Just one kick in the bollocks after another

Case in point. Today. And even aside from the fact I had to work at my ‘job’.

Take into consideration:

Liverpool lost to Chelsea in the Champions League semis.

UGGGHHHH (added insult to this… shit scum Man U. got through to the final).

Montreal went down 3-1 to the Broad Street Bullies.

UGGGHHHH

And just to make third time the charm, an until now, thought to be boxed model of chrome toaster (for conspiring to divide humanity) has now re-emerged, set to continue it’s traitorous ways. Where the fuck is an airlock when I need it?

However, there is a silver lining to the monsoon cloud hanging over me. Hint number one, there will soon be much less Fe in my life.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

P.S. Help my city grow.

P.P.S. Go to this radio station site and vote for my friend, Christine Todd.

Twisted Filler Tuesday - a fag you can drink

Many thanks to Paul (no site to list) who gets the macabre, the bizzare, and the brilliant of that good ol’ interweb. He needs a site like http://www.paul.georb.

As such, here’s a few of his best finds lately:

Cigarettea.

Far too many new devices to plug into your USB port.

Still, nothing beats this joke he sent a while back:

Shamus and Murphy fancied a pint or two but didn’t have a lot of money. Between them, they could only raise the staggering sum of one Euro.

Murphy said ‘Hang on, I have an idea.’

He went next door to the butcher’s shop and came out with one large sausage.

Shamus said ‘Are you crazy? Now we don’t have any money left at all!’

Murphy replied, ‘Don’t worry - just follow me.’

He went into the pub where he immediately ordered two pints of Guinness and two glasses of Jamieson Whisky.

Shamus said ‘Now you’ve lost it. Do you know how much trouble we will be in? We haven’t got any money!!’

Murphy replied, with a smile. ‘Don’t ! worry, I have a plan, Cheers!’

They downed their drinks. Murphy said, ‘OK, I’ll stick the sausage through my zipper and you go on your knees and put it in your mouth.’

The barman noticed them, went berserk, and threw them out.

They continued this, pub after pub, getting more and more drunk, all for free.

At the tenth pub Shamus said ‘Murphy - I don’t think I can do any more of this. I’m drunk and me knees are killin’ me!’

Murphy said, ‘How do you think I feel? I lost the sausage in the third pub.’

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

P.S. Help grow my city’s population.

Photoblahg Saturndaze: Stumped back on the horse

Well, it was definitely nice to see someone more than just Dawn to post to my trivial drivel and tripe. Thank you muchly Taj. And in honour of your overjoy of tree stump photography, here’s a little more artful style of stump we tend to get in Beautiful British Columbia:

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

P.S. Help my city’s industry grow.

How the electrical setup of my car put a puppet in management

You know, I did have a good vibe going into this week after posting that lovely photo on Sunday. In retrospect though, I wonder if anyone other than Dawn looked at it. Still, to my delight sheer horror, Monday morning my car wouldn’t start. Battery. But not just that. Positive electrode was eroded to the point it crumbled when I removed it. So, close to $200 in associated costs, and my car lives once more.

But it did take a physical toll. Transit to and from “work” is not entirely friendly. The SkyTrain gets me close, but no buses run close to “work”. As such, a shitty delightful 20 minute walk is required, at six something AM to “work”, and the same walk, this time uphill, after a physically punishing day. Needless to say, I’ve barely had the energy to sit behind my G4 to check and reply to emails, let alone blather on about the bollocks that is my life.

Though the commute gives me more time to listen to my not heavily used iPod, I do miss the first hour of Jeff O’Neil. Well, okay, Charis and Scotty, as they carry O’Neil’s overweight ass. Follow the previous link, click on Audio, and pull up WE BROUGHT NHL SMACK… ALL SEASON LONG just to get a taste of what I really like about the show. It’s a shame they didn’t have the best smack of all season on it (Ombudsben will get a kick out of this):

“Welcome to Minnesota. Home of the Wild, and home to 10,000 lakes, and 10,000 prostitutes. Most of whom are female. Right Wild coach Jacques Lemaire?”

You get the idea. I know, the ‘Nucks didn’t even make the dance, but alas, my East favourites, and original hometown Habs showed some grit tonight coming back to beat the Broad Street Bullies 4-3 in OT. Canada is definitely not out yet. And the Leafs continue to golf, and will they be retarded enough to wait another year before overpaying for Burke?

