First Birthday

At 8:46 pm, my blog turned one year old.

Total Posts: 218
Total Visitors: 5,499
Total Page Views: 6,535
Total Profile Views: 491

I didn't celebrate in anyway whatsoever. I woke up late this morning and as I was tying my shoes before work, I broke a shoelace. I hate it when that happens. It was right at the eyelet, and so I had to take the laces in and re-feed them through so that they were even, but of course I couldn't reach the top two eyelets and so my shoes felt like they were undone all day. The obvious solution would be to wear my Rod Lavers instead, that's the kind of easy decision that I avoid.

I worked this weekend and spent my time captioning a movie called Coogan's Bluff. Deputy sheriff Coogan (Clint Eastwood) travels to New York to extradite a prisoner. The movie is not that good, but not without its merits. A few of the better lines are:

Cab Driver: That'll be $2.95 including the luggage.
Coogan: How many stores are named Bloomingdale's in this town?
Cab Driver: One, why?
Coogan: We drove past it twice.
Cab Driver: That'll still be $2.95 including the luggage.
Coogan: Well, here's $3.00 including the tip.

After trying to convince a woman to have dinner with him:
Julie: Are you dense?
Coogan: No, just hungry.

While discussing Julie's probation cases:
Julie: Let me consult my files. I only handle young single girls.
Coogan: Yeah, me too.

I just have to go through the movie for the fourth time so that I can do all the finishing touches, and check for mistakes.


I did manage to get that job that I interviewed for on Thursday. It was a substitute teaching gig, and now the next step is getting a criminal records check. I'm going to have to do that tomorrow before work.


I went for a run tonight, again. My knee really hurt at first, but after about three minutes, it was fine. The run was great and I feel good. My allergies are bothering me a lot this week and I was hesitant to run as my throat and lungs are tender, but no harm done.


All me entries these days seem to be almost the same: work, running, job applications. Things really aren't that different from day to day. I always find it so unsettling to have days that seem to blend into one another. I guess that it's nice that I haven't been thrown any major problems other than that broken shoelace, but things sure can be boring if you just do the same things everyday.


I'm heading to my old school this weekend. The Grade 12's asked me to be the guest speaker at their graduation and I said that I would. I catch a flight on Friday morning and I'm back in Toronto on Monday morning. It should be a fun weekend, but I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it. It will be nice to see everyone again, but if you want to know the truth, I think that sometimes you just shouldn't see people. If you do, you start missing everybody.

I'll let you know how it goes as we begin year number two.

Ruminations on Nerdery

Well, I'm back at the blog. I feel badly about missing a few entries but that will happen from time to time.

Yesterday, was an amazing day. I went to bed at 4am on Monday night and I decided that I would sleep late late late just because I could. Alas, the phone rang three times to wake me up.

Call Number 1: Interview at a private school for a subbing job. Though I have no interest in subbing, I am hoping that it is simply their way of interviewing people and getting them into the classroom for a trial run before they promote them to their own classroom. That happens at 9:00 am tomorrow morning.

Call Number 2: Real estate agent informing me of a showing at 2:30.

Call Number 3: Real estate agent informing me of a showing at 5:30.

I slept until 12:30 and then rolled out of bed. I sat on the computer for a while and decided that I would wait for the showing and then as soon as I heard them upstairs, I would go for my run. I heard the step on the stairs at 2:45 and then the alarm was on so I had to zip upstairs enter the deactivation code and then sneak back downstairs without having to face the agent and the prospective buyers in my running sweats, knee braces, and mouthguard.

My run was great. I felt so good afterwards I was perfectly tired, and exhilarated.

When I got back I took a nice hot shower and shaved for the first time in four days. It was nice to get that scruff off and to feel human again. Andrew came over at 4:00 and we played vids until 5:30.

So I got kicked out of my house at 5:30. I was planning to play poker at The Rivoli at 7:30. That meant that I had 2 hours to kill. Though I did consider sitting in my car during the showing, I instead wandered down to the Rivoli. I really wandered and was really slow and airy-fairy; stopping to look at cars parked on the street, looking at the tulips, browsing the windows of shops, watching girls on their way home from work. I stopped at a few bookstores, and just putzed around and tried to enjoy things.

I arrived at 6:45 and ordered a Pad Thai and a 50. The beer tasted great, and I love all the peanuts in the Rivoli's Pad Thai. They have some great food there.

