I'm not dead, dude. I'm hibernating. I don't know where you happen to live but over here it's fucking FREEZING outside, so I spend most of my time curled into a fetal position desperately trying to conserve enough body heat to last till spring. Since you refuse to let sleeping streaks lie, I might as well give you some sort of an update.
The non-disclosure agreement I signed prevents me from getting into the details, but I can tell you that my job isn't as awesome as it used to be. I'm now testing a game with so little actual gameplay in it that if gameplay were white people the game would be called Harlem. I don't think my vocabulary contains enough adjectives to describe how boring this so-called game gets sometimes. It's still the best job I've ever had but it's not ahead by as much as it used to be.
I've been watching a lot more tv lately. So much, in fact, that the last thing I expected to happen has happened.
I found a commercial I kind of sort of like. Most commercials make me want to drop a brick on somebody's fucking head so badly that I might have to avoid watching them alone because I don't want to accidentally take my rage out on myself. Fuck, I hate commercials. Except for this one commercial for something called McCain Smooth-eez. There's this kid sitting on the floor building a model or something and his parent walks into the room and accidentally steps on it. The face the kid makes looking up at his parent for a split seconds gets me every time, man. Every time. He just looks so... crushed. I couldn't give two shits about McCain, or Smooth-eez, or any combination of the two, but that kid actor gets props for cheering me up when I need it.
The sentence you're currently reading is about to sum up absolutely everything I know about the winter olympics going on in Torino, Italy, in which Canada has 8 medals as of right now. This impressive wealth of knowledge comes from glancing at newspaper headlines, and not much else. In conclusion, winter olympics = boring.
Guess what, I just looked it up and Canada has 11 medals right now, not 8. So there you go. Like I said, boring.
Friday, February 17
Tuesday, January 3
wasting some time at work
- 2 hours of sleep
- No breakfast
- Painful cough and stuffy head
- Room full of computers and video game consoles raising temperature to crazy, untolerable levels
Other than that, though, it's all good. My food just got here so I'm gonna go do whatever it is people usually do with their food. I think it might involve some form of eating.
Sunday, December 25
Merry Non-Denominational Winter Holiday
Apparently there's somewhat of a hissyfit being thrown by certain fundamentalists over the war being waged against their annual celebration of Jesus' birth, also known as Christmas. Seeing as how Jesus died for the sins of humanity and went to live with his old man in heaven about two thousand years ago, these people are taking it upon themselves to ensure that his name will forever be used to sell decorations and toys.
Someone explain something to me. First, Jesus was all like "Get that commercialism shit out of this temple or I'll flip out and cast you out myself." and people seemed to think that was a good idea. The house of God is no place for consumerism and capitalism. This part makes sense to me. Don't mix people's faith with consumerism, as it will most likely end up in the exploitation of the masses.
Somewhere between then and now, it became tradition to celebrate this man's birth by buying eachother presents. This, in and of itself, isn't too bad. Christianity (to the best of my knowledge) puts a lot of emphasis on giving to those in need, so I can see how the gift-giving part of this holiday still falls within Jesus' teachings. Spend time and money on others, to make them happy. Of course, the gifts don't necessarily go to those in need, but those who are important to us, so there's already some discrepancy. Reasonable, though, seeing as how buying presents for our loved ones is hard enough. Imagine trying to please total strangers.
I have absolutely no clue how Santa Claus began to tie into all of this, but I like to think that he was created to let non-Christians get in on the fun. Don't practice the same religion? No problem, just invent a fat man in a red suit to keep the kids entertained, and buy eachother presents all the same. Everybody's happy.
Now, the confusion kicks in when I hear people claiming that not celebrating this holiday is equal to waging a war against it. There is a war being waged against a religious holiday, but the biggest complaint I keep hearing is that the phrase "Happy Holidays" is slowly replacing "Merry Christmas". There are people boycotting stores because they use "Happy Holidays" in their commercials. People actually think those two words are going to destroy the foundation of their solemn tradition.
Hey, dumbasses. First, your messiah tries to seperate materialism and religion. Then, over the next two thousand years, materialism becomes a large part of your biggest religious holiday. After realizing that even Jesus Christ himself couldn't take the materialism out of religion, people begin to try to take the religion out of materialism instead. It seems to me that if I were a Christian, I'd be happy to see companies removing my savior's name from their commercials. Why not let others buy eachother gifts and spread good will and all that crap without using religion to sell stuff? Wait, what am I thinking. Instead of letting people do whatever they want during the holidays, why don't you get offended if people don't use the correct terminology to express good will. While you're at it, why not fight to get your messiah's name used to sell as many different products as possible? We all know how happy Jesus would be to come back to Earth and see that his birthday is celebrated by lining up in crowded stores and comparing gifts. He'd also like to see people acting like crybabies because "Happy Holidays" doesn't acknowledge him. We all know how much Jesus hated it when the house of God began to resemble a bazaar, so why not boycott the companies who refuse to associate Christ's name with the annual explosion of consumerism that Christmas has become these days?
The above refers to a very select group of people, though. Otherwise, I don't celebrate Christmas because I never got into it that much. I don't really have much of an explanation besides the religious aspect not applying to me at all and the traditional side of it not having much appeal to me.
I also never understood the hatred for socks. The few lackluster Christmases I remember involve receiving yet another book or board game or toy while my socks resemble swiss cheese at a firing range. Just a few good pairs of socks that could last me more than a month would have probably improved my opinion of Christmas in general substantially.
Note: I realize a lot of this particular blog is probably based on assumptions about Christianity and Christians in general, and probably doesn't apply to 99% of the people out there. In fact I'm pretty much talking out of my ass most of the time because the truth is I have absolutely no idea of the real origins of Christmas, both the religious version and the traditional version. I guess you could say I'm ranting about things that don't concern me at all. Furthermore, I'm a greedy bastard who doesn't enjoy spending large amounts of money on loved ones. This may bias my opinion in some way. Also, Christmas sucks.
