Well, I redesigned the site with a few things in mind. One of them was to get a better looking page that loaded faster than the last one. Smaller graphics, and less text on the front page. Right. So what did I do immediately to screw this up? I put a comic on the front page (not the problem in itself) that was about 150k. Duh. Only took me 2 days to realize it, which is about the same amount of time it took me to screw up my whole new “philosophy” of this page. Oh well…

Today I went to the bank to deposit my student loan for the semester. Preceding this was a call to the student load people, and a call to my bank branch. You see, they changed the way the system works, and the big banks no longer are the ones supplying the money (the gov’t now does this…). So I was asking if I could still take all the paperwork to the bank (BC and Canada student loans). The government said that I could, and the bank said that nothing had changed. So when I got to the bank, they said that they could only do one of them (Canada student loan). Great. I don’t know why I ever bother to phone up and ask for help beforehand, the information I get is usually fatally flawed. Turns out the only way to deposit a BC student loan is through the Bank of Nova Scotia (go figure….). So I asked where one was (this was at the Royal Bank). “Oh”, she said, “are you a student of SFU? There’s one up there”! I told her that they had closed it a few months ago. She told me that she had been sending students there for a few days now, and that was the bank branch that she had been told to send them to.

This all leads to the public service problem that really eats away at me. I do not understand why people will give out just any answer they can come up with. This happens all the time (especially at SFU). For example : “Where are the forms so that I can apply for a bursary”? Answer: “if there aren’t any more forms, then you can no longer apply”. This particular stupid answer should have been detected by my brain as being stupid, but since I was talking to someone in financial assistance, I assumed that I might be getting the correct information. So I didn’t apply. I think that particular episode of trust cost me around 300 dollars. Its not that I like people not knowing the answer to questions. Thats one thing, but if they don’t know the answer and then just blurt out whatever comes to their mind first – it can cause real problems. If I am told something like – “Well I think its…… but I’m not really sure so you should check”. Or : “Hang on… let me check”. This is immensely preferable to getting a knee jerk answer that leads me down the completely wrong road. If you don’t know – TELL ME THAT DAMMIT!

Its weird, twice I have written stuff here and within a few days I have found something in the paper that shadows my whole topic. For example:

Weird. It like he read it (my last entry). Of course, what I outlined probably goes on in every airport in the world everyday. Whatever.

Today, in an extra special “back to school” surprise the transit drivers in many parts ’round here decided that it would be a good day to have a “wildcat” strike. Oh boy. Now, consider that CementLand is on the top of a mountain, and that most people do not show up to a bus stop planning for a hike up a mountain. When I was driving to school I knew nothing of the bus strike. I noticed a girl walking up the road on Burnaby mountain wearing heels. This seemed strange attire for a hike up a mountain, but who am I to judge. I also noticed the wall of hitchhikers at the bottom, more than usual to be sure, but still within possibility. After going through the intersection near the top I was confronted with an unprecedented traffic jam. Now, I have been accused of being dimwitted before, but even I started to think that something might be “up”.

A few days ago, Translink (owned by the devil and with a president called George Puil (the devils son… apparently attempting to emulate that Castro’s guy’s dictatorship skills)) decided to privatize a certain bus route – giving the contract to a local taxi company. Even though I sort of believe Translink and its president to be somewhat evil, I don’t’ necessarily disagree with this move. However, it really infuriated the bus drivers, and the subsequent strike proceeded to infuriate many of the 100’s of thousands left stranded without notice. Blimey! I found this particular action interesting. I don’t ride the bus anymore – not because I necessarily don’t want to, but because a 12 minute drive in my car would be replaced by a 45 minute trip costing approximately $4 (one way). Now, putting myself in the frame of mind of a student attempting to get to the first day of classes at CementLand I see the following answers to this problem : 1) stay home – my choice had this occurred when I was still riding the bus 2) find a friend to give me a ride to school – considering I don’t know anyone at SFU (sorry… CementLand) this would have been difficult 3) walk up the mountain – sure I’ve done it recreationally but I don’t relish the idea of sitting in stinky clothing through the 4 hours of class I had today and finally 4) get a taxi – judging by the traffic jam today, complete with a great number of taxis, seemed to be a popular choice. Interesting eh? Lets go on strike to protest taxis taking over a bus route. Who could benefit from this? Hmmmm….. the taxi companies!! While I might normally embrace SFU creating free parking zones for those left in the lurch, I don’t necessarily endorse the fact that the parking lot that I PAYED FOR became free and I had an interesting time finding a spot later on in the morning. Screwed again!

