatable.

As I scooped-up and consumed each spoonful, eventually arriving at the bottom end of my bowl, I wondered to myself, “What is orzo, exactly?” I noted the slightly crunchy yet malleable texture of cooked onions, its opaque centre yet translucent membrane, and its vaguely oblong shape. “What other things possess the same physical characteristics?” I asked.

I no longer wanted to know what orzo is.

I’m glad we agree.

November 3, 2007

Hi friends!

Listen, I have a small favour to ask you guys. My friend (we exchanged emails once) Steve from The Sneeze somehow got himself nominated for Funniest Blog in the 2007 Weblog Awards. To top it off, he made it into the final round! I think he really deserves this award as it truly is the funniest blog I read. It’s very unique-and-special-without-being-inaccessible kind of funny, too, which is pretty special and unique.

Now, I wouldn’t just ask you to take a whole nanosecond of your life to go vote for him without anything in return. I encourage you to first visit The Sneeze, read through a couple of entries on the front page, and then visit the “Steve don’t eat it!” portion, then you can decide that he’s the funniest blogger in the world, too. Thus, getting your vote (which you can place here).

October 31, 2007

The 60-billion in tax cuts that the Harper government introduced in yesterday’s fiscal update are nothing short of astounding. We’ve got another percent shaved off the GST, a larger bracket for non-taxable earnings which roughly translates to an additional $400 in my pocket, not to mention significant corporate tax cuts, which I don’t really give a shit about, regardless of the fact that they’ve been implemented to soften what will be a slowing economy. Additionally, roughly 10 of the remaining 11 billion or so surplus dollars will go to paying our national debt, leaving the government with something like 1.5 billion dollars to sit on.

Now this is all great and dandy. From the average citizen’s point of view. It somewhat compensates for the swelling dollar and the complete lack of consumer goods price adjustment, as well as making up for being taxed to the point of biweekly visits to the hospital as a result of a sore and swollen asshole. (Healthcare: You need it because they make you need it.) At the end of the day, having more money is good, right?

Maybe. But how’s all of this being paid for? Am I to believe that the Conservative government, in power for just over a year, is so fiscally responsible that they can implement these cuts without pulling money from somewhere else? In a time of war and military expansion? No. And neither should you. These cuts have to be funded somehow, and I suspect that these surplus numbers are somewhat based on inflated economic forecasts.

Hell, even if the numbers aren’t fudged, we still have an enormous set of problems to deal with at all levels of government that dropping huge wads of cash doesn’t seem to be the smart thing to do. Time will tell, I suppose.

condomi.jpg

Everyone in advertising knows that condom ads are easy to do. Well, everyone in advertising likes to say condom ads are easy to do. As are PSAs, and any product or category that has interesting consumer benefits that can be communicated through hyperbole or shock. But this one, well, I think we got a Golden Pencil in our presence. I’m green with envy.

September 29, 2007

Be sure to stick around for the slow-motion recap at the end.

Ok. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to post the story. Your relentless requests have become enormously tiring, so here it is: How I got arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

It’s Friday night. I’m at home assessing a freelance project I’m working on. I’m doing this because I don’t have much money, and because I wanted to get started on this project. But, mostly because I don’t have much money.

 

At around 11pm, the hunger pangs kick in. I peek into my fridge and quickly realize that any meal I could coax out of it would take at least half an hour of my precious time to prepare. No deal. I reach into my pocket and, much to my surprise, I pull out a 5 dollar bill instead of a handful of moths. Given my sloth-like appearance and complete lack of motivation to do much of anything, McDonald’s was decidedly my destination.

I walk out of my apartment, into the elevator, and then into the lobby of my building. There’s a rock about twice the size of my head sitting on the tiled lobby floor amongst a newly-formed blanket of glass shards. Coincidently, the previously glass doors no longer hold any panes. It takes a moment to compute, but it occurs to me that someone had thrown this massive stone through the lobby doors.

 

I could have left through the back doors, but that was beside the point. I try to open the doors, but the scattered shards make that impossible. I consider crawling through the door’s new speed-hole, but the few remaining, barely-attached pieces and the thought of being decapitated when passing through was more than enough to keep me considering other solutions. I think to myself “if I kick the door, the remaining glass will fall off and I’m free to leave!” So I do just that – kick the door, then crawl through.

 

Once out, with my head still attached to my body, I see a police car drive by. I wave my arms to get his attention and he slows to a stop. I lazily jog over to the car, and when about 10 feet away, he drives off. Confused, I look around, and see a bunch of people on the patio of the Korean restaurant next to the entrance of my building. I approach a young man who was closest to the front door of my building and ask him if he saw what happened. He stares at me blankly.

 

“Did you see what happened?” I repeat.

 

He blinks and stares some more.

 

“Hell-o!”

 

“No, I see nothing.”

 

“Ok, thanks.”

 

Just then I see another police car drive by. This one stops when I wave him down. He rolls down his window and I lean over to talk to him.

“Hi Officer. I just walked out of my apartment and it appears as though the front door’s been smashed by a large rock.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I was called to check it out.”

 

I put my hands in my pocket while he talks on his radio and another officer approaches.

 

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

 

I oblige and stand there while they chat. He asks me another question that I can’t quite hear so I crouch down so that I’m at eye level with him, when he suddenly shouts “I SAID put your HANDS when I can SEE them.” Without thinking, I had put my hands in my hoody’s pocket again.

