Only in Toronto...

...could we screw up every chance at international fame. Actually, not we, but he:



Yet again, our mayor's free-spending ways have prevented us from getting something cool, this time the 2015 World's Fair. Wouldn't that have been sweet? Wouldn't that have been a nice jab back at Montreal? Nope, not this time.

It's easy to think that an NDP trying to deal with Liberals and Conservatives would be a recipe for disaster. But, when you realize that both Ontario and the Fed's were just about to get on board, something had to go awry.

And, as usual, Miller probably pleaded that Toronto is soooo cash-strapped (I wonder why, when, despite his short-comings, Mel Lastman at least left a decent surplus behind) and everyone else would have to chip in more cash to help promote the bid. Of course, if he hadn't given his money away to God knows who, we might actually have more than $20 to at least do something to help bring money to the city.

Oh well, maybe next time. Yeah right.

Rant over.

Nine, Twelve - What's the Dif?

So a bunch of pasty shut-ins, er, astronomers decided that instead of nixing Pluto as our ninth planet, they're going to officially recognize three more. Check it out.

Who cares? Why not make it 17, or 34, or 4,286? What difference does it make? We're not going out there for at least another hundred years anyway, so all of this seems like a convenient way to waste time looking at stars rather than figuring out a way to get us to them.

Maybe it's some elaborate ploy to sell more books about planets, now with new and improved information! I mean, they've just increased the page count by 33%. The marketing revenue alone could fund more fancy telescopes and probes that make it easier for us to look at things, thereby increasing the employment demands for more pasty shut-ins to hide behind gigantic lenses and stare at the sky like galactic peeping toms.

Despite this, I am thankful that they decided to increase the number of planets rather than cut any from the team. After all, what would I do with my Pluto lunchbox?

Augustus: Back With a Vengeance!

Oh man! Few things excite me as much as tea and danger sex like the Roman Empire does. Breaking news, for those who care, and everyone else of course: archaeologists have found the birthplace of Augustus.

Check it out!

This pretty much redefines the word 'sick'.

What Happened?

At work today, while trying to appear as if I was doing something constructive (like actually design a training program rather than just think about it), I had a fit of nastalgia today. First, about this blog, hence the post. Second, about my former bands and musicial interests.

So, I had a look at the Motiema and Warmachine websites. I also checked out No Days and see that my buddy Stephen is doing well.

Man, I need new band!

Oh The Evility!

This is it! 6-6-06, the alleged evilest of evil days, upon us for once each millenium. And each time I think of evil, I picture Tim Curry.

There are fewer beings as sinister as Mr. Curry. If he wasn't such a talented and resourceful actor, I think many more would be convinced that he is, indeed, the veritable Damian of our time. Or maybe it is his brilliant talent that will help us uncover his true self. This is one of the keys to the Curry Code, if you will. As more evidence is collected to support my claims, I will present it on this public, honest forum.

Moving along, June 6, 2006, supposedly marking 666, might not be the evilest of days. Recent research now claims that number is in fact 616. If that was the case, then five days ago Satan himself (or Tim Curry) would have been here to rain fire upon our mortal souls, damning us to his eternral kingdom of darkness and sin. And as we all now none of that actually happened. So there's nothing to worry about.

Or is there?!

A Liger! A Liger! ...Life Altering Decisions (Well, Not Really)

Disclaimer: This post might be in some way, marginally, serious but not altogether un-funny (as per my usual posts, of course).

Sometime last weekend I happened to watch a show on an unnamed network (TVO Kids) that highlighted the ever gentile and majestic Liger. Yes, I said Liger! It got me thinking.

Well, no it didn't. I was first amazed by this thing and how incredibly brilliant (read: stupid) we are to create a mix between two of the most ferocious cats (a male lion and a female bengal tiger), thus creating this super cat that's twice the size of its parents. Not only is this thing massive, but it'll likely turn on us. Picture a twelve foot cat on the streets of Toronto. The thing would rip apart have the city, and probably take out a few streetcars. My god! What are we doing people?!?

Look at the size of this thing! And why is Tim Robbins in the picture?

It was then that it got me thinking. For real this time.

But that's the subject for another blog. I'm still shocked by the Liger. A Liger!

Going Bananas

I recieved a random forward email yesterday about, of all things, bananas. Now, while I've been an avid, daily banana-eater since grade 5, I was alarmed at some of the things that this powerful fruit can do. And here I thought they were just good for comic relief in Warner Bros. Cartoons.

maybe Warhol was on to something unfallic...

Not only can they support political and economically unstable Central American countries, but there are some 45, 308 banana bread recipes. They're a healthy, sustainable foodstuff for dictators and moms everywhere! Awesome!

Among some of the mighty banana's super powers:

• They're an anti-depressent
• A high source of potassium, B6, and B3
• Good for hangovers (my post-puking nutrition has almost always consisted of some combination of bananas and peanut butter on toast)
• Can help you quit smoking (is it the oral fixation?)
• They've been used to support building sub-structures
• Are good for a quiet night in, alone

And apparently a lone banana saved the Earth from a Texas-sized asteroid on course to our collective doom. Wicked!