Imagine your first day of school. A bit hectic and stressful, probably. Now imagine if the bus you were banking on never showed up. This would suck. Those first year students might also not know that the first class or two is generally worthless, so they weren’t missing much. MY first days of college were interesting. The first day of the first semester I locked my keys in the car, but it transformed into an interesting excuse to spend time with a girl I knew who gave me a ride home 😉 The first day of the second semester, I was strapped into a gurney in front of the crowded bookstore, loaded into an ambulance, and taken to the hospital (I had fled a classroom only to pass out in the hallway 3 or 4 times and fell down the big front steps of the school when I passed out again). This three block ride cost me $40 – which is probably the payment scheme that Translink will soon adopt. By comparison, I would gladly take a bus strike.

Recent I spent a week in Ottawa visiting family, played a lot of that humbling game of golf, and did some fishing (they don’t call it catching, do they?). I played golf pretty well most of the time, and at the end of it, I was playing very well (for me at least). So a couple of days ago I went out and played again in Abbotsford. Now, I knew this before, but even if you played 2 over in your previous round, ANYTHING can happen even a few short days later. So I played terribly! Played a week of golf and only three putted once or twice? Well Well, then the next time you just cannot rely on that, and I actually four putted around 4 greens. It was all terrible. Actually I had a good time, and my score did not accurately reflect how bad it was (94 from the blues). This was a course that was fairly difficult, but not the most difficult. The guy I played with didn’t do so well either. We actually began to refer to it as the “dishonor” (getting to go first on the next hole because you won the previous one). Oh well, at least I can still play crappy golf and have a good time.

Flying to Ottawa proved to be an “interesting” experience. On the flight out there, I was one of the last people to actually get on the plane. Even though there was a ticket bought for over a month prior, they didn’t assign me a seat on the plane right away. Of course, I eventually got on the plane, but the whole thing sucked. It doesn’t do much to change that I completely hate flying to begin with.

Even more interesting was the flight back. Lets go in order here… The lineup to check in was long, and at one point they only had one person working behind the counter. Air Canada at its best, they must be owned by one of the big banks or something. When I finally get to the counter, I notice that the woman ahead of me asked the counter woman whether her carry on bag will fit through the “baggage hole” that security puts it through (to regulate the size I guess). She looks at it, says there was “no problem”. The woman asks : “are you sure”? Absolutely, the reply. More on this later. At the counter, they actually gave me a window seat, which was nice.

The 20 minute line to get through security seemed longer than it was, partially because I really hate lineups. The woman from the check-in counter was ahead of me in line. Her bag wouldn’t fit through the sizing hole. She was perturbed to say the least. Security (through no fault of their own) explained that she had to go back downstairs, lineup, and get her bag checked. She pointed out that her flight left in 10 minutes. Ouch! After a brief exchange of words (not good ones really) she stomped downstairs. Security had suggested that she might try to jump the line, but since it was Air Canada, they suggested that she probably couldn’t get away with that there. Ouch again. So after clearing security, I had around half an hour to kill until my flight left. So I decided to wait, to see if she came back in time for her flight. Half an hour later, she still hadn’t. No matter how MY flight went, her entire day was much much worse. I wonder where her luggage went?

So then I got on the air plane. Nice big plane, a 767. Three row in the middle, two on either side. When I find my seat (at the VERY back) I cannot get into it. The man sitting in the aisle seat is so immensely large, that I cant get around him, and he is asleep and I couldn’t wake him up. Great way to start this flight. Finally, one of the employees on the plane woke him up, and he moved so that I could sit down. Very nice man, I should say, but one of the largest people I have ever seen. We couldn’t even get the armrest down between our seats. So I spent the whole flight scrunched up against the wall, uncomfortable as hell. At least I wasn’t flying to Japan or something, it was only a 5 hour flight, but seemed like an eternity.

Can’t wait to do it again.

Today I wrote my last final exam of the semester. Glad it is over. Getting up at 6:00 in the morning and going to school on a Saturday to write an exam is not an experience that I particularly relish. The only good part to all this was that I got an A on my paper. Considering I wrote it the night before it was due, and I didn’t think it was at all good, I was surprised. This was a good sort of surprise though, not like when you realize that what you are melting cheese on in the oven is NOT a bagel (for example). The other day someone I (kind of) know came up to me in the hallway and asked: “When do YOUR ears get the most itchy”? Well, I was sort of confused why this was a question. Actually I answered “Piano recital”. But, since that hasn’t happened in a great number of years, I changed it to when I do dishes or an oral presentation. This was as far as the conversation went, sadly. Apparently she gets itchy ears during exams. Why I needed to know this I am still somewhat flummoxed about. Oh well, nobody said you had to understand EVERYTHING (not much danger of that for me).

