Monday, September 12, 2005
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11:33 a.m.
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True Story: In the late 1990s, French authorities began cracking down on youth gangs that employed vicious dogs—rottweilers and pit bulls—to intimidate rival gangs. The crackdown was working...until gangs switched to vicious monkeys. “The apes are becoming the new weapon of choice. They’re ultrafashionable,” said a Paris police officer. “Removed from their natural habitat,” natural historian Marie-Claude Bomsel told the London Guardian, “they can become highly aggressive. They bite, and their favored method of attack is to hurl themselves at people’s heads.”
Sunday, September 11, 2005
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2:02 a.m.
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It's hard to make out, but that's my quote (correctly attributed and all) on the back of Mark Millar's WANTED. 
Despite anything I may ever say to the contrary, as a writer I have a huge ego. I think it's an inherent part of being creative and most people I know who are a part of my field are all very much the same.
It hit me today though when I picked up a copy of Mark Millar's hardcover comic book, Wanted, and saw that a quote from one of my reviews that made the back of issue #1 was there, bright and bold, for everyone to see. Immortalized once again.
Except this time, someone else got the credit.
Yes, an error from editorial straight on down to print. A different person, a different publication, but my quote through and through. I wrote Mark and I'm waiting to get his take on it. I don't expect anything to change, but it's my work and I like being acknowledged for it at any rate.
I'll let you know what he says. Mark is a good man and a good friend with no power over this sort of thing whatsoever, so I don't really expect him to do anything, but since he's the only one I know at that company it just felt right to let someone know about the error.
The comic itself, however, is quite good and worth the read.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
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10:15 p.m.
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I don't usually go in for posts like this, but a friend and colleague of mine from Comixfan lives (unbeknownst to me until a few moments ago) in the state hit by Katrina. He wrote a long email to everyone on his list and it affected me a great deal.
Keep in mind it is quite long so I understand if you don't have the patience to see it to the end, but the point is that real people, real communities, have been affected in ways most of us will hopefully never experience.
Here's the thing: we've all seen disasters happen before. We saw horrific images of the Asian tsunami, we viewed shocking video of the events in New York and Washington on September 11. We prayed for the victims, we wished them well, maybe we even sent a little money... and then we got on with our lives. It was terrible, but it was kind of unreal: after all, most of us weren't actually there in Asia when disaster struck. The number of people directly impacted by 9/11 wasn't so huge that most of us were actually at Ground Zero. We feel a disconnect from it all, because we haven't seen it with our own eyes: it's just pictures and sounds on a screen, just like what we see all the time in our prime time dramas and big-budget motion pictures... except in those motion pictures, we know the backstories of the main characters, so perhaps we have more reason to care than we do for people we'll never meet and don't know anything about.
And in the grand scheme of things... so what? So thousands of people died in Katrina, or the tsunami, or hundreds died in New York. Not to belittle that loss, but many more people than that lose their lives quite regularly in places like the war-torn Middle East, or places like Sudan in Africa. Most of us in what we laughably refer to as "the civilized world" never hear about this stuff, or if we do, we don't care that much. Not that we're terrible people (although, no doubt, some of us are): it's just that it's all a world away, we're not there, we don't see it, it's easy to convince ourselves that it doesn't exist.
Not so today for me. I live in southeast Louisiana. One week after what's being called the worst national disaster in the history of the country, tidings are still grim. I thank God that I'm luckier than most: all I've lost have been a couple of job opportunities, a really nice fence, and several days of my life to cleaning the dead branches and fallen trees from my property. I may not have a permanent job, and my lawn may still be an unholy mess, but I have a wife, savings, my possessions, a life. My family so far seems to be safe, although I still haven't managed to locate a few of them. Relatively speaking, I'm extremely lucky.
I guess I'm writing this to help people understand how very real and how very life-destroying this is. I live 30 miles from what was once the booming metropolis of New Orleans. I've driven throughout Louisiana since the storm and seen firsthand the damage here. I've visited shelters and relief distribution centers and spoken to people there. And worst of all, I've heard the spin being put out by the people in power about how much better things are, and I know enough to know how lying or clueless they truly are.
