A Good Lay-Down

Last night, as about 11 or 11:30, Greg called to see if I wanted to go out for one of his friend's birthdays....now, normally, I'm up for that, but with my dad coming into town Tuesday, I felt that my evening would be better spent doing some light cleaning (more on that later).

Sometime just after I hit "snooze" for the third time this morning, I hear two people stumble in the front door.....it was the birthday party...turns out they had gone to the same place that always lets us out the back....and they actually had to bow out at about 5:30 or so to crash out...

I discussed the ridiculousness of our meeting as they come home from the bar, and I'm heading out to the gym, and went off to start my day...

In poker, my declining of the invitation last night would be termed a "Good Lay-Down".

A Point of Order

It has recently come to my attention that some of my co-workers have become aware of this little running one-sided dialogue of verbal/type-written diarrhea.

Now, I have little or no interest in editing what I write here for "office approriate" material...so can we come to an agreement that if you read this on even a quasi-regular basis that you won't rat me out for:

1. The time-stamps on my posts. I don't write if I have important things to do...I promise. Also, sometimes I just have an idea that I just want to remember, and the first time you type a single word and save it, Blogger will keep it for that date and time...regardless of editing or how much more you write later.
2. There will be times that posts here will explain unexpected absence or tardiness. Please keep these facts to yourself. I like working here...

Basically, I'm saying that if you stay cool, I'll stay cool....and hopefully entertaining...... :)

PS: I never mention where I work. It's not necessary information, and it keeps everyone happy...

People Watching

For those that might not know, one of my favourite things is just watching people. Whether it be just observing people as I'm going somewhere, or sitting on a patio and watching the passers-by, people just intrigue me...

Sometimes, if I'm in a snarky mood, I make fun of what people are wearing...or if I'm feeling creative, I try to piece together a story as to why they have the bags they do and where they're going with those items. It's all very peculiar, I know...but it entertains me to no end, and I guess it's the kind of self-contained oddities you might expect from an only child. Or maybe I'm just a sociopath...who knows?

Anyway, over the last couple of weeks I've had the absolute joy of observing two of the most intriguing (at least in my mind) subsets of modern society in their natural habitats. That is, I've recently been to both Starbucks and Wal-Mart.

Now, Starbucks by definition does not imply any particular type of person, but when you stick one in an area like the Kingsway, well....it almost goes without saying that the place will be crawling with pretentious Yuppies in no time. Okay, granted, by the strictest definition, I am a Yuppy (Young Urban Professional), but I feel that I am allowed to disclude myself from this group, as I do not drive a minivan, nor do I have annoying, screaming, bratty children named Paige or Spencer who can't sit fucking still for more than 2.3 seconds.......

{deep breath}

Sorry. Got a little worked up there. I just don't understand how people can't control their children... Yes, it's like dealing with drunken midgets all the time, but Christ! Is an entire minute of silence too much to ask? Sometimes I just want to go over and smack the parents. Hard. If you're not going to have the (proverbial) balls to control your children and instill some respect, why must you take them out in public and inflict them on nice, quiet patrons who just want to read and enjoy their ridiculously over-caffeinated beverage in peace?!?

{deep breath}

Okay. Enough with the Yuppy-spawn... And yes, I'll admit I know that one day I'll be one of them (minus screaming children, of course...they will either behave, or be locked in the basement...I will NOT be a hypocrite!), but I feel I must savour my time before I descend into Yuppihood, as I really think that the Male Yuppy must have had some kind of chemical lobotomy. They tend to have a "Stepford Husband" look about them. Of course, if I lived with their kids, I'd have likely lost the will to live at this point, too....

Moving on!

Again, it's not that Wal-Mart is only frequented by specific demographics, but I think we all know that it's a pretty safe bet you'll run into some pretty serious white trash. Now, I'm not going to assume they live in trailers, as I have yet to spot any trailerparks within Toronto city limits, but let's just say Jeff Foxworthy could make some keen observations about most of them without having to write any new jokes, shall we?

Damnit. I actually forget the snarky jokes I was making to myself in line this afternoon as I watched a family checking out in the next line....something about spandex being a privilege and not a right is coming to mind..........nope lost it...

Oh well.

But you just said my mind was 27...?

Your Inner Child Is Naughty

Like a child, you tend to discount social rules. It's just too much fun to break the rules! You love trouble - and it seems that trouble loves you. And no matter what, you refuse to grow up!

How Is Your Inner Child?

...now I'm confused... :(

Imagine that....

You Are 27 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Openly killing time before Craig Ferguson...

More drivel...

Your Brain's Pattern

You're a simple thinker, and this is actually a very good thing. You don't complicate matters when you don't have to. You look for the simplest explanation or solution, and you go with that. As a result, your mind is uncluttered and free of stress.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

And you didn't believe me when I said: "I don't do stress..."

I clearly need a new hobby...

You Are 64% Evil

You are very evil. And you're too evil to care. Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

How Evil Are You?

Believe it or not, I haven't even posted all the stupid little tests I've taken....just the remotely amusing ones, or at least the laughable results... :)

Okay, enough is enough

I have to get something off my chest. It has been bothering me for a while, but it just seems that lately people have been piling on more, and somewhere along the way the proverbial straw broke the camel’s back….