Anyway, poker started a little late, and after not getting much in the way of cards, I managed to win a couple of big pots by catching flushes on the river and flopping two-pairs. I was having a lot of fun. I'm really talkative at the table since I know most of the people there pretty well. It's a lot of fun to just chat with the other players and get to know them. I don't take the poker too seriously. Even though I like to do well, I know that sometimes it just comes down to luck and knowing when to play and when not to (thanks Kenny). I figure if I'm going to go out on stupid luck, then I might as well enjoy the conversation during the evening. No sense in being sour all night.

I made it to the final table and then won a monster pot by hitting a 6 on the flop with pockets. I took three players out at once and had a huge chip lead. I kept getting great cards. On the very next hand, I pulled pocket Jacks. I put two people all-in and they had nothing. I flopped a Jack, but lost on the river to a flush. I still had a ton of chips to play with so no harm done. I put it behind me.

The cards kept coming and the final table evaporated. I took out 5 players at the final table even though I hadn't taken out a single one before then. I won the tournament (there were 30+ entries). My final hand was pocket Jacks and the other player had Ace-Six; nothing hit on the flop for him and then I hit my Jack on the turn. It was a huge rush, and I felt supercool. I've been brimming with confidence ever since, not enough to go up and talk to attractive women, but confidence nonetheless. I won a $25 gift certificate to the Rivoli and will qualify for the bar finals for the month. That should be fun.

Today was work and I started early. I arrived at 10:00 so that I could leave at 6:00 so that I could go to the Harvey Pekar talk.

I realized a couple of really important things:

1) Comic books are not taken seriously primarily, I think, because of the very people who take comic books seriously. Now comic book people are great, kind, generous people, but no one wants to be one of those guys.

2) The euphemism "graphic novel" doesn't change the fact that it's just a fat comic book.

3) Comics are way more than superheroes (muscular men in tights) and fantasy (women with giant pert breasts wearing spandex and wielding axes).

4) I always knew that Harvey Pekar was the shit, but I realized that my blog is a lot like his comics. They are about everyday life with all its good and bad. It's about the everyday. It's about the ideas that strike him. They don't have to be fancy, they don't have to be pretentious, they don't even have to make sense, but they are ideas and they are important.

I don't want to build things up more than they ought to be, but I really think that there is value in the mundane. Sure it's ordinary, but it is the commonplace that has value, because there isn't a moment when we all don't feel like sitting on our cars during a showing of our house, but instead wander through the city looking at cars, and tulips, and storefronts, bookstores, and pretty girls. It is that commonness that is relatable. It's all right to like doing those kinds of things. It's okay to just be happy with who you are, whether you drive a racecar and sleep with beautiful people or go to a comic book discussion and sleep with no one.

I think that that's just the way things are for me these days. I feel very calm and content, and though everything isn't perfect, I'm doing the best I can. I'm happy with that.

Hangover Nursing Sunday

So I had a textbook hangover today.

I was turfed out of my house by real estate agents at 11:30 this morning, and for lack of any better ideas, I went to work early. The only thing that I have found that cures a hangover is water and a lot of bad food. My definition of bad food may be debatable, but I ordered a Tim Hortons large egg salad sandwich and four cookies. Later on, I had a Quiznos sub and another cookie. Wild man over here.

I was feeling better by the end of the day and decided that I would go for a run. After sending some emails, I headed out in the pissing rain at 11:40pm. I had a brief running hiatus for a week or so because I had a sore hip. I thought that I must have slept on it wrong, but I've decided that it was becuase of the chair I was using when my computer was upstairs. How lame is it getting an injury from sitting in a chair? I ran from my house to Ossington and Harbord then up to Ossington and Dupont along Dupont to Christie and then back to my house. It felt good to be at it again, and even though it was very late, and the weather was nasty, I enjoyed myself. My hip felt good, and the rest was helpful.

I have a day off tomorrow and I've made very exciting plans to go to the grocery store. I have also decided that I will do some writing, and maybe have a little nap. The party never stops.

Are Comics Right For Me?

I never got into comic books as a kid. I have always felt like I missed out on something there. How would my life be different had I had boxes full of mylar covered pulp?

I walked past The Beguiling yesterday and noticed that they had a banner out front with Harvey Pekar on it.

Never being a comic book fan, I didn't know about Pekar until the movie American Splendour which I thought was a fantastic film about a fascinating man.