If there are any silver linings here (and I've looked desperately to find one), it's that the truly poor of New Orleans might eventually see more money than they ever have, and that more and more Louisianians are coming over to my long-held political viewpoint that both the Republicans and the Democrats of America are more interested in political infights than they are in helping their constituents.
As a technology consultant for the state government (a temporary job I was very lucky to find), I drove out to inspect storm damage today, and I saw scenes of destruction that will haunt me for a long time. I traveled to the small town of Bogalusa, in the northeast corner of souteast Louisiana (if that doesn't make any sense to you, go find it on a map and you'll see what I mean), a place many, many miles inland from where the storm struck, a beautiful little town where I used to go swimming as a boy.
On the way, I saw a huge, majestic forest of pine, each tree easily over 100 feet tall... and every single one of the hundreds of trees was standing precariously at about a 30 degree angle. It was like some twisted vision from a Tim Burton film.
I passed other forests with all kinds of trees, forests I'd loved as a kid, forests where literally every other tree, or more, lay on its side. Oaks, magnolias, you name it. It's difficult to imagine unless you see it first hand.
I saw oak trees, mighty oak trees, knocked down, crushing trees, homes, churches, and businesses. In many cases, the uprooted trees brought up with them huge sections of earth, clods of dirt and roots bigger than you, me, and every single book in my library combined. And I've got a lot of books.
I passed well-kept shacks, undoubtedly inhabited by some of the poorest elements of society (and there are a LOT of poor people in rural Louisiana, white, black, hispanic, you name it), with trees through their roofs, tearing gaping holes so big that I could clearly see into the interior of the house as I drove by. I passed middle-class homes, the kind of nice, modest place where you or I might live, torn to bits: homes with every single shingle on the roof missing, with trees through the walls, with shattered windows, with the entire roof blown off. I've never seen such devastation. I've never seen with my own eyes so many homes destroyed.
I even passed several mansions on huge, sprawling estates. With almost no exceptions, they fared extremely well and escaped almost all damage. Figures.
I was so amazed by the sheer number of leaning, broken, shattered, or just plain missing utility poles on my journey, that I tried counting the number of power lines lying on the road that my car ran over. Somewhere around 15 or 16, I lost count. I must have passed over sixty lines on the road, and many times that number of poles broken in some fashion. Small wonder that when I got to Bogalusa, they had no power, nor did they expect to for quite a long time to come.
And remember, this is all over a week AFTER the storm hit us, here in the United States of America, the richest and most technologically advanced country in the history of the world. And this is all in Bogalusa, far from the hardest-hit areas in Biloxi and New Orleans. This is the stuff they don't talk about on the national news, and there are many, many communities just like this one.
When I arrived in the city itself, I found a lot of excited people. Why? Because the Popeyes, now one of the only sources of fresh food in a 20-mile radius, had finally opened. And the lines were long. Everywhere there were signs of destruction: here, a business without a roof; there, a gas station where almost all of the fixtures, including light poles, pumps, and covered areas, lay on their side. Near the middle of town, I saw a huge shopping center with most of the roof gone. There was very little gas, and very little food. Debris littered... well, everything... everywhere you looked. A few isolated homes and businesses have power and food, but nobody has any communication with the outside world. All the cell phone towers are down, and even if you are one of the lucky ones that has phone service, you can't complete a call outside the Bogalusa area. And just like Baton Rouge and most of the rest of southeast Louisiana, it's a bit rare to find a business sign, like a grocery store sign or a Blockbuster video sign, that isn't lying on the ground instead of proclaiming its wares prominently in the sky.
The devastation in Bogalusa is terrible, but it's nowhere near as bad as New Orleans. The national news networks never cease to anger me these days with their rose-tainted glasses - the situation there is generally nowhere near as happy as some people describe. New Orleans, such a great cultural mecca for the world, is for all intents and purposes mostly destroyed. The vast majority of the city is still underwater... no... you can't really call it "water." It's a toxic sludge of all kinds of deadly chemicals - wading in the polluted water can be fatal. And thousands of homes are underneath this poisonous goo. This is so bad that not only will it all have to be bulldozed, but even the earth and soil itself is contaminated and will have to be completely removed.