I guess I’m just sick and fucking tired of people assuming that I am some kind of single-minded drinking machine. A “Beer Terminator” of sorts. Why does this bother me? If you’re even asking this question, you’re clearly one of the people that I’m talking about.

It’s time for a quick dose of reality.

Do you honestly think that I would have been able to complete an Applied Math/Mechanical Engineering degree in four years (not, say…oh I don’t know…..six?) at a school like Queen’s if I was actually behaving like a drunken buffoon all the time? Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, I actually sat down and DID SOME WORK once in a while? Don’t you think I might have actually taken exams seriously? Maybe even fucking studied for them at my desk at home (sober no less!!)?!?

Get a fucking clue. I didn’t find it beside one of the Silver Scrolls in a Pawtucket Patriot beer….I worked for it, and I worked fucking hard.

Also, how do you think I was able to have a job lined up before convocation in a job market as stagnant as the spring of 2003? That, too, I worked hard for. I had been sending out letters and resumes since the fall, and it paid off. I stayed at my first job for a little over two years, almost hating every second of the last 18 months, but you know what? I still did my job, and did it damned well. There may have been a few hungover mornings, or sick days used for less-than-intended reasons, but they were pretty pleased with me on a whole. They had given me raises, had me taking care of one of our biggest customers on my own, even sent me on a weeklong trip to Calgary to represent the company at an industry show/conference. In fact, when I said I was leaving, they all but pleaded with me to stay, asking if there was anything they could do monetarily, or if I had been dissatisfied with my upward movement in the company, because they could fix those easily if I was willing to reconsider. I was not, as it was a crappy place to work, but that’s neither here nor there….

That leads me to my current position. I am not in a far more relaxed working environment, which is based almost exclusively on meeting deadlines and achieving goals. Yes, I tell stories about showing up late, and such…but to be honest, stories about staying until 8pm, getting things done and meeting deadlines AREN’T FUCKING INTERESTING!!! If was really that much of a fuck-up, I’d have been fired. Not given a raise and a new (read: better) desk.

Think about it.

Now, I guess part of this is my fault for posting all the stupid shit I get up to and not any of the good stuff, but really, that’s not me. I’m not boastful. And, as I said, it’s not very interesting.

Honestly, if you really thought that I’m just a drunken moron, then I guess we’re just not that close, and you should perhaps keep your fucking judgments to yourself, because any of my real friends know there’s a lot more to me.

If you think I’m overreacting, go fuck yourself. I don’t want to hear it.

Good Thing I’ve Got A Thick Skin!

Last night at the bar, a friend of mine proceeded to say that a) I shouldn’t ever get married, because I’d either become lame or just simply get divorced, and then b) that she’d rather be peed on than sleep with me. These are not “out of context” quotes, either. These were totally unprompted statements.

Then this morning, another friend told me that if she were my boss, she’d have fired me by now…granted this was said more in jest, but still…

Overall, it has been a rough 24 hours on the ol’ ego…. ;)

YAY! And on my first try, too!

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

I really need to get a life........

I'm as weird as Pat...this is bad news.....

You Are 60% Weird

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right? But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

How Weird Are You?

Well, I'm glad I chose Engineering!

Your Scholastic Strength Is Deep Thinking

You aren't afraid to delve head first into a difficult subject, with mastery as your goal. You are talented at adapting, motivating others, managing resources, and analyzing risk. You should major in: Philosophy Music Theology Art History Foreign language

What Should You Major In?

Like, fuck....seriously...

Believe it or not, the Philosophy elective I took was great....but still..........

Wow. I did NOT see that coming...

Misplaced Priorities

I just saw a guy walk out of the bank with one of those Cell Phone in his Sunglasses dealies...and get into his Kia.

I don't get that...

Then again, I have a million things I should be doing right now, and I'm writing a stupid post about it...so maybe I'm not one to talk..........

A Self-Indulgent Musical History Lesson

Last night while watching another channel that I didn’t have before Greg moved in (MMM), I stumbled across their “Classic Albums” show. Which normally bores the piss outta me, but this one peaked me interest, as it was Nirvana’s Nevermind.

Now I won’t bore you with a little diatribe about how it was a supposed groundbreaking album, setting a new music scene and ostensibly killing “Metal” as we knew it….mostly because that is revisionist history.

“What? Blasphemy!”, you say?

Consider the following:

1. Pearl Jam actually came out first, and while Nevermind beat out Ten (in sales, alone…they are basically a wash musically, in my mind), Vs. absolutely killed In Utero. Mostly because In Utero sucked.

2. The unmitigated sell-out that was MTV Unplugged which was excellent, but basically went against somewhere between 98% and 99% of what Nirvana stood for. That last 1-2% being the snazzy little cardigan Kurt wore.

