As I Grow Older, I Grow Wiser

Too bad what I'm learning is that 90% of life is tedium.
Man, I would almost trade jobs with a child labourer right now. At least I'd be working in a warmer climate. And the occasional whippings could be kinky.
I've never appreciated a Friday night as much as I do right now.
God help me, I am Dilbert. But sexier, and with a better name.
I guess I can live with that.
~Attila

Happy Hiatus!

Or happy end of a happy hiatus, whichever you prefer.
Nothing really earth shattering happened to inspire this blog, I just figured that if I left blogging any longer I'd lose the last of my faithful readers. And when you only start with one or two, you really can't afford to lose that many.
Lots of change in the new year so far. Changed some of my personal habits, which shall remain nameless, but have resulted in my losing a pound or two, so hooray for my belt. Lots of change at work, the most un-fun of which is my co-worker and best hick homey Crys has moved away. This would bring lots more sadness if she had moved any great distance. Fortunately she's only in Liverpool, which is an entertaining and bewildering destination at the best of times.
On the home front things are well. Bri and I haven't seen much of each other, but when we have it's been high quality fun as always. We watched a documentary on Amish people today, which sounds less than fun until I bring up the Amish drug dealers that got busted in the film. Yes, Amish drug dealers. Crystal Meth dealers in fact.
Apparently it happens. Who knew?
Big J and the Hell Hounds are excellent, as always. Well, mainly Big J is excellent, the hounds are cute but misbehaved as usual. Since I'm the only one with the heart, or lack thereof, to discipline them, I've earned myself the nickname of Corporal Punishment. Which would almost sound sexy, if it weren't in relation to pet puppies.
Big plans with the Big J this week include going to see Steve Zissou, and a miraculous second Friday night out in a row! This never happens, so I can only assume it will be fun. I really have no prior evidence to base this on, but can't imagine any night out being a bust. Last Friday brought a high degree of hilarity, cheesy dance music, and only a small hangover.
So here's to a successful reenactment, especially of the last part.
~Attila

New Curse

So last night, I mysteriously yelled 'Christ it!'
I think it was my response to writing a new blog.
More tomorrow.
~Attila

Smith, Wesson, and Fruit of the Loom

Once again, Walmart has provided me with one of the most unusual and unsettling experiences I’ve had in some time.
I hate to support Walmart but it was necessary to do some big box store shopping in order to finish up my Xmas capitalism blowout. After twenty minutes of pushing, shoving, and regretting my recent renouncing of cigarettes, I finally arrived at the cash register. No feeling of relief here, as the woman in line in front of me is holding a gun.
Now don’t panic, this woman was no robber. She had mom-perm like mad, and no self respecting armed robber would be caught dead with such a terrible ‘do. No this woman simply walked into the store, picked out the biggest, shiniest gun she could find, and bought it. For $59.95. Taxes in.
I’ve heard rumours of this sort of thing happening, mainly in gun happy USA. But here in Canada you can apparently arm yourself for less than the price of a more respectable perm than the one modeled by Shooty McHousewife. To make things even weirder the cashier took this all in stride and made jokes about being married to a hunter.
‘Har har har. My fat husband likes to shoot defenseless animals. He doesn’t even like deer meat, he just thinks they look better mounted on a wall. Har har har. By the way, I love your perm. Har har.’
And people wonder why I look shell shocked when I come home from the mall. I found out recently that the original inventor of the shopping centre was so depressed by what he had created, he moved to Europe to escape it. Turns out he hated cars and intended malls to be a social gathering place for pedestrians. Undoubtedly he’s buried under a parking lot somewhere. Stupid poetic injustice.
Xmas shopping did help me learn a valuable life lesson today. I cannot, under any circumstances, shop for underwear for myself when the men’s underwear department is filled with middle aged women buying tighty-whities for their sons and husbands. Sure I would look oh so fashionable in comparison as I picked out my somewhat stylish striped boxer-briefs, but I just couldn’t do it. Something about hordes of middle aged biddies knowing exactly what I’ve got on under my jeans makes me feel terribly vulnerable.
In retrospect, I should have camped out in the bra section. How fun would it be to snicker and point as they pick out their 68 double F’s? Turn about is fair play after all, but I probably would have been asked to leave after I’d laughed myself to tears.
~Attila

What's in Santa's sack? Testicular cancer.

