Archive for April, 2007

Crap. All this time I thought I would have to become handsome and fit and rich to woo Jenna Fischer. Or at least touch her cans. Turns out you just have to be a fellow comedic actor like Will Ferrell.

I’ve got mad humor skills and acting is a breeze. Hell, here at the office I play satisfied, enthusiastic employee No. 4 every day. Now if only I could afford airfare to L.A.

How I spent Earth Day

Woke up hungover and decided to go to McDonald’s for brunch. One non-recyclable bag of individually wrapped breakfast delights later I was home for a nice hot 30-minute shower. I’m not one to be wasteful and can’t stand the thought of a basement full of hot water going unused.

Later I got in a cab to go to the airport, but because the Gardiner Expressway was closed, we took the long way, idling north-west through Toronto in bumper to bumper traffic.

I almost missed my flight, the cab ride took so long — however I did have time for a few smokes before checking in. The ashtray at Pearson looked kind of icky though, so I chucked the butts on the ground. The filters don’t biodegrate, so the custodians should have no trouble finding them.

Once on the plane I laid back and relaxed as the Boeing 737 took off on a four hour trip from Toronto to Calgary — spreading tons of toxic greenhouse-gas causing exhaust clear across the prairies.

With the breadbasket of Canada sufficiently polluted, we landed in Calgary where there isn’t a single recycling bin in sight. Apparently there’s no time to separate plastic and paper when you have a province-worth of environment to destroy.

However, before I did any of that I clubbed two baby seals and pissed on a polar bear.

Happy Earth Day everybody.

Woot.

Free ice cream day

Attention all fans of empty calories: April 17 is free cone day at Ben and Jerry’s. If you’re fortunate enough to live in a city that has a B&J’s, consider yourself lucky — normally you pay through the nose for a cone.

If I wasn’t stuck in Ben and Jerry-less Edmonton, I would go to a costume shop and buy a variety of wigs and beards so I could visit as many times as possible.

You can check to see if there’s one where you live here.

Reuters has picked up on something that a lot of us have known for a while: Toronto is being inundated with dog shit. Trash cans around city parks and public spaces are starting to overflow with bags of dog crap and it’s only going to get worse as the hot summer months approach.

This is nothing new. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to walk through Trinity Bellwoods without feeling like I was on a pig farm. I love dogs, but irresponsible dog owners piss me off. I’m gonna start eating chili dogs and following these fuckers home. They’ll get the message after a few deposits.

And because the story’s being run by the Reuters news service, prepare to see this headline next to “Indian village terrorized by monkey man” and “Bat boy excels in home schooling” stories in international dailies everywhere.

Old Map of Toronto

Although Parkadale doesn’t really show up on this map of Toronto from 1894, the “institutions” that line its eastern and southern borders suggest that it was always kind of a haven for deviants and reprobates. I guess Parkdale was like the ‘burbs back then, only instead of having bix box stores like Costco and Best Buy around, they had big boxes full of criminals and crazies.

It appears that there’s always been a “Lunatic Asylum” at Queen and Dovercourt, but I had no idea there was a “Central Prison” at King and Strachan, about a ten minute walk from me. Closer to home, we had the Mercer Reformatory — a place where prostitutes and “sexually precocious” ladies would end up for treatment. It couldn’t have been all that effective though judging by the number of “working girls” who still use the neighbourhood streets as an office.

Anyway, as Infonaut points out, it’s interesting to see how downtown T.O. has evolved over the past century. Who knew Front St. actually used to be the front street. Or that Fort York used to be on the water.

Too bad about Parkdale. Some things never change.

Here’s an interesting history digest of downtown Toronto that explains some of the locations noted on the map.

Requiem for a new TV

This week was going so well. I was back in the office, happy — you might even say chipper — to be back in my routine after nearly two weeks of business travel. Also, I knew that a brand new 27″-inch Sony flat-screen was on its way to my house and that I was just days, maybe hours away from a new era of crisp, wide-screen TV enjoyment. That is until I got home last night and realized that the new TV I bought online over the weekend will never make it to my living room.

It seems Purolator’s version of shipping is a lot different than the common understanding of the word. Instead of contacting the customer and arranging an ideal time for a package to arrive, they show up un-announced and leave a sticky note on your door explaining how you missed them and if you want your package, you better come get it yourself within 5 business days.