Someone explain something to me. First, Jesus was all like "Get that commercialism shit out of this temple or I'll flip out and cast you out myself." and people seemed to think that was a good idea. The house of God is no place for consumerism and capitalism. This part makes sense to me. Don't mix people's faith with consumerism, as it will most likely end up in the exploitation of the masses.
Somewhere between then and now, it became tradition to celebrate this man's birth by buying eachother presents. This, in and of itself, isn't too bad. Christianity (to the best of my knowledge) puts a lot of emphasis on giving to those in need, so I can see how the gift-giving part of this holiday still falls within Jesus' teachings. Spend time and money on others, to make them happy. Of course, the gifts don't necessarily go to those in need, but those who are important to us, so there's already some discrepancy. Reasonable, though, seeing as how buying presents for our loved ones is hard enough. Imagine trying to please total strangers.
I have absolutely no clue how Santa Claus began to tie into all of this, but I like to think that he was created to let non-Christians get in on the fun. Don't practice the same religion? No problem, just invent a fat man in a red suit to keep the kids entertained, and buy eachother presents all the same. Everybody's happy.
Now, the confusion kicks in when I hear people claiming that not celebrating this holiday is equal to waging a war against it. There is a war being waged against a religious holiday, but the biggest complaint I keep hearing is that the phrase "Happy Holidays" is slowly replacing "Merry Christmas". There are people boycotting stores because they use "Happy Holidays" in their commercials. People actually think those two words are going to destroy the foundation of their solemn tradition.
Hey, dumbasses. First, your messiah tries to seperate materialism and religion. Then, over the next two thousand years, materialism becomes a large part of your biggest religious holiday. After realizing that even Jesus Christ himself couldn't take the materialism out of religion, people begin to try to take the religion out of materialism instead. It seems to me that if I were a Christian, I'd be happy to see companies removing my savior's name from their commercials. Why not let others buy eachother gifts and spread good will and all that crap without using religion to sell stuff? Wait, what am I thinking. Instead of letting people do whatever they want during the holidays, why don't you get offended if people don't use the correct terminology to express good will. While you're at it, why not fight to get your messiah's name used to sell as many different products as possible? We all know how happy Jesus would be to come back to Earth and see that his birthday is celebrated by lining up in crowded stores and comparing gifts. He'd also like to see people acting like crybabies because "Happy Holidays" doesn't acknowledge him. We all know how much Jesus hated it when the house of God began to resemble a bazaar, so why not boycott the companies who refuse to associate Christ's name with the annual explosion of consumerism that Christmas has become these days?
The above refers to a very select group of people, though. Otherwise, I don't celebrate Christmas because I never got into it that much. I don't really have much of an explanation besides the religious aspect not applying to me at all and the traditional side of it not having much appeal to me.
I also never understood the hatred for socks. The few lackluster Christmases I remember involve receiving yet another book or board game or toy while my socks resemble swiss cheese at a firing range. Just a few good pairs of socks that could last me more than a month would have probably improved my opinion of Christmas in general substantially.
Note: I realize a lot of this particular blog is probably based on assumptions about Christianity and Christians in general, and probably doesn't apply to 99% of the people out there. In fact I'm pretty much talking out of my ass most of the time because the truth is I have absolutely no idea of the real origins of Christmas, both the religious version and the traditional version. I guess you could say I'm ranting about things that don't concern me at all. Furthermore, I'm a greedy bastard who doesn't enjoy spending large amounts of money on loved ones. This may bias my opinion in some way. Also, Christmas sucks.
Wednesday, December 14
You're jealous.
So this company called Babel Media is going to be paying me eleven dollars an hour to play videogames all day then tell them what went wrong while I was playing said videogames. Eleven dollars an hour to PLAY GAMES and WRITE STUFF. And if I happen to do more than forty hours a week of playing games and writing stuff, my overtime hours are worth sixteen bucks an hour.
They're going to pay me to play videogames and write stuff down! Little do they know that's what I usually do for FREE!
This new job only starts on Monday so in the meantime here's a little story about my current job as a market research interviewer. In case you can't figure it out, my job involves dialing phone numbers and asking people if they want to spare ten minutes to answer some mind-numbingly repetitive and redundant market research questions.
I called this one number the other night and start off with our oh-so-convincing intro paragraph. "Yes good evening, my name is Jacob and I'm calling from Impact Research concerning a market research study. I'd like to know if you have about ten minutes to answer some market research questions with me over the phone at this time." Rather than the usual "I thought I told you guys last week I don't care for market research, stop calling this number", the guy on the other end of the line starts with "Well I'm sort of busy right now but if you give me your home number I'll call you later and we can talk for a bit."
This was the first time somebody had tried to mess with me, and I was sort of proud that it was coming from a Montreal number. Just goes to show how much better we are than you (assuming you don't live in Montreal. If you do, keep on rocking, friend). So of course I'm not going to sit there and stammer like someone who's not from Montreal, I'm going to mess around just as much with this guy as he's trying to mess with me.
"Well man I'd love to give you my number and all but I don't see what good it would do seeing as how the computer I need to take your answers down with is in the office and not at home. If you want I can just write your number down and call it from home and we can talk all you want though." This must be just as good as him getting my number and calling me, right? I mean, I already have his phone number so why not just call him myself if he wants to talk so badly?
He must not have thought this was a good idea because he once again insisted I give him my number. You see, not only do I sort of not have a phone number (the phone in the house is my cousin's cell phone) but I didn't expect him to call me anyway. So I told him, "Actually, I'm homeless and didn't want to admit it if I didn't have to. That's why I'm working this terrible job. Can we call you back at another time though?"