And all that talk about the pumps removing thousands and thousands of cubic feet per second? Thanks to the sheer amount of water and sludge in the city, combined with the leaking levees, the water has barely receded. In areas where water was, for example, 16 feet deep, now it might be 15 feet deep. There's a long way to go.
Even in Baton Rouge, where damage was limited but still severe, life can be difficult. Helicopters constantly fly by overhead, and police, fire, and ambulance sirens now occur regularly, every few minutes. The intense traffic makes it impossible to go anywhere, roads are closed, basic supplies are sometimes in short supply, and everybody needs help. Even in my own yard, many miles from the storm's wrath, I discovered in my cleanup efforts many, many tree limbs that had been blown so hard by the storm winds that they were impaled firmly in the ground, standing straight up like twisted new growths.
As bad as the geographic devastation is, it can't compare to the human suffering. Don't believe the news bulletins about improving conditions for the New Orleans refugees - a lot of it is complete and total bull... spin, no doubt, launched by some government agency, as it focuses on a very lucky few and ignores thousands of others. As a resident, as someone who visited shelters and aid distribution centers today, as someone who listened to people calling into local radio stations begging for help all day, I can tell you that the picture is not very rosy. So many people in so very great need are not receiving help... at all. Our government has abandoned and failed us in Louisiana, Republican and Democrat alike.
Perhaps you heard about the $2,000 debit cards our dear friends at FEMA were supposed to be giving to the displaced residents today? Sure sounded like a nice start, and we were all very happy to hear about it. But then the details started to trickle out - there are only 2,000 of these cards (because, of course, the other 998,000 affected don't really need much). They're only being given away in Houston (because, of course, the federal goverment believes that the greatest need for relief after a Louisiana-Mississippi-Alabama disaster is in Texas). And even after they had these 2,000 evacuees line up to receive the cards, they changed their minds and decided not to hand them out at all, because they had neglected to figure out how they were going to track it. Now, today, they're saying that they'll hand out those cards "in a few days", and that all of the other evacuees will receive checks in the mail.
Checks. In the mail. For homeless evacuees. Think about that for a second.
Most of the government's efforts complete ignore the outlying communities and the thousands of people who were outside New Orleans who were hit just as hard, like the people in Bogalusa without power or food or gas. I visited relief stations near my constantly-mentioned and obsessively-beloved hometown of Loranger, and found piles and piles of people waiting... and waiting... and waiting... for anything. Local officials seem to be bravely trying to do their best with the (scant) resources they have. On the way to the relief station (after I'd parked my car quite a distance away and started walking, because it became obvious I wasn't going to get to park much closer), I had to duck under a very low hanging electric wire. A bit closer to the relief station, I walked by the shattered remains of another electric pole, on the ground, surrounded by some kind of waste that I was unable to identify. The smell was, to say the least, interesting.
For so many of those in need, FEMA is doing absolutely nothing, and the Red Cross struggles as well. Both organizations constantly brag about the toll-free numbers Louisiana residents can call to get quick and free help... but what they fail to mention is that calls to toll-free numbers rarely work in Louisiana anymore (in fact, most calls in Southeast Louisiana to ANYWHERE rarely go through these days), and even on the very rare occasion that the call actually does go through, the hold time is measured in hours, not minutes (or so I hear, I have to admit I haven't tried calling myself). They say you can visit their websites... fat chance for homeless residents, residents without electricity, without phone connections. Then, even if you do talk to FEMA, they promise lots of help... in about ten to fourteen days. That's not too helpful to people who are living with the clothes on their back, without a home and with one last twenty stuffed in their pocket to live on. Meanwhile, shelters and relief lines are packed and overcrowded, and human beings, American citizens, are going without the barest necessities of dignity.