Oh it’s hard to be a Jew at Christmas… But I bet it’s harder to be a recovering Christian at Christmas. As a former Christian now happily in remission I have no idea how to deal with the holidays. I couldn’t care less about the religious significance, and I’m disgusted by the blatant commercialism. Not that I won’t indulge, but that’s expected. It’s hard to sit around on Dec. 25th explaining why you didn’t buy anything for all the people who thought long and hard and still bought you a $10 gift certificate to Cotton Ginny.
Every time I see the hordes of acid wash jean wearing, donut eating, chain smoking, child dragging embodiments of all human misery running through the malls with rapidly melting credit cards I just want to scream. Why all the panic to find the perfect gift? Nobody is going to remember anyway. Anyone out there remember what you got last year from your parents or siblings or various far flung relatives? Of course not. What did you get them? Didn’t think so.
Christmas is not the most wonderful time of the year. It’s the one time of the year when people can feel good about verbally assaulting anyone who refuses to conform. Don’t like Christmas? Well then you’re a Scrooge. You’re a terrible human being who believes only in misery and hate. How dare you be allowed to live during the month of December? Cold hearted bastard. You’re as bad as that atheist vegetarian from work. She absolutely ruined my turkey dinner last year!
Not a Christian? Well that’s okay. We’re PC now. We respect your diverse beliefs and customs. But you’re still coming to my kid’s Christmas concert right? And you got my Christmas card in the mail didn’t you? Don’t forget you’re working Christmas this year too. I didn’t think you’d mind since you’re not Christian and all. I’ll be busy with all my Christmas dinners and parties, so thanks again for covering for me. Have fun!
And who decided that Christmas is a month long deal? (ordeal?) Some places drag out the decorations as soon as Halloween is over. Speaking of Halloween, that’s a holiday I can understand. Don’t like Halloween? Peachy. Turn off your lights, lock the door, and go out for dinner somewhere. If you’re lucky you won’t see a single trick or treater. And in case you make that fatal mistake of admitting in public that you don’t like October 31st? Big fucking deal. In fact, lots of people will agree with you. No ridicule or public condemnation, guaranteed!
So this is my plan for Christmas this year. I’ve devised a single, scripted response to deal with any Christmas related interaction. It goes like this:
Fuck off.
The real beauty is this works almost anywhere. Someone wishes you Merry Christmas? “Fuck off!” Carollers fa-la-la-la-laing at your door? “Fuck off!” Hot guy pulls you under the mistletoe for a little Christmas cheer?
Well, I guess that’s the exception to the rule. Merry Christmas!
(Fuck off!)
~Attila

