Tuesday, June 27, 2006
We made it...
...and it was all relatively uneventful, if I do say so myself. Actually, returning the U-Haul truck was more like the maze I posted before than the trip was. I'll tell you all about it when I get a moment. Right now I'm at work with actual work to work on, so bloggin is really taking away from my, um, work. But the good news is that we're getting cable today which will include our television, internet and digital phone...yup, we're giving it a try. Then I'll be sending a mass email to let everyone, including all those people who didn't know I've been keeping this thing for six months, know that we're all alive and back on the map at the same pinpoint.
Oops! Michelle just phoned me to let me know that they're having trouble getting into the basement (my roomy's out, and his door is locked), and apparently the cable guy needs to get in there to get things set up. So I might have been a little premature on that cable-being-set-up thing. I guess you'll know a little after I do. Ciao.
Oops! Michelle just phoned me to let me know that they're having trouble getting into the basement (my roomy's out, and his door is locked), and apparently the cable guy needs to get in there to get things set up. So I might have been a little premature on that cable-being-set-up thing. I guess you'll know a little after I do. Ciao.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Tick Tock Tick To…
It is literally just a few hours until all this separation garbage is over with. My plane is leaving at 9:15pm, and if all goes well, I’ll be on it. I tell you, ever since the beginning of January this whole moving ordeal has been an ongoing series of madcap adventures be it welcome or not. Will they stop once my lovely ladies are in Calgary? The only answer I have to that ridiculous question is “HAH!” I just know myself too well to think things will ever go normally; I’m bound to make a stupid decision or get caught in some preposterous act that will result in me filling out a couple of paragraphs for your entertainment, right? Right!
The plan is as follows:
Yup! We’ll get to Calgary by Thanksgiving. Just in time to get fired.
I guess I kind of forgot to tell you that I finished The Last Juror which may tell you a little about how much I enjoyed it. I really enjoyed the first quarter of the book, but it became a little tedious after that. In fact, the plot that started the whole book just went on hiatus until, I swear, the last 30 or 40 pages. I didn’t get that at all, but then again I didn’t write it. It was a tad enjoyable, and I do recommend it if you don’t have anything better to read.
Right now I’m reading a book called How to Write: A Screenplay, and since I don’t have any time to link up to its page, I’ll just tell you that it’s interesting because it’s an instructional book on writing a screenplay while in the format of a screenplay. Eh! Pretty cool, huh?
Anyway, I gotta run! Have a meeting, y’know. I am at work after all. I’ll either catch you all up while I’m in Creston or when we get our internet hooked up on Tuesday. Ciao!
The plan is as follows:
- Fly to Victoria
- Pick up truck Friday morning
- Pack truck all Friday
- Catch first ferry to mainland Saturday
- Arrive in Creston Saturday night
- Leave for Calgary Sunday morning
- Unload truck Sunday and Monday
- Escape while Michelle unpacks everything while openly loathing me for not being there to help
Yup! We’ll get to Calgary by Thanksgiving. Just in time to get fired.I guess I kind of forgot to tell you that I finished The Last Juror which may tell you a little about how much I enjoyed it. I really enjoyed the first quarter of the book, but it became a little tedious after that. In fact, the plot that started the whole book just went on hiatus until, I swear, the last 30 or 40 pages. I didn’t get that at all, but then again I didn’t write it. It was a tad enjoyable, and I do recommend it if you don’t have anything better to read.
Right now I’m reading a book called How to Write: A Screenplay, and since I don’t have any time to link up to its page, I’ll just tell you that it’s interesting because it’s an instructional book on writing a screenplay while in the format of a screenplay. Eh! Pretty cool, huh?
Anyway, I gotta run! Have a meeting, y’know. I am at work after all. I’ll either catch you all up while I’m in Creston or when we get our internet hooked up on Tuesday. Ciao!
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Matt's gone!!!
But he lives on in our hearts. And, um, in Houston too. Uh, yeah. We watched the game last night in a pub called the Toad 'n' Turtle Pubhouse and Grill. Directly above where we were sitting was an enormous brass sculpture of a turtle, or tortoise (whatever), adhered to the wall but looking precariously like it wanted to crush one of the waitresses under its enormous mass. Once again, if I had a camera, you'd have a picture. I know how all of you like pictures with your reading material, right?
So the Oilers lost, and I can honestly say with the way that Carolina was playing last night, they deserved it. It was heart breaking for those players, but they certainly played their hearts out...in the third period. Wow! It's going to be kind of hard getting through the rest of June with out hockey (yes, it's sarcasm). Good game, though, good game.
Afterwards, Matt and I drove around so he could enjoy a bit of Calgary before heading back to the hotel for a snooze. He was also determined to find some sort of fictional beer that he made up. I did, however, do a quick search for it on the internet and found Tree Hophead out of Kelowna, BC. It's an India pale ale out of BC, Canada. I don't get it, but I'll try to find some for you, Matt.
Well, it was fun while it lasted, but Matt's gone. And now Roger's gone, too. Not out of Calgary, but he got himself a house and is moving in today. Good for him! It's a house that I looked at for him while he was in Victoria getting ready to turn fifty, and I highly approved of it to the point of wanting to trade. Seriously! Now it's just me and my roomy until he moves, and I'm told that that may be very soon, too.
On the way home there was a woman waiting for the c-train wearing one of those ear pieces for her cell phone. She was a good head and a half shorter than I am, and she spoke a language that I couldn't recognize into the mic. What was interesting about her was that she was very expressive and gestured constantly as if who she was talking to needed the motion enhancement to totally appreciate the depths of the speakers meaning. She continued to talk while we crammed onto the crowded train, and was forced up against an elderly woman sitting on the train. Funnily, the little lady continued to speak into her mic over the sitting woman's head...
Turns out the woman I call "sitting woman" was also "cranky woman" and told "cell phone woman" that she was being very annoying. "Cell phone woman" continued to talk but in hushed tones. Hmmm.
Anyway, it's time to go and count the minutes till Thursday night.
So the Oilers lost, and I can honestly say with the way that Carolina was playing last night, they deserved it. It was heart breaking for those players, but they certainly played their hearts out...in the third period. Wow! It's going to be kind of hard getting through the rest of June with out hockey (yes, it's sarcasm). Good game, though, good game.
Afterwards, Matt and I drove around so he could enjoy a bit of Calgary before heading back to the hotel for a snooze. He was also determined to find some sort of fictional beer that he made up. I did, however, do a quick search for it on the internet and found Tree Hophead out of Kelowna, BC. It's an India pale ale out of BC, Canada. I don't get it, but I'll try to find some for you, Matt.
Well, it was fun while it lasted, but Matt's gone. And now Roger's gone, too. Not out of Calgary, but he got himself a house and is moving in today. Good for him! It's a house that I looked at for him while he was in Victoria getting ready to turn fifty, and I highly approved of it to the point of wanting to trade. Seriously! Now it's just me and my roomy until he moves, and I'm told that that may be very soon, too.
On the way home there was a woman waiting for the c-train wearing one of those ear pieces for her cell phone. She was a good head and a half shorter than I am, and she spoke a language that I couldn't recognize into the mic. What was interesting about her was that she was very expressive and gestured constantly as if who she was talking to needed the motion enhancement to totally appreciate the depths of the speakers meaning. She continued to talk while we crammed onto the crowded train, and was forced up against an elderly woman sitting on the train. Funnily, the little lady continued to speak into her mic over the sitting woman's head...
Turns out the woman I call "sitting woman" was also "cranky woman" and told "cell phone woman" that she was being very annoying. "Cell phone woman" continued to talk but in hushed tones. Hmmm.
Anyway, it's time to go and count the minutes till Thursday night.
Monday, June 19, 2006
So…very…tired…
The plane got in at midnight last night, and along with the ride back to the house and getting ready for bed and such, I think I finally closed my eyes at around 1:30am. Then, to my joy, I had to get up at 5:30am to get to the LRT and yadda, yadda, yadda…Oh well, eh? At least I got a wonderful weekend with my family and friends. Not a huge get together or anything, although Roger’s birthday party was a great success with all the fifties paraphernalia and all that.