3. Let’s be honest…if Billy Corgan had killed himself, and Kurt Cobain had not, wouldn’t they have basically traded places on the musical history timeline? Siamese Dream was damned good…but the ridiculous self-indulgence of the Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness double album (which could have easily been just a kick-ass “normal” album), followed by the recent trainwreck known as Zwan kinda ruined poor Billy. Granted, A Perfect Circle is pretty fucking cool, but that has a lot to do with Maynard from Tool, not to mention the (seemingly) dozen other musicians on the band…

All that said, I would still contend that Nevermind was one of the best in a two-year span that saw (as Neil and I have contended many times) some of the best albums of our time. Approximately 1990-92 saw (in no particular order) Nirvana’s Nevermind, U2’s Achtung Baby, STP’s Core, Green Day’s Dookie, Metallica’s Black Album, hell…I think Use Your Illusions I & II even came out in that time! Soundgarden’s Superunknown came out a year or so later, but does at least deserve to be mentioned in the same breath. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, but screw it….moving on….

I just found it really really cool to hear what Dave Grohl, Krist Novoselic and Butch Vig (the album’s producer) all had to say about the album…and really, hearing Butch cut tracks in and out of the songs from the board was really quite interesting. I’ve heard similar treatments on other versions of this show, but never relating to an album I know quite so intimately. It was incredible! I never knew that they doubled a lot of the vocals in choruses (chrorii?), and I also didn’t know that Dave sang a lot of falsetto back ups, and stuff. I had assumed it was all Kurt. I also enjoyed how they were all fawning over Cobain’s vocal abilities…how he really sang with tremendous pitch for having so much “gravelly” sound in his voice. Dave talks about Kurt’s screaming parts, saying that they sound like he’s “gargling with nails.” Yet, on some of the quieter tracks (“Something in the Way”, for example) Kurt and Butch almost couldn’t get Dave and Krist’s drums and bass, respectively, quiet enough to match Kurt’s voice and guitar.

But anyway, Grohl continues and actually addresses one of the biggest criticisms of Nirvana, and that’s the fact that their songs were soooooo simple. He contends that Kurt intended it like that. Dave didn’t add extra drum fills and such because they wanted to make “children’s songs”, meaning that they were simple…not over done. Butch Vig contended that Cobain wanted to have such loud guitar and pounding drums on the album to cover up the fact that they were basically catchy pop songs with great hooks - a point that speaks to the somewhat unexpected mass appeal of the album.

One interesting thing I didn’t know was that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was apparently written only a short time before Nevermind’s release (I believe they said the “newest” song on the album), which put it a stark contrast to “Lithium” and “In Bloom”, for example, which were apparently written much earlier.

Arguably the funniest part of the show was when Krist seems to feign some kind of revelation when he says “that album was likely the greatest thing I’ve done in my life.”

I just about died laughing at that one... :)

Must.....share..............

Oh my fucking God.

Not sure how to take this...

When I went to the church I practice at tonight, one of the old ladies that tends to be there from time to time was there. This isn't unusual...well, other than she's old and it's like 9pm. Isn't that past old people bedtime?

Anyway.

Her dog followed me into the room I tend to practice in, and I started playing, as while dogs tend to have odd reactions to bagpipes, her dog has been around when I've played before. This time? Her dog actually started to howl like a fucking banshee. You should not be able to hear a puntable-sized dog over bagpipes that you are playing!!

That thing's lucky he's cute....

I think we need to redefine "Classical"

On my way in to work today, I heard Lenny Kravitz's "Are You Gonna Go My Way" on Q107 (Toronto's Classic Rock station, for you non-TO folks).

Um, what? That song's from like 1993! Since when were the 90's classic rock?!?

And don't give me any of that "New Music from Classic Rock Artists" bullshit....that's reserved for Neil Young and the Stones...not a guy who debuted in the 90's!!

Or maybe I'm just getting old and cranky...

Overrated Can Come in Many Forms

This may startle those of you familiar with one of my alter-egos, a certain Electric Circus Iain, but until this past Saturday night (okay, technically Sunday morning) I had never been to the Guvernment.

There are lots of reasons for this, but it mostly to do with the fact that it's not really part of the scene that I inhabit in TO. The idea of going just doesn't come up, I guess. But, with a couple of friends-of-friends in town who really wanted to go dancing, and taking into account their arrival time of about 1:30am, there really aren't that many options out there....

Now, I'll be honest...I was kinda stoked. I was pretty sober, but energized. One of the revelations of my trip to Ibiza was that as long as there's good music and a cool vibe in the place, Electric Circus Iain can be brought out....

Only problem? The Guvernment sucks. Maybe it was an off night, but the music was awful (this coming from someone who admittedly likes dance/house/etc.), and the vibe in the crowd was not that great....people just seemed like they were there to take drugs, not to have fun. Call me old fashioned. Or maybe I've been ruined for every dance club here now that I've experienced the purported best clubs in the world, but still...I like to think that I can still have fun if fun is there to be had.

Either way, we left after like a hour or so...

Half-naked man, you say?

So I'm walking along in Sherway this afternoon, and as I'm wandering into the new A&F store, I come across a somewhat startling sight. What I had kind of assumed was a half-naked mannequin turned out to be the new "face" of A&F in the flesh.

This event basically confirmed what I had thought would be the biggest hurdle to me and my friend Stephen getting part-time jobs at Abercrombie (basically solely to take gratuitous advantage of whatever discount they offer), and that is that I'm not nearly pretty enough.