The Colour Pink

Check out the lovely Joey's new blog!
Unsurprisingly, it's pink. Huh.
~Attila

Grammar Re-education Centre

Am I the only person who finds the automatic grammar check included with most current word processing programs really offensive? Let’s just imagine for a moment what the world would be like if everyone obeyed the rules indicated by the little green underlining. I’d be bored as shit! Canadian literature would be non-existent without colloquialisms and randomly inserted vulgarity. And sentence fragments? Love them. Lost without them.
I am fully aware that I do not write, or talk for that matter, in perfect grammatical form. I happen to enjoy not obeying all of the rules. In fact, I enjoy it when other writers bend the rules from time to time. If we all obeyed the little green lines then every blog hosted on this site would read like an instruction manual for a microwave or universal remote.
Now I’m worried that this feature is having an adverse effect on the quality of written material available today. Nobody in their right mind writes with a typewriter or a pen anymore, not if they’re writing something of any length. Is it possible that the computer grammar police are leading to books and magazines written in bland, colourless style? Like that utter piece of shite, 2 ‘The magazine for couples’. Absolutely nauseating, although I doubt WordPerfect is to blame for that helpless mess.
In order to improve on the quality of today’s reading materials, I’m asking all my faithful readers (I’m looking at you three!) to do two things. First, turn off the little green lines. Your grammar is just fine. And if it isn’t? Fuck it. Who really cares about grammar anyway? I’ll take artistic expression any day, thank you very much.
Second, make sure that your word program is set to the proper language! In a disgusting display of American imperialism (sorry, had to throw in a little propaganda) most word processing programs are set to American English for the default language. This results in writing atrocities like the words color, splendor, center, ad nauseum. Not only do these words when properly spelled get a little red line, they actually get replaced automatically! Try all you want, you will never write about the colourful splendour of the shopping centre ever again! (Not that you should, down with materialism and all. Again, sorry.)
And finally a few helpful suggestions. omitting capital letters is not cute omitting punctuation is annoying AND CAPS LOCK IS FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY. And pleaz, leav the spel cheker on. It’s their four a reson.
For homework, read my blog every day. Nine out of ten doctors agree that reading my blog prevents prostate cancer.*
~Attila


*Test subjects were women aged 12-14. Doctors may not be medical doctors.

The Comedy Stylings of a Bad President

Obviously I changed my mind re: the whole protest thing. How could I really miss out on one of the largest political protests Halifax has ever seen? And try as I might, I am still mightily offended by Bush, and it’s my democratic right (Remember those America? You had them once too) to show my frustration with his administration any way I can.
Besides, Barrington Street looks really fucking cool when you’re marching down the centre of it with 5000 other angry people. I can’t understand how my parents grew up in the 60’s and 70’s and have never gone to a demonstration of any kind. Obviously a terrible oversight on their part.
But on to the biggest news of the day. I saw Bush. I actually saw him and got to give him the finger. Not my most mature hour I’m sure, but I feel much better anyway. Despite feeling great and socially active and all, I’m very disappointed with some of my peers. One actually railed against protesting because she thought we should all be excited that a celebrity was coming to Halifax. Um, hello, this is your conscience calling? Remember me? Yeah well that ‘celebrity’ is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent Iraqis, and lord knows how many Texans. (Down with capital punishment too while we’re in a protesting mood.)
Others were being ridiculous in more subtle ways. A surprising number of usually lucid people were actually impressed by Bush’s speech. He was so funny! Yeah he’s a fucking knee-slapper. Oh wait, no he’s a fucking fascist, that’s it.
Fascist is a word I hate to use. I think Dan Savage yelled at people for it once, telling them to keep it in reserve until we really need it. Well I’m sorry folks, but is anyone else out there worried that we might be headed in that direction? Let’s see, stirring up hate of minorities (me, etc.), declaring war on sovereign countries, stripping away civil liberties (hello ‘patriot’ act), and weakening the UN. Add in the fact that he’s a religious nutball and a big old fan of the death penalty and I actually feel pretty bad for Americans.
From the excerpts I heard of Bush’s speech it looks like he was going for folksy and down home charming, as usual. For a pretty folksy and down home province, I really don’t think Nova Scotia bought it for the most part. From what I hear he made jokes about PEI potatoes and Alberta beef. Since he’s doing nothing to stop the US ban on these two products, maybe he should just shut the fuck up rather than go for the polite chuckle. Or here’s an idea. Make some jokes about common sense, decency, and responsibility. Stick with the theme George, those have all been banned from the US for at least four years now.
Hilarious.