Saturday evening was Roger’s surprise birthday party that he knew about all along, and the theme was 50’s style clothing and music. I had some sort of pretense about going as a 1950’s Archie Andrews with the plaid vest and bowtie, but due to the lack of plaid vest and a bowtie, I went as a greaser. Now, those of you who’ve seen me lately might think that I have a lack of hair to grease, and you’d be correct. So the overall costume kind of made me look like a skin-head. I was leant a really worn leather jacket complete with buckles Michael Jackson would be proud of and a smell that made me think Fonzy wore it when he jumped the shark. Seeing as I already owned a pair of jeans, the only thing that was missing was a white shirt.
I used to own a ton of white shirts, but having gone through a phase recently where I thought white shirts were strictly uncool, I had donated my vast collection of white shirts to the United Way or Salvation Army or some charitable donation that doesn’t mind worn white shirts. They weren’t plain white shirts, anyway. They usually had some sort of mascot on there, be it Larry the Cucumber or Mr. Bean. Needless to say, the only white shirt I could find (actually, Michelle found it) was Kristen’s Sea Biscuit night shirt. I wore it backwards and only took off the leather jacket when I succumbed to the heat. Yes, it was hot! I
don’t know why people used to wear these leather jackets. Obviously they were in trades that didn’t require them to bend their elbows. I have a leather jacket that is soft and supple and bends and flexes. I get the impression that anyone wearing one of those leather jackets of yesteryear only leaned against walls and looked cool. That was their job! Perhaps that’s why they traveled in large groups. The others would take turns surrounding an individual who needed a break from wearing that constrictive jacket, so they would shield the individual while he stripped of the jacket and fanned his arm pits.
May (is that how you spell her name?) and Roger had a blast, though. They dug the music right from the start and danced many cheek to cheek dances (their facial cheeks, you dirty minded reader!). Roger definitely had a happy birthday. And I enjoyed it too because I didn’t have to dance. Given the restrictive quality of the jacket, there wouldn’t have been a lot of arm waving anyway.
On to Rylee’s birthday. Once again she and her multitude of friends and family had a blast at the expense of Sempai Raj. He’s just awesome with the kids, and seeing as this was Rylee’s last birthday there, he really put in the extra energy to make it that much more fun. Rylee, of course, made out like a bandit again. I will definitely post some pictures when I get the camera here.
In the morning, Rylee opened up her presents and discovered that Michelle had bought her the one Loreal hair dye she’s been after from the start and that her dad (me) has been opposed to from, well, the start as well. I believe it’s called Electric Black. Michelle applied it to her hair, and oddly enough unlike the other colors that stuck to her hair like crazy, this one wasn’t that strong. It turned her hair kind of a grayish purple which doesn’t look like it will stick for very long. She loved it though.
Tonight I get to hang out with Matt again, so I hope I can get some sort of a second wind so I can be excited when the Oilers win the Stanley Cup tonight. I have to take advantage of what little time we have to spend together…in a manly way, of course. Man! All you guys have creepy thoughts!
Saturday evening was Roger’s surprise birthday party that he knew about all along, and the theme was 50’s style clothing and music. I had some sort of pretense about going as a 1950’s Archie Andrews with the plaid vest and bowtie, but due to the lack of plaid vest and a bowtie, I went as a greaser. Now, those of you who’ve seen me lately might think that I have a lack of hair to grease, and you’d be correct. So the overall costume kind of made me look like a skin-head. I was leant a really worn leather jacket complete with buckles Michael Jackson would be proud of and a smell that made me think Fonzy wore it when he jumped the shark. Seeing as I already owned a pair of jeans, the only thing that was missing was a white shirt.
I used to own a ton of white shirts, but having gone through a phase recently where I thought white shirts were strictly uncool, I had donated my vast collection of white shirts to the United Way or Salvation Army or some charitable donation that doesn’t mind worn white shirts. They weren’t plain white shirts, anyway. They usually had some sort of mascot on there, be it Larry the Cucumber or Mr. Bean. Needless to say, the only white shirt I could find (actually, Michelle found it) was Kristen’s Sea Biscuit night shirt. I wore it backwards and only took off the leather jacket when I succumbed to the heat. Yes, it was hot! I
don’t know why people used to wear these leather jackets. Obviously they were in trades that didn’t require them to bend their elbows. I have a leather jacket that is soft and supple and bends and flexes. I get the impression that anyone wearing one of those leather jackets of yesteryear only leaned against walls and looked cool. That was their job! Perhaps that’s why they traveled in large groups. The others would take turns surrounding an individual who needed a break from wearing that constrictive jacket, so they would shield the individual while he stripped of the jacket and fanned his arm pits.
May (is that how you spell her name?) and Roger had a blast, though. They dug the music right from the start and danced many cheek to cheek dances (their facial cheeks, you dirty minded reader!). Roger definitely had a happy birthday. And I enjoyed it too because I didn’t have to dance. Given the restrictive quality of the jacket, there wouldn’t have been a lot of arm waving anyway.
On to Rylee’s birthday. Once again she and her multitude of friends and family had a blast at the expense of Sempai Raj. He’s just awesome with the kids, and seeing as this was Rylee’s last birthday there, he really put in the extra energy to make it that much more fun. Rylee, of course, made out like a bandit again. I will definitely post some pictures when I get the camera here.
In the morning, Rylee opened up her presents and discovered that Michelle had bought her the one Loreal hair dye she’s been after from the start and that her dad (me) has been opposed to from, well, the start as well. I believe it’s called Electric Black. Michelle applied it to her hair, and oddly enough unlike the other colors that stuck to her hair like crazy, this one wasn’t that strong. It turned her hair kind of a grayish purple which doesn’t look like it will stick for very long. She loved it though.
Tonight I get to hang out with Matt again, so I hope I can get some sort of a second wind so I can be excited when the Oilers win the Stanley Cup tonight. I have to take advantage of what little time we have to spend together…in a manly way, of course. Man! All you guys have creepy thoughts!
Friday, June 16, 2006
Just a few hours till I fly…
…I hope my arms are up to it.
I thought I’d just take the last few minutes before I’m computerless again to make some points of interest. It’s of no mystery to anyone that I like the internet, and that me and the internet have enjoyed a torrid love affair ever since getting dial-up all the way back in 98 (high speed followed very soon, but that’s besides the point). Now, the internet is a vast array of information and communities spanning the globe although we’re probably censored in China.
The point that I’m dancing around ever so delicately, not because it’s a touchy point but that I just like to dance delicately, is that it’s a very small world after all. It’s true! For example, I have posted to a message board that is pretty well going the way of becoming defunct because of the administrator’s lack of participation, but I have enjoyed some verbal jousting with a few of the participants involved there. It turns out that one my adversaries there lives in Edmonton. Isn’t that weird? Isn’t like the amount of internet users spanning the globe something like a billion? And here he is living in Edmonton just a stones throw away from me. Of course that stone would have to be thrown by superman, but none the less he is still rather more close to me that, say, someone who lives in Nice.
With odd like that, it just reinforces my faith in the lottery. If you pick six different numbers out of a possible 49, the odds of your six number combination being picked is one out of a possible 13983816 combinations. A professor of mine put it this way: it would be like if you lined up 13983910 red Skittles and six green ones randomly placed in that line, blind folded yourself and then walked up and down that line choosing six Skittles without looking and getting only green ones. Of course, seeing as the average skittle is approximately one centimeter across that line would actually be almost 14 kilometers long, but you get the point. I’m pretty sure the odds that one person that I’ve spoken to on the internet lives practically on my doorstep is worse than me winning the lottery, isn’t it? I could be wrong, but let me live in my dream world.
Another piece of interesting news is that I’ve re-discovered an author that I used to read constantly when I was a child and early teen. My grandma actually introduced me to him with a series of books that she gave me for one of my birthdays. His name is Craig Shaw Gardner, and like most of the prominent authors out there, he has his own website. Actually, even not so prominent authors have websites. Actually, any hack with an index finger has a website. Heck, I have one. But that’s beside the point. Craig has a website and he keeps a blog as well which allows for people to comment (just like mine, hint hint). The cool thing is that I’ve posted comments, as ludicrous as they are, on his blog, and he’s answered back. Just like normal folk. Not like that Neil Gaiman http://www.neilgaiman.com/ guy whose also a fantastic author but too good to answer how much money he’s got in his wallet at this very second and would he like to take a pony ride with me. Hmph! Anyway, Craig’s cool. Yeah!