He either didn't feel sorry for me at all or realized I was quite obviously joking, because he then told me "Oh, you're homeless? Sucks. Anyway I'm actually only robbing this house so don't call back because I won't be here." So this guy thinks he's a comedian or something.
I tell him: "Okay well if you're robbing the place can you leave at least one phone so that when I call back the owners will have a phone to answer?" The last thing I heard before I hung up was him going "NO DAMMIT DON'T CALL BACK!"
But that's all in the past especially seeing how I'm about to start getting paid to play games and write stuff.
They're going to pay me to play videogames and write stuff down! Little do they know that's what I usually do for FREE!
This new job only starts on Monday so in the meantime here's a little story about my current job as a market research interviewer. In case you can't figure it out, my job involves dialing phone numbers and asking people if they want to spare ten minutes to answer some mind-numbingly repetitive and redundant market research questions.
I called this one number the other night and start off with our oh-so-convincing intro paragraph. "Yes good evening, my name is Jacob and I'm calling from Impact Research concerning a market research study. I'd like to know if you have about ten minutes to answer some market research questions with me over the phone at this time." Rather than the usual "I thought I told you guys last week I don't care for market research, stop calling this number", the guy on the other end of the line starts with "Well I'm sort of busy right now but if you give me your home number I'll call you later and we can talk for a bit."
This was the first time somebody had tried to mess with me, and I was sort of proud that it was coming from a Montreal number. Just goes to show how much better we are than you (assuming you don't live in Montreal. If you do, keep on rocking, friend). So of course I'm not going to sit there and stammer like someone who's not from Montreal, I'm going to mess around just as much with this guy as he's trying to mess with me.
"Well man I'd love to give you my number and all but I don't see what good it would do seeing as how the computer I need to take your answers down with is in the office and not at home. If you want I can just write your number down and call it from home and we can talk all you want though." This must be just as good as him getting my number and calling me, right? I mean, I already have his phone number so why not just call him myself if he wants to talk so badly?
He must not have thought this was a good idea because he once again insisted I give him my number. You see, not only do I sort of not have a phone number (the phone in the house is my cousin's cell phone) but I didn't expect him to call me anyway. So I told him, "Actually, I'm homeless and didn't want to admit it if I didn't have to. That's why I'm working this terrible job. Can we call you back at another time though?"
He either didn't feel sorry for me at all or realized I was quite obviously joking, because he then told me "Oh, you're homeless? Sucks. Anyway I'm actually only robbing this house so don't call back because I won't be here." So this guy thinks he's a comedian or something.
I tell him: "Okay well if you're robbing the place can you leave at least one phone so that when I call back the owners will have a phone to answer?" The last thing I heard before I hung up was him going "NO DAMMIT DON'T CALL BACK!"
But that's all in the past especially seeing how I'm about to start getting paid to play games and write stuff.
Monday, November 28
Check this out
This is the door in my bedroom.
This is where the magic happens.
My dresser doesn't fit in this new room, so I had to make due with the space I had.
And this is the back wall.
I'd type up something interesting here but I'm sort of in a rush to get to bed so good night.
Oh, and I'm aware of the various spots where I fucked up. I'll fix them soon.
Friday, November 4
Eric
Saturday night. So there I am sitting on the 207, right? On my way to a friend's house for a party. I'm sitting towards the back of the bus and I vaguely notice a black guy get on the bus and sit in the back, but just out of my sight. Ten minutes later the guy decides he wants to get to know me better and comes and sits next to me.
Okay, stop. Now I know I said "next to" me but it was really more of a combination of "next to" and "on top of". His left leg was pressed firmly against mine and he was leaning in towards me. I immediately look him right in the eye to see if he's trying to get my attention or something. So after three seconds of direct eye contact without him saying anything and still pressing his leg against me, I take it upon myself to inquire into his intentions.
"What the fuck are you doing?" What can I say, I like to get to the point.
He stares directly at me for another second or two before managing to mumble out, "Uh, wait, you're not a girl?" HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM!
I take a moment to ponder the infinitely complex question this African-American stranger has put forth to me. After a few moments of intense calculation and reasoning the best answer I can come up with is "Ummm, no." This answer seemed to arouse my new friend, as the next thing I see him doing is flicking his tongue at me. Okay, things are getting fucking creepy now. I guess my vacant/confused stare triggered something in this guy's head that something about the situation wasn't right, because he then went about trying to double-check everything we've went over so far.
"Are you sure?" Fucking Christ. Yeah, buddy, I'm sure. I mean, I was a guy last time I checked but who knows what's changed since then so let me just stick my hand down my pants and make sure just for you. It's around this point I start to figure things out and ask the first relevant question of the night. "Are you like really drunk or something?" He shakes his head no. "Did you take something?" He shakes his head yes. PROGRESS! Now you might think after being asked if you've taken something, you might just figure it out to tell the person what it was. But no, I had to ask him. "What did you take?" Finally it fucking comes out that this guy is tripping on mushrooms. I politely inform him that he should have told me that from the beginning as it would have made for an overall less awkward situation. Then I realize that he thought I was a girl at first and was trying to hit on me, so he's either lying about being on mushrooms or he's tripping pretty fucking hard. He was also still pressing up against me and he did look sort of out of it so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
During the course of the bus ride I got his name and e-mail address so I can talk to him online and see if he remembers any of it. Eric also invited me to his house for his mom's cooking somewhere along the way. I declined.