Indifference is Bliss

So George W. Bush is coming to Halifax. And I don’t care. I’m a little surprised at my reaction to this as I know I should be livid and marching through the streets. Honestly, I hardly feel anything one way or the other. I realize he’s a terrible president, and from most accounts not a very nice guy in general. I’m fully aware that he’s causing chaos in the middle east, helping to ruin the environment, and doing all he can to strip gay Americans of their meagre rights. I know that I stand for almost all he stands against, and vice versa. And yet I still don’t care that he’s coming.
Why? Because I’m tired. I’m so tired of him, of America, the whole bit. As a Canadian, I am fortunate enough to live in a relatively free, democratic country that for the most part respects my rights as a citizen. We have gay marriage, the Kyoto accord, the forthcoming de-criminalization of marijuana, and most importantly, our military isn’t occupying a formerly sovereign nation. Sure Canada has it’s problems and shortcomings, but we’re no America, not by a long shot.
And since we aren’t America, I feel justified in letting go of my rage against President Dubya. He’s the American president, so let the Americans worry about him. And the Iraqis of course, since he is the real President of Iraq for the time being and foreseeable future.
I hope that when Dubya arrives in quaint, friendly little Halifax he is greeted by an absolute horde of protesters. I hope that he has a miserable time here, and that Canadians’ abhorrence of current American policies gets broadcast around the globe. And I hope that nobody notices that I didn’t bother to go out to join the crowd.
I’ve said before that the only thing worse than hatred is indifference. At least when somebody hates you they still have very powerful feelings for you. I don’t hate Dubya, that would imply that I give the slightest bit of a damn about him. Frankly, he’s proven over and over again that he’s not worthy of my time. So when George W. Bush arrives in my city, I intend to give him the reception he deserves here and everywhere else in the world.
I’m going to ignore him, and wait patiently for him to go away.

Evil, Beans, and Evil Beans

Hilarity! Before work Bri and I sat down for some brief KITH watching, which as always was a very good time. More people would have the occasional good day if they only started it with Simon and Hecubus.
EVIL!
Such good times. Although I now know the ending of Presumed Innocent, not that I ever intend to watch it or know even the beginning or the middle. I’d post the ending here but I’ve already spoiled one movie this month. (It’s made of people!)
Anyway. Had a phone call from Haley the other day, which although once a daily occurrence has become a rare treat. School will do that though. Not that I go, god(s) forbid, but she’s approaching exams and has little time for socializing.
Crystal’s been away for a day or so too, so no word yet on the FUNeral. Lots of discussions going around lately about funerals. Oddly more about the inaccuracies in TV funeral portrayals. This is how it is on TV: Everyone hugs, everyone bonds, everyone reaffirms the joys of living, blah blah blah. Here’s how it really is: Everybody fights, everybody vents, everybody remembers why they only visit their relatives once a year. Most of them anyway.
But back to relatives I do enjoy. This morning, thanks to one such family member, is market time, much to my dismay. I’m so very, very tired, but will still go as I am a brother of the highest quality. And Bri is a sister of the vegetable needing variety. Personally, I don’t eat many vegetables. I don’t’ trust them. Something about broccoli just seems to say SINISTER real loud. Oh right, it’s the taste.
Speaking of sinister tastes, I tried baked beans for the first time this week. One question bean eaters of the world: What the fuck is wrong with your taste buds? Good lord but beans are the grossest thing known to man! And I’ve eaten bugs! (another story, another day) Taste, texture, smell, visuals, all wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. You know what tastes better than beans? My ass tastes better than beans!
Seriously, ask around.
~Attila

You're (not) Fired!

At least not today, or it doesn’t look that way yet. My god but I’ve had the worst 48 hours ever, at least as far as work is concerned. For a good day and a half there it really was looking like I had lost the hotel about $839.00 give or take a few nickels. As of last night though, barring any unfortunate disputes with Visa, it looks like I’m in the clear.
Which is great, since I’m one of the handful of people at my work who actually give a damn about their job performance. I’m not quite a perfectionist, certainly not in most other areas of my life, but with work I’m pretty fucking close. I do NOT like to fuck up. It doesn’t happen often, thank Jeebuz, but when it does it really pisses me off.
Which is weird, since this isn’t exactly my dream job or the career path I want to be in for the rest of my life. Still, it’s nice to know that I’ll still be gainfully employed for, oh let's say the next week.
Knock wood.
~Attila

The Horror! 