I usually consider myself a proud American, so I hate to say that not only has our leadership failed us, but our leadership has killed us. Literally, without drama or exaggeration, I say to you that people have died... innocent people have DIED (think about that, think about how you would feel if it was your grandmother or your brother or your best friend)... because of political posturing, power maneuvering, and excessive red tape. From FEMA's utter incompetence and the president's hopeless and meaningless optimism to the state's refusal to let in federal forces to help in the opening days of the tragedy (for which the blame falls squarely on our governor) to the city's inexplicable refusal to prepare for the hurricane when they knew it was on the way, despite the ready availability of buses normally used to bus in voters on Election Day (among other resources), our feckless leadership has failed us. If I thought I had a monkey's shot in hell, I'd run for office somewhere, just to try to bring some common sense in somewhere. Too bad I have no political connections.
Our Democratic mayors and governor have been all over the news broadcasts crying, moaning, and exposing their lack of leadership, vision, or motivation. They have no idea what to do next, and their bawling on the airwaves doesn't exactly inspire confidence or provide strong leadership. Meanwhile, our Republican president smiles that oblivious smile, assures us that everything will be okay, and turns, with Congress, to issues far weightier than thousands of human lives and livelihoods, like whether dear Johnny should be Chief Justice or just an Associate Justice.
I'm writing this... why am I writing this? I guess I'm writing this as therapy. I'm going to e-mail it out to people as... well... I guess as a public service on behalf of the Gulf Coast residents who are in need. This tragedy is real. It's not getting much better. Thousands of innocent people, poor and middle-class (and maybe even a few rich folks), black and white (despite what the Reverend Jesse Jackson and other demagogues would like you to think), old and young, sick and healthy, are being destroyed by this event even as I type this right now. I don't think most people who haven't seen it firsthand understand how bad it is. Tell your friends and family about this stuff, I beg you. Forward this e-mail if it helps.
If there's any way you can help, please do. I can't recommend donating to FEMA, and the Red Cross isn't perfect either... but at least it's a whole heck of a lot better than FEMA. If you're the praying type, pray for all of the people affected down here. If you're not the praying type... well, heck, pray for us anyway; it can't hurt anything, can it? The people of the Gulf Coast are in desperate need, and the people we hoped we could count on have been failing us most every step of the way.
Meanwhile, I'm counting my blessings (and there are so very many), helping if I can, and hoping the tarp I attached to a friend's roof holds if it rains again. Take care.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
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1:16 p.m.
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I keep intending to update this blog on a daily basis, and even encounter everyday situations that I think would make for interesting reading.
In order to keep the dozen or so of you who read this interested (I'm likely flattering myself), here is a bullet-point list of items that I intend to eventually cover:
1. My new assistant. I've decided to call her Tribbles after the furry little creatures on Star Trek who squeak loudly, cause havoc, and gum up any and all machinery. She is trouble on an epic scale and I want to choke her.
But she's a NICE person.
2. My trip to the CNE (part 2). Part 1 (something not covered here) is largely uninteresting, though why I went back and the events of that trip are mildly entertaining. Parades, car accidents, and foreigners. FUN!
3. Smallville. I've been watching this show a lot, and though I frequently call out for the deaths of some characters, I am compelled to watch. I'm currently stuck in season 3.
4. Free video games. All Marvel related, all within a month, three great games to take me away from Catherine.
5. Whatever I've forgotten that was interesting a few minutes ago. I'm sick right now and as such can't remember beyond the past few minutes. The good news is that it makes the day go by quickly, the bad news is that I'm still at this job.
So, tuck yourselves in and get ready for a rant-o-rama. It seems to be all that I do lately. Several people have mentioned this, and I'd like to curb my complaints, but otherwise I think the world is out to get me.
So I'm watching you. Yes, YOU.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
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11:25 a.m.
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I bought season 1 yesterday for $39.99 from a used store. It's brand new and in my hands a week before retail. The sound, video, and everything else is amazing.
Catherine and I watched the first episode and reminded ourselves why we love this show in the first place.
Simply gorgeous stuff.
I've been spoiled lately.
I deserve it.
Many dollars later, I have ML 10 and one fig from ML 11. Why is this cool? Well, the foot and a half tall heavy-ass Sentinel should answer that question.
Catherine is appropriately mortified at the space it takes up, while I have taken to cuddling with it as though it were a teddy bear.
