something foreign

preev-yet russia

so i'm being sent to moscow in one week and one day. and in two months, i'm going to kazan, russia. next step? siberia.

you may have noticed that i haven't posted in a while. or, you may not. either way, your wait is over. see? post... post good.

ok. so post is not really all that great. shut up.

now, how 'bout this instead?

Just because swans mate for life, I don't think it's that big a deal. First of all, you're a swan. You're probably not going to find a swan that looks much better than the one you've got, so why not mate for life? JH

the job

so i got this new job. in fact, i had two offers on the same day. (see... people like me)

anyway, i chose my new job based on several factors:
1. it was closer to my house (only a five to seven minute walk)
2. the name of the company is something i can easily relate to
3. it's near the grocery store

the job should be pretty ok too. it's in international marketing which means i will be doing some travelling. it appears as though my territory is going to be eastern europe, but there's a chance they'll give me turkey/mid-east/africa - depends on who else they hire. and the name of the company... well, it's a secret. but like i said, it's something i can easily relate to due to how smart i am.

so to all of you out there who never thought it would happen, i say... well, nothing. that's just the type of guy i am.

and also... hawaii, you are a pussy.

who has a job?

i do. i do.

unexpected

i had no idea that moving in with my girlfriend would lead to significantly more dishes and garbage.

but it has. laundry too, but i already do a significant amount of laundry so it seems less surprising. anyway, t and i have been living together for... hmmm... let's see. about three months (not quite). i'm not sure where all of the garbage comes from. and the dishes... oh the dishes. when i lived by myself, at my last place, i lived there for almost eight months. when i moved in, i bought one bottle of liquid dishwasher detergent. there was still a little bit left when i moved out. we've been here three months and are already into our second thing of detergent.

good thing i think she's really neat.

it's ok... i'm still alive.

so i spent most of last week trying not to die. so far, it seems as though i've been successful. it's the sickest i think i've ever been. i'm still sick, but unless the germs are just messing with me, i think i've got them right where i want them now.

can you believe t and i have been together for six months? who would have thought it would last this long? i'll tell you who. she did (t). wanna know who didn't think it would last this long? actually, i'd rather not mention her name.

six months. and how did we celebrate? well, t left the province. we celebrate a lot of things that way. st. valentine's day - i skipped town. that reminds me... easter's coming right up and here i am with no plane ticket booked. oh well... maybe we'll celebrate this one together. i think i've earned it.

enough about t. you all already know how great she is. let's talk about me some more. i am also great (aside from the sickness thing, but as we discussed, i'm winning that battle). good try god. you'll have to do better than that.

also, tomorrow is my last day of work. sort of. i've still been working for the same ad agency i used to work at back in moncton. ok... so "working" might not be the most appropriate word. i work from home. so in actuality, i've still been getting paid by the same ad agency i used to work at back in moncton. it's been a pretty good arrangement in my opinion. but it's time to cut the cord, as they say in the delivery room. it's time i started earning my keep. so i've bought a lottery ticket. what? at least i'm trying. jobs are a lot of work. and i'm old, so i deserve a break. i've been working hard for a long time.

now before you get all "t, you should leave him because he's a bum" on me, shut up for a second and listen to me for a change. i'm kidding. for christ's sake, quit being such a non-joke-getter. i'm looking for a job. i'm actually looking for several jobs. but just not quite ready to settle for something i'm too good for. i'm very smart, you know. and also very capable. so i'll leave all of those piddly little doer jobs for people who can't think. i can think. so i should do the thinking jobs.

ok. i'm sick of talking. i'm only writing this because t is tired of hearing me talk and would prefer to read what i have to say. it's like my six month anniversary gift to her.

things that make you go "hmmm..."