The officers continue to chat when I hear the dispatcher over the radio say “We have a description. White male. About 6 feet tall. Grey hooded sweatshirt and camouflage shorts with a tattoo on his left leg.” Apparently the perp looks JUST like me. Wait. That IS me.

 

“That’s him. We got our guy.” Says the cop in the car.

 

“Are you sure?” Says the other officer.

 

“Yep.”

 

At that point, I’m being cuffed against the cruiser.

 

I say “This is fucking ridiculous. I LIVE there. I was going to get food! And I waved YOU down.” After taking down my information (name, address, etc), they read me my rights. I opt for city-provided council. I again say that I didn’t do it and that I was trying to report it, then decide to keep my mouth shut. After about 10 minutes of standing around, handcuffed for all my neighbours to see, I politely ask if the officer would put me in the back of the vehicle to save me the humiliation of everyone in the world seeing what an invalid I am until the situation is cleared up. They don’t.

 

Then, the person who originally called the police to report the crime shows up. Police ask “Is this the guy that did it?” He says “No. Definitely not.” They ask again “Are you 100% sure?” He says again “110%, actually.” And they un-cuff me, apologize explain that they were obligated, by law, to detain me. They gave me their cards, badge numbers and incident number in the event I had any follow-up questions or complaints.

 

It gets better.

 

They find the guy that called in the description and decide the little fuckface is due for a lesson. One of the officers asks me to stay for this, and, realizing what they’re doing, gladly agree.

 

“Sir, do you realize that the person that you called in a positive description of wasn’t the right person?”

He blinks.

 

“Sir, do you know that we just arrested this person, who lives in the building, for doing absolutely nothing at all?”

 

More blinking.

 

“Do you know that we could arrest you for doing that? According to his record, he’s clean as a whistle. Now, no matter what happens in the future, he’s always going to have at least a slightly different opinion of the police. You’ve also wasted nearly 20 minutes of our time while the real offender got away.”

 

Blinks again.

 

“We want you to apologize to him.”

 

“I sorry!”

 

I stare at him and say nothing. More than anything in the world I want to punch a hole through his face. Why? Well, he was the young man I originally asked if he had witnessed what happened. Something tells me that if I had hit him, the cops wouldn’t have done a thing about it.

 

That’s what happened on Friday night.

 

I learned a couple of things about encounters with the police that night. First of all, be courteous. Even if they’re infringing on your rights, you’ll get a lot further with them if you’re not a dick. The moment I showed a little bit of sass, they doubled it. They were within their rights to do what they did, but I didn’t realize it at the time. Being arrested for something you didn’t do feels like the greatest injustice in the history of mankind. But it really isn’t.

 

Secondly, keep your mouth shut no matter what. If you didn’t do it, it’ll be cleared up. If you did do it, well, anything you say can and will be used against you.

 

Thirdly, keep in mind that most of these guys are just doing their jobs. They go out, everyday, risking their health and lives. So, they have to take precautions. Sure, some use excessive force, or worse, their authority for personal gain – but that can never be assumed. Making their jobs easier in these situations will make your life easier overall.

More meat!

September 13, 2007

Oh, sweet Jesus.

52 Pick-Up

September 12, 2007

    In his blog today, a friend of mine, Jay Phil, asked what a good gift for a person with autism would be. I should be the last person to attempt to answer this question as I’m the WORST at giving gifts. I suck at it so bad that I’m better off not giving anything at all. I’m the type of guy to get his girlfriend a set of jumper cables for her birthday and not realize it was a bad idea. Regardless, Jay’s question was intriguing so I set aside my bowl of Kraft Dinner, wiped the sauce out of my chest and stomach hair, put on some pants and gave his query some thought. This is my answer. I know posting this seems just slightly self absorbed, but I’m genuinely proud of my idea. It’s not easy to be insightful when you’re dealing with something you don’t know much about. Intuition, however, is a different matter. Carrying on…

    Man, it’s really hard to try to answer your question without being a completely insensitive piece of shit. But I’ll try. Here we go:

    As I understand, there are many different forms of autism that vary in degree of severity. People with Asperger’s Syndrome–a form of autism–can fit in with the general public, hold down high profile jobs, and have no one any the wiser to their disorder other than the odd quirk. However, I’m assuming that you’re talking about a slightly more conspicuous, flailing-of-the-arms-and-repeating-of-nonsensical-phrases-and-words type of autism.

    My suggestion? A deck of heavy-plastic-coated playing cards. Why? Hours of fun. They can count ‘em, colour co-ordinate ‘em, count ‘em again, make castles, count ‘em again, add ’em up, count ‘em again, chew on ‘em, and more. Hell, they can even PLAY with them if they so choose. And, a high-end deck of cards can’t go for more than $10!

    So there’s my suggestion. You can thank me later.

For the sake of time sensitivity, you can view the original entry here.

September 11, 2007

Did a little Fall cleaning ’round these parts. I know it’s ugly, but the last theme was uglier, and so it shall remain this way until I can think of something I want to use as a header, or learn how to use this CSS thing that I think lets me use my own template. Or better yet, get my own domain.

I’ve deleted most of the tags as some of the search inquires that brought people here went way past amusing, through the treacherous mountains of Tlaclocl, and into a world that I haven’t been even tempted to peer into in moments of my most furious perversions. And I have some pretty furious perversions.

I’ve also updated the blogroll thing. It’s no longer called a blogroll, as that’s a stupid name for anything. It’s called “Links” as I link to some friends’ blogs, some blogs I read, and, of course, places I waste my time and my employer’s money. They’re all worth spending at least a few minutes looking at.