I got kicked out of my house (by real estate agents) this morning at 11:30, and so with time to kill before work, I decided to swing by and ask some questions about the poster. It turns out that Harvey Pekar, Jessica Abel, and Matt Madden are chatting about their latest graphic novels this Wednesday at U of T.

I am the first to admit that I don't know anything about graphic novels, but I am very intrigued. I think that my life needs more nerdery and I think that this might be a good addition. I don't know much about Pekar other than what I learned from the movie, and I don't know anything about Abel and Madden other than what I gleaned from browsing thier work at the bookstore today.

I'm not really qualified to go to a presentation and panel discussion, but what the hell. I figure that Pekar and I have a similar interest in the way that everyday life goes.

Rotting Brains

I think that my favourite moments when I watch television is when you can actually witness the exact moment when an actor reaches out and depresses the handle on the toilet of their career.

Jon Lovitz's new ad campaign for Subway Restaurants is one of those moments. It is particularly interesting too that Subway also seems to have decided to throw out their "healthy" mandate. The latest menu offerings are the Chicken Parmesan (510 Calories, 18 grams of fat), the Meatball Marinara (560 Calories, 24 grams of fat), and the Chicken and Bacon Ranch (530 Calories, 25 grams of fat). A McChicken sandwich from McDonalds is 360 calories and 16 grams of fat.

Anyway, those ads are ridiculous. It's pretty clear that Jon Lovitz's was sitting at home beside the telephone suspecting that it was broken and occasionally picking it up to make sure that there was still a dial tone. When it did ring, he greeted his agent with "I'lltakeit" instead of "Hello".

I've always wondered why it is that you would cast an actor who doesn't fit the role. I don't need to hear a feigned accent (Nicole Kidman, I'm looking in your direction) or see a fat suit (all manner of dumb holiday movies). Jon Lovitz faking an English accent is not only annoying, but an insult to the viewer's intelligence. It's so far from comedy that it has come back to funny, gone up to the TV thrown it onto the floor and fled screaming out of the building.

I'm not sure what to make of the latest Robin Williams offering, but if the trailer is any indication, his career is etherized on the lumpy couch of an R.V. teetering atop a mountain. Come on.

So that's my rant of the week about how sad modern pop culture is. I could probably have gone on a bit more, but I will leave it at that. I'll try not to make a habit of this, but I couldn't let these two monstrosities go unnoticed. Jon Lovitz and Robin Williams, you have been warned. You both need to make some pretty serious moves to deshitlistify yourselves.

Finally Finished

The work in the house is finished. At least as much as I am willing to finish right now. There is always more cleaning that could be done, but I have to draw the line somewhere. The major problems are finished and while I probably should white glove it, I don't have the time, nor the desire to do so.

One of the benefits to finishing all this work is that the house, I think, really does look good. I'd like to have some people over for poker so that we can enjoy the luxury of everything being newly painted and cleaned. My apartment is super tidy, and every surface has been cleaned and disinfected which gives the apartment a nice lemon-fresh scent and makes me feel very calm and relaxed.

With my six-day weekend at its close, it's nice to sit back enjoy the fruit of my labours and put my feet up.

Nothing and So Much More

I did NOTHING today, that's not 100% true but it might as well be.

I was planning to work all day in order to get the final touches finished on the house before the real-estate agent came to take pictures tomorrow. Instead, she arrived at 10:00, the photographer followed shortly thereafter. I did a few things, but she seemed happy enough, and so when she left, I thought, "there's no rush now. Next deadline is on Friday when there is an open house for agents."

I went to the Home Depot to get $118. 34 worth of supplies (which comes out of my pocket). They screwed up the paint and so I have to go back tomorrow to get it sorted out.

When I got home, I realized that my downloads folder had 6 episodes of Little Britain, and I proceeded to watch all of them. That show is a riot, and I very highly recommend it. Look for Roy McCooney and Kenny Craig are my favourites, but it's tough to choose any that are any better than the rest. Good stuff. Excellent actually.

I watched an episode of CSI: Maimi. That show is terrible, terrible, terrible. Just when you think that it can't be anymore terrible, it does. So bad.

I was very happy to notice that Tim Horton's has changed their new ad campaign for their caramel baked goods. Carmel is a city, caramel is a food. The second "a" should be pronounced and I'm glad that they've changed it because it was driving me absolutely insane.

So nothing day is over. My Dad left me with a long list of jobs and I can't spend tomorrow not doing them. I can't. I won't. Well maybe I will, but I won't like it.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho.