The other figs are super-cool as well, but man... that Sentinel.
The stuff dreams are made of.
Are full of the scariest bastards you will ever meet in your life, aside from FMG. Geeks, nerds, and the sexually depraved lined the floors for three days of geek-bliss. The attraction really isn't there for me anymore, though I use my press cred to interview those I normally wouldn't get the chance.
I interviewed Tim Russ from Star Trek: Voyager and Adam Baldwin from the upcoming Serenity. I also sat in Q&A's for James Marsters, Margot Kidder, Erica Durance, and Jhonen Vasquez (Invader Zim's creator).
All were interesting.
The MOST interesting aspect is that James' three-day bonanza, which included a private meal where he would walk & talk for 45 minutes, play 12 songs, and give you access to all three Q&A's, a signed photo, and you could have your picture professionally taken with Marsters would run you a cool $695.
That's insane. Lower prices for autographs/talks were $200 and $80 respectively.
I don't pay that much for U2 or even the Rolling Stones.
As press, I just went to what I want for free. I'm cheap like that.
Just when you think you can count on your work to screw you, they not only come through in the way you expect, but also in other ways you don't.
I made a paltry 28k and two months ago was promised Colleen's level of pay and a promotion to 33k. My contract was up yesterday, and they offered me 30k. My plan was anything less than Colleen, and I walk. So they did as expected and tried to screw me, but REALLY screwed me when they accepted my counter-offer of 33k.
It's Wednesday and I'm still here. It's like being promised armaggedon and a chance at heaven, only to find out that the whole thing was a joke.
I have a raise.
Bastards.
The last post referred to a brave little boy named Alex who died last Tuesday from a skin disease. He was confined to a wheelchair and bundled in padding, yet he was the most optimistic and intelligent kid I've ever met. He knew what was coming, defied the odds and lived years beyond expectations, and inspired everyone he met.
It's the best kind of legacy to leave.
He'll be missed.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
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3:20 p.m.
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Normally I don't go in for this sort of email zen, but today it seemed appropriate. I'll explain more tomorrow as some of the details can't yet be revealed.
A group of working adults got together to visit their former professor.
The professor was happy to see them. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life. The professor just smiled and went to the kitchen to get an assortment of cups - some porcelain, some in plastic, some in glass, some plain looking and some looked rather expensive and exquisite.
He offered his former students the cups to get ice water for themselves.
When all the students had a cup in hand with water, the Professor spoke:
"If you noticed, all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is usual that you only want the best for yourselves, that also is the source of your problems and stress. What all you really wanted was water, not the cup, but you unconsciously went for the better looking cups."
"Just like in life, if life is water, then the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and maintain life, but they hardly change the intrinsic quality of life."
"If we get focused only on the cup, then we won't have time to taste and enjoy the water in it!"
"And also remember: A rich person is the one who has a lot, a happy person is the one who doesn't want a lot. The choice of who you want to be is yours."
And the students thus got their most important lesson from their wise teacher.
The moral of the story, from my point of view, is that it's never a good thing to settle in life but to always go for what makes you happy. Make a difference while you can, because you never know what tomorrow brings and who may be gone from this earth from one moment to the next.
Monday, August 22, 2005
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9:31 p.m.
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The Cottage, 2005
Anyone else completely exhausted? I know I am.
It was a wonderful, if somewhat rainy trip. Good times were had by all, and if you weren't there, you were missed. By someone.
But a hearty thumbs up and good wishes to all who were there... Doug, Tess, Robyn, Jeromy, Josh, Paul, Victoria, Nicole, Jamie, and of course my girl, Catherine...
And damn you all for laughing at me when I tipped over into the woodpile. Especially whoever yelled 'quick, take a picture' and to Doug, who commented 'he's presenting.'
I assure you, I was not.
Same time, same place, next year. These get-togethers happen too rarely, but are too good to pass up. Jamie, bring more games.
PS. I have a job interview lined up for later this week to work as a Financial editor and Desktop Publisher. I have no business doing either, so this will be interesting.
Pictures & emails for the cottage to follow soon. I'll send 'em tomorrow from work because unlike yahoo, I can send more than three at a time.