Now I'm going to go develop an eating disorder so I can get a part-time retail job...

Point Break Live

If you thought that Keanu Reeves' incredible acting abilities couldn't be duplicated....you'd be wrong!

Ultimate Non Sequitur

So a bunch of us are sitting there around the lunch table at work, and one of the girls we work with walks by, the following conversation ensued:

Naing: Hey, Sonya...gonna join us for lunch?
Sonya: Naw, I already ate.
Gordon: Oh, what'd you have?
[Editor's Note: Everyone's worried about missing out on the "lunch run", thereby getting a crappier lunch than you could have had....yes, this is a bit weird, but otherwise this sounds like an even more odd question...]
Sonya: Just a Chinese bun.
Dave: Aaaaaaand?
Sonya: That's it...
Dave (while digging into his Swiss Chalet chicken dinner): Oh, man...you really don't eat much, huh?
[Editor's Note #2: Sonya is about 5'-6" and might weigh 90 lbs....tops....]
Sonya: I'll bet I could out-eat all you guys when it comes to chocolate or candy!
All (sensing a contest!): Ohhhhhhhhh...
Dave: I doubt it... I once ate a dozen donuts on a dare.
Sonya: Well, I only did half a dozen...but they were Krispy Kremes.
Dave: Did you know that would kill a diabetic?
Sonya: Oh, no...I didn't....
Iain: Apparently you're not a diabetic.
Sonya: Yeah, I guess not...

Welcome to the party!

I can't find the link to it, but I heard on the radio this moring that in a recent interview with People (or some other wonderful publication like that) that Britney Spears was quoted saying: "I like to sing lullabys to my son...since the baby I've learned I can sing."

Um... what?

Easily Entertained, I guess...?

Am I the only person who still snickers at "pulled groin"?

Connection?

With today's news that the dude with the intense chops and brutal accent has been arrested and had his adds pulled, I can't help but feel a little worried. Do you think there could be any connection between drinking massive quantities of Keith's and deviant sexual behaviour?

I'm really hoping "No"...but if you know any of my friends, and our regular beer of choice, then maybe science has just explained a lot...

Sometimes the Fates conspire against you...

This morning, I decided to skip the gym. When I finally get up, what do I find? Snow. That I had to shovel.

I was not amused.

Olympic Report: Brokeback Edition

And now a Doubles Luge update...

Sometimes you just need to make a kitten joke

"Steve Nash is the best point guard in the NBA. Allen Iverson is a better player, but calling him a point guard because he brings the ball up the floor is like putting a kitten in the oven and calling it a biscuit."

-Bomani Jones

Minor Inaccuracies

Okay, so perhaps I wasn't exactly all there when I posted yesterday...what with only 2 hours sleep, and all....

Anyway, after piecing together the evening with Greg last night (incidentally, the first time we had seen each other outside of a bar and within striking distance of sober since last Wednesday or Thursday) I feel the need to note the following:

I had totally spaced on this, but Greg reminded me that at around 12:30 or 1, a Pizza Nova guy came wandering into the bar...with about a $30 pizza, which we were able to obtain for our table for a mere $10! Just for the record, I clearly remember this....I just neglected to include it previously. I believe this is just another reason why I believe this might be my new home with taps. Not that I don't still love Bryden's....but, well....10 minute walk vs. $12 cab ride? I think we know where this is going...

Also, after a brief chat with my landlord last night (joy....oh, joy), it turns out that we were mistaken regarding which neighbour called the fuzz. Turns out it was NOT the finicky old people next door (which I would have felt bad about on some level....as while being old and bitchy, they can be nice when they choose to be), but in fact the couple below us.

What. The. Fuck.

These are the same assmunchers that have kept me*, Greg and the girl that lives below them up a million times with their "afternoon" schedule (meaning for some reason their screaming 3 or 4 year old is up at 2am??) and their "Punjabi Rock Music" (Kim, the girl downstairs' friend of similar ethnic background's words...not mine....so I'm just repeating it, not making any kind of racial slur.....okay?) blaring at all hours of the day and night... So really? Fuck them! I'm going to fucking go down and bang on their fucking door every time I hear a PEEP outta them from now on, and Greg's going to do the same thing.... Fuckers. They picked the wrong assholes to fuck with.

The war is on!

* - for you grammar police, yes...it's "me", as I'd have written "us"...so fuck off...

Oh where to start.......

Some nights can start off relatively innocently...and others start off with malicious intent.

Greg's birthday is most assuredly the latter. Of this there is no doubt.

Suffice it to say that we stayed at the same bar Teresa and I went to last week until it was late enough that the bartender (same lovely girl from south of Belfast) felt it might be best (read: less incriminating and dangerous for the liquor license) if we were to leave by the back door... Yes, that's sketchy as hell, but who are we to argue?

That chapter of the evening complete, we depart for (believe it or not) the bar that Greg works at, and thus has keys to! Sadly, Greg was unable to disarm the security system properly (this may or may not have something to do with his relative lack of sobriety at this point...but we're not sure), and led to us somewhat hurriedly piling back into the cab and jetting home...