180

Very fun morning today spent talking to Christine about books. I don’t usually have a lot of people who enjoy reading as much as I do. Except Crystal, but she reads classic British novels that would bore me to tears. Not much for discussion there.
Christine, however, is all about contemporary fiction, and also a bit of sci-fi and fantasy novels thrown in for good measure. She’s actually going to lend me the Lord of the Rings so I can try, hopefully not in vain, to read it again. The last time I tried I couldn’t get through the first five chapters. We had a very nice time although she refuses to believe that I actually liked 1984 more than Animal Farm. Both are great by the way, go read them now.
So I wrote the ex yesterday and despite all my previous venom I was actually civil and didn’t rub in the fact that I’m in a functional relationship too badly. Maybe a bit, but nothing obvious and crass. I have to say it was kind of nice to catch up, which is a good sign as I don’t really want to carry around any anger/bitterness/rage about the past. I realize this contradicts my blog from two days ago to a large degree, but it’s my blog so fuck off I can do what I want.
I almost suggested that I might be growing as a person. Don’t worry, not a chance.
I’m wide awake this morning even though it’s almost time for bed. If I had any kind of dedication I’d go straight home and sleep, get up early and go to the gym. Unfortunately that’s probably not me at all so I’ll most likely end up going home, buying some cigarettes, and watching a movie. Oh well.
Bri and I decided that we’re going to stay in the apartment until January. Partly because we felt bad about leaving G without a roommate and partly because we realized we were blocking out just how small the apartment we found was. It’s so cute and has a big balcony so how could we not ignore the size? Well it turns out we can’t, which is probably for the best. Looks like we’re going to spend the next month looking at places, which makes me feel better than if we had taken the first place we’d seen. I hate doing that because you can’t help but think that the next one could be perfect. Apartment hunting’s kind of like dating in that respect I guess.
Good thing I’m long past the first one.
~Attila

Cannibalism and the Dick vs Chump Debate

My excitement today knows no bounds. For the first time in at least three years I have a new favourite movie! I know most people have probably seen this long ago but today was the first time I watched Soylent Green. I loved it! Even though In The Soire called half way through and asked me if I’d figured out that ‘it’s made of people’ yet. Thanks for spoiling the fun Soire! Actually I’m surprised I’d never caught the many obvious cultural references to this before. I almost feel as lame as those cave dwellers who don’t know that Darth Vader is Luke’s father. (Sorry to ruin the fun for you Neanderthals out there.)
A quick Google search informs me that I’ve missed SG references on Family Guy, the Simpsons, and Buffy to name a few. How sad! These are some of my favourite shows and apparently I’ve been paying only minimal attention to them for years. Lord knows how many jokes I’ve missed by now.
Anyway, I absolutely loved Soylent Green and can’t wait to buy the DVD. After watching that with Bri I went downtown to watch Alfie with Joey, Crystal, and Heather. Can’t say that there’s anything bad about watching Jude Law look sexy and flirty for two hours. Fully worth the price of admission. Aside from that the movie decent, but nothing to rave on about. (See SG)
Movies aside, Bri and I also went to see an apartment today that’s three houses down from Joey’s. It was kind of smallish, but redeemed by the reasonable rent, free heat, pine floors and wicked back deck. So pumped about the deck, I want this place bad just for that. It’ll be a little cramped at first but we realized that it will force us to edit out all the crap we keep around and never use. Not that I want to be a minimalist all of the sudden, but I’d love to have a nice uncluttered apartment. Only the bare essentials and some tasteful decorations and personal stuff. No bloody knickknacks. God damn how I hate them.
Ever go into someone’s house and find every available surface crammed with hideous glass figurines and cracked out collectables? How can anybody live with this shit? Do they put aside four hours a day just to dust? Either my allergies would kill me or I’d kill myself if I lived like that.
Bri wants us to go and look at a place in the north end tomorrow. I don’t have high hopes for it as the rent is suspiciously low, and the neighbourhood isn’t the safest feeling in town. Despite being a little on the small side the place we looked at today had a really comfortable feel to it. I’d be happier if the rent was lower but it is within our preferred price range, if only by about ten bucks. Mind you if the north end apartment turns out to be fantastic and at the southern end of the street, I’ll sign for it in a heartbeat.
Before we can move we’re going to have to sort out the December rent situation with G. He thinks it’s only fair that we pay the whole month’s rent since we only gave him three weeks notice. Personally I can’t afford that and think that since we outnumber him two to one, it’s not all that fair that we’re the ones moving in the first place. I’m excited to move to a place with free heat though, so I don’t actually mind. I have no problem with paying half a month’s rent, but anything more seems unreasonable to me. Add in rent at the new place, damage deposit, and moving fees and it doesn’t look like anyone’s getting Christmas gifts this year. Unfortunately I also find myself sympathizing with G as we’re leaving him with no roommates on short notice. Looks like the three of us are going to have to sit down for a serious discussion on this, which should be an absolute joy.
I’m open to suggestions on how to resolve this. I don’t want to come out of this looking like a dick, but I also don’t want to end up being a chump.
~Attila

