A line in the sand

One of the shittiest truths in hockey is this. Retaliation gets the penalty over the initial incident. The same is true in life. An eye for the eye you lose gets you in worse hot water than the initial eye (if that really makes sense, because right now I see nothing but red).

This all revolves around the chrome toaster. And furthermore, stretching back to childhood. Well, young adulthood and up. With your friends, your good, close friends, there are lines you simply do not cross. Ever. And boy, was I wrong about where I stood with the toaster. But, like DeNiro and Liotta in Goodfellas (when in regards to the shooting of Joe Pesci’s character), I have to sit and take it.

Well, the stakes are continuing to rise. And again, I must sit and take it. Take the high road, as defamatory posting can cause one to have their blog deleted. And where is that airlock?

Oh my, I can never tire of that. Thank the Gods for small mercies.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus 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.

Letters to the Editor… spam via SnailMail

Yes, spam in the post box. But not your typical lot of pizza flyers or voucher books. Rather, something of importance (from spam none the less) from the powers that be, the building management. Not that the three copies posted in the front lobby arent’ enough for us to notice, we also all got a copy in our mail box. Well, the letter speaks for itself:

DOG CLEAN UP CHARGE

There will be a $50.00 clean up charge to the tenants who do not clean up after their dog or dogs.

Please report, in writing, to the office, anyone yo see who has not picked up after their dog. Two infractions will result in the tenant’s eviction.

It is very difficult for dog owners to find an apartment complex that will allow their dogs. I would think when they do find one such as [this complex], they would willingly clean up their dog’s mess, but apparently that is not the case.

Please help us keep the buildings and the grounds clean.

Thank you
Management.

Well, I did alter the punctuation somewhat as obvioulsy the management were oblivious to that part of english class. Nevertheless, this is how the letter reads to me:

DOG CLEAN UP CHARGE

There will be a $50.00 clean up charge to the tenants who do not clean up after their dog or dogs.

Please rat out your fellow neighbours, in writing, to the office which serves more as a coffee and cigarette club than it does a business, those neighbours who can’t be arsed to clean after your pets. Or better yet, just blame that next pile of animal feces in the hallway or on the walk on the neighbour that just plain pisses you off. Write them up twice and we’ll be judge, jury, and executioner by kicking them out on their sorry asses.

We feel the need to gloat as that in the Lower Mainland very few buildings have liberal rules allowing pets on premises. We would think you would kiss our feet for the opportunity to have pets in your apartment rather than create a situation that would make us exert any effort outside of our normal 9-5 business hours. We make you get your own plumbers on the weekend, without re-imbersement, so you should clean up after your own pets also.

Shape up or ship out.

Kindest Regards
Big Brother. We’re watching.

Not that I have a grudge with the way this building is run or anything. Anyone wanting me to respond to comments feel free to email me at neolithicfilms@gmail.com

That is all.

One step back to go two steps forward…

Well, what can I say. Back on dial-up. But only for (at most) 10 days. And all because Telus are a bunch of fucking twats. And this happening just as Dawn and I hit GM Place today, with front row seats to see the Canucks Super Skills competition today.

My Canon Digital Rebel XT took 428 pictures at the bloody thing too. Well, when the high speed gets re-connected through Rogers, there might be one hell of a picture post coming up.

More to come soon.

That is all.