Too tired to blog. Worked too much today. Worked too much yesterday. Father gone on vacation to St. Lucia. Too tired to move. Need a stiff drink. Almost finished. A few more jobs. Too tired to cook dinner. Too tired to order dinner. May go hungry, but will make stiff drink.

Bored Good Friday

I'm so bored, that I'm considering watching Coronation Street. It's a good thing that CTV runs Jeopardy against it.

I've been waiting all day for my Dad to arrive so that we can finish the renovations on the house. It's like waiting for a doctor's appointment. You know don't want it to come because it's going to be so unpleasant, but you'll be so relieved when it's all over.

I think that that's the biggest factor leading to my boredom. I would like to og out and do something, but I can't just ditch my Dad, and I can't ditch the work.

Well, Jeopardy's over. I'm never going to watch an episode of the Ghost Whisperer, and my only other channel has Air Farce on. TV goes off.

I haven't been running since Tuesday, I have something wrong with my hip. I felt good during my run, but I think that I slept in an awkward position and was in a lot of pain this week. I'm going to rest it for a few day and see how things go.

So yesterday, I visited www.astro.ca. I question the money that is being spent by the company to print website information on the foil liner of their yogurt tubs. I am the only person in the entire worl, who goes to the refrigerator grabs a tub of yogurt shakes it as the walk to the computer and then sits down at their desk and opens up a 650ml tub of yogurt. Yes, I eat it right out of the container. I'm a bachelor, and bachelors are allowed to do that; it's one of the advantages of being a bachelor.

My Dad has just arrived. I guess I'm off to work!

Monkeys Are Rad (and some other things)

I've got to say that I thought King Kong was quite decent. Kong himself kicked, as we all knew he would. I thought that Jack Black was terribly cast, but I was very happy to see the classic Peter Jackson shenanigans circa Bad Taste.

Along the same monkeys-are-awesome line check out this fantastic video/movie.

During my run today (Bloor/Bathurst to St-Clair/Bathurst to St-Clair/Christie to Bloor/Christie to Bloor/Bathurst) I was listening to a few choice tracks:

The Violet Archers (End of Part One)
White Star Line (I'd Love You on the Iceberg)
Falconhawk (Try A Little Longer)

I also have to highly recommend perhaps one of the most bizarre songs I have ever heard: Boby LaPointe's Ta Katie T'a Quitte. I can't find a link anywhere, but please seek it out. You'll have to get the lyrics, as well, but it is pretty awesome.

Sweet Rejection?

I got the call about my recent interview. I didn't get the job.

I'm taking it surprisingly well. Probably because I don't have any regrets about it. I nailed the interview and that's about all you can do. Something even better will come along; I know it.

From the sounds of it, the decision really was a toss-up, and they could have legitimately taken either "close call". They went with someone with camp experience so that they could run the summer camps program in addition to teaching. Well, good luck with that. I have no interest in running a summer camps program. I guess a part of me doesn't have any interest in teaching seventh graders either, and that's another reason why I'm not too upset.

So I just keep plugging away.

Weekend Reflection

After work on Friday, I headed out to Lee's Palace to catch a concert. Brian was there to see some friends of his play. Wintersleep was playing, as well, and since I'd heard them on the podcast, I thought that it might be a good show to see.

Land of Talk was one of the opening bands, and Brian had gone to school with two of them. I missed half their set, but what I did hear was quite good. The lead singer sounds like Cat Power, with a little Julie Doiron, I thought.

The second band was super terrible. As their set went on I kept getting happier and happier, because I knew that each second that ticked by was a second closer to them finishing their set and leaving the stage. I don't even know what their name was; I didn't care to know except that I might accidentally see them again.

Wintersleep came on at 12:10, and I was horrified to discover that the band was just a smaller version of the previous band. Their sound was different, but I still couldn't get past the fact that I had just endured 45 minutes of ear-gouging metal-garbage and now was faced with a watered down version played by the same guys who actually liked playing it, and cared enough to try to write these awful songs. Fortunately, they played "Jaws of Life" (the only song I had heard) second and when more band members came onto the stage, we got the hell out. We headed over to Pauper's for some drinks and some hilarious conversation.

On Saturday, I zipped over to Massey Hall as soon as I finished work, to catch the Ron Sexsmith concert. It started at 8:00 so I missed all of Kathleen Edwards, and I missed the first few songs by the time I arrived at 9:30.