Its always interesting to find out how people get to this site. My stats frequently show the search engines people use, as well as the keywords they looked for. Someone searching for “fat strippers” was the most recent interesting one. Actually, placing the one instance of the word “strippers” in here has gotten me many hits over the last while. People searching for “fat strippers (not like a paint stripper I don’t think…), “male strippers”, and “fat discrimination” have all hit my site. Don’t think they found what they were looking for, but you never know. Most of the searches usually deal with some form of “daily rant”, “rant” or “Canadian rant”. Of course, I still rely upon word of mouth for most of my hits, which is why I don’t get many, I think.

Many people read diary sites. I am not one of them. What I write here isn’t exactly a diary, nor is it supposed to be. I sort of find diary sites boring, unless they are a particularly engaging writer or I know the person. Every once in a while I run into a site that is basically a collection of “rants”. This site also doesn’t fit that category, since I do other things here as well. Some of these rants sites are funny, some are very angry, and some are simply stupid.

There are many stupid things that one can do. Take ironing clothing that you are wearing, forgetting about a bag of potatoes in your cupboard for a very long time, or slamming your car into reverse when the light turns yellow and you are in the middle of the intersection (mind numbingly stupid move). Saw that last one today, and I still maintain that my hometown has the worst drivers I have ever seen, and I have driven in many places. I guess add to that list being forced to eat dinner outdoors with my parents in the rain when it was 13 degrees celcius. Yuck. Not sure where I am going with this, so I won’t go anywhere, lest it be the wrong direction. Also, its 3:30 in the morning, I am not at my cognitive best. Still, I managed to make a killing in online jeopardy tonight. Won 15 straight games – guess i’m addicted.

Lets talk for a minute about answering machines. Once proclaimed as the savior of civilization, these message storing devices are actually going to be the catalyst for societies downfall. Answering are actually on Statistics Canada’s list of the top 50 most dangerous electrical devices in the home (No. 50 on the list).

Annoying eh?

Who wants to talk to a machine? I do that just fine when at the bank machine, and I don’t need one of those at home. When I call someone, I can accept that they aren’t home. I can live with the fact that I might have to call back. Seldom is there anything of such immediate concern that I absolutely NEED to have someone else party to my ramblings on tape. I guess I don’t want to leave behind any tangible evidence of my vocal blunders. “Hi Michael, its ——-… Oh wait.. ha ha…. Hi ——- its Michael…… so uhhhhhhhh……. call me back……………….. uhhhh bye -click-“. And those are just the wrong numbers…. This has been known to happen, the switching names around. The last thing I need is for this to be saved on tape, and it and the resultant blathering played in front of any audience. At say… a party – which has happened. Much to my dismay it put aside the excruciating minutia of that party and gave the people there a new item of discussion, if only a minute. I’ll get you back for that one day.

My answering machine refuses to play messages all the way through. I guess it thinks it has played the part I want to hear, and then no amount of coaxing, yelling, or erotic massage will get it to play the rest of the message. I think it is jealous.

When it has something to say the answering machine beeps and beeps until you give it attention. Kind of like babies, or women (I didn’t really say that… did I?). So I get home and there the little magic box is, beeping, beeping, beeping. It is just incessant until it gets the attention it demands. What kind of messages do I get? Clean your carpets for $19.99? Sign up for high speed internet. Wrong number? Chat away about how cousin Bill had his 3rd heart attack anyway!

Potential for abuse

One form of self abuse attributed to answering machine usage is the saving of old messages. Lets take a hypothetical example. So your girlfriend leaves all kinds of “interesting” messages on the machine. Long after she is gone they are still there. So you, being the slightly heartbroken obsessive type, listening to this old girlfriend’s voice going on and on about stuff and even singing songs. Over and over and over and over. Probably one of the best ways to punish yourself this side of falling down the stars on purpose. Or so I have heard and read.

There are also the messages that are actually for you, but you don’t really want. Like the crazy, psychotic raving bitch (not her biggest fan I guess) who decided to heckle me for weeks and weeks on the answering machine. It sucked. Or course, there are other deranged callers that leave a multitude of messages, only these are silly and humorous, or maybe confusing. This is fine because that is their intention and that is understood. Take the friend of mine who, on two or more occasions, left messages that mostly consisted of reciting what time it was (you know who you are…). Yes, its 7:45:46, 7:45:47, 7:45:48, 7:45:49, 7:45:50, 7:45:51, 7:45:52, 7:45:53, 7:45:54, 7:45:55, 7:45:56, 7:45:57, 7:45:58, 7:45:59, 7:46:00. You get the idea. He went on until 7:55:50. I don’t know why. If you were to ask him, I suggest that he wouldn’t either. Or the time he pretended to have the wrong number and suggested that there had been some sort of accident with “Darryl at the club”. Hmmm… I hope that really WAS a wrong number – I never decided to ask.