Be good!
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
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8:08 a.m.
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Almost time to head out to the cottage... not a moment too soon.
Friday, August 12, 2005
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12:27 p.m.
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Tonight and tomorrow night are the height of the annual Perseid meteor showers—one of the best and brightest meteor storms of the year.
The Perseids are a product of the comet Swift-Tuttle, which orbits the sun once every 130 years. How do we get a yearly show from that? The comet leaves a trail of debris in its path; tiny particles, most no larger than a grain of sand, moving 132,000 mph.
Every year in July and August, Earth’s orbit takes it through this debris. Result: The particles burn up as they enter our atmosphere, giving us our regular light show.
Catherine and I will be camping this weekend, so there will be no interesting tidbits on this blog. Instead, we'll be roasting marshmallows, hot dogs, and sleeping on what appears to be the cold, wet ground.
I find it the height of irony that after the most intense summer I can remember heat-wise, that months ago we would have the misfortune of booking a weekend where it's raining.
Coincidence? Nope. I actually think the universe may be out to get me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to sleeping at my desk.
If those who read my blog will do me a favour, post a vote for 'quit' or 'tough it out' in the chatterbox. This place has been less than kind and is a factory for evil people, but it's a regular paycheck and as yet I don't have a replacement job. I'll be interested to see the results.
MARS ATTACKS: IN 1911 A METEOR FROM MARS FELL TO EARTH IN NAKHLA, EGYPT, KILLING A DOG.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
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2:40 p.m.
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It's been on my mind for the past week, and though Catherine prefers not to talk about it, I wanted to say something more for myself than for anyone else. This blog, as many of you will have noted, is more venting than blogging, but sometimes it manages to say something meaningful.
One year ago, yesterday, at 9:09 pm little Rooter passed away while Catherine, myself, and Truffle did everything we could to make things easy for her. It was a terrible few days filled with a lot of fear and anxiety. Though I've since laid the pain to rest and have only focused on the good that came with her short time with us, I still think of her often.
Just as I think of my dog, Jack. He was the best friend I ever had and likely will ever have. It's strange to give that title to a dog, but for those of you with pets who take on strong roles in your lives, you'll know what I mean.
Monty, the dog that Bob adopted for my mother, was killed last week by a passing car. It happened quickly and with little pain. Still, he was a young dog full of life and energy (and would often jump in the pool), so while I'm glad he had a good life while he was here, it was still too soon.
It's this kind of thinking that can get you down, and those of you who have read this far (and my previous entries) may think I'm depressed, but I'm not.
The pets mentioned above (who are more family than possessions) had a tremendous impact, and it is because of them and the people that come and go from our lives that we are who we are, and that we work to become better than we are now.
For all of my venting, I do my best to honor them by living my life well. For my grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, and uncles as well. For all of you, my friends. My family. The love of my life. Those who I wish to make proud.
After round 42 or 43 of the stupidity that is my job, things picked up this week to new heights of the absurd.
I got called into a meeting over "complaints" about me... including that on the one day I was alone in my department, I apparently was sleeping at my desk.
I laughed out loud at that one.
See, the funny part is that in addition to my own full time job, I've been given more than 50% of the duties of my ex-co-worker Colleen's job to do on top of it, and I still manage to get done by 5pm. I have to work through lunch, but I get done.
So when do I have time to sleep??
D'oh well.
That was the proverbial last straw, so I'm fairly certain that I'll be leaving here at the end of August, with or without a new job lined up. Ideally I'll have one, and I've started applying regularly again, but either way Catherine, my mother, and even my co-workers are saying that it's clearly gone completely stupid here and to cut my losses.
It's too bad, as I have always taken a great deal of pride in the work that I do and in maintaining a high standard of quality. My job didn't involve saving the world or anything, but it was important that I do it right. I've been recognized for this in the past, but something tells me that with all the drama going on here that I shouldn't hold out hope that they're going to offer me a full time position, and that indeed I should just quit before they can decide one way or another.