The show was great. I've seen Ron Sexsmith many many times, and have been following his career since 1995. There isn't too much else to say except that the new album sounds like it's going to be fantastic. I like his outlook on life, and I think that my life could use more of that kind of hope, and seeing the beauty behind the terrible.

Chris and I then headed over to Sneaky Dees for some drinks. That place is awesome, and might be one of my favourite bars in Toronto. It doesn't pretend to be too fancy, but is a bar where you just go drink and have fun, period. It's not pretentious and that seems to be a rarity in these parts.

Today, I had to go to work. I knew that it would be a quiet day, but that I had two assignments to get finished. One was a documentary on nuclear jihad (this should get me a bunch of very disappointed new visitors), and the other was a performing arts show.

The documentray seemed to just be a simple case of fear mongering, but was fairly easy to caption. The other show was an exercise in torture: an hour long concert of big band music that was in 1940s style.

I dislike period pieces, and always have. I also get very uncomfortable when someone is singing and the entire focus is on them. I recognize the absurdity of this statement since I have just finished explaining that I enjoyed the Ron Sexsmith show, but this was different, and the cringe-factor was off the chart.

Another thing that was really disturbing is that used to have a crush on the woman singing. She used to host a kids tv program that I used to watch. The show was okay, but I liked watching it simply because of the crush. I was just a little boy then, but I always thought that I would end up with someone like her.

I couldn't help but think as I captioned the show how foolish I had been. Though she had aged, she still looked much the same. Each second that I watched of her performance, the more embarrassed, sad, and just plain upset I became. Numerous times I shouted at the computer screen pleading for this to be over. The hour long show was so unabashedly annoying that I could hardly stand to watch it. This woman drove me crazy. Her facial expressions, her hand gestures, the way she cared about the songs and was passionate about big band music. It was just so sad. They would have had to pay me to watch this show; and fortunately, they did.

It made me think a lot about why I was so angered by someone who clearly loved what she was doing. I think that it all boils down to respect. I can respect someone who cares about their job, or their hobbies, a charity, or their house. I just couldn't respect this woman's passion, because of the cold, hard fact that she just wasn't very good.

What I really think, and this makes it all the worse, is that she really did believe that she was good. I kind of got the impression that all the other musicians also knew that she really wasn't that good. They could see that she cared and loved what she was doing, and, I suspect, that they didn't have the heart to tell her the truth. She reminded me of those poets that you see at coffee shops and bookstore open-mic nights who take what they do so seriously, and are just so pathetic in doing so.

Aside from this I was still incensed by the fact that I had a crush on this woman at one time, and now, with all my years of wisdom, I found her to be repellant. How could I not have seen it at the time? Was I so stupid not to notice that she was annoying? Has she changed? Have I?

How do I prevent this in the future? How can I prevent myself from thinking someone is great and not see the truth? Will all those around me be like her bandmates, and quietly nod and smile and say congratulations while secretly telling themselves that I'm an idiot. What the hell am I going to do if I wake up one morning and find that the woman I'm with drives me crazy?

I know how trivial and stupid this whole argument is, but it really has me thinking about the state of my love life, and what the hell is going to happen.

Stupid Running... Be More Funny

I did the absolutely crazy and stupid today.

Last night, I ended my alcohol streak. I had two pints with friends after a concert last night. I have to admit that it did taste that much better after the hiatus.

So I got up at 10:30 this morning and decided that I should go for a run. Intead of heading to the oval at the local high school, I thought that it might be fun for a change, to run the streets.

I ran from my house to Avenue and Bloor and then up to the Belt Line (Chaplin and Avenue). At this point, I was very tired and had been running for 40 minutes. I then ran west along the belt line to Bathurst, and then headed south. I was shocked and horrified to discover that the first main street was Eglington. I was at Bathurst and Eglington, and had a long way to go before I was back home.

I considered calling a car-owning friend to come bail me out, but I persevered, as I always do when I run, and continued. After 75 minutes on the road, I arrived back home. I figure that I ran about 12-15 (maybe more) kilometers today. Needless to say I was damn tired, and had a day of work ahead of me, but fortunately, my Dad is in town and offered to give me a ride to work. I'm sore today, but a day off tomorrow will be enough to get me over it.

Enough running talk. I will post tomorrow about my exciting day at work, and my concert experiences. Maybe ramble on about King Kong, or just blather on about the painfully boring. Cross your fingers!

The Big Demerit Point Review

I'm sure that you are all dying to know how my big interview went.