A few sites worth checking out:

http://www.banana.com/

http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=7

http://www.femhealth.com/BenefitsofBananas.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bananas

http://www.nutritiondata.com/facts-B00001-01c20Tm.html

Tim Hortons: 317 - Me: nil

There are few times of the year that we really get excited about - birthdays, Christmas, and Roll up the Rim at Tim Hortons. For me, the latter is both a curse and a blessing.

I've been a large steeped tea double-double with milk ever since they introduced the drink. Before that, I'd suffer through the bagged tea but still go to Timmy's at least twice a day. Either way, the few months of oddly decorated cups and rollable rims has always been a time of unceasing joy/bitterness.

Traditionally, the Bingo-like excitement of Roll up the Rim (sorry, Rrrrrrrrrrrroll) is only matched by the tragedy of my perpetual losing streak. From the 4735 or so rims I've rolled, I may have won three or four times, while being able to predict with almost certain clarity, this:

I'm starting to get used to this...

I've lost count of the number of "Please play again, loser" rims. This year alone, every cup I roll is a complete loser. Today I bought two teas and won zero times, while my girlfriend bought two teas and roll up a free drink twice! Two times to my two losers.

This year is starting to make me more bitter than usual. I have no sympathy for these fools. To think that elsewhere people can fight over rim-winnings in court. Maybe it's because we've all become so desperate from Tim Horton's vye for world domination that one a rare winning rim appears, we war for it.

I'll still buy their shares when they go public on the 24th, but I'm starting to consider buying my tea at Country Style.

The Tragedy of my Left Ring Finger

My left ring finger is pretty swollen today. It resembles a thumb but with one extra knuckle and a long thin bit before the nail. But you get the picture. If not here's one:

Not my finger, because I'm not in the army. But I know how he feels...

My finger hasn't always had the greatest of intellects. See the timeline below as proof.

Timeline of my finger:

1993 - Grade 7. During a discussion concerning the insignificance of our fleeting existence and something about how much of loser he was, a classmate decided to retort by kicking me. In a true display of daring, my finger threw caution to the wind and single-fingeredly defended by honour. It didn't look pretty.

1995 - While in goal during a thrilling game of foot hockey, instead of using my winter coat to stop the tennis ball, my finger heroically stopped the ball all by itself. Well, let's just say my finger somewhat resembled what is does this morning. For two weeks. That's a lot of foot hockey to miss. Good thing I could still score hat tricks like it was 1991.

Now pretend they're not wearing equipment (except of course a winter coat for the goalie), the ice is actually asphalt, and the stick and puck are replaced with a foot and a tennis ball. There ya go...

2000 - During a rugby practise in OAC (that's grade 13, when it was cool to be in high school for 5 years), my finger claimed glory by attempting to take the ball from an opponent. Unfortunately, my body was trying to tackle the ball carrier. That moment of misjudgment cost me the proper alignment of my finger joints so that my left ring finger existed on a different plane from the rest of my hand.

2002 - Upon walking through a door, my finger fell into one its rare bouts of stubbornness and acted like a dog who doesn't want to cross the street. So, whilst my body passed the door frame without incident, my finger make contact (with great momentum) with the unyielding door jam.

March 14, 2006 - I have seen a pattern above where my finger seems to be at fault for many of its injuries. But last night was the exception. You see, my finger has learned a lot over the years about defending, attacking, and being awesome at foot hockey. So when I was grappling at tae kwon do practise last night and my finger went twist and swell, I immediately realized that my finger was not at fault but actually my opponent's sweat was the culpret. Despite this my finger is still sad, as am I once again.

Now, while injuring yourself is cool and wicked and all that, there are a few things in life that I cannot totally experience with my disabled finger.

1. I can no longer jam my hand into a brick wall like I used to
2. I can't play guitar chords that need more than three fingers
3. And I can't wear a wedding ring

...Or can I? Until now I thought I'd forever remain unmarried (read: free) because no woman would want to wed my hideous beast of a finger. And then I discovered the wonderful world of Superfit!

Oh joy! Now if I could only just jam my hand into a wall or find a game of foot hockey, I'd be happy.

Intellectual Property Fraud

I told a joke today. Rare as the occasion is, it was pretty funny and I was told by Tricia to "put it on yo blog, homey." I considered it for a moment and then rebutted with a "No."

Why, do you ask?

First, strokes of genius are often fleeting, especially when they're not immediately written down by a secretary (which I don't have), spoken into a recorder (which I don't have), or sculpted into a block of limestone (which I forgot to bring with me to work). So, just like that, it was gone.

Secondly, I believe that to vainly attempt to reproduce said joke onto this blog, it would bastardize and undermine the whole essence of the joke, thereby reducing it's inherent humour so that anyone who reads it here would never be able to appreciate or truly experience that moment of pure brilliance. And it wouldn't be as funny either.