Anyway the 207 brings us to Fairview Terminus where I have to go take another bus to get to my friend's house. I sit on a planter to wait for the bus and lo and behold Eric comes to wait at the same spot. As I'm sitting down he stands in front of me and presses his kneecaps against mine and leans in towards me. Of course in any other situation, an older guy who I just met actively pursuing physical contact would scare the shit out of me, but who knows what the fuck goes through your head when you're tripping so I let him have his fun. He does this for about a minute before getting bored and sitting down in between me and this girl who's talking on her cell phone while waiting for the bus.
Seeing as how I only met him minutes ago I don't really pay him much attention while he's sitting next to me. He's no longer hitting on me or touching me so I take advantage of the situation by zoning out and staring into space like I often do while waiting for the bus. That is, until I hear the girl who was sitting on the other side of Eric asking, "Excuse me? Hello? Were you talking to me? What did you just say?" I look over and surprise surprise Eric is staring directly into her eyes mumbling something about "hi what's your name your lips are real shiny".
For a split second I thought of letting her deal with him on her own. I could chose to pretend to not know him, do absolutely nothing and eavesdrop on what I am sure is going to be the most hilariously awkward conversation I've ever eavesdropped on. Of course this master plan is ruined when I remember that Eric was just pushing up against me right next to this girl. She must think we are here together and will probably either end up asking me what's going on with my friend anyway.
Actually, about my "friend". You might be wondering exactly how he was acting. I mean, he was obviously acting weird enough for me to notice something was up but I had the benefit of being mistaken for a girl as a red flag. It's not the first time it's happened, mind you, but when he sat down right fucking next to me and looked me in the face and asked me "Are you sure?" it kind of clicked in my head. Other than that, though, the first thing you'd notice about him was the way he'd stare vacantly while talking. He wasn't violent or jumpy or hyper or anything like that, but rather too mellow and relaxed to take seriously. Oh, and he also had a tendency to lean in towards you just a little too close for comfort. He was able to answer questions without going on rants about the cosmic intergalactic uniqueness of our entity that is linked by all living beings and blah blah blah so there was very little indication that he was intoxicated, let alone on a hallucinogen. By the way he had told me he took "three big caps" of mushrooms at an afterhours near Berri-UQAM metro. We were now at Fairview Terminus and he was by himself the entire time. He also told me he was 26. Make of that what you will.
After a short staring contest with Eric, the girl looks at me as if to say "what the hell is going on please save me with your gigantic, rippling muscles" so I explain the situation as best I can. "Don't look at me, I just met him five minutes ago. He said he was on mushrooms." Well what do you know, she doesn't really believe me so I have to spend the next five minutes telling the first half of this story five minutes after it happened. Eric fills in the gaps in my story by staring and nodding in agreement. The girl tells us she's done mushrooms before and can sort of understand so she was pretty cool with it. Anyway Eric leaves to go take his bus and the girl tells me that she had seen us pushing our legs together so she figured we were a couple. Then, upon closer inspection we're both guys so she figures we're gay. Then Eric decides to start hitting on her so she figured we were swingers or something. Once I told her he was on mushrooms she thought we were playing a joke on her. And I think I forgot to mention that while Eric was there she was explaining the situation to her boyfriend who was on the phone as I was explaining it to her.
I then proceeded to go to the party and tell this story several times over the course of the night. Now I never have to tell it again.
Okay, stop. Now I know I said "next to" me but it was really more of a combination of "next to" and "on top of". His left leg was pressed firmly against mine and he was leaning in towards me. I immediately look him right in the eye to see if he's trying to get my attention or something. So after three seconds of direct eye contact without him saying anything and still pressing his leg against me, I take it upon myself to inquire into his intentions.
"What the fuck are you doing?" What can I say, I like to get to the point.
He stares directly at me for another second or two before managing to mumble out, "Uh, wait, you're not a girl?" HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM!
I take a moment to ponder the infinitely complex question this African-American stranger has put forth to me. After a few moments of intense calculation and reasoning the best answer I can come up with is "Ummm, no." This answer seemed to arouse my new friend, as the next thing I see him doing is flicking his tongue at me. Okay, things are getting fucking creepy now. I guess my vacant/confused stare triggered something in this guy's head that something about the situation wasn't right, because he then went about trying to double-check everything we've went over so far.
"Are you sure?" Fucking Christ. Yeah, buddy, I'm sure. I mean, I was a guy last time I checked but who knows what's changed since then so let me just stick my hand down my pants and make sure just for you. It's around this point I start to figure things out and ask the first relevant question of the night. "Are you like really drunk or something?" He shakes his head no. "Did you take something?" He shakes his head yes. PROGRESS! Now you might think after being asked if you've taken something, you might just figure it out to tell the person what it was. But no, I had to ask him. "What did you take?" Finally it fucking comes out that this guy is tripping on mushrooms. I politely inform him that he should have told me that from the beginning as it would have made for an overall less awkward situation. Then I realize that he thought I was a girl at first and was trying to hit on me, so he's either lying about being on mushrooms or he's tripping pretty fucking hard. He was also still pressing up against me and he did look sort of out of it so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
During the course of the bus ride I got his name and e-mail address so I can talk to him online and see if he remembers any of it. Eric also invited me to his house for his mom's cooking somewhere along the way. I declined.
Anyway the 207 brings us to Fairview Terminus where I have to go take another bus to get to my friend's house. I sit on a planter to wait for the bus and lo and behold Eric comes to wait at the same spot. As I'm sitting down he stands in front of me and presses his kneecaps against mine and leans in towards me. Of course in any other situation, an older guy who I just met actively pursuing physical contact would scare the shit out of me, but who knows what the fuck goes through your head when you're tripping so I let him have his fun. He does this for about a minute before getting bored and sitting down in between me and this girl who's talking on her cell phone while waiting for the bus.