Also learned a bit of sad news in my internet perusal. I went over to Phil Vischer’s website and was saddened by what I read. Phil was the founder of Veggietales, and although the franchise is still around, his company, Big Idea Productions is long since bankrupt and gone. It’s a long read, but if you’re interested, click on Phil’s name above to go to his website to find out how some big ideas can turn on you. It saddens me because Veggietales was such a big part of the kid’s, and my own, entertainment when they were younger. Oh well, things happen for a reason I guess.
Well, I’m cheering up by the second because I’ll be leaving on a jet plane really, really soon. And yes, yes. I have been humming and singing THAT song…Ciao for now!
I thought I’d just take the last few minutes before I’m computerless again to make some points of interest. It’s of no mystery to anyone that I like the internet, and that me and the internet have enjoyed a torrid love affair ever since getting dial-up all the way back in 98 (high speed followed very soon, but that’s besides the point). Now, the internet is a vast array of information and communities spanning the globe although we’re probably censored in China.
The point that I’m dancing around ever so delicately, not because it’s a touchy point but that I just like to dance delicately, is that it’s a very small world after all. It’s true! For example, I have posted to a message board that is pretty well going the way of becoming defunct because of the administrator’s lack of participation, but I have enjoyed some verbal jousting with a few of the participants involved there. It turns out that one my adversaries there lives in Edmonton. Isn’t that weird? Isn’t like the amount of internet users spanning the globe something like a billion? And here he is living in Edmonton just a stones throw away from me. Of course that stone would have to be thrown by superman, but none the less he is still rather more close to me that, say, someone who lives in Nice.
With odd like that, it just reinforces my faith in the lottery. If you pick six different numbers out of a possible 49, the odds of your six number combination being picked is one out of a possible 13983816 combinations. A professor of mine put it this way: it would be like if you lined up 13983910 red Skittles and six green ones randomly placed in that line, blind folded yourself and then walked up and down that line choosing six Skittles without looking and getting only green ones. Of course, seeing as the average skittle is approximately one centimeter across that line would actually be almost 14 kilometers long, but you get the point. I’m pretty sure the odds that one person that I’ve spoken to on the internet lives practically on my doorstep is worse than me winning the lottery, isn’t it? I could be wrong, but let me live in my dream world.
Another piece of interesting news is that I’ve re-discovered an author that I used to read constantly when I was a child and early teen. My grandma actually introduced me to him with a series of books that she gave me for one of my birthdays. His name is Craig Shaw Gardner, and like most of the prominent authors out there, he has his own website. Actually, even not so prominent authors have websites. Actually, any hack with an index finger has a website. Heck, I have one. But that’s beside the point. Craig has a website and he keeps a blog as well which allows for people to comment (just like mine, hint hint). The cool thing is that I’ve posted comments, as ludicrous as they are, on his blog, and he’s answered back. Just like normal folk. Not like that Neil Gaiman http://www.neilgaiman.com/ guy whose also a fantastic author but too good to answer how much money he’s got in his wallet at this very second and would he like to take a pony ride with me. Hmph! Anyway, Craig’s cool. Yeah!
Also learned a bit of sad news in my internet perusal. I went over to Phil Vischer’s website and was saddened by what I read. Phil was the founder of Veggietales, and although the franchise is still around, his company, Big Idea Productions is long since bankrupt and gone. It’s a long read, but if you’re interested, click on Phil’s name above to go to his website to find out how some big ideas can turn on you. It saddens me because Veggietales was such a big part of the kid’s, and my own, entertainment when they were younger. Oh well, things happen for a reason I guess.Well, I’m cheering up by the second because I’ll be leaving on a jet plane really, really soon. And yes, yes. I have been humming and singing THAT song…Ciao for now!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Good game, good game…
All the right elements and such. What did we have? Oh yes! We had suspense, we had action and we had a bar full of rowdy fans for both sides. But best of all, we had a friend to hang out with whom I hadn’t had the pleasure of hanging out with since, well, since an unpleasant situation. Needless to say, many enthusiastic verbal tirades were traded and memories resurfaced that makes me look fondly upon some of my past. Life, indeed, was good back then.
It was Matt, y’all! He said we had known each other since we were like four or something, but we were so young that I can’t remember how old we were. There was a picture of us in our youth, basking in the sun with our bleach blonde hair, smiling at the camera with our arms around each other’s shoulders. I have to beg Terri for a copy of that one to post here along with the one we took about two years ago, fully grown. You know, a sort of before and after shot. Anyway, like I said, it was Matt. And we had a great time rehashing the past and sharing the present. And nothing’s changed between us even though we haven’t seen each other for years and years. I’ve had friends drift away because of distance and time and tried to re-initiate contact with them only to find they had no desire to do so which, in a way, is sad, but some people move on I guess. I hope I’m never like that. Or not too much like that, anyway.
I made it home in one piece after the Oilers won, and pretty well just hit the hay right away. I did relinquish a few minutes of sleep to read a chapter or two of The Last Juror, though, and to my great surprise I am already enthralled with it. The narrative just sucks you right in, and I can see this as being one of my favorite Grisham novels. Let’s hope he doesn’t slack off at the ending.
The Petroleum Show was huge, of course. Just massive! Matt headed up a booth for his company, and I was very attracted to the large machined parts that encompassed his booth. It’s going to be a trying time getting all that stuff out of there when everyone else wants to leave this evening and tomorrow. When I was told that it would take him a few days to set up his display, I was wondering what the heck would take him so long, like it was only going to be a three piece folding cardboard backdrop with posters and a labeled cow’s heart. Nope! There was literally tons of machined steel there. It was beautiful! Some displays involved whole compressor stations without any of that pesky building to get in the way. There were pumps and bits and nipples and flexible pipeline and liners and tigers and bears, oh my! There were even displays that didn’t make a whole lot of sense being there other than the fact that they were just plain cool. I guess the custom chopper display could be written off as transportation to and from work.
I’m going to Victoria tomorrow! I get to see my ladies, fer crying out loud. Wow! It’s been a little over a month already, and next week I get to drive them to Calgary permanently. We’re going to take it a little slower than my last two trip, though, and enjoy some of the sights along the way. I seem to remember a Flintstone Park and an Enchanted Forest or some junk like that that you’re only allowed to enjoy if you have kids (ahem, Calaway Park). I’ll be driving the U-Haul while Michelle takes the van. It’s a shame we couldn’t just get movers to move us because then we could have shared the driving duties as opposed to straight lining it ourselves.
Speaking of U-Haul, I hate U-Haul. I realize it’s a business and that they are in the business of making money, but doesn’t a business make money by keeping their customers happy? I would think so. You know what makes their customers unhappy? Dropping their rates by almost $400 and not telling them about it. I was a little curious about the size of truck we had because we’re, Michelle and I, still in a slight debate about what our volume need are, so I went to their website to check. To get to the dimensions of the trucks, thankfully, one needs to do all that crap involving the origin of your move and the destination which then brings you to the trucks available with the big ol’ price tag just hanging out right beside them. There it was, a lower rate.
I phoned the 1-800 number and politely asked about my reservation which they immediately confirmed. I also mentioned that I just happened to be on their website and noticed that their rates had dropped. Did this apply to my reservation? I can’t quote the girl directly because I had anger bubbling in my ears, but I believe she said something to the fact that she guessed it did now. Grrr! They would have just let me pay the higher price and laughed all the way. But I caught them, so let this be a warning to you. If you’re using them for a move, always keep checking their rates because they sure as heck aren’t going to tell you that you could save some money.
I don’t know if I’ll be posting till next week, so I’ll just say have a good weekend, y’all!
Edit: Apparently I’m developing some sort of Southern drawl because I used “y’all” twice. How unoriginal of me.