The shipping agent I contacted verified that the TV is sitting in a warehouse in the suburban wilds of Etobicoke and that unless I was able to be home between 9 am – 5 pm sometime this week to receive it, I would have to pick it up myself. I explained that I don’t have a car and that I do have a job so neither option worked for me. All he could recommend is that I hire a taxi or another courrier service to come pick it up and deliver it to me when I’m home, an option that would inflate the price even more and defeat the purpose.

The Future Shop customer service rep I talked to this morning was understanding, but unable to help. You could tell he’d heard this sad tale before and he could only offer one ending for it — my account will be credited, sans shipping fee, after Purolator sends the TV back to their warehouse.

Alas, sitting in a box in one warehouse or another is no way for a TV live. They need to be placed on a pedestal, dusted and cared for. So it’s with great sadness that I will acquiesce and let Purolator ship my set back to Future Shop and hope that some other lucky person orders it and successfully gets it home.

Unless someone has a car they can lend me…

In that case, call me. You will be rewarded with beer and the honour of joining me for the inaugural porno.

Had the chance to re-visit some favourite childhood roadtrip destinations during my Easter weekend visit to Hafilax.

Here’s a clip I shot with my cell phone in Queensland, 30 minutes outside of Halifax. It’s also my first YouTube vid. Look out Scorsese — the bell tolls for thee.

I’ll have pics updated shortly. Woot.

That’s right, the young, soon-to-be-downward-spiraling-into-rehab starlet turned 21 the other night meaning she’s now 100% legal.

My crush isn’t so perverted now, hey assholes? I wonder what she’s doing later… Woot!

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Her party sure looks lame though.

This morning, I woke in Halifax to clear skies, mild temperature and a cancelled flight from Air Canada. Sure it was delayed at first, but I thought the fact that the wind died down overnight and what little snow had fallen was now melting meant that this would be my only issue getting home. It’s Air Canada after all. They couldn’t get a plane off the ground on time even if the pilots were promised free hookers and blow upon arrival instead of the regular staff-discounted hookers and blow.

Anyway, shortly later, as the birds in the trees were singing underneath clear skies and sunshine, my flight gets cancelled.

Now I’m sitting in Halifax International waiting to go to Montreal so I can get on another flight home to Toronto. Total bullshit.

If I was the man I was ten years ago I’d take a flamethrower to this place. Ok, maybe just a high-powered fire hose.

I’m pissed.

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Spent a fun, drunken and educational few days in and around Fernie, B.C. last weekend. Friday we drove to the ski town taking a scenic route into the Rockies, passed Frank’s Slide and through Crowsnest Pass. Many beers upon arrival, followed by board games and Wii.

Saturday was a fun — albeit painful — day of skiing. I used to be a good skier. Now I fall a lot. On this day I fell on my face, ass, back and then tripped into a cartwheel that nailed pretty much everything that the previous falls missed. Pain was subdued later that night with beer, hot tub and more Wii.

On Sunday, we enjoyed a relaxed ride home with a stop at the Frank’s Slide Interpretive Center. Frank was a small Rockies mining town that was buried by a rock slide in 1903 when the mountain above decided to shed a few thousand tons of stone. Around 100 people were killed and many remain buried beneath the rubble. A complete salvage was never performed and the highway basically cuts through a debris field of Humvee-sized boulders [pictured above]. Very interesting during the day. Terrifying at night.

We also stopped for lunch at a real old west saloon and bought a combined $100+ worth of beef jerky at Longview Jerky Shop.

Some things I learned:

+ You can’t do a 180-rail slide on skis even if it looks super easy to do on TV. You can try, but you will fall on your ass.

+ In an avalanche, rocks travel at speeds of more than 120 km/hr.

+ It’s hard to pick up ski bunnies when everyone on the hill sees you fall on your ass, face and back.

+ Avoid buying real estate at the foot of Turtle Mountain.

+ Your friends may be nice, but they will make fun of you if you admit that you’re afraid of ghosts — even if it’s late at night and you’re driving through a town buried by a rock slide with fuck knows how many doomed souls and forces of evil lurking just outside you car door.

+ No cuts, no scrapes — no proof. No fear.

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More pics