Once back, Adrienne made sure we didn't burn the place down with pizzas. We also were asked nicely by some gentlemen in blue to perhaps try to "keep it down". We LOVE our neighbour. Really, we do.

Me: Yes?

Cop: Could you guys maybe try to keep it down?

Me: We got home like 10 minutes ago....?

Cop: Yeah, that'd be about when we were called.

Me: I see. (closing door)

Greg and me in chorus (once door is closed): What a fucking bitch!

When you go to bed and have to reset your alarm because it's actually later than what it was set for previously, you know it was a good night. Anyway, once all is said and done, I'm stunned I even made it in by 10:30...

PS: Above pic is from New Year's...but is quite apt for this morning, as (sans Cowboy hat) that is what I left asleep in his room with his light still on....oh, apparently he had a midterm this morning at 11-something....we'll see how that goes..........

We may have a genius in our midst!

Now, I'm no major fan of Valentine's Day...it tends to give you a freakin' ulcer while trying to cobble something worthwhile together for someone that you supposedly care about, or reminds you that there's no reason to bother this year. Really, when I'm single, I just try to think about the money I'm saving, and being the cheap Scot that I am, that tends to cheer me up. :)

But I seem to work with a guy who may have mastered some pretty intense Jedi mind shit... He is dating a girl (fairly seriously), and he has pronounced that he doesn't celebrate Valentine's Day.

Excuse me? How did you manage this??

Apparently he never has, and just refuses to as much as acknowledge its existence.

I. Am. Impressed.

Okay, granted, I'm coming at this from a single's perspective. To be honest, I've never much minded the "holiday" when it has affected me, as generally one actually wants to buy stuff and such for someone they care about (I'm not going to drop the L-word, as it doesn't really matter either way.... and no, not that L-word), but it does somewhat annoy me that for whatever reason the middle day of arguably the most depressing month in Canada has been chosen as a day in which you HAVE to buy people stuff. I guess I'm just more spontaneous than that... I suspect I bristle at the concept of Valentine's Day the same way I bristle at the idea of New Year's Resolutions. If you actually want to make a change in your life, why do you need a calendar to tell you? Just do it. Similarly, if you actually care about someone, what's wrong with a present in June, or September? Why do you have to wait until Hallmark or some baby in a diaper tells you?

Or maybe I just have peculiar and far-reaching authority issues...

This Just In...

The Daily Show? Funny.

Yes, I'm several years behind on this one...but do keep in mind that I haven't had The Comedy Network since I graduated, so cut me some slack!

I guess there are some more discoveries that will be due as time passes over the next few weeks (we have a realtively extensive cable package for the duration of the Olympics, as I Greg may have killed me otherwise), such as Kenny vs. Spenny, which I am told may be loosely based on the concept of Greg and I living together in the first place...

Today's Wildly Underused Term:

Elegantly Wasted

I need new friends...

John Orr couldn't do it...a weekend in Kingston couldn't do it....but just a random night out with Justin and Greg did it.

I was late to band practice today.

It all started innocently enough, when Greg called me Saturday afternoon (hadn't seen him since Wednesday or Thursday.....this is becomming a common occurance, actually...but I digress) to see if I'd be in for trying to scalp Leaf tickets, as Justin's office had a power failure, and so he was coming into town cuz their server got reset, and he couldn't go in to work on Sunday (this broke his string of working every single day since New Year's, incidentally...and yes, it's February 12th). So J gets into town, and we head downtown to meet Greg.

Once we get down to the ACC, it turns out that there are some tickets, but the exchange goes something like this:

Scalper #1: Okay, so $80 a piece...
Us: Make it $60, and you have a deal.....c'mon, they're standing room tickets, man!
Scalper #1: Lemmie check... (to the other scalper) How much for these?
Scalper #2: Nothing less than $100 each!
Us: You have to be kidding me.......

So, we went to the bar.

Keep in mind that it's 6:30, we have an unsafe amount of cash on us, as we had been planning to eat and drink at the ACC during the game, and we feel like we just made money by not dropping a chunk of change on tickets. If you have ever had the pleasure of going out with Greg, Justin and I before, then you might have a good idea where this is headed.....

About 5 pitchers and a rye later, we decamp from Philthy McNasty's (have they bought all the Peel Pubs? or is the one in Montreal still going?) to the Rivoli, which fit the idea of a "gender neutral bar" that we were supposed to meet the girls at far better.

And as day follows night, so do doubles follow singles...at which point things get a little fuzzy. I believe there was a point that Greg and I tried to hustle some guys at pool, but I'll have to confirm that with him next time we cross paths...I'm not sure how that might have worked out, seeing just how wrecked we were, but anyway...

This is the part of the story that I had to piece together with my CSI-esque detective skills in the morning. I apparently called Pizza Pizza just before three, at which time I imagine they were closed....so Justin and I stopped at the 24-hour Sobey's to grab a couple of frozen pizzas (those of you who remember when Greg and I pulled a similar stunt after Player's need not worry....there was no repeat...), which it seems we ate off the coffee table without plates....as there is currently about half a bottle of Frank's Red Hot crusted on the coffee table.