These and even more exciting messages at an answering machine near you!

Last Friday I had a presentation. Nervous stuff, that. An hour or two before I walked into the washroom and noticed that some other guy had managed to pop off the button of his pants right into the urinal. Obviously, he was in a bit of a quandary as to where to fish it out or not. He decided against it. Then the immensity of his problem surfaced. The zipper of his pants didn’t stay up. This kind of sucked for the poor guy. As I don’t generally converse while in the bathroom, little was said. However, the only word that he said was: “Presentation”. I felt his pain, though not quite to the same extent. The only word I said, with a sympathetic tone was : “Stapler”, suggestion some sort of solution on short notice. This of course, could be dangerous. My own presentation didn’t seem so bad after that. After all, my pants were not in a losing struggle with the force of gravity. At least not then….

Today I get a letter from my insurance company. I’m not sure if I should be disconcerted when they include a page that begins with “As the year 2000 approaches…”. Isn’t this August? This part was all about how we shouldn’t be concerned with the year 2000 bug, but if we are, and we end up being right, then we won’t be covered. Insurance for dummies.

I wonder if there are people out there somewhere wondering if it is OK to come out of their Y2K shelter, and cursing madly using run-on sentences the person who forgot to pack the can opener as they bash cans of condensed soup with rocks picked out from the wall.

So it looks like Napster got a last minute reprieve from obliteration (not exactly breaking news I know, but I wrote this on Friday – deal with it). Oh boy. The most interesting I have read about this was that everybody was bailing out last night and checking out the alternatives. This mean that many of them had unprecedented traffic to their site, something which caused a whole bunch of them (technical term) to crash. Bummer. Actually, I think that perusing music on Napster (Macster actually – which uses the same server) has caused me to buy MORE CD’s than I otherwise would have. Isn’t that interesting! You see, so many “artists” put out complete crap that I don’t really want to spend 15-20 dollars to see if the rest of the songs on the album are decent compared to what I’ve heard on the radio. Napster-like services are just one manner in which I can do this, but this way I don’t even have to get out of my chair.

If there is anyone out there in University who has ever had to suffer through something called CAPA (Computer Aided Physical Agony –> in Chemistry or Physics) then you will understand why I am happy that I have finished the last one. Ever! And I finally got 100%. So there!

Today I was “confronted” by one naked man in one of SFU’s bathrooms. One was enough. Sure, he was about to have a shower, but I still didn’t expect it.

I personally don’t find much more nauseating than those “psychic” commercials. Lets see now, how does my script and the art of bullshit apply to THIS desperate loser/caller?

Tomorrow I have an oral presentation. Considering the last one, I know that it can only be better. Last time, I repeated the middle part of the presentation twice before someone pointed it out. Damn. Lets hope that tomorrow goes better.

This morning I had a bagel for breakfast. Nobody knows that but me because its a secret. Don’t tell anyone. Sshhhhh!

I have come to the conslusion that it is stupid to break up a fight just around the corner from where you live. You get into your car, drive around the corner, and the former combatants use it (the car) for a week afterward as a forum to voice their displeasure. Thank goodness they are only children, and yet, butter and jam under my doorhandles gets annoying after the 20th time.

So I get up. Early. I am usually cantankerous in the morning for starters anyway. I got into the shower. I commenced showering. I imagined how nice it would be to write better sentences. I imagine how nice it would be to still be in bed. I got about half way through showering and realized that there was something on the wall of the shower (which is only 2×2 anyway). A 2-inch slug. Needless to say, this wasn’t something that I really needed to see about 6 inches from my leg in the shower at 7 in the morning. Arg! This isn’t a story that has exactly been a “real hit with the ladies” as a “friend” of mine would put it. I guess the damn thing crawled its slimy ass up the drainpipe (somehow). While I am not particularly phobic about slugs I can’t say that I wish to shower with them, or anything else like them. I actually managed to finish the showering procedure in its entirety before I, as they say, “slugged” him one. If the spiders in my place weren’t bad enough, now I might have to deal with large invertebrates crawling up my shower drain. Great eh? At least I didn’t slip and fall on it, that would have been a real nasty way to break a leg. ‘squip’ – thud