I had to go into the Ministry of Transport this morning regarding my 10, that's right 10, demerit points. I had to have an interview and explain why I shouldn't lose my license.

I know that I should have been worried about it, but I wasn't. I knew that there was nothing that I could do about it. Either they were going to take away my license or they weren't. I figured that I could avoid screaming my head off in a fit of anger, and thought that that would really be the only reason why they would suspend my license. That, and not showing up.

So I got up at 6:45, showered, grabbed my book and my file folder marked "Tickets (frowny face)" (there actually is a frowny face on the file folder label). I was on the road by 7:30. I had to go to 2860 Keele, and since I had no idea how long it would take to get there or how busy the roads would be, I decided that I had better leave early. I certainly didn't want to be speeding. Only I would get a ticket while on my way to a demerit points interview.

Anyway, I arrived at 8:00 a full half hour before my appointment. I sat and read my book until they called me in. The building was typically depressing, but I'm reading Stephen Lewis, so I wasn't interested in the architecture of our government buildings.

I sat down with the woman, who was, surprisingly nice. I could see her being really unpleasant when warranted, but with me she was quite nice. She asked me a few questions, which I answered honestly.

It was all quite clear from early on that my license really wasn't in jeopardy. This interview was a called-into-the-principal's-office event. She gave me a mini-lecture about piloting a vehicle, and that speeding doesn't save time but costs money, and about forming bad habits on the road. She also mentioned how this was indicative of the state of my life, which I thought was presumptuous and insulting. She doesn't even know me! My life isn't in the fast lane. Getting caught for doing stupid things; that's my life.

I knew that she was speaking from a script and trying to scare me straight. Like any good student, I just sat there and took it. I'm sure I was exactly the same as everyone is when they are being lectured at: the glazed over eyes, the wandering thoughts, the squirming toes, and the involuntary head nodding.

Quite frankly, she was preaching to the choir. I have no intention of speeding again, and I have no intention of breaking the rules of the road. My Mom was called in for exactly the same kind of interview three weeks before she was killed in a car accident. I certainly didn't need a provincial government employee telling me that driving a car is dangerous and the rules of the road need to be respected. Hell, it's hard enough for me to even get into a car.

So that was that. She told me that she was not going to revoke my license, and I thanked her. The points will stay on my record for 2 years (most expire in May '07), but will stay on my insurance for three years. I had to take a vision test (which I passed), and then she sent me on my way.

It was 9:00 when I got back into the car. I headed to the grocery store and bought $138 worth of healthy food (no junk at all). I put all the groceries away, washed two packs of grapes, put the chicken breasts in individual freezer bags and into the freezer, and did the dishes. I vacuumed the house and took care of the recycling and composting. Now, I'm writing this blog with a full hour before I have to go to work. This getting up early thing is very productive, but I know I'm going to be feeling it come three o'clock.

I'm happy that I didn't lose my license. That would have been awful, not because I wouldn't have it, but because I would have to go through the process of getting my license again: the written test, the learner's permit, the road test, and all the involved fees. I passed that rite of passage 14 years ago and I don't want to go through it again.

Groovy Grape

Modern science reached its apex with the invention of artificial grape flavouring.

Forget orange, lemon-lime, watermelon, and the dreaded cherry. I'd rather suck a lemon than have fake lemon flavour. I don't even know how they can call watermelon flavour watermelon since it is so far from the actual fruit. Cherry always tastes like cough medicine and is just plain gross.

But grape, grape is where it's at. I prefer the taste of grape flavour to actual grapes. It is the only artificial flavour that I prefer to the real thing. It doesn't actually taste like fruit, but actually tastes better. With artificial grape, they've trumped mother nature's ace.

With that said, I'm in some serious trouble because I have discovered that Aquafina makes flavoured water (as part of their flavoursplash line) in grape.

I have documented my love of flavoured water, and this is a very unfortunate development since I know that it's full of artificial sweeteners, sodium, and a bunch of other things that shouldn't go into the human body. Still, I don't see myself not buying it and drinking it like crazy.

I haven't had pop since October of 2004, and though I'm sure that this stuff is much worse, it is nice to keep that streak alive.

This grape flavoured water tastes a lot like what I imagine flat diet grape Crush would taste like if they actually make diet grape Crush. It's a perfect way to enjoy the gift of modern science, and to feel good about having the wickedness of modern food masked by the fact that it's in a clear bottle and looks like water.

Interviewing, Working, Running and Driving

I don't have very much to say these days. I guess that that's a little unusual considering all the crap that I usually blather on about.