Third, since as of publishing this blog, the only people who read it are Tricia and my girlfriend Liz. Thus, 50% of my audience has already heard the joke and the other half would laugh at me instead.

So, my joke is not going to appear here. That's for the best anyway, because I've forgotten most of it anyway.

February Flu...and the meaning of life

I'm sick. I'm sick and tired. I've been sick and tired for two weeks. Two weeks. Sick and tired.

Sound familiar? It seems everyone experiences some combination of sick and tired at this time of year. We forget our Flu shot, we don't take our ColdFx, we whine and complain. It makes me want to contemplate my existence (what doesn't these days?).

Well, according to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, SARS is back with a vengeance. And its avian cousin is still going strong. So maybe I'm not alone.

I tend to think that the powers that be have decided that our days of pour eating and quasi-hibernation have gone on too long. We're finally being punished for that extra triangle of Toblerone or glass of egg nog. For years we've been warned to make fruitless New Year's resolutions to exercise and shit, now it's come to bite us in the ass. Maybe Hitchcock really was a modern-day Nostrodamus and the birds really are coming to get us. Stay inside!

Now back to Neo Citran...

There's something addictive about Bingo...

It's like crack. Seriously. I can't stop scratching that shit and at $3 a hit, it's not a horrible addiction. Really, it's perfectly normal. I swear. Bitter, smoking seniors are definitely on to something here.

Speaking of Bingo, here's something wicked and completely unrelated.

http://oneredpaperclip.blogspot.com/

Now, I'm an avid eBay'er, but there's something romatic about trading a paperclip for a house. He makes it out to be a game, but will he still say the same thing when he's traded his cube van for a bronze statue of Jean Chretien which he'll trade for Celene Dion's solid gold above ground swimming pool, which can only lead to a swap for the log cabin that Roberston Davies and Margaret Laurence built with their own hands on the slopes of majestic Mt. Washington, BC in 1783. It won't be a game any longer, buddy. Oh no!

P.S. Does anyone want to trade for my Turbo Graphix 16 complete with the entire Bonk series of games? I'm trying to get a bronze statue of Jean Chretien. Or a drum set.

Age is just a number...

Until you turn 25! My god! I'm in my mid-twenties! And I'm using a lot of exclamation marks!

Having lived a quarter century it amazes me at what I've done with my life and where I'm going. Shit, I'm surprised I even managed to tie my shoes properly (that's why I keep half my shoes tied all the time and slip my feet in and out).

I can't say too much about it really, without getting into deep introspective gobbely-gook (that's right, I used gobbely-gook), but I should say that things are not much...different. Aside from people randomly singing "Happy Birthday" or the girlfriend appearing with a balloon and a be-candled brownie, it's just another day. I'm sure my mom doesn't like remembering the exciting experience she had birthing me. I mean, time's passing without my control so I just have to accept it and keep riding the wave. Right?

But, fuck, what am I doing with my life?! What are we all doing? I just want to play drums and drink tea on Sunday afternoons. Do I have to be over 65 to enjoy that? Hell no!

F***ing Crazy!

The dictionary defines insanity as repeating the same task over and over again and expecting a different result each time. I would define it as this:

http://www.americanparkour.com/

These guys are insane! Check out the photo gallery and the FAQ. They're essentially skating without a board. That's wicked!

Whatever happened to the Rhinoceros Party?

Yesterday's election results were no suprise to me. Despite who you voted for, it's hard not to agree with the fact that we've set the stage for a pseudo-dramatic Parliament (as dramatic as Canadian politics can be).

With the split 124 for the blue team to 103 for the red, there is going to be a lot more focus placed on most issues, and much more press coverage of every scrutinizing detail. It kind of reminds me of GI-Joe the Movie, where the Joe's and Cobra, while an even match through most episodes until (naturally) the Joe's prevail, this time there are new forces at play. What I mean is, the Bloq are kind of like those creepy snake-dudes in Cobra-La. Now, while they're not going to try to take over the world by launching mutant death spores from space (though, who knows what really goes on in the wilderness of northern Quebec), they're going to act as the balance of power in the new Parliament.

Even though GI-Joe beats both Cobra and their evil-er cousins in that animated film masterpiece, whoever wants to win with each issue is going to have to make deals with each other to get stuff passed. That would mean GI-Joe might have to make a deal with Cobra-La sometimes, and maybe have to let the combined snake-being force win on other occasions.

Where does that leave the NDP, you ask? Well, they're kind of like Sgt. Slaughter's band of misfits. Who knows when and where they're going to parachute in from to lay waste via a general ass-whooping. I always thought Jack Layton's mustache looked familiar.

It's going to be an exciting 18 months until the next election, that's for sure!

It begins!

I don't know any better way to introduce my blog, so I'll just pledge allegiance to this guy...

http://www.glumbert.com/media/dancewhiteboy.html

I'm sure I've seen him at Dance Cave, wearing a blazer. A blazer with a hoodie sewn into it. Damn, I'm jealous!