Seeing as how I only met him minutes ago I don't really pay him much attention while he's sitting next to me. He's no longer hitting on me or touching me so I take advantage of the situation by zoning out and staring into space like I often do while waiting for the bus. That is, until I hear the girl who was sitting on the other side of Eric asking, "Excuse me? Hello? Were you talking to me? What did you just say?" I look over and surprise surprise Eric is staring directly into her eyes mumbling something about "hi what's your name your lips are real shiny".
For a split second I thought of letting her deal with him on her own. I could chose to pretend to not know him, do absolutely nothing and eavesdrop on what I am sure is going to be the most hilariously awkward conversation I've ever eavesdropped on. Of course this master plan is ruined when I remember that Eric was just pushing up against me right next to this girl. She must think we are here together and will probably either end up asking me what's going on with my friend anyway.
Actually, about my "friend". You might be wondering exactly how he was acting. I mean, he was obviously acting weird enough for me to notice something was up but I had the benefit of being mistaken for a girl as a red flag. It's not the first time it's happened, mind you, but when he sat down right fucking next to me and looked me in the face and asked me "Are you sure?" it kind of clicked in my head. Other than that, though, the first thing you'd notice about him was the way he'd stare vacantly while talking. He wasn't violent or jumpy or hyper or anything like that, but rather too mellow and relaxed to take seriously. Oh, and he also had a tendency to lean in towards you just a little too close for comfort. He was able to answer questions without going on rants about the cosmic intergalactic uniqueness of our entity that is linked by all living beings and blah blah blah so there was very little indication that he was intoxicated, let alone on a hallucinogen. By the way he had told me he took "three big caps" of mushrooms at an afterhours near Berri-UQAM metro. We were now at Fairview Terminus and he was by himself the entire time. He also told me he was 26. Make of that what you will.
After a short staring contest with Eric, the girl looks at me as if to say "what the hell is going on please save me with your gigantic, rippling muscles" so I explain the situation as best I can. "Don't look at me, I just met him five minutes ago. He said he was on mushrooms." Well what do you know, she doesn't really believe me so I have to spend the next five minutes telling the first half of this story five minutes after it happened. Eric fills in the gaps in my story by staring and nodding in agreement. The girl tells us she's done mushrooms before and can sort of understand so she was pretty cool with it. Anyway Eric leaves to go take his bus and the girl tells me that she had seen us pushing our legs together so she figured we were a couple. Then, upon closer inspection we're both guys so she figures we're gay. Then Eric decides to start hitting on her so she figured we were swingers or something. Once I told her he was on mushrooms she thought we were playing a joke on her. And I think I forgot to mention that while Eric was there she was explaining the situation to her boyfriend who was on the phone as I was explaining it to her.
I then proceeded to go to the party and tell this story several times over the course of the night. Now I never have to tell it again.
Thursday, October 20
blah blah blah
Yes, I'm still alive. Yeah, I'm aware I've barely been blogging. It's not that I'm lazy, it's just that all this procrastinating I've been doing lately is really getting in the way of, well, pretty much everything else I've been doing lately. Make of that what you will.
First things first, I quit my job at the shithole. Oops, I mean dollarstore. This decision was primarily based on two specific facts:
Fact 1: I'm moving soon and don't feel like taking the metro every day to work. I'd much rather find another job somewhere closer to where I'm going to be staying.
Fact 2: I was working at the fucking dollarstore.
And the restaurant I was washing dishes at on the weekend is closing until springtime, which puts me into the "unemployed" demographic once again. I saved up what will hopefully be enough money to last me until I get another job, but this time the pressure is on because I actually have rent to pay now. At the moment I'm sort of in between two addresses, but once I get a truck to haul all my stuff over there, I'm going to be living with my cousin near the Plateau in Montréal. For those of you unfamiliar with the Plateau, it's like downtown and a rich residential area fucked and the Plateau popped out, only with more hippies and a big fucking mountain right in the middle.
Anyway, painting my room is taking much longer than I had expected (this is mainly due to previously mentioned chronic procrastination) but once it's done I'll finally be out of this sketchy neighborhood and in a somewhat sketchier neighborhood. Oh well. No amount of sketchiness is going to stop me from getting out of this goddamn house.
Well that's enough blabbing about me for a while. I'd like to blab about something else for a bit. For example: What the FUCK is up with all these hurricanes? It's like every time I turn on the news another expert is shitting their pants over the next storm that's going to whoop the Gulf Coast's proverbial ass. First, Katrina comes and destroys New Orleans like it was some kind of five-year-old's sandcastle I smashed at the beach last summer. Then, Mother Nature gives America just enough time to blame Michael Brown before hurricane Rita comes out of fucking nowhere and pulls the same shit again. And now there's Wilma, showing up late to the party but making up for it by being the strongest one so far.
Now I know this is a horrible tragedy for most of the people affected by it, and to laugh at them during their moment of need would be pointlessly rubbing their faces in it. But I also know I'd be a liar if I said I didn't snicker when I first heard New Orleans had been turned into Atlantis. I mean, it's no secret that I don't care much for America. Note that I said America, and not Americans. America is a country, Americans are just human beings that had the misfortune of being born in America. So when America gets put in its place by something that nobody has any control over, I'm happy.
About a week or two after Katrina hit I was watching TV and a commercial comes on raising money for hurricane victims. No big deal, just a concerned organization trying to help out those who need it. Then somebody had to run their mouth and include something in the commercial about "together, we can prove human nature is stronger than Mother Nature". Oh really? I was under the impression that the people who thought that in the first place are the ones that now need rescuing from their rooftops after Mother Nature coughed in their general direction. If human nature is stronger then why isn't there a hurricane death toll? Where are all the organizations trying to raise money for hurricanes damaged by American buildings? That's right, there are none because Mother Nature could kick humanity's ass without even trying. They should have just said "human nature is stronger than God" as long as they were going to start claiming superiority over fictional characters that represent the unexplained and unpredictable.