I went to my job interview yesterday and it went very well. I was relaxed and answered the questions well. At the end I didn't get "the regret": "Oh, I wish I had said that!" or "Why did I say that?!" I was happy with my responses and the interview team seemed impressed. I feel quite confident about it and now I just have to wait and see what happens.

I'm still running. I'm up to 6k every other day. I still feel good about it, so that's a plus.

I'm working for the next 10 days. I am now into my regular shift and my regular routine, which is fine, but at the same time a little unnerving.

I have my driving record interview on Friday morning which will be one for the record books, I'm sure. I still don't know why I'm being called in and I'm not convinced that I am responsible for the points on my record. It should be a very interesting morning.

Pampered Like a Man.

At 2:05pm my blog received its 5000th visitor.

I realized yesterday that I needed to get a haircut before my interview tomorrow. Of course the second I realized that I needed a haircut was when I also realized that it was too late to really get a haircut for this interview. Men's haircuts always look terrible for the first few days after you get them. It's nice to have all that tangled mess gone, but a haircut invariably brings out spots skin that haven't seen the sun since the last haircut. These have a tendency to lean to the side of unpleasant.

Nevertheless, I decided that it was better to look clean-cut than wild and woolly and so I headed out for a chop anyway.

When I first arrived in Toronto, I needed a haircut. I also knew that I didn't want to have to make a huge event of getting a haircut every month by having to drive halfway around the city to get one. I decided that I would go to the place that is right near my house, and forget trying to find a place that looks decent. You never know with haircuts. Most of the time you're throwing yourself at the mercy of a stranger who may or may not be having a good day.

My hair is a mess. It grows in every direction at the same time, with crazy-ass swirls and cowlicks. I have heard people groan halfway through cutting my hair. I always laugh nervously and say, "It's a mess isn't it? You never know what you're going to come across next."

Anyway, the place by my house does, I think, a good job. It's only $15, so that's reasonable. The problem is that they are closed on Mondays.

I knew that I couldn't wait, and so I decided to head over to Jack's Barber Shop at Yonge and St-Clair. Many moons ago, a friend recommended it, and I decided that I would go on his advice.

I think that I, first, must begin by telling you that I learned a little about why spas are so busy and make so much money. People love to feel pampered. They like to be given the royal treatment every now and then.

When I arrived at Jack's I immediately sat down and explained what I wanted. With that, Reno was off. There was idle chitchat, but nothing forced. I didn't really feel like talking and so he didn't talk at me. He just went about his work. Every now and then he would pass me my glasses so that I could keep tabs on how things were going at the back and on the sides. I didn't really care too much, but it was a nice gesture.

There were a lot of really nice touches. Before using the clippers, Reno sprayed them with some kind of nice smelling liquid. It was probably barbasol, but it smelled nice and eased my germ issues. At the end, he asked me how everything was and I asked him to take a little more off the front. I've known some barbers who get angry when you ask them to take more off, like a chef who has to recook an underdone steak. Reno was very gracious and made the necessary touch-ups with a smile.

Then is was time for my scalp massage. The head rubdown is a rare joy and while it feels good, it also has the added benefit of dispersing the little bits of hair.

After the haircut met with approval, Reno very nicely asked if I would like him to use the razor around the back. I insisted. Barbers use this great shaving cream that comes out of some kind of machine. The shaving cream comes out of the machine warm, so it opens up the pores and makes it easier to get a close shave. It smells good too.

Reno when over to his instruments and wielded a straight razor. Opening to about 14 inches he sprayed it down and set again to work. The blade was icy cold. This makes the metal contract giving a sharper and more precise shave. A few flicks and the work was done. There is something strangely humbling about being on the receiving end of a shave and probably has a lot to do with the fact that a stranger is standing above you with a straight razor. Anything can happen. The aftershave was then applied liberally.

So I was done. I smelled like my grandfather, but at the same time really felt like I had had a little taste of luxury. I shouldn't go on and on about a dumb haircut, but there are few things in life that men can really enjoy as men. Barbasol, straight razors, and aftershave are really manly. In the age of cellular phones, cyberbullying, and wikipedia, it's nice to take a time machine back to the 1950s and sit in a barbers chair and be pampered in all its manly glory.

Workin' Weekend

It's always a strange day when the clocks get moved forward. There's something just not right about the day.