Can't Sleep, Guests'll Eat Me

Long bloody night, to be followed by a long bloody day. Having very few guests in the hotel is great in a peaceful, restful way, but it’s so dull. The nights drag on forever, but you still can’t nap even for a minute. Fortunately I’ve got something to look forward to as Crystal is cooking us bacon and eggs in the morning. Sweet.
I suppose I’d better get on with this. Any guesses on who emailed me tonight for the first time in, oh, about a year? Anyone? No? Alright then.
Chris the bloody ex-boyfriend! Just writing to chat and see what I was up to and let me know what he’s doing. You know, just catching up, la la la.
WHAT THE FUCK? Why on god’s green earth would he email me now? ‘Oh hi Chris, sure let’s catch up. I’m fine, family’s fine, oh you’re still an emotional black hole huh? Well that’s good.’
Goddamn! I wish it was possible to make ‘the point’ a tangible, physical object. That way you could mail it to people who remain perpetually clueless. Then you could call them up in a week and say ‘Hey, did you get The Point?’ and they’d say ‘Sure did! Guess I won’t bother trying to be all friendly like with you anymore, maybe I should just stay out of your way huh?’ And you could say ‘Yep, you really did get it. God bless you Canada Post.’
Foolishness! At the same time there’s an upside to this. From his update I’ve learned that he’s still single and probably lonely way up there in the buttfuck Arctic. I, on the other hand, can now email him back raving on about my great new relationship, my plans to go back to university, my upcoming move with Bri, etc. Of course I could take the high road and pass on all this information in a slightly less than insufferably smug way, but where’s the fun in that? As far as I’m concerned if somebody’s been a son of a bitch to you in the past, you’ve got every right to be one to them in the future.
Joey honey please disregard that last statement as it doesn’t apply to you. No matter how mean I once was that does NOT entitle you to stop being sweet and cooking me dinner and performing other niceties. I’m very sorry but there IS an exception to every rule, and you just happen to be it this time.
As I was saying, I’m a big fan of the forgive part, but definitely not of the forget. You simply cannot call, email, FedEx or smoke signal someone up out of the blue and pretend you’ve never been nothing but sugary sweet to them. Especially not if you’ve been, in the words of my favorite smashing singleton ‘A complete emotional fuckwit’.
My apologies to you Helen Fielding, but plagiarism is the sincerest form of flattery.
~Attila