Speaking of unpredictable, I predict another terrorist attack in the states sometime before Bush's presidency ends. With the country spending tons of money left and right trying to rebuild a city on this side of the world and trying to finish a liberation/war/constitution/democracy/etc on the other side, the terrorists would have to be pretty ignorant to not realize this would be a great time to strike. Since I know someone out there will misinterpret what they just read as me condoning and/or inciting terrorism, I'd like to point out that from a terrorist's point of view, it would make sense to attack soon. Not to mention that Bush is less liked every day, meaning any retaliation to an attack would be highly criticized and most likely somewhat lackluster due to lack of two crucial elements: public support and good old bling-bling.
I feel sort of like an idiot ranting about things that don't concern my country at all, but can you really blame me? If I was to write about all the exciting things that happen in Canada... well then I wouldn't be writing about very much now would I? Oh yeah, I went there. The closest Canada has had to a disaster lately is a plane going off the runway in Toronto, and nobody even died. Not even one old fart who couldn't handle the suspense and croaked of heart failure. Nothing. Canada is so boring we have to watch other country's news and get outraged because our own news puts us to sleep.
Okay well I'm getting tired of typing now so I'm gonna go somewhere else for a while.
First things first, I quit my job at the shithole. Oops, I mean dollarstore. This decision was primarily based on two specific facts:
Fact 1: I'm moving soon and don't feel like taking the metro every day to work. I'd much rather find another job somewhere closer to where I'm going to be staying.
Fact 2: I was working at the fucking dollarstore.
And the restaurant I was washing dishes at on the weekend is closing until springtime, which puts me into the "unemployed" demographic once again. I saved up what will hopefully be enough money to last me until I get another job, but this time the pressure is on because I actually have rent to pay now. At the moment I'm sort of in between two addresses, but once I get a truck to haul all my stuff over there, I'm going to be living with my cousin near the Plateau in Montréal. For those of you unfamiliar with the Plateau, it's like downtown and a rich residential area fucked and the Plateau popped out, only with more hippies and a big fucking mountain right in the middle.
Anyway, painting my room is taking much longer than I had expected (this is mainly due to previously mentioned chronic procrastination) but once it's done I'll finally be out of this sketchy neighborhood and in a somewhat sketchier neighborhood. Oh well. No amount of sketchiness is going to stop me from getting out of this goddamn house.
Well that's enough blabbing about me for a while. I'd like to blab about something else for a bit. For example: What the FUCK is up with all these hurricanes? It's like every time I turn on the news another expert is shitting their pants over the next storm that's going to whoop the Gulf Coast's proverbial ass. First, Katrina comes and destroys New Orleans like it was some kind of five-year-old's sandcastle I smashed at the beach last summer. Then, Mother Nature gives America just enough time to blame Michael Brown before hurricane Rita comes out of fucking nowhere and pulls the same shit again. And now there's Wilma, showing up late to the party but making up for it by being the strongest one so far.
Now I know this is a horrible tragedy for most of the people affected by it, and to laugh at them during their moment of need would be pointlessly rubbing their faces in it. But I also know I'd be a liar if I said I didn't snicker when I first heard New Orleans had been turned into Atlantis. I mean, it's no secret that I don't care much for America. Note that I said America, and not Americans. America is a country, Americans are just human beings that had the misfortune of being born in America. So when America gets put in its place by something that nobody has any control over, I'm happy.
About a week or two after Katrina hit I was watching TV and a commercial comes on raising money for hurricane victims. No big deal, just a concerned organization trying to help out those who need it. Then somebody had to run their mouth and include something in the commercial about "together, we can prove human nature is stronger than Mother Nature". Oh really? I was under the impression that the people who thought that in the first place are the ones that now need rescuing from their rooftops after Mother Nature coughed in their general direction. If human nature is stronger then why isn't there a hurricane death toll? Where are all the organizations trying to raise money for hurricanes damaged by American buildings? That's right, there are none because Mother Nature could kick humanity's ass without even trying. They should have just said "human nature is stronger than God" as long as they were going to start claiming superiority over fictional characters that represent the unexplained and unpredictable.
Speaking of unpredictable, I predict another terrorist attack in the states sometime before Bush's presidency ends. With the country spending tons of money left and right trying to rebuild a city on this side of the world and trying to finish a liberation/war/constitution/democracy/etc on the other side, the terrorists would have to be pretty ignorant to not realize this would be a great time to strike. Since I know someone out there will misinterpret what they just read as me condoning and/or inciting terrorism, I'd like to point out that from a terrorist's point of view, it would make sense to attack soon. Not to mention that Bush is less liked every day, meaning any retaliation to an attack would be highly criticized and most likely somewhat lackluster due to lack of two crucial elements: public support and good old bling-bling.
I feel sort of like an idiot ranting about things that don't concern my country at all, but can you really blame me? If I was to write about all the exciting things that happen in Canada... well then I wouldn't be writing about very much now would I? Oh yeah, I went there. The closest Canada has had to a disaster lately is a plane going off the runway in Toronto, and nobody even died. Not even one old fart who couldn't handle the suspense and croaked of heart failure. Nothing. Canada is so boring we have to watch other country's news and get outraged because our own news puts us to sleep.
Okay well I'm getting tired of typing now so I'm gonna go somewhere else for a while.
Thursday, September 1
Hooray for nature
I went to the Biodome last Sunday. Here are some pretty pictures. Enjoy.