I should also mention that Roger’s turning 50 years young this weekend and that today, yes today, is my dad’s birthday. I’d mention his age, but I’m pretty sure that’s illegal or something. I will, however, post a very appropriate card:
It was Matt, y’all! He said we had known each other since we were like four or something, but we were so young that I can’t remember how old we were. There was a picture of us in our youth, basking in the sun with our bleach blonde hair, smiling at the camera with our arms around each other’s shoulders. I have to beg Terri for a copy of that one to post here along with the one we took about two years ago, fully grown. You know, a sort of before and after shot. Anyway, like I said, it was Matt. And we had a great time rehashing the past and sharing the present. And nothing’s changed between us even though we haven’t seen each other for years and years. I’ve had friends drift away because of distance and time and tried to re-initiate contact with them only to find they had no desire to do so which, in a way, is sad, but some people move on I guess. I hope I’m never like that. Or not too much like that, anyway.
I made it home in one piece after the Oilers won, and pretty well just hit the hay right away. I did relinquish a few minutes of sleep to read a chapter or two of The Last Juror, though, and to my great surprise I am already enthralled with it. The narrative just sucks you right in, and I can see this as being one of my favorite Grisham novels. Let’s hope he doesn’t slack off at the ending.
The Petroleum Show was huge, of course. Just massive! Matt headed up a booth for his company, and I was very attracted to the large machined parts that encompassed his booth. It’s going to be a trying time getting all that stuff out of there when everyone else wants to leave this evening and tomorrow. When I was told that it would take him a few days to set up his display, I was wondering what the heck would take him so long, like it was only going to be a three piece folding cardboard backdrop with posters and a labeled cow’s heart. Nope! There was literally tons of machined steel there. It was beautiful! Some displays involved whole compressor stations without any of that pesky building to get in the way. There were pumps and bits and nipples and flexible pipeline and liners and tigers and bears, oh my! There were even displays that didn’t make a whole lot of sense being there other than the fact that they were just plain cool. I guess the custom chopper display could be written off as transportation to and from work.
I’m going to Victoria tomorrow! I get to see my ladies, fer crying out loud. Wow! It’s been a little over a month already, and next week I get to drive them to Calgary permanently. We’re going to take it a little slower than my last two trip, though, and enjoy some of the sights along the way. I seem to remember a Flintstone Park and an Enchanted Forest or some junk like that that you’re only allowed to enjoy if you have kids (ahem, Calaway Park). I’ll be driving the U-Haul while Michelle takes the van. It’s a shame we couldn’t just get movers to move us because then we could have shared the driving duties as opposed to straight lining it ourselves.
Speaking of U-Haul, I hate U-Haul. I realize it’s a business and that they are in the business of making money, but doesn’t a business make money by keeping their customers happy? I would think so. You know what makes their customers unhappy? Dropping their rates by almost $400 and not telling them about it. I was a little curious about the size of truck we had because we’re, Michelle and I, still in a slight debate about what our volume need are, so I went to their website to check. To get to the dimensions of the trucks, thankfully, one needs to do all that crap involving the origin of your move and the destination which then brings you to the trucks available with the big ol’ price tag just hanging out right beside them. There it was, a lower rate.
I phoned the 1-800 number and politely asked about my reservation which they immediately confirmed. I also mentioned that I just happened to be on their website and noticed that their rates had dropped. Did this apply to my reservation? I can’t quote the girl directly because I had anger bubbling in my ears, but I believe she said something to the fact that she guessed it did now. Grrr! They would have just let me pay the higher price and laughed all the way. But I caught them, so let this be a warning to you. If you’re using them for a move, always keep checking their rates because they sure as heck aren’t going to tell you that you could save some money.
I don’t know if I’ll be posting till next week, so I’ll just say have a good weekend, y’all!
Edit: Apparently I’m developing some sort of Southern drawl because I used “y’all” twice. How unoriginal of me.
I should also mention that Roger’s turning 50 years young this weekend and that today, yes today, is my dad’s birthday. I’d mention his age, but I’m pretty sure that’s illegal or something. I will, however, post a very appropriate card:
Just kidding, Pop! Happy Birthday!Tuesday, June 13, 2006
That was odd...
I triple posted but only pressed the post button once. Thank goodness you can go back and edit these things to ensure any evidence with regards to the author's lack of knowledge and intelligence disappears with out a trace.
On a sad note, the Oilers lost. No, I didn't watch the game. I was making up for lost sleep even though my mother decided it would be good to call after 10pm. That meant it was 9pm in BC. That's way passed your bedtime, mother dear.
On a happy note, I checked my good friend Moriah's blog, and there was a post about a toddler taking a tumble down the stairs. Um, wait! Yeah, the happy part is that the toddler, baby M if I'm not mistaken, is okay with just some minor scrapes and bruises. Whew!
On a sad note, the Oilers lost. No, I didn't watch the game. I was making up for lost sleep even though my mother decided it would be good to call after 10pm. That meant it was 9pm in BC. That's way passed your bedtime, mother dear.
On a happy note, I checked my good friend Moriah's blog, and there was a post about a toddler taking a tumble down the stairs. Um, wait! Yeah, the happy part is that the toddler, baby M if I'm not mistaken, is okay with just some minor scrapes and bruises. Whew!
And he's okay!
I got home yesterday to what I thought was an empty house; Roger's truck wasn't there, and there weren't any lights on in the basement windows. However, Mr. M came upstairs to inform me that everything was okay, thanks for taking him to the hospital and that he had phoned his son to tell him what happened (to my relief). Also, they kept him up in the hospital all night. I thought it odd that the staff would do this as he had a potential heart attack, but when I deciphered the story it turns out the other patients kept him up with their moans and cries of "It hurts! It hurts!" How rude! It is a hospital, after all. I just rolled my eyes a little and smiled a bit at him.
The important thing is that he's healthy (so to speak), he has his appointment for surgery (not because of last night) on the 21st and hopefully he'll recover quickly, so he can get out of the basement and on to bigger and better things that don't involve being in my basement.
Finished THE BROKER, by John Grisham, last night. He kind of redeemed himself a little with me. My dad put it nicely that somewhere along the way John Grisham forgot how to finish a book, and while I'm not totally happy with the ending of The Broker, it sure beat the heck out of The Brethren (yuck!) and The Partner (puh-leeze!). And since I'm on a Grisham kick and have already read Skipping Christmas, I'm on to The Last Juror. Only three chapters into it, but so far it has an A Time To Kill feel about it which isn't that strange, really, since it's set in the same place. If you click the link to The Broker, you'll be taken to Amazon where you can read reviews of Grisham's other books. Michael Crichton has the same problem with wriapping up books, but I've forgiven him of that because the science and fact he uses are so darn interesting. I mean, the plot for State of Fear was ludicrous. Come on!
I'm heading to the petroleum show this afternoon to see more of the wonderful world of oil and natural gas related equipment, paraphernalia and services. I've been informed that it's huge and I should be wearing comfortable shoes. As an aside, it's gotten to the point where I can't say "comfortable shoes" with out imitating Forrest Gump. Whatever! I hope to see Matt there as he's come up from Houston to be a part of the show, and the last time I saw him was clouded with sadness due to the passing of his uncle. So now we have to get together so he can see what my mom's and dad's genes have done to my hair and it's weak hold on my scalp. I'll let you know how the show went....
The important thing is that he's healthy (so to speak), he has his appointment for surgery (not because of last night) on the 21st and hopefully he'll recover quickly, so he can get out of the basement and on to bigger and better things that don't involve being in my basement.
Finished THE BROKER, by John Grisham, last night. He kind of redeemed himself a little with me. My dad put it nicely that somewhere along the way John Grisham forgot how to finish a book, and while I'm not totally happy with the ending of The Broker, it sure beat the heck out of The Brethren (yuck!) and The Partner (puh-leeze!). And since I'm on a Grisham kick and have already read Skipping Christmas, I'm on to The Last Juror. Only three chapters into it, but so far it has an A Time To Kill feel about it which isn't that strange, really, since it's set in the same place. If you click the link to The Broker, you'll be taken to Amazon where you can read reviews of Grisham's other books. Michael Crichton has the same problem with wriapping up books, but I've forgiven him of that because the science and fact he uses are so darn interesting. I mean, the plot for State of Fear was ludicrous. Come on!