so last week, i was flying back to new brunswick for a $700 coffee with one of my clients. we have to make a stop in hamilton, ontario for some reason (i didn't approve, but they didn't seem to care. apparently it was on the schedule). as the people were boarding my plane (that's right, it's mine - i own it) one guy catches my attention. he's not exactly what i'd consider your typical flyer. he's got a tattoo covering half of his face and running down his neck. a leather jacket with studs and pointy dealies on it. shaved head on the side and long hair on the top dyed blue. you know the type... anti-establishment, fuck all-y'all, look at me because i'm different and won't be pressured into being a normal and productive member of society type... except for one thing. this tough-guy, don't give a shit about anyone, be afraid of me because you don't know what i'm capable of, making a big statement about individuality because aside from this i don't really have any - punk was carrying a frilly, brown pillow to rest his delicate head on during the 1.5 hour flight.

and i quote

(said with extreme disappointment)

"ooooh. i can't fart on your head!"

- t

and...

... yeah.

she's still laughing.

she's a classy gal

my girlfriend... a class act.

we're sitting on the sofa watching tv. she turns to me and burps (on purpose) in my face. well... my ear. luckily i decided not to look at her at that exact moment. then she proceeds to laugh her ass off.

am i lucky or what?

taking bets

so our stuff is supposed to arrive tomorrow. saturday. that's what our driver told us last night. but i'm betting that it won't actually get delivered. something will inevitably happen to delay delivery. i'm willing to wager my soul. any takers? willing to bet their soul against mine?

something else...

i'm pretty sure k has a non-sexual crush on me. consider this comment on t's blog: "Seriously Therese, if I wasn't so besotted with you I'd be in love with the man."

now, i don't know what besotted means, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he's almost in love with me. and who could blame him? actually, i think k's pretty neat too. he's good people. and don't try to convince me otherwise. at least not without photographic or video proof.

i wish i could say that this is the first time this has happened. a previous boyfriend of t's also had a crush on me. though i think his was a bit more... ummm... what's the word? homosexual. yes. that's the word. in fact, that's how t and i met. her gay ex-boyfriend had a secret crush on me and introduced us while they were dating (she didn't know at the time that he was a rocket man) - honest mistake. though i always suspected it.

so things may or may not be back to normal tomorrow. i hope they are. i have so much tv to watch. plus, i promised a post about superman and i need my home computer to post it.

you know you're popular when...

...cabbies almost get into a fist fight over you.

picture it. i'm outside of the delta ottawa in... umm... ottawa and getting ready to head to a meeting. it's taxi time! yay! i love taxis! (i may be slightly exaggerating here. meaning, i tolerate taxis due to the fact that i detest public transit.)

anyway, there's a group of four or five asian people ahead of me and they start to walk toward a taxi parked on the street. but at the delta ottawa, there's a taxi stand so one of the taxis there blew his horn and started moving toward the asian crowd. so me and my boss waved for the next taxi in the stand and he made his way over, got out and was loading our bags in the trunk when taxi driver #1 comes over and starts yelling. here's how it went:

taxi driver #1 (thick mid-eastern accent): what are you doing? these are my people.

taxi driver #2 (thick unrecognizable accent): no. they're mine. those ones are yours (pointing at the asian group).

taxi driver #1: no. they don't want taxi. these are mine. (starts grabbing our bags out of the trunk)

my boss: oh... hey, umm... hold on a second.

taxi driver #2: (grabbing the bags away from taxi driver #1) what are you doing? don't be idiot. those are your people. these are mine!

taxi driver #1: don't you listen? they don't want taxi. what's wrong with you? you're being stupid face. why you aren't being respectful. (now in the face of the taxi driver #2)

taxi driver #2: i should slap you on your face, you are fucker-man. these are my people. you wait for the next one.

taxi driver #1: i was first. what's wrong with you? you should be respectful. we drive taxi. i was first. these are mine.

taxi driver #2: no. why don't you go sit down. you're idiot. you're just big dummy. i should punch you. (slams trunk)

now, this argument continues at the driver's door for another 30 or 40 seconds. everyone outside of the hotel is watching us. finally, we get in the cab and taxi driver #1 walks by and says:

"alright. go with your stupid driver."

and my boss replies: "ok. you have yourself a good day too."

we close our doors, taxi driver #2 gets in and i say "boy... you're going to be really disappointed when you find out our fare's only going to be worth about five bucks. take us to slater street my good man."

moo

get it? that's a greeting from cowtown. ahhh, shut up.

so yeah, i'm finally here in calgary. and i'm stealing internet from some fool who is using an unsecure wireless network. but only for today (and yesterday)... my internet gets hooked up tomorrow. anyway, i typed up a blog post over the weekend while i was on my way here. and since i put all that work into it, i'm going to post it. my first post from calgary. here it is:

You know... When a man (and I use that term lightly) purchases a leather baseball hat, he's committed to that stock car team. Chances are, he also has his eye on the matching team jacket.

My flight to Calgary was cancelled yesterday. Stranded for another day without t. Stranded for another day at my brother's house. But most importantly, stranded for another day without t. So I was rebooked on the first flight out this morning. And as I'm sitting on the plane waiting for everyone to board, several nascar fans found their way on board. One guy in particular caught my attention. What I noticed first was his leather hat. And I started thinking about men who proudly wear these baseball hats as though they're high fashion or an integral part of their outfit. Of course they don't think that... But that's how it looks because they won't go anywhere with out it. So back to the guy...

As he turns around, I notice that only the front of his nascar hat was leather. The rest was normal baseball hat material. So now I can't help but wonder - firstly, wtf? And secondly, what's the appeal of the hybrid hat? I would think that if you are interested in a leather hat, you're interested in the entire hat being leather. So, is the hybrid less expensive? Could this simply be an economics-based decision? Or is it more likely the sign of a nascar fan who's not entirely sure of his favourite driver and doesn't want to fully commit to the hat?

Anyway, on to other peculiar air travel happenings. This guy, who I'm lovingly referring to as "tubby", just plopped himself down across from me here at the Toronto airport. Seems as though Tubby's been busy making children (there appear to be four misbehaved youngsters nervously calling him dad). Anyway, Tubby's laziness knows no bounds. Not only has he failed to put in any effort to raise his kids to behave themselves, he also uses them... Nay, tries to manipulate them to do things like "put my gum in the garbage can" which is a mere 10 feet away. Tubby! You can use the exercise. Really. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for putting your kids to work, but get them to do things that teach them something. Like mowing the lawn.

the end approaches

so only two and a half days before i head to calgary. i'm wickedly excited. for a number of reasons. but i don't feel as though i have to explain myself to you.

t is already there. like a seasoned general (or a pussy), i sent her there first to make sure it was safe and to familiarize herself with the surroundings ahead of my arrival. i kid, i kid. she started her new job on monday (which she loves, btw for those who care) and... well... i don't have a job there yet and needed to give ample notice to my job here. luckily, i'm important enough that my boss won't just let me leave. he wants me to work remotely from calgary until at least march. so i have guaranteed income until then. so by the time i need to start turning tricks to support my crack habit, the weather will be starting to warm up.

reason #12: chinooks - self explanatory if you know what a chinook is.

so yeah... this might be my last post from atlantic canada. am i upset about that? hell no! screw you new brunswick!!

once i get there and my stuff shows up, i'll be posting again. and expect a post about superman.

clarification

so i'm talking on the phone last night with t and the topic of the infamous basketball game came up (if you're not familiar, i played a friendly game of basketball against her several months ago which she has been bragging about ever since because she claims to have won). i'm ok with that. she can tell people that she won, because i know that she knows the truth. and last night, the truth came out in the following sentence...