My Body is a (subtly widening) Temple

Today I made the viciously awful mistake of standing sideways in front of the mirror in my work uniform. From this experiment gone horribly awry I can deduce one fact:
I must loose weight. Now.
Not that I’m obsessive over my weight. I’m always a bit over what I probably should be, but I couldn’t care less. I’m much more comfortable when I’m a bit on the round side. I can’t imagine being skin and bones, I’d be sharp and jabby all over. None of this for me.
However, I’m now in immediate danger of having to become a nudist. That’s right, my body has reached critical mass as far as my wardrobe is concerned. This could not possibly come at a worse time as winter is fast approaching. Winter in Canada no less. Perhaps if I lived in California or Guatemala or the middle of the fucking Sahara this would not be such a problem. As things stand though, it appears I must take immediate action to avoid a frostbite crisis.
Aside from my poor diet and aversion to the gym and all activities that take place therein (locker rooms excluded, obviously), I can think of two factors that are clearly responsible for my sudden horizontal growth spurt.
Number one: Public Transportation.
Busses are far too convenient in cold weather. Ever since I started taking the bus to and from work my body has gone into blubber mode. In warmer times I walked at least an hour every day, now that fall and almost winter are here I now walk about twenty minutes a day. On a good day, maybe thirty. No good can come from this, as my straining belt can attest.
Number two: Joey.
Single people are invariably more weight conscious than people with significant others. One has to maintain a healthy, pleasing body shape in order to land a partner/date/one night stand/fuck buddy. Now that I’ve got all of the above (role playing is fun!) I’ve let myself go without even noticing. Joey, lovely boy that he is (and he really is very, very lovely) will never mention this as long as I am able to fit through the door to his apartment.
While I am in no danger of needing the jaws of life to get out of any doorframes, I’ve decided to take action now in order to avoid that fate. This means I must now endure, with regularity, trips to that voluntary torture chamber we call the gym. I am not happy about this, but I am resigned to it. Not to worry though, I find weight loss progress blogs tasteless and overdone, suitable only for guests of the Dr. Phil show. I will, however, post occasional updates provided I make positive progress. If in two months time I can’t fit through standard doorframes, most of you shall never know.
And if ANYONE writes a comment suggesting the Atkins/Southbeach/Hollywood-Starvation diets, I will personally hunt them down and suffocate them with my flub.
Here’s to feeling the burn, but not while peeing.
~Attila

Most Random Blog Ever

How's this for the ultimate relationship faux pas?
Entering the washroom while your girlfriend is in the tub having a bath, dropping your drawers, and taking a shit. Right in front of her.
Seriously. This actually happens to people. People I know! How do these men ever expect to have sex again?
Vile.
Such a lovely note to start with. On to less offensive matters, I went to the farmer's market yesterday for the first time in years. Anytime I go anywhere and am overwhelmed by the smell of fresh bread, that's a fucking good time right there. I bought cranberry-jalapeno jelly and it kills me just to smell it. Such a good time.
Yesterday was a good day. I slept over at Joey's all day, which I was afraid would incovenience him but didn't at all as it turns out. He abandoned me twice and went to run errands. Which is great that he's so comfortable leaving me alone in his home. Still, it would have left me feeling pretty disoriented if I'd woken up while he was gone. What a great opportunity I had to rifle through his things! Wasted! I could have watched ill-gotten porn for god(s)'s sake!
Curses and death on that, I guess. Wrapped yesterday up by going to dinner with Joey, Bri, and G at Freeman's. This was a great time had by all, but still rather weird in retrospect, given the whole Bri-G dynamic or current lack thereof. I lost $3 on video lotto (curses! death!) but didn't loose at DENIRO, so the whole event was kind of a draw, broken only by good pizza and respectable ceasar salad. Looks like Bill Cosby was on to something here.
My apologies on such a wickedly schizophrenic blog. Tomorrow I promise to have a new soap box to stand on.
~Attila

The Silver Lining

First and foremost, just to get it out of the way...
GOD FUCKING GOD DAMN STUPID PIG IGNORANT AMERICAN VOTERS!
GOD!
FUCKING!
DAMN!
CHRIST!
WHAT THE JESUS IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?
Sigh.
Okay, let’s try taking a different tack on this. Four more years of Bush means what? A weakened American economy, which judging from the past four years seems to actually benefit Canada. A brutal, unending war in the middle east that’s possibly so horrible it will turn most average Americans against the president and political party that took them there.
This is really great in a way. No sarcasm either, it really is. If we can be honest