I'm heading to the petroleum show this afternoon to see more of the wonderful world of oil and natural gas related equipment, paraphernalia and services. I've been informed that it's huge and I should be wearing comfortable shoes. As an aside, it's gotten to the point where I can't say "comfortable shoes" with out imitating Forrest Gump. Whatever! I hope to see Matt there as he's come up from Houston to be a part of the show, and the last time I saw him was clouded with sadness due to the passing of his uncle. So now we have to get together so he can see what my mom's and dad's genes have done to my hair and it's weak hold on my scalp. I'll let you know how the show went....
Monday, June 12, 2006
Oh golly!
What started as a very good weekend ended in nothing but oddness and worry. Shall I proceed chronologically? Of course I shall.
I got to see my dad for the first time in a long time. I traveled to Edmonton to stay with Walt and Terry, Aunty Terry and Uncle Walt for when I was growing up, and to visit with them and my parents. My dad was partaking in a golf tourney that pitted his home club of Uplands against an Edmonton club called Highlands. Also, he was picking up Walt’s brand spanking new golf cart to take back to their home club. Anyway, I got to visit with my pop and also got to watch the Oilers beat the Hurricanes. That was a pretty good game with all the right elements of suspense and action. However, my lack of knowledge of the game let slip when I made it know that I had no idea how an icing call was made. Apparently its when the puck travels over two red lines. Now I know, and knowing is half the battle. Can I hear a “Yo Joe?”
Oh, I also let slip that I didn’t know Chris Christopherson was a country and western singer. Almost a sin in my dad’s books. Almost!
I got a bit of free time to myself after Walt showed me around his place of business. I really appreciated that because my place of work deals with his place of work, and so now I know exactly what it is we’re dealing with. After the tour, I went to West Edmonton Mall. Have any of you ever been here? It’s massive. But I really don’t know why people go there to shop. I’d just go there for the submarines, huge indoor water park, indoor theme park, skating on their NHL sized skating rink, mini golf and a host of movie theatres ranging from regular to IMAX sized. It’s nuts! I even stopped to watch a sea world style show involving actors and sea lions. It was right near the huge pirate ship and bumper boats. Yes, I’m serious. You feel like you need a machete just to get through the wall to wall people there, and the guy behind the counter at Dairy Queen didn’t seem to be in the best of moods.
Also, after I left there, mom accompanied me to my first trip ever to an Ikea. This was the landmark that my dad based his directions for me to find Walt and Terri’s home. I was a little worried that I would miss it coming into Edmonton, but when I saw it I realized that the only way I would miss it would be if I was blind and shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a car. So I went to the big blue and yellow building with my mother, admired the size of the place, the $0.50 hotdog sign and the fact that they had child minding for children of a certain size, and I bought myself a laundry hamper because I was tired of putting my dirty clothes in garbage bags. Oh, I also bought pot holders because I was tired of my skin blistering when pulling stuff out of the oven.
So the visit went well. Terri and Walt fed us some awesome food which included Creston Asparagus both evenings. Interesting fact: asparagus grows so quickly in the right temperature that it can be harvested twice a day from the same plant. Neat, huh?
I left early on Sunday morning with the rest of the folks. They had a longer drive than I, so they wanted to start earlier so the got there in daylight, I presume. Weirdly enough, the qualms that I usually held for speeding seemed to have disappeared since moving to Alberta. In a 110kpm zone, it wasn’t uncommon to look down at the speedometer to see 130kph or 140kph. I fought with myself to slow down coming into the city limits. Without meaning to, I kind of sort of barely ran a red light. Bad, Derek, bad. It changed just as I entered the intersection. Then I fought with myself again to slow down to a mere 65kph in a 50kpm zone. That’s when the cop with the radar gun waved his finger at me indicating I should slow down. I obliged, and when I got passed him I sort of laughed to myself that I just got a finger waving for all the bad driving I just did. Rest assured, I will be thinking on it a bit better the next time I get behind the wheel for a long trip. I get home, Roger and I get the loveseat, he buys a stereo and everything is just dandy.
Until a cop shows up at my door…
He’s here to see my landlord’s father, the gentleman whom I refer to as my roomy. I’ll call him Mr. M for now because even though M is the first initial of his first name, the cop referred to him as Mr. M where M was his first name but he was using it as his last name. Does that make sense? Tough! The cop’s here to talk to Mr. M about the neighbor that Mr. M and his son are having trouble with there’s been a restraining order, I think, and all sorts of police calling and name calling and whatever else calling. I don’t get the whole story because Mr. M would like to talk to the police man by himself, but I’m pretty sure Mr. M’s intentions were not to upset me, his son’s new tenants. It’s widely accepted between me and Roger and those we have met that the previous tenants were not very, er, respectable to the surrounding neighborhood. As a result, I have probably moved into THAT house. You know THAT house, don’t you? It’s the one on your block that people kind of wish was vacant, but whose occupants are a bane of the block. I hope that if we stay there we don’t inherit the reputation that comes with the house.
Anyway, Mr. M finishes with the cop, the cop says that if I want the whole story that I’d have to get it from Mr. M and he drives off or goes to see the neighbor. Mr. M gives me some song and dance about the neighbor being a nice man but just doesn’t like him or his son. A week ago he was calling the neighbor a racist but I let it slide because Mr. M is around 90, he’s worried about me liking the place and I didn’t want to stress him out.
It turns out that he’s stressed anyway because just as I’m about to go to bed around 11ish, Mr. M comes upstairs complaining of dizziness, pains in his chest and he’s rubbing his left arm and shoulder. I tell him we’re going to the hospital but he just wants me to call a cab and not to worry. Roger and I pack him in my car and we go anyway. They did a whole bunch of blood work and monitoring of his vitals and then wanted to keep him overnight. I think it was about 12:30am by the time we left the hospital. He seemed fine, but he was very adamant that I don’t tell his son. He pleaded, actually, and I could see it was stressing him out more. So what was I to do? I told him I wouldn’t tell his son although I think he should know. One of his sentences caught me off guard though because as he was pleading for my silence, he said, “For the sake of your children, please don’t tell my son.” What the heck is that supposed to mean? I just chalked it up to him being upset and left it at that.
So that’s my weekend. I’ve been just sitting here trying to stay awake, and then I decided to type away. I hope you enjoyed it because it’s the best thing I’ve done today. What do you think? Does his son deserve to know, but should I be the one to tell him? Hmm! Dilema.
I got to see my dad for the first time in a long time. I traveled to Edmonton to stay with Walt and Terry, Aunty Terry and Uncle Walt for when I was growing up, and to visit with them and my parents. My dad was partaking in a golf tourney that pitted his home club of Uplands against an Edmonton club called Highlands. Also, he was picking up Walt’s brand spanking new golf cart to take back to their home club. Anyway, I got to visit with my pop and also got to watch the Oilers beat the Hurricanes. That was a pretty good game with all the right elements of suspense and action. However, my lack of knowledge of the game let slip when I made it know that I had no idea how an icing call was made. Apparently its when the puck travels over two red lines. Now I know, and knowing is half the battle. Can I hear a “Yo Joe?”
Oh, I also let slip that I didn’t know Chris Christopherson was a country and western singer. Almost a sin in my dad’s books. Almost!
I got a bit of free time to myself after Walt showed me around his place of business. I really appreciated that because my place of work deals with his place of work, and so now I know exactly what it is we’re dealing with. After the tour, I went to West Edmonton Mall. Have any of you ever been here? It’s massive. But I really don’t know why people go there to shop. I’d just go there for the submarines, huge indoor water park, indoor theme park, skating on their NHL sized skating rink, mini golf and a host of movie theatres ranging from regular to IMAX sized. It’s nuts! I even stopped to watch a sea world style show involving actors and sea lions. It was right near the huge pirate ship and bumper boats. Yes, I’m serious. You feel like you need a machete just to get through the wall to wall people there, and the guy behind the counter at Dairy Queen didn’t seem to be in the best of moods.
Also, after I left there, mom accompanied me to my first trip ever to an Ikea. This was the landmark that my dad based his directions for me to find Walt and Terri’s home. I was a little worried that I would miss it coming into Edmonton, but when I saw it I realized that the only way I would miss it would be if I was blind and shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a car. So I went to the big blue and yellow building with my mother, admired the size of the place, the $0.50 hotdog sign and the fact that they had child minding for children of a certain size, and I bought myself a laundry hamper because I was tired of putting my dirty clothes in garbage bags. Oh, I also bought pot holders because I was tired of my skin blistering when pulling stuff out of the oven.