CFOX though, outside of the O’Neil show, has but two bright spots. Lana’s Indie Night in Canada and Neil Morrison’s Nineties at Noon definitely bring life to an over-produced, corporate, and bland view of Rock in the new millenium. As such, the afternoons are now progressing to sports radio to save me the headache of Billy No-Talent or Nickleback. [Watch me shudder at the thought] Which brings me to my ultimate point.

Nonis is out, and Mike Gillis is in. Fuck me running, it’s all I’ve heard all week long. It’s a mixed feel for any playoff games. With the Giants also out, hockey seems to have died. Maybe that’s a benefit of being an ex-patriot of Montreal, coupled with the Habs finally having a season we expect of them. Hockey’s still on the brain. But here, it’s next season, what’s Gillis going to do, should we re-sign Naslund, who should we trade, free agents… what will Gillis do.

About Mike, I do have two things to say. First, he gave a good press conference. Unlike many in this day, he didn’t hold back. He laid it out. The ‘Nucks need serious change, and they want to build around Luongo. DUH! Shame Nonis didn’t see the first part of that. Hey, maybe he’ll get hired by Burke if he signs in Toronto, so the two can be haunted by the ghost of Harold Ballard. And he had the bollocks to point out areas, most notably scouting and development, that needs a major overhaul. Good on you.

Secondly, and this is to the vast majority of gits in the Vancouver area who act like they know something about hockey but never laced up and can barely count past four,

IT WAS JUST A PRESS CONFERENCE. We won’t know what kind of GM Gillis will be for a couple of years yet.

Yes, the Vancouver faithful are already judging the inexperienced man on just a few words. Vancouver has been through rebuilds before. If history has taught us anything, we need to wait a few years to see if this new team that will develop will be a serious contender.

For me, I just hope that Gillis isn’t a puppet (I’ve seen a lot of that at “work”, and the smell reeks from GM Place to my home of the same), a figure to allow Aquilini to be the George Steinbrenner [of old] for Western Canadian hockey.

But only time will tell.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferreus six.

P.S. Help grow the population of my city, New Delphi.

I really shouldn’t be feeling so worn out…

But alas, corporate America does have that effect. And I do say that as the current employer of mine is a US based multi-national. Bah. Something has to be said for the right wing fags in power in these big companies when they barely reward the highest producing, smartest, and strongest employees, but promote incompetence, distrust, and ethical questionability. Luckily though, I think I have a strong lead to get to another employer. Granted, the political bullshit will probably be the same, but fuck, I’ll be payed $10,000 more per year with more perks.

Whoopie! However, creative Jeff seems to be stifled. I just can’t get motivated to write about a great deal of topics that occur to me. However, with my cousin in town this past weekend, photography still can keep the creative juices flowing. So, as seeing I have a shitload of pictures I have NOT posted, empty days will at least be a photoblahg or two.

As such, something from my ski binge at Big White:

Also, help grow the population of my city, New Delphi.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferreus six.

I care, I’m concerned… well, to the extent it eases my ever so guilty conscience

Just the sound of that really sounds ever so Christian to me. I’ll turn the other cheek, so it justifies my discrimiation and eventual persecution of you because you don’t believe in my true God, and as such will rot in the pits of hell. Still, there’s more subtle, less religious connatations to caring to cleanse the soul of their sin.

Take this for example. I’m out on the road with my truck (yeah, a very unusual circumstance during my enslavement which is fronted by the term employment), and I get out of the back funny, and twist my ankle. Bad. Today to boot. Now, before anyone (read Dawn) gets their tail in a twist, my ankles get twisted all the time. They’re fine. But none the less, meet random passer by. Who hears me yell OW at the top of my lungs. Dude asks the standard question “are you okay?”

Guess what I reply? NO! I’ve just hurt my ankle. I’m full of shits and giggles. Must be time for crumpets and tea. Obviously I’m not okay. I don’t mind people asking, but for fuck sakes, be prepared for the honest answer from me.

Because what git boy did next left me gobsmacked. After I made it known I wasn’t okay, dude looked dumbfounded, got in his car and left. Who on earth pulls fucking shit like that anyway? Obviously he did not want to help, he just wanted to appear concerned by asking the standard question. However, dude’s actions feel more like rubbing salt in my wounds than any action of help. Are people really this fucking stupid? I think I already know the answer to that.