I should probably clean that up....oh well......

More from the "I didn't need to know that" file...

Me {answering phone}: Hey, Justin...I just left you a voicemail...where are you?
Justin: Yeah, I'm just driving, and my phone was in the pocket of my jeans...
Me: So you just went with it?
Justin: Um, yeah...something like that....
Me: Never tell me that again.

Letter of Thanks

Dear Willa Holland:

With your recent run on the OC as Kaitlin Cooper, I just wanted to write a short note of thanks for making me feeling like a lecherous old man at the age of 25.

With love, and questionable motives,
Iain

PS: Not that I don't trust IMDB, but I'd really like to see a birth certificate....

Things you never want to hear from the guy at the next urinal:

"Hey, buddy...can you hold mine for a sec?"

I don't even know where to start...

Iain: I woke up for good at 5:20pm yesterday
Melis: i haven't had one of those days since queen's
Iain: well, I think I took NyQuil at like 5am, with a TONNE of booze in my system, then took it again at noon when I woke up to call in sick...
Melis: truly the sleep of the dead
Melis: i'm kinda suprised you woke up that early then....
Iain: yeah....even then, I didn't want to get up.....but I was hungry..... having not eaten in like 20 hours, or something....
Melis: this is the sort of situation where having a servant would have come in really handy
Iain: oh wow yes!
Iain: monkey butler!
Melis: midget butler
Iain: hm....much more sanitary
Melis: we've had this conversation before
Melis: you know, most people don't talk monkey vs midget as servants even once in their lives
Iain: this is true...

T-Money in tha T-Dot

Last night, I went out for what was to be a simple bite to eat with my pseudo-big sister Teresa who was in town from Winnipeg...little did I know...or maybe I should have known.

It all started off simply enough, with a nice Riesling over some Thai food...over which a classic Teresa story came up. Now, she has a tendency to back herself into little corners, and this is a wonderful example of exactly that. So, T$ owns a store in the 'Peg, next to which there is a restaurant owned by an emaciated chain-smoking dude that she is in love with. It all starts off innocently enough when her landlord is in her store, and in an attempt to get him to stop staring at her chest, she tells him that a friend of hers in a picture that she has up is in fact her boyfriend. Doesn't seem like a big deal? Well, somehow this news gets back to the chain-smoker, and now he thinks she's seeing someone, which isn't such a big deal considering that he's got a gf, himself, but then T's birthday comes along... Now, it is at this point that she has made her fake-bf into an actual person, with a job and everything...only "where is he for her birthday?" asks the chain-smoking bone rack. Well, as it turns out, he's getting in late that night...and then has to dash out early the next morning. "Oh, I think you deserve better than that!" says the gaunt chain-smoker. "Well," says Teresa thinking on her feet (always a dangerous thing when you're this deep in a lie), "if he gets in before you close up, we'll come by for a bite and you can tell him that yourself!" Now, that's a pretty blatant lie. And here come more issues.....turns out this guy just lives down the street from her! (how big is the 'Peg, after all?) So now she's worried that he'll notice that nobody comes in at any point that night...as if he's always watching her or something (???!!?)............but whatever... So now she's planning to go back to Winnipeg having broken up with her fake boyfriend while she was in TO, and will hopefully be able to embark on a torrid love affair with this unsuspecting dope. {sigh}

Anyway...after dinner we come back to my place to "keep the party going" and watch a coupla movies. So, after Wedding Crashers and two more bottles of wine, we decide to head out for snacks and such...only, it's like midnight, so there's not a whole lot open, and Lord knows we can't drive anywhere at this point...........so to the Esso station we go!

We get our supplies, and start heading back (did I mention it was brutally cold? like, when you're freezing your asses off bundled up and three bottles of wine in, it's COLD!). At this point (taking a different route back) we notice that there's a pub open!

Worst. Idea. Ever.

Of course, we wander in, like moths to a flame....and T immediately orders two Irish Car Bombs. Lovely. Anyway, we down those, grab a pint, and start chatting with the locals. One by one, they start to leave, and we grab one more pint at last call, of course. By this point, it's just us, the bartender (who's sitting on the patron side of the bar with a pint of her own) and the owner's son, who also works there. Now we start talking about all kinds of weird and random stuff....typical drunken "save the world" kinda stuff....but also U2, of course, seeing as we were in an Irish pub and the bartender was from near Belfast. (incidentally, now our first drink order seems rather assholish....but whatever) We now notice that they've locked the doors, and turned all the outside lights off. Now, the owner's son starts asking what we might want for a drink....on him! So we have another couple of rounds on the house.....and at this point, it's something like 3:30 or 4am, so bid farewell with hugs and such to our new best friends, and stagger back home...where Sideways doesn't get watched, and thankfully no more wine would be necessary, as we pass out on the couch in a pile...

Next thing I know? It's 12:17pm. Oops. Sick day, here I come! But I seeing as I was contemplating a sick day, regardless, I don't feel too bad...

Right now, I'm kinda glad Teresa lives in another province.

Is it safe (or sane) to love a fictional character?

I am here to announce that I love Dr. Isobel Stevens, and I don't care who knows it!