So the visit went well. Terri and Walt fed us some awesome food which included Creston Asparagus both evenings. Interesting fact: asparagus grows so quickly in the right temperature that it can be harvested twice a day from the same plant. Neat, huh?
I left early on Sunday morning with the rest of the folks. They had a longer drive than I, so they wanted to start earlier so the got there in daylight, I presume. Weirdly enough, the qualms that I usually held for speeding seemed to have disappeared since moving to Alberta. In a 110kpm zone, it wasn’t uncommon to look down at the speedometer to see 130kph or 140kph. I fought with myself to slow down coming into the city limits. Without meaning to, I kind of sort of barely ran a red light. Bad, Derek, bad. It changed just as I entered the intersection. Then I fought with myself again to slow down to a mere 65kph in a 50kpm zone. That’s when the cop with the radar gun waved his finger at me indicating I should slow down. I obliged, and when I got passed him I sort of laughed to myself that I just got a finger waving for all the bad driving I just did. Rest assured, I will be thinking on it a bit better the next time I get behind the wheel for a long trip. I get home, Roger and I get the loveseat, he buys a stereo and everything is just dandy.
Until a cop shows up at my door…
He’s here to see my landlord’s father, the gentleman whom I refer to as my roomy. I’ll call him Mr. M for now because even though M is the first initial of his first name, the cop referred to him as Mr. M where M was his first name but he was using it as his last name. Does that make sense? Tough! The cop’s here to talk to Mr. M about the neighbor that Mr. M and his son are having trouble with there’s been a restraining order, I think, and all sorts of police calling and name calling and whatever else calling. I don’t get the whole story because Mr. M would like to talk to the police man by himself, but I’m pretty sure Mr. M’s intentions were not to upset me, his son’s new tenants. It’s widely accepted between me and Roger and those we have met that the previous tenants were not very, er, respectable to the surrounding neighborhood. As a result, I have probably moved into THAT house. You know THAT house, don’t you? It’s the one on your block that people kind of wish was vacant, but whose occupants are a bane of the block. I hope that if we stay there we don’t inherit the reputation that comes with the house.
Anyway, Mr. M finishes with the cop, the cop says that if I want the whole story that I’d have to get it from Mr. M and he drives off or goes to see the neighbor. Mr. M gives me some song and dance about the neighbor being a nice man but just doesn’t like him or his son. A week ago he was calling the neighbor a racist but I let it slide because Mr. M is around 90, he’s worried about me liking the place and I didn’t want to stress him out.
It turns out that he’s stressed anyway because just as I’m about to go to bed around 11ish, Mr. M comes upstairs complaining of dizziness, pains in his chest and he’s rubbing his left arm and shoulder. I tell him we’re going to the hospital but he just wants me to call a cab and not to worry. Roger and I pack him in my car and we go anyway. They did a whole bunch of blood work and monitoring of his vitals and then wanted to keep him overnight. I think it was about 12:30am by the time we left the hospital. He seemed fine, but he was very adamant that I don’t tell his son. He pleaded, actually, and I could see it was stressing him out more. So what was I to do? I told him I wouldn’t tell his son although I think he should know. One of his sentences caught me off guard though because as he was pleading for my silence, he said, “For the sake of your children, please don’t tell my son.” What the heck is that supposed to mean? I just chalked it up to him being upset and left it at that.
So that’s my weekend. I’ve been just sitting here trying to stay awake, and then I decided to type away. I hope you enjoyed it because it’s the best thing I’ve done today. What do you think? Does his son deserve to know, but should I be the one to tell him? Hmm! Dilema.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Wanna park downtown Calgary?
Forget it!!! Yes, I know multiple exclamation marks are the sign of a deranged mind but consider the source. Parking downtown Calgary can be summed up in one word:
Tell me, how are my girls supposed to learn English with these words jamming up the system? Sheesh!
Hmm! Just for curiosity’s sake, I typed “weird words” into Google and came across the Weird Words Section Index section of World Wide Words. I particularily like the word “empasm.” It kind of just rolls off the tongue.
EXPENSIVE
Well, that actually describes a lot of things about Calgary. But today I’m driving to Edmonton, and I thought it’d be more convenient to park downtown than at a Park’n’Ride seven stops away.
I pulled up to the ticket booth window and asked if they accepted interact or credit card, and the guy looked at me as if I was from Mars. Apparently I decided to park at one of the only lots that doesn’t admit to the entering of a new century. I offered him some doubloons, but he didn’t get it. He did, however, allow me to park in the lot while I ran around downtown looking for a cash machine, but he could only guarantee me 10 to 15 minutes of risk free parking. After that I was fair game to the commissionaires that infest downtown Calgary and bother homeless people. I did manage to find one, and to my joy of joys, my car was still there when I got back. Whew!
That was a little weird yesterday, I admit, with the word thing. I just find some words very interesting. I was having this conversation with someone the other day (can’t remember who…sorry) about words that you’d have no idea how to pronounce unless you actually heard them spoken. Here are my top three because I can only remember three at the moment:
I pulled up to the ticket booth window and asked if they accepted interact or credit card, and the guy looked at me as if I was from Mars. Apparently I decided to park at one of the only lots that doesn’t admit to the entering of a new century. I offered him some doubloons, but he didn’t get it. He did, however, allow me to park in the lot while I ran around downtown looking for a cash machine, but he could only guarantee me 10 to 15 minutes of risk free parking. After that I was fair game to the commissionaires that infest downtown Calgary and bother homeless people. I did manage to find one, and to my joy of joys, my car was still there when I got back. Whew!
That was a little weird yesterday, I admit, with the word thing. I just find some words very interesting. I was having this conversation with someone the other day (can’t remember who…sorry) about words that you’d have no idea how to pronounce unless you actually heard them spoken. Here are my top three because I can only remember three at the moment:
TOP 3 WORDS THAT HAVE ODD PRONUNCIATIONS
- Indictment
- Façade
- Epitome
Tell me, how are my girls supposed to learn English with these words jamming up the system? Sheesh!
Hmm! Just for curiosity’s sake, I typed “weird words” into Google and came across the Weird Words Section Index section of World Wide Words. I particularily like the word “empasm.” It kind of just rolls off the tongue.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
I swore I’d use “diatribe” in a sentence…
Does a word ever come to you from out of the blue, and you wonder what the heck that word means, and then you find out so you need to use it in a sentence just to keep it in your vocabulary? Don’t lie! For some odd reason the word “diatribe” popped into my head, and even though I knew what it meant (it means “an abusive verbal attack”) I just felt I needed to use it in a sentence. So here goes:
Apparently the Vancouver Canucks weren’t even remotely affected by my diatribe denouncing their playing ability and fall in their standings because they’re all still drinking socially and playing golf.
Wooh! That was a tough one, but I think I used the word correctly as it accentuated the overall feeling of the message.
I have to pass this along. I’ve followed it for a while now, but I need to share. This guy is on his way to trading one red paperclip for a house. No, he’s not some sort of genius salesman. He’s just trading up for items until he manages to trade for a house. As of this writing he’s currently offering a speaking part in a movie being put together by Corbin Bernsen. Because of this website, he’s been interviewed by 20/20 and has met all sorts of stars (Alice Cooper, for instance, who ended up being and item up for trade). I’ll be watching to see if he actually makes it because, well, it’s just so gosh darn interesting.
It’s raining today and reminds me of Victoria in January. That makes me kind of homesick, and I miss my girls. It’s gotten to the point when we have our nightly “good night” call that it’s become a little mundane for Kristen and Rylee. Same old thing every night, y’know? I ask them how their day was, what they did and how they are like it’s going to change every day. Maybe you guys should suggest some interesting questions to ask so they won’t be so bored of me. I could ask them to count to potato or lick their elbows, but the effect is lost over the phone. So, yeah, suggestions are welcome.