Not pictured: Several dozen out-of-focus shots of various animals, at least ten closeups of my hand because I don't know how to use a camera, a fourteen dollar plush snake I bought during a drug-induced moment of spontaneity, Pauly Shore.
Not pictured: Several dozen out-of-focus shots of various animals, at least ten closeups of my hand because I don't know how to use a camera, a fourteen dollar plush snake I bought during a drug-induced moment of spontaneity, Pauly Shore.
Saturday, July 23
I like money
As some of you may already know, I got a job a month and a half ago. Please, save your applause until I'm done. A little explanation is in order here.
Last year I took Computer Science at Dawson College. I was pretty psyched to be going to college for three years to study computers after putting up with the five years of bullshit and bare minimum academic self-application known throughout the world as "high school". Pretty psyched until I realized it was more or less a more complex version of high school but with many more people and that computer science was, in fact, really fucking boring.
Sure, I might enjoy playing videogames and browsing the internet a little more than the average person. Sure, I've been to around a dozen or so LAN parties, in which anywhere from dozens to hundreds of like-minded geeks gather for a weekend to play network games and swap porn while keeping their personal hygiene to a bare minumum. Sure, I'd probably throw myself out of the nearest window if I was ever forced to live without a computer. Imagine my surprise when my computer lab becomes one of the last places I want to be. Sometime during exams in December I get the brilliant idea to just stop going to school. No calling the school to let them know. No backup plans. No bothering to go in and at least finish the semester so if ever I decide to return I have some credits already accounted for. Just no more school.
Looking back on it now it was probably the most immature and unprepared way of dealing with things I could have chosen, but I'll be damned if I can do anything about it now. Anyway, from December up until June I pretty much laid around the house, occasionally going outside to confirm that there still was an outside. I told a lot of people I was looking for a job but in reality I was hoping that a job was looking for me while I took it easy.
Just over a month ago I got really tired of not having any money, which as we all know, implies not having any fun. I handed out a bunch of CVs in my neighborhood and lo and behold, I'm now an official employee of Dollarama Inc. In case you don't know, Dollarama is a large chain of dollarstores in Canada. Of course, being a multi-million dollar corporation and all, they pay us minimum wage to do the work that nobody in their right mind would ever want to do if they really had a choice. But seeing as how I'm a seventeen-year-old dropout with just enough French to get by at a retail job and very little motivation to make the world a better place or stay in school long enough to learn how to do so, I can't really complain.
Wait. Yes I can.
First complaint: customers. Working at a dollarstore in Verdun (residential, relatively low-class, mainly French neighborhood in Montreal) has made me the slightest bit jealous of corporate slaves who sit in a cubicle all day long. I mean, sure, they're essentially trapped in a prison designed to look like an office, but at least they don't have to interact with the general public. Whether it's the crazy-looking hippie type that asks me where a certain item is, then complains to me that we don't have it until I apologize and make a run for it, then walks up and down the aisles muttering to herself under her breath, or the fat, slightly inbred-looking forty-something year old man wearing a wifebeater and cutoff shorts that cut off somewhere near where the top of my boxers would be that reeks of alcohol and cigarettes no matter what time he's in the store, the customers at a dollarstore aren't exactly the kind of people you enjoy interacting with. To be fair, not everyone that shops at dollarstores are crazy or stinky or scary, but the normal ones are the ones that don't need any help finding what they're there for. The only way I can deal with the customers is by convincing myself that the more of them that I have to put up with, the happier I will be when I eventually get a job somewhere where the average IQ of the clientele is higher than the tax rate.
In addition to the crazies that speak French or English, there's the customers that barely speak a word of either. They might be crazy as well for all I know, but I have enough trouble trying to figure out what they're saying let alone judging their IQ. I don't hold it against them that they don't know very much English or French, but when they get frustrated that I can't understand what they're saying, I start to get annoyed. The sounds coming out of their mouths barely resemble a language to me, let alone one I understand, and they get visibly angry when I can't keep up. Like the old couple that, after I had to figure out how to explain to them that the store was closed (pointing to your wrist seems to be universal for this), starts trying to have a conversation with me in Colombian. Unfortunately I don't know how to say "Please leave me alone and never speak to me again" in Colombian, so I was limited to fake smiles and nodding my head, followed soon after by walking in the immediate direction of "away".
I'm usually the one who sweeps the floors before closing up, which I don't mind that much. Sweeping by itself is no big deal, but seeing how much garbage people leave on the floor is. Apparently the floor of the store resembles a garbage can to most people, hence the tons of receipts and empty coffee cups and chocolate bar wrappers and cigarette butts all over the place at the end of the day. Just once I'd like to meet someone whose idea of cleaning up after themselves isn't limited to "put your garbage where it's someone else's problem as opposed to yours". And not only do they empty their own pockets onto the floor, they come in and take items off the shelves, then decide they don't want to spend their hard-earned dollar on it and put it back somewhere else in the store. Is it that fucking hard to walk back to wherever you picked it up and put it back? Why must you take chocolate bars from the food aisle and put them in the candle aisle? Spoons in the school aisle? Batteries next to the tuna fish? Don't you realize this takes away from the amount of time I have to help you find your spray bottle or curtain rod or video cassette or whateverthefuck it is you're too busy to just look for yourself?
When I'm not being harassed by customers or cleaning up after them, I'm either in the back doing inventory or placing boxes in the aisles so the other employees can place the items in them on the shelves. At all times, Dollarama plays the radio over the store's PA system to help soothe our nerves and give us something to listen to while we slave away. Did I say soothe our nerves? Because I meant to say drive us absolutely fucking insane by playing the same five or six songs over and over and over and over and over until Jacob slashes his wrists with his exacto knife and welcomes the sweet embrace of death.