I had just a horrid night's sleep last night. I'm reading Stephen Lewis' Massey Lectures, Race Against Time, and for some reason I kept having these dreams that I had to caption the whole thing. I kept pleading with people, "but it's already written out! Why can't I use the script?" They kept screaming at me, "No! No script! You must copy it verbatim, all the "ums". Every word! Quickly!"

That went on and on and on, until I realized that I had to go to the bathroom. Whenever I am restless and can't sleep it usually means that I just have to go to the bathroom. The stupid thing is that I often just try to ignore it because I'm too lazy to get up and walk the 11 paces to the bathroom.

My Dad was here this weekend and fortunately, he forgot about the clocks going forward, so he didn't come down to the basement to wake me up until 10:30. Harpo was super ticked, because my Dad's dog came bounding in and tried to play with him. He doesn't dig on dogs and he took a few swipes at her nose.

I helped my Dad move a few things in the house, and then had to get ready and head to work. It was such a glorious day, I left a little bit early so that I could enjoy the blue sky and the warm sun. I was listening to the bandeapart.fm podcast, and like its English cousin, it's pretty awesome.

So I arrived at work at 12:45 and got busy. After about an hour, my coworker called to say that he wouldn't be in. He's a type 1 diabetic and he had a blood sugar problem this morning. He sounded terrible, but assured me that his roommates were there with him and that he would recover in a little while. In his absence I was alone in the office for the first time. There wasn't anything to it. The weekends are our "catch-up" days where we don't have a huge amount of daily work, but instead work on series and individual programming. I was working on an excellent British crime series called "Hustle". It is thoroughly entertaining, and that makes the job a million times more enjoyable.

I went for a short 20 minute run when I got settled at home. I ran 5 kms. The problem with getting into shape is that the distance gets longer and longer while the time it takes to run the distance gets shorter and shorter. I guess that isn't really a problem, but after running 5k I was expecting to have had a much longer workout. It doesn't really matter, though.

What is unusual about my running is that I am not killing myself. Usually when I exercise I push myself way too hard and then end up either being in too much pain, getting an injury, or just losing interest. I've decided that I will work my way up and not overly tax myself, but instead run enough to feel good, and then quit (for the day) while I'm ahead. It doesn't hurt too that I'm also walking for 90 minutes a day. Anyway, at this rate, I'll be ready for my half-marathon in August.

So I have tomorrow and Tuesday off. Though I would like to sit around and do nothing, I do have to prepare for my interview on Tuesday. I'll have to get up early tomorrow morning so that I can get it done early. I'm thinking that they might call me in to work tomorrow and I'd better be ready in case they do.

It wasn't a very exciting weekend. I didn't go out at all, and I didn't really do much of anything. I'm relieved that my course is finished, and once this interview is over, I can relax a little more.

That's Good, I Guess

It looks like I passed my course. I got an email today from my instructor which read:

Congratulations on the successful completion of your Teacher Inquiry
Project! 

Your inquiry took me on a virtual journey in the area of blogging with
your two students. You demonstrated the relevance of blogging in an
English classroom as an alternative to journal writing. 

Your research of valuable literacy resources embedded the practicum into
relevant theory and lent credence to the inquiry. You used a good number
and variety of resources to frame your inquiry. Considering that this is
a fairly new concept, you were able to provide substantial anecdotal
data indicating that it is workable. You were able to guide their
responses through subject specific questioning. If these students had
been your current students, you would have had more thought out
responses. Kudos to your students for doing this for you! 

Your inquiry process shows visible and significant benefits to teaching
and a commitment to ongoing reflection and learning. For the purposes of
this Inquiry, you have certainly made some exciting discoveries. 

That was outstanding work. Well done! 

Now I appreciate the nice comments, but from what is written I can't tell if my instructor read my assignment. I was brutally honest in my self-criticism during my assignment, and my project, in reality, was a complete failure. I didn't deny that in my essay; in fact, I was quite overt about it. I guess I was able to "reflect" enough to make it sound like I was really asking myself hard questions and growing as a practitioner.

What a load of crap. While I am glad to have my little piece of paper, I just can't believe that the response was a cut-and-paste job. (I cannot prove this, but I do suspect it. Read it over again and tell me if you couldn't just change a few words to make it fit anyone's project.) What a waste of time and money. That's pretty much the worst Christmas present I've ever received.

All I can say is that I am glad it's finished and I'm glad that I can bitch and complain about it publicly. If anyone from the Ministry of Education is reading this, please do something about teacher training, because it really is terrible.