Also, today I’ll be getting something to sit on. Having no furniture since it’s back in Victoria, I’m forced to lie on the floor to play PS2 or watch a movie. But today, thanks to a certain aunt, who is Carol, I will be getting the first piece of a couch and loveseat set. So no more sore butt for me! I’ll be able to play GTA: Vice City for hours and hours and…
And next is just sort of an experiment; I wanted to see if I could embed video into this blog. However, I had also heard about this reaction that Pepsi has when it comes into contact with Mentos (the freshmaker). Apparently, when a few Mentos are dropped into a bottle of Pepsi, Coke or cola in general, an eruption ensues (I used “ensues” in a sentence today, too, so tomorrow I’ll take a monosyllabic break). However, there is a sect of experimenters who’ve been trying the same thing but instead of using the bottle as a container, they use themselves. If you are faint of heart, I beg you not to press PLAY below:
Apparently the Vancouver Canucks weren’t even remotely affected by my diatribe denouncing their playing ability and fall in their standings because they’re all still drinking socially and playing golf.
Wooh! That was a tough one, but I think I used the word correctly as it accentuated the overall feeling of the message.
I have to pass this along. I’ve followed it for a while now, but I need to share. This guy is on his way to trading one red paperclip for a house. No, he’s not some sort of genius salesman. He’s just trading up for items until he manages to trade for a house. As of this writing he’s currently offering a speaking part in a movie being put together by Corbin Bernsen. Because of this website, he’s been interviewed by 20/20 and has met all sorts of stars (Alice Cooper, for instance, who ended up being and item up for trade). I’ll be watching to see if he actually makes it because, well, it’s just so gosh darn interesting.
It’s raining today and reminds me of Victoria in January. That makes me kind of homesick, and I miss my girls. It’s gotten to the point when we have our nightly “good night” call that it’s become a little mundane for Kristen and Rylee. Same old thing every night, y’know? I ask them how their day was, what they did and how they are like it’s going to change every day. Maybe you guys should suggest some interesting questions to ask so they won’t be so bored of me. I could ask them to count to potato or lick their elbows, but the effect is lost over the phone. So, yeah, suggestions are welcome.
Also, today I’ll be getting something to sit on. Having no furniture since it’s back in Victoria, I’m forced to lie on the floor to play PS2 or watch a movie. But today, thanks to a certain aunt, who is Carol, I will be getting the first piece of a couch and loveseat set. So no more sore butt for me! I’ll be able to play GTA: Vice City for hours and hours and…
And next is just sort of an experiment; I wanted to see if I could embed video into this blog. However, I had also heard about this reaction that Pepsi has when it comes into contact with Mentos (the freshmaker). Apparently, when a few Mentos are dropped into a bottle of Pepsi, Coke or cola in general, an eruption ensues (I used “ensues” in a sentence today, too, so tomorrow I’ll take a monosyllabic break). However, there is a sect of experimenters who’ve been trying the same thing but instead of using the bottle as a container, they use themselves. If you are faint of heart, I beg you not to press PLAY below:
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
I want missile balloons!!!
They'll help me get where I'm going faster, and there's zero chance of road rage directed towards me.
I'm heading to Edmonton, as I said, this Friday, and after talking to dad on the phone yesterday, these would come in handy. He informed me from the airport that there are a lot of crazy people on the stretch of highway between Edmonton and Calgary, so these beauties would be beneficial in so many ways.
I'm heading to Edmonton, as I said, this Friday, and after talking to dad on the phone yesterday, these would come in handy. He informed me from the airport that there are a lot of crazy people on the stretch of highway between Edmonton and Calgary, so these beauties would be beneficial in so many ways.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Blather, blather, blather!
Everyone who knows me knows that I’m not the biggest hockey fan in the world. Or used to be so, anyway. I used to balk at the thought of spending 3+ hours in front of the TV to watch the sport; I used to laugh that it took an hour for a twenty minute period to go by; and I used to think that too much precious brain power was wasted on player names, stats and current girlfriend’s measurements.
Now I’m not saying that my whole outlook on hockey has completely changed, but I do admit that my heart rate does increase slightly when I now watch the game. Yes, I was very, very disappointed with my Canucks when I went away in January and they were tied with Calgary for first only to come back and find that they were gone, just gone. Have I given up on them? Possibly! Could I name five or six players on the team? Only if I tried really, really hard. I’m getting better though, but I’m not saying I’m rooting for Vancouver anymore. From what I hear with a fired coach and player’s traded, it’s going to be a whole new team.
So I guess I’m actually just putting myself out there as a fan for hire. Highest bid wins my affection for your team colours. It’s a little late in the season to be switching now, but I also find it odd that we’re still watching hockey in June.
Which brings me to last night’s game…
I’m the least authoritative on the topic of hockey. I’m pretty sure my hockey career, to my parent’s disappointment, lasted two days. Well, it might have been longer than that, but all I remember is lots of padding, sweating and other boys who wanted to push me over. I believe I mentioned before that I’m a lover not a fighter. If only there was another option. Hmph!
Where was I? Oh yeah! I’m the least authoritative on the topic of hockey, but how do you lose when you have a three goal lead towards the end of the second period? I saw it when Edmonton just eeked out a victory over Aneheim, it seemed like they gave up and thought their win was a sure thing. It’s like they stood back, said, “We’ve got a great goalie,” and let him play the rest of the game. And it’s true that Roloson is a great goalie, but he can’t play the whole game by himself, darn it! Lend a hand, for crying out loud, or I’m going to start rooting for Carolina because Ward seemed to be doing pretty awesome towards the end of the third period, as well.
I’m not even going to comment on the rest of the game because I’ll just make myself sound foolish (I already LOOK foolish). I will say, however, that as I watched the game with Aunty Terri, Aunty Carol, and mom at Lloyd’s and Judy’s that seconds after Terri made the comment with regards to Carolina’s better offense and Edmonton’s well known defense, Carolina scored. It’s just fate and balance, I tell you. You pull a metaphysical line with a comment like that and it just opens up a hole where Edmonton’s superb defense used to be. Weird, I tell you!
Well, besides all my blathering and trying to sound intelligent in front of my betters last night over a superb chicken lasagna served up by Judy, I received an invite to go to Edmonton to stay with Terri and Walt so I could see my dad whom I always seem to miss when visits are scheduled. I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist even though Aunty Carol seems to remember her brother being around somewhat when she was growing up in Saskatchewan. I plan secreting some hair or skin flakes away from him to do some DNA matching because he’s pretty unclear as to whether or not he’s my real father. I’ve had my doubts, too, but only slight ones. I’ve recently started to become interested in golf, and seeing as my dad’s the proverbial golf nut, I figure it must be genetic.
Now I’m not saying that my whole outlook on hockey has completely changed, but I do admit that my heart rate does increase slightly when I now watch the game. Yes, I was very, very disappointed with my Canucks when I went away in January and they were tied with Calgary for first only to come back and find that they were gone, just gone. Have I given up on them? Possibly! Could I name five or six players on the team? Only if I tried really, really hard. I’m getting better though, but I’m not saying I’m rooting for Vancouver anymore. From what I hear with a fired coach and player’s traded, it’s going to be a whole new team.
So I guess I’m actually just putting myself out there as a fan for hire. Highest bid wins my affection for your team colours. It’s a little late in the season to be switching now, but I also find it odd that we’re still watching hockey in June.
Which brings me to last night’s game…
I’m the least authoritative on the topic of hockey. I’m pretty sure my hockey career, to my parent’s disappointment, lasted two days. Well, it might have been longer than that, but all I remember is lots of padding, sweating and other boys who wanted to push me over. I believe I mentioned before that I’m a lover not a fighter. If only there was another option. Hmph!
Where was I? Oh yeah! I’m the least authoritative on the topic of hockey, but how do you lose when you have a three goal lead towards the end of the second period? I saw it when Edmonton just eeked out a victory over Aneheim, it seemed like they gave up and thought their win was a sure thing. It’s like they stood back, said, “We’ve got a great goalie,” and let him play the rest of the game. And it’s true that Roloson is a great goalie, but he can’t play the whole game by himself, darn it! Lend a hand, for crying out loud, or I’m going to start rooting for Carolina because Ward seemed to be doing pretty awesome towards the end of the third period, as well.