Ahh...my beloved Izzie.... :)

If it wasn't for NyQuil, I'd wish I was dead...

I am sick. I finally admitted it to myself last Thursday...so I caved and bought a bottle of NyQuil. Good times. To honour this event, I offer the following from Dennis Leary's No Cure for Cancer album:

I don't do illegal drugs anymore. Now I just do the legal drugs. Tonight I'm on NyQuil and Sudafed. Let me tell you something, folks. Forget about cocaine and heroine. All you need is NyQuil and Sudafed. I'm telling you right now, I took the NyQuil five years ago. I just came out of the coma tonight before the fucking show! Claus Vanbulo was standing over my bed going, "Denis, get up! There's something the matter with Sunny! Hurry up!" I love NyQuil. Man, I love it! I love it. I love it. I love it. It's the best thing shit ever invented. Isn't it, huh? I love the name alone. NyQuil - Capitol N, small Y, big fucking Q! I love that fucking Q, don't you!? What a great advertising idea! Put a huge fucking Q on the box. They'll get high and stare at it. "The Q is talking to me! The Q is talking to me!"

I love NyQuil, man. Because NyQuil has never changed, man. It's never changed. All the other medicines are doing that inner-child thing. "we know that there's a small child inside of you, so now we have grape and cherry and orange flavor." Not NyQuil! They still have the original green death fucking flavor! You know why!? Because it doesn't matter what it tastes like! It's so strong you go, "*wheeze* Hey this stuff really tastes like.." Bang! Yer in the coma already! "What happened?" "He said tastes like and he went right into the coma, it was unbelievable!" We have reached the point where the over the counter drugs are actually stronger than anything you can buy on the street. It says on the back of the NyQuil box, on the back of the box it says, "May cause drowsiness." It should say, "Don't make any fucking plans! Kiss your family and friends goodbye. Say hello to Klaus!" NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you! You giant fucking Q!

NyQuil is the secret for all you twelve step recovery program people. Yes, all you AA people, NyQuil is the key! It's the thirteenth fucking step! You can drink it! It's over the counter! Drink as much as you want. "Are you drunk?" "No! I have a cold. Same cold I've had for two years. I just can't seem to shake it. I'm high as a kite and my teeth are green. Merry fucking Christmas!"

That is all.

Wishing I Could Take Credit

Okay, I confess...

My prognostication yesterday at Amr's that the Stones would play (in no particular order) "Start Me Up," "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction," and "Rough Justice" was a complete and total ripoff.

I feel better now that I've come clean.

I wish I was kidding

Words cannot describe...

http://www.the-mario-opera.com/

With thanks to Ian and Maya. :)

The Streak is Broken (kind of)

One of the great gambling locks in history* has finally proven to be fallible.

Yesterday, Patty Paterson picked a Super Bowl wrong for the first time since I've known her (fall of 1999 - first year, for those of you scoring at home). Her incredibly scientific method of (I really wish I was kidding) choosing whichever uniform she thought looked nicer has served her particularly well, even correctly picking the 17-point underdog Patriots to win their first Super Bowl prior to kickoff.

As the story goes, Patty walked into the room to watch the game, as which point Pat and Melissa emplored her to make her decision. Initially, she picked "The Yellow Team" (Pittsburgh), but upon further review, decided that they were too ugly to win, and thus when she called me to announce her pick, it was the Seahawks... Needless to say, Pittsburgh ended up winning.

The lesson, as always, go with your first instinct, Paterson!

* - The other great "lock" is of course betting against anything Nathan bets on. This is the guy that put money on Sweden to beat Belarus, thereby being responsible for arguably the biggest upset in international hockey history!

Dear Seattle Seahawks:

We're sorry we didn't even give you a pillow or leather strap to bite on.

Our bad.

Love,
NFL Officials

"...so be wary of any man who keeps a pig farm"

With the trial having started this week regarding that sick fuck in Port Coquitlam, I felt that it should be noted that if more cops watched good movies, then they might have suspected this creep sooner!

Either that, or I just wanted to post a pic of Brick Top... :)

Sometimes Things Just Need To Be Said

Okay, so there's this guy at the gym, and he's really bothering me. He's built like Peter Griffin, inasmuch as when he's naked, you still can't see anything on account of his massive belly. You've seen that episode with the nudists, right? Anyway, it creeps me out to no end, and I hope it does the same to you.

Before you get mad at me for telling you this, do note that it's usually in the morning, before breakfast or even coffee that I see this. Sometimes I'm stunned I can even continue on with my day.

I feel better having shared my pain with the world.

Though somehow I get the feeling you'd have rather I kept that little tidbit to myself...

Wisdom from Paul Shirley

Why do I seem to always convey personal thoughts about my own psyche via quotes from writers of questionable literary ability?

Meh...fuck it. I don't care. This is from Paul Shirley the one-time NBA player of benchwarmer blog fame. It would seem he's starting a TV show soon, based loosely on his own career...but anyway, in his most recent Journal Entry (titled "My So-Called Career"), he says the following, which I think applies to me, too:

"One of the more annoying aspects of the experience of knowing me is my constant need to talk about anything that is bothering me. It's a somewhat girlish trait; apparently the common 'man' bottles his feelings, later turning to regular beatings of his wife as an outlet for his angst. Not me -- I have to get everything out in the open, often to my own detriment."