It really is a sad state of people. Pretending to be one thing when they really are another. Me, I don’t buy into that shit. I’m a loner, tactless, fearless, I tell it like it is, I rarely agree with the crowd, an individualist, and DAMN FUCKING PROUD OF IT! If you don’t like it, get the fuck away from this page.

Meh. That is all.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferreus six.

Carrot chasing and other diversions

Sadly though, this one lasted well over a year. A good 15 months of being just over broke. Is it any wonder I haven’t been posting my typical lot of tripe on this blahg lately? It’s been more of a struggle maintaining my sanity through the carrot chase, notwithstanding maintaining my health.

The carrot chase really involves this. I get into my petrol consuming device, and in turn for the consumption, I get transported around the local area, pick up square-ish cardboard containers, return to the start point, and unload them. That, in a nutshell, is my ratrace, that allows myself, my lovely bride to be, Tara, and Shitbrick to have sustinance. And with the sheer physicality of it all, I thought that might wear me out soon.

However, it’s the politics of it all that really takes the fucking piss. Because the politics really is degenerating into a war. Put simply, this ‘hobby’ of carrot chasing for, well, carrots (yup it really don’t pay well), simply isn’t worth living in some hybridized Orwellian nightmare. So the decision is made. I’m going to chase a new carrot.

The question is where. After a week of ski, drink, sleep, repeat with the old man, I really got in touch with how much family is important. However, it was a stark reminder of the tragedy that got my ass in gear to get out here. And why. Film. As such, no more shit jobs, things that are completely irrelevant to that point. Sadly, the industry is still slow in these parts. Meh [blows raspberry].

There is one reasonable hope. Getting my electrical trades certification. Aside from providing well paid carrot chasing, the education actually does lead itself back to lighting in the film industry. And the frightening thing… Mom suggested it. Still though, even a lateral move might be just what the doctor ordered. The current state of bollocks that is my carrot chasing life is just that… a total fucking load of bollocks.

At one point I had hope. That one day I’d be holding the stick, not chasing the carrot. But at that time, I was suffering a severe brain malfunction. I forgot the Dilbert Priciple:

…companies tend to systematically promote their least-competent employees to management (generally middle management), in order to limit the amount of damage they’re capable of doing.

And for that reason alone, someone skilled like me could NEVER get ahead in the standardized world of corporate America. I’m not in harms way because I’m not the one causing the harm. Meh again [raspberry again]. For someone skilled like me to run the show, I have to create the show (just as a hint as to where I’m ultimately going).

Twisted Filler Tuesday to return tomorrow.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferreus six.

P.S. Help my city grow and build it’s industry.

They never discussed this in school

Not that any of this takes me as a surprise though, but lately I’ve been reflecting on how much hope I’ve had in life back in the old school days, and how that hope has been absolutely let down by the reality of my world. Life is a war, plain and simple. Chrome toasters are everywhere. Anyone could be the final Cylon (yup, I can draw many parallels between Battlestar Galactica and my life. But today took the cake.

Apparently, it seems that financial service company CSR’s are now allowed to call my mother a whore. I’ll admit something myself. I’m not one for the niceties. Hell, if you read this blog regularly, you know I don’t pussyfoot around shit or treat people with a satin cloth. I tell it like I see it. And if the truth hurts, if the truth sucks, SO BE IT. I can understand that a good chunk of people don’t have the bollocks to deal with me. But to make the snide and spineless remark about the person that gave me life, well, thems fighting words.

Needless to say, I’m pressing said corporation (who I will leave nameless for now) to fire that CSR. Frankly nothing else will really suffice in my point of view. My Gods, I would love to write the course of business etiquette to have an open discussion as to ‘appropriate response to a customer service person calling your mother a whore as a retaliatory strategy’.

Is it just Vancouver, or is the world really getting this bad?

That is all.

P.S. Please help my city grow.

P.P.S. Please help my city’s industry grow.

That is really all now.

So much to do

And so little time. Sadly, I have been back from vacation a week (those who read Dawn’s blog has already figured that out. I should really petition to put about 48 hours in one day (while still only working 8 per 48 hour day).

Hopefully, a decent post Sunday. Until then, a pic from the week of skiing:

That is all.