"Yeah. Okay. So I cheated. That doesn't mean I didn't win."

thank god that's over

ok. i'm back from 10 days of holiday cheer and wonderment. (sense the sarcasm people)

but let's not dwell on the past. 2007 is here. big things happening. we're moving to calgary. and by "we," i mean "me" -- i've been talking in the third person today. technically, "we" could also mean "me and t" because she's also moving to calgary, but in this instance i was solely talking about me.

we need a job. (again, just me. t has a job). so anyone who can hook us up with something would have our gratitude. and we know how to repay a favour.

what else do we need? oh! an apartment. hopefully we can take care of that ourselves. (this time, i'm talking about t and i). we're looking at a place near the trendy (but potentially whorish) red mile only a few blocks away from the stampede grounds. if only the bitch who manages the place would get back to us. maybe she's too busy turning tricks to check her email and voicemail.

we don't have any resolutions. we're already mostly perfect. and we don't hold any grudges against those who aren't as perfect as us.

we need a new cell phone. we're ready to put ours in a blender and then laugh maniacally as it gets ripped apart, piece by piece. SCREW YOU nokia. and screw you too motorola. though we think we're going to give motorola another chance.

gotta go finish our laundry. we're all out of clean clothes and we have to work tomorrow.

go west - paradise is there...

...i'll have all that i can eat, of milk and honey over there.

blah, blah, blah.

it's almost as though natalie merchant was singing that song to me. 'cept i don't have pale blue eyes or strawberry hair. my lips are sweet though, and my skin is fair. so maybe she's just confused.

anyway (shut up!), it's confirmed. i'm moving to calgary. don't tell t though. i think it'll be a huge surprise when she opens the moving truck door and sees all of my stuff in there too. and i'll stumble out all confused saying "uuuhhh, where am i?"

this is gonna be great! ahh calgary... where the mountain air is fresh, cowboys roam the streets, steaks are used as currency, and the crack whores are plentiful. yeah, i know!

let me know if you want to visit. i'll probably say no, but you might catch me on a good day.

i tried...

...and i'll try again soon.

try what, you ask? i'm trying to quit my blog. though i feel occasional pressure when i visit other blogs who have linked to mine. pressure to... umm... not quit my blog. so it's a bit of a dilemma.

come to think of it, it seems i've become a bit of a quitter lately.

in addition to trying to quit my blog, i quit drinking pepsi. i was severely addicted to it. i had the pepsi headaches for a while after i quit. more recently i've had the pepsi shakes. though they could also be attributed to me being sick. maybe i'm sick from quitting pepsi. and it's not just pepsi, it's all soda (or pop as we say here in canada).

i've also quit my job. though oddly enough, i still go there to work every day. sooner or later, though, i'm going to stop. and i've told my boss. he's devastated. i'm not. why? well, i'll tell you. just shut up for a second.

i'm moving west. maybe. we'll see. just waiting for some jerk named petey to confirm it. but then i'm moving west. to calgary. my beautiful girlfriend is also moving. actually, it was her idea. i don't have any ideas of my own. i quit having them several years ago.

i'm sick. i rarely get sick. i think it's been almost eight years since i've felt like this. or felt like i did yesterday. i've improved slightly. see, i'm also trying to quit being sick.

so all of this to say that i'm sorry for not updating my blog recently. i've been trying to quit. you'd know that if you were paying attention.

warning

i just received notice in my email that aliens are coming to abduct all of the good looking and sexy people of earth.

anyway, don't worry. you will be safe. i'm just posting to say goodbye (t - you may want to pack a few things too, beautiful).

Pinto Alegre! Pinto Alegre!!

have you heard about the mayor of a brazilian town who initiated a program to hand out free viagra to men over 60? he calls the program "pinto alegre" (portuguese for "happy penis"). brilliant, no?

what seems like a perfect plan turned out to be a bit cock-eyed (ahem). the happy penises were actually happy wandering penises. infidelity rates were off the charts - there were a lot of happy husbands but it seems their happiness had nothing to do with their wives. so the mayor decided to revise the program. now he distributes the viagra to the men's wives so the shimmy shammy stays at home. i call this program "somewhat happy, yet controlled penis."

oh those crazy brazilians...