I love that line..."the experience of knowing me"...haha..... :)

Last Night on Earth

I once had a pair of hideous aviators that my friend Andrew bought me during breakfast (yes, the service at Epicure was that bad....there has to be a reasons they're closed now, right?) last May Two-Four in Kingston on our way to Ottawa. As few of you know, they are no more. New Year's Eve in Tremblant was their swan song. That evening I did my best Corey Hart impression. The following is a photo essay dedicated to the memory of those ridiculous sunglasses...

(New Year's, you say? It's February 1st! Why did it take so long for me to do this? I just got my pictures developed last week. Sue me. Also, thanks to James and Patty for their contributions as well...knowingly, or not...)

I seem to think I'm cool...or maybe I'm just trying to figure out the tip...I don't recall....

Laura with the shades

Tracey's turn...

Patty looking sultry with some dork mauling her...

It's hard to fight 'em off with shades like those!

More sultry Patty...now with Melissa's tongue in her ear!

Now some sultriness from Tracey...

No cameras, please!

Okay, maybe just one...
(Justin doesn't seem overly impressed with me...does he?)

I seem to be slightly intoxicated...

I. Am. Spent.

The next morning? Horror!
I think I slept on them.

PS: If you caught the vague U2 reference in the title of this post, give yourself a cookie... :)

PPS: Just for the hell of it...Melissa and Patty kissing:

I Don't Think I'm Gonna Get Bored Of This

...or at least not soon!

Today I had the lovely chance to use my cliché "Engineer's Trunk" (hard hat, steel toed boots, nomex suit and golf clubs...well, I didn't use the golf clubs...but anyway...) when I went to visit an IFR vendor at Shell's Keele Terminal. Anyway, I still LOVE getting all dressed up in that crap to go inside the tanks and poke around, and stuff...or, maybe I'm just easily entertained.

Anyway, the guys offered to buy me lunch after the site visit (my first real "Business Lunch" bought by someone I don't work with....good times!), and a couple of them start clearing the dishes and stuff, and I joke that they have quite a system going there....the following exchange follows:

Dave: "Yeah, we have to do it every night....it's called being married!"
Me (feigning amusement): "Ha."
Ray: "I take it you're not?"
Me: "Um, no."
Ray: "Let me give you some advice..."
Dave (interrupting): "Don't?"
Me (again, feigning amusement): "Ha."
Ray: "Well, yes....but more specifically, just save yourself a lot of headaches and just get a maid and a hooker. If you want kids, just volunteer one hour a day at a daycare. Don't go for two hours, cuz you'll never go back. One hour'll be fine."
Me (thinking): Hmm...this Ray guy's on to something.........

Am I the worst person alive? I'm thinking "No"....it's probably the guy who stole millions from the Salvation Army.

Some Possible Misinterpretations

I can't help but feel that a clarification is required...

While I arguably hate more people than most, I insist that this does NOT mean I'm jaded. Not at all. While I was unspeakably pissed off (and kinda disappointed, to be honest) about the results of me run-in with the fuck knobs at Expedia, it was literally a matter of minutes before we were discussing using our airline credits to visit NYC. And then this morning, Justin sends an email seeing who wants to go visit Jon and go snowmobiling. Finally, this afternoon on my way back from Shell's Keele Terminal (more on that later) I called my friend Myalee in Fort McMurray, AB to confirm that she was still down with our prospective Cuba/Mexico/DR trip....however, I forgot that she works the night shift. It was 3pm our time (1pm for her). Oops! Thankfully, my gratuitous appologies were met with "Iain, you can always wake me up to discuss drinking on a tropical beach. I'm in fucking Fort McMurray...you practically made my week!" ...or something to that effect....

So in closing, when life closes a door, it opens a window...just make sure that window's not on the 18th floor if you decide to go through it.... :)

Finally, An Example To Show Why I Hate People!

I knew that I had been awfully lucky to have gone this long without being able to rant about one of the many mental midgets walking around this earth pretending to be a normal person, but meanwhile having the intelligence of a walnut. No, sorry...I shouldn't insult walnuts like that.

As you may be aware from recent posts, a trip to Vegas had been planned (albeit admittedly drunk) with my friends Jenna and Gabriela. Now, the times were awful for all involved, and so we decided that if we could get a more agreeable itinerary, we'd try to make this bad idea we had forced on ourselves come to life.

Silly me, I thought this might work.

So I call Expedia.ca and speak to a very nice woman. She kindly tells me that there are in fact flights that will work with the times we want to travel! "Oh boy!" I think to myself. So I proceed to confirm with my prospective travelling companions that this will in fact work....and then call Expedia back to confirm the changes. This is where everything falls apart. Apparently the moron I spoke to first neglected to note that there would be a SIGNIFICANT price increase with the revised flight times....like, we're talking more that DOUBLE the original cost of the entire package!!

Fuckers.

So, in short, no Veags, baby.........at least not yet...