That's where a bit of fear sets in. Though I have much more confidence that it wouldn't take as long, it took more than six months of searching and part time work for me to find this place. And though I hated it from the first moment, I met some really cool people here (along with the worst human being I've ever met).
I suppose I'm still hedging my bets a little. Waiting to see what, and if, they offer. I don't like giving up something for nothing, even when that something is having a negative effect on me.
On the other hand, I could be the problem. Discord and discontent seem to be a common theme with me and many of my jobs. I hope it's just because I haven't found the right one for me yet, and not that I'm a complete tool.
Shut up, Paul.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
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2:00 p.m.
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In April 2001, city officials in Nottingham, England, spent more than £1 million (about U.S. $1.6 million) installing solar-powered parking meters on city streets after reading reports that the meters saved a fortune in maintenance costs in Mediterranean countries.
The only problem: Mediterranean countries get a lot of sun...and England doesn’t, not even in summer. By August, more than 25 percent of the parking meters were out of commission, allowing thousands of motorists to park for free.
Friday, August 05, 2005
at
3:33 p.m.
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Before my head explodes?
Ah, this must be what it's like to live life in a bubble. From one moment to the next, the past repeats itself in an endless stream of confusion and disappointment.
Except when it gets time to having a snack. That's always good.
My workload is now such that I can't ever take a break, not even lunch, or else I'll fall desperately behind. Even writing this entry could mean disaster.
Or another 15 minutes. It's hard to tell which comes first.
My co-worker, Nathan, has gotten a tentative job offer/option from our old boss, Susan, in Montreal. Unencumbered by family or other obligations, he's quite free to move and likely will should the opportunity present itself.
Good for him.
Fucked for me. Well, not in the sense of how badly it messed us up when Susan and Colleen left, but it would leave the whole web team, myself and Li, without a web designer.
AH HA HA HA HA
Shoot me.
Like I care. At this point, I really don't. Part of me wants to get tossed at the end of the month just to end it all. Something better HAS to come along.
I blame Paul.
On the bright side, I'm tearing through all the Harry Potter books again. I read part of 5, then 6, then finished 5, 4, and now I'm on 1. I realize this is not a sensible order, but it's pleasing me so far. I'm even picking up connections hinted at all the way back in book 1. It sheds some interesting light on things.
Catherine is away for the weekend with Patti for a wedding. They'll be sharing a hotel room together, but I'm told nothing kinky will happen. Knowing them, it means junk food and passing out around 10 or so.
I need Jer's cottage to be sooner than two weeks from now. My poor heart can't take it.
I've arranged for Friday and Monday off as I need it. I need a damn break.
Games will be played. Jamie has bought at least two or three new ones and already tested them out for quality assurance. He may also try to sell you a car, and so far, I gather his reputation as a salesman is infallible.
So, as I'll be bored this weekend, feel free to stop by, send an owl, or arrange many games of StarCraft.
Games are fun.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
at
1:17 p.m.
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Aaron has requested a new blog entry, and seeing as how it seems an impossible task to connect with him by phone, I decided to speak with him through my blog.
"Hi, how are you?"
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"What's wrong? Not talking to me?"
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"Fine, be that way. Things are okay with me (aside from the normal level of bullshit... oh hell, it's all going down the tubes."
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"What, life is all roses for you?"
......
"Stop being a dick and talk to me."
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"Fine. Bite me."
And that's that. Wow, I enjoyed that, but Aaron didn't put up as much of a talk as I would have liked.
In unrelated news, my work continues to be a steaming pile of shit comparable to a night where you get rabies and die slowly and painfully. It's like that.
No new jobs have been applied for as no new jobs have been posted. It's a vicious cycle. At this point, the only good thing on the horizon is Jer's cottage and a camping trip, both of which should take my mind off of things. Of course, if this doesn't happen soon, then I expect Catherine will kill me for being in a sour mood all the time.
Marvel Legends 10 is out soon, though. It's the one where you can build a Sentinel out of pieces packaged with the figures. I'm looking forward to this. Catherine is not. She calls it 'clutter.'
But as I wear the pants, I'll buy what I like.
If you're reading this, Catherine, I didn't mean that. Don't take away my toys.
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