I’m not even going to comment on the rest of the game because I’ll just make myself sound foolish (I already LOOK foolish). I will say, however, that as I watched the game with Aunty Terri, Aunty Carol, and mom at Lloyd’s and Judy’s that seconds after Terri made the comment with regards to Carolina’s better offense and Edmonton’s well known defense, Carolina scored. It’s just fate and balance, I tell you. You pull a metaphysical line with a comment like that and it just opens up a hole where Edmonton’s superb defense used to be. Weird, I tell you!
Well, besides all my blathering and trying to sound intelligent in front of my betters last night over a superb chicken lasagna served up by Judy, I received an invite to go to Edmonton to stay with Terri and Walt so I could see my dad whom I always seem to miss when visits are scheduled. I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist even though Aunty Carol seems to remember her brother being around somewhat when she was growing up in Saskatchewan. I plan secreting some hair or skin flakes away from him to do some DNA matching because he’s pretty unclear as to whether or not he’s my real father. I’ve had my doubts, too, but only slight ones. I’ve recently started to become interested in golf, and seeing as my dad’s the proverbial golf nut, I figure it must be genetic.
Monday, June 05, 2006
It’s too late…
My dear, if you are reading this then it means I have been captured, or worse, force fed black tea and stale crackers while Stabilo’s Flawed Design repeats over and over on an old phonograph. I didn’t even think they made pressings anymore. So the movement has been betrayed from the inside, and my persecutors have knowledge they should not have. But I will remain strong! They will not get the information they seek no matter how much they play Stabilo. I am bringing along a Robertson screwdriver to puncture my eardrums if they continue to play that dreaded song. My one regret is that Stabilo outlived me…well, that and time lost with you, the children, yada yada….
Actually, all kidding aside, I really do hate that song. If you haven’t heard it, I suggest a quick download just to see the type of tripe they play on the radio nowadays. Ugh! I’d rather listen to Britney, and that’s saying something.
Not much happened this weekend. Went to Calaway Park with Roger, waited for an uncaring gentleman to clean the carpets, and just tooled around, really.
Calaway Park is almost unchanged from when I went to it last. The rides are short, but it provides enough amusement to keep you in 45 minute line-ups to get to them. Roger and I went on four rides before we had to quit due to stomach related reasons. Seeing as most of the rides spin, this was not much of a surprise. Felt a little weird going to an amusement park without the kids, so I probably won’t go again before they get here. We got season’s passes, so we’ll be able to go many, many times before the year is up.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but the place I’ve rented for me and my family wasn’t quite as clean as I would have liked it to be when I moved in. I actually typed up a huge list detailing all the bumps, dents, marks and stains that I would not be responsible for and sent it to my landlord who resides in Minessota. He actually responded pretty quickly and got a carpet cleaner in immediately. He came on a Sunday, and I could tell by his haphazard manor that he didn’t give a, um, bleep about whether the carpet was clean or not after he was finished. Roger is currently in what will be Kristen’s room sleeping on a futon, and when this, ahem, gentleman seemed to be finished in that room, I asked him if he wanted me to move the bed. I knew he hadn’t done underneath. He just looks at me with a surprised look on his face and says that he didn’t know that I wanted him to do that. What the?!? Of course I want him to do that, I say, my daughter’s going to be sleeping in here. Sheesh! I’m glad I wasn’t paying him, but now I have to live with his shoddy workmanship. I feel like giving out his company’s name just so people avoid it, but I’m afraid of the repercussions. Just phone or email me if you want to know which company to avoid.
But it smells better now, anyway.
Roger and I rented The Ringer which was a very funny movie about Johnny Knoxville fixing the Special Olympics. You could tell that the Farrelley Brothers, the guys who produced the movie, really care for these guys by the way they cast them and handled the material. Most of the jokes came from the special people and just goes to show they can do anything. To those of you who’ve gotten into the current century and have gotten a DVD player (ahem, not my mom and dad)watch the deleted scenes.
And seeing as it’s Monday, I’m back to work. There may be a field trip in store for my future. Apparently, for one to understand what they are actually doing it may be a good idea to see the outcome, so I’m probably going to go out to Brooks (the land of fetid meat) and check out a compressor station out there. Should be a hoot, I guess.
Oh, and I guess it just wouldn’t be a complete post without a roommate story, eh? We share a Kitchen; that was part of the deal. And he keeps such odd hours. So after Roger was done with me humiliating him on the PS2, at around 11pm we decide that it’s time to turn in. However, while I’m in my room getting ready for bed, I start to hear this intermittent scraping noise coming from the kitchen. I go to check it out, and there’s my roomy shredding carrots into a big bowl. I asked him what he was doing, and with a big smile on his face he responds, “Making salad! You want?” I said thanks but I was going to bed. That man keeps some odd hours. I mean, I hate sleeping but I don’t think he does. Guess I better wrap my neck up and hang garlic on my door knob.
Wow! On a scale of one to boring, this post wasn’t very exciting. Sorry. I’ll try harder next time. Ciao!
Actually, all kidding aside, I really do hate that song. If you haven’t heard it, I suggest a quick download just to see the type of tripe they play on the radio nowadays. Ugh! I’d rather listen to Britney, and that’s saying something.
Not much happened this weekend. Went to Calaway Park with Roger, waited for an uncaring gentleman to clean the carpets, and just tooled around, really.
Calaway Park is almost unchanged from when I went to it last. The rides are short, but it provides enough amusement to keep you in 45 minute line-ups to get to them. Roger and I went on four rides before we had to quit due to stomach related reasons. Seeing as most of the rides spin, this was not much of a surprise. Felt a little weird going to an amusement park without the kids, so I probably won’t go again before they get here. We got season’s passes, so we’ll be able to go many, many times before the year is up.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but the place I’ve rented for me and my family wasn’t quite as clean as I would have liked it to be when I moved in. I actually typed up a huge list detailing all the bumps, dents, marks and stains that I would not be responsible for and sent it to my landlord who resides in Minessota. He actually responded pretty quickly and got a carpet cleaner in immediately. He came on a Sunday, and I could tell by his haphazard manor that he didn’t give a, um, bleep about whether the carpet was clean or not after he was finished. Roger is currently in what will be Kristen’s room sleeping on a futon, and when this, ahem, gentleman seemed to be finished in that room, I asked him if he wanted me to move the bed. I knew he hadn’t done underneath. He just looks at me with a surprised look on his face and says that he didn’t know that I wanted him to do that. What the?!? Of course I want him to do that, I say, my daughter’s going to be sleeping in here. Sheesh! I’m glad I wasn’t paying him, but now I have to live with his shoddy workmanship. I feel like giving out his company’s name just so people avoid it, but I’m afraid of the repercussions. Just phone or email me if you want to know which company to avoid.
But it smells better now, anyway.
Roger and I rented The Ringer which was a very funny movie about Johnny Knoxville fixing the Special Olympics. You could tell that the Farrelley Brothers, the guys who produced the movie, really care for these guys by the way they cast them and handled the material. Most of the jokes came from the special people and just goes to show they can do anything. To those of you who’ve gotten into the current century and have gotten a DVD player (ahem, not my mom and dad)watch the deleted scenes.
And seeing as it’s Monday, I’m back to work. There may be a field trip in store for my future. Apparently, for one to understand what they are actually doing it may be a good idea to see the outcome, so I’m probably going to go out to Brooks (the land of fetid meat) and check out a compressor station out there. Should be a hoot, I guess.
Oh, and I guess it just wouldn’t be a complete post without a roommate story, eh? We share a Kitchen; that was part of the deal. And he keeps such odd hours. So after Roger was done with me humiliating him on the PS2, at around 11pm we decide that it’s time to turn in. However, while I’m in my room getting ready for bed, I start to hear this intermittent scraping noise coming from the kitchen. I go to check it out, and there’s my roomy shredding carrots into a big bowl. I asked him what he was doing, and with a big smile on his face he responds, “Making salad! You want?” I said thanks but I was going to bed. That man keeps some odd hours. I mean, I hate sleeping but I don’t think he does. Guess I better wrap my neck up and hang garlic on my door knob.
Wow! On a scale of one to boring, this post wasn’t very exciting. Sorry. I’ll try harder next time. Ciao!