Two days ago I did the improbable and went out and got myself a second job on the weekends. Now after reading this blog you might be asking yourself, why on Earth would I do such a thing? Why would I purposely go out and get another job which will just exhaust myself even further and take away the few free hours I still have per week? What possible good could that serve? Am I a fucking idiot or somethi-
Last year I took Computer Science at Dawson College. I was pretty psyched to be going to college for three years to study computers after putting up with the five years of bullshit and bare minimum academic self-application known throughout the world as "high school". Pretty psyched until I realized it was more or less a more complex version of high school but with many more people and that computer science was, in fact, really fucking boring.
Sure, I might enjoy playing videogames and browsing the internet a little more than the average person. Sure, I've been to around a dozen or so LAN parties, in which anywhere from dozens to hundreds of like-minded geeks gather for a weekend to play network games and swap porn while keeping their personal hygiene to a bare minumum. Sure, I'd probably throw myself out of the nearest window if I was ever forced to live without a computer. Imagine my surprise when my computer lab becomes one of the last places I want to be. Sometime during exams in December I get the brilliant idea to just stop going to school. No calling the school to let them know. No backup plans. No bothering to go in and at least finish the semester so if ever I decide to return I have some credits already accounted for. Just no more school.
Looking back on it now it was probably the most immature and unprepared way of dealing with things I could have chosen, but I'll be damned if I can do anything about it now. Anyway, from December up until June I pretty much laid around the house, occasionally going outside to confirm that there still was an outside. I told a lot of people I was looking for a job but in reality I was hoping that a job was looking for me while I took it easy.
Just over a month ago I got really tired of not having any money, which as we all know, implies not having any fun. I handed out a bunch of CVs in my neighborhood and lo and behold, I'm now an official employee of Dollarama Inc. In case you don't know, Dollarama is a large chain of dollarstores in Canada. Of course, being a multi-million dollar corporation and all, they pay us minimum wage to do the work that nobody in their right mind would ever want to do if they really had a choice. But seeing as how I'm a seventeen-year-old dropout with just enough French to get by at a retail job and very little motivation to make the world a better place or stay in school long enough to learn how to do so, I can't really complain.
Wait. Yes I can.
First complaint: customers. Working at a dollarstore in Verdun (residential, relatively low-class, mainly French neighborhood in Montreal) has made me the slightest bit jealous of corporate slaves who sit in a cubicle all day long. I mean, sure, they're essentially trapped in a prison designed to look like an office, but at least they don't have to interact with the general public. Whether it's the crazy-looking hippie type that asks me where a certain item is, then complains to me that we don't have it until I apologize and make a run for it, then walks up and down the aisles muttering to herself under her breath, or the fat, slightly inbred-looking forty-something year old man wearing a wifebeater and cutoff shorts that cut off somewhere near where the top of my boxers would be that reeks of alcohol and cigarettes no matter what time he's in the store, the customers at a dollarstore aren't exactly the kind of people you enjoy interacting with. To be fair, not everyone that shops at dollarstores are crazy or stinky or scary, but the normal ones are the ones that don't need any help finding what they're there for. The only way I can deal with the customers is by convincing myself that the more of them that I have to put up with, the happier I will be when I eventually get a job somewhere where the average IQ of the clientele is higher than the tax rate.
In addition to the crazies that speak French or English, there's the customers that barely speak a word of either. They might be crazy as well for all I know, but I have enough trouble trying to figure out what they're saying let alone judging their IQ. I don't hold it against them that they don't know very much English or French, but when they get frustrated that I can't understand what they're saying, I start to get annoyed. The sounds coming out of their mouths barely resemble a language to me, let alone one I understand, and they get visibly angry when I can't keep up. Like the old couple that, after I had to figure out how to explain to them that the store was closed (pointing to your wrist seems to be universal for this), starts trying to have a conversation with me in Colombian. Unfortunately I don't know how to say "Please leave me alone and never speak to me again" in Colombian, so I was limited to fake smiles and nodding my head, followed soon after by walking in the immediate direction of "away".
I'm usually the one who sweeps the floors before closing up, which I don't mind that much. Sweeping by itself is no big deal, but seeing how much garbage people leave on the floor is. Apparently the floor of the store resembles a garbage can to most people, hence the tons of receipts and empty coffee cups and chocolate bar wrappers and cigarette butts all over the place at the end of the day. Just once I'd like to meet someone whose idea of cleaning up after themselves isn't limited to "put your garbage where it's someone else's problem as opposed to yours". And not only do they empty their own pockets onto the floor, they come in and take items off the shelves, then decide they don't want to spend their hard-earned dollar on it and put it back somewhere else in the store. Is it that fucking hard to walk back to wherever you picked it up and put it back? Why must you take chocolate bars from the food aisle and put them in the candle aisle? Spoons in the school aisle? Batteries next to the tuna fish? Don't you realize this takes away from the amount of time I have to help you find your spray bottle or curtain rod or video cassette or whateverthefuck it is you're too busy to just look for yourself?
When I'm not being harassed by customers or cleaning up after them, I'm either in the back doing inventory or placing boxes in the aisles so the other employees can place the items in them on the shelves. At all times, Dollarama plays the radio over the store's PA system to help soothe our nerves and give us something to listen to while we slave away. Did I say soothe our nerves? Because I meant to say drive us absolutely fucking insane by playing the same five or six songs over and over and over and over and over until Jacob slashes his wrists with his exacto knife and welcomes the sweet embrace of death.
Two days ago I did the improbable and went out and got myself a second job on the weekends. Now after reading this blog you might be asking yourself, why on Earth would I do such a thing? Why would I purposely go out and get another job which will just exhaust myself even further and take away the few free hours I still have per week? What possible good could that serve? Am I a fucking idiot or somethi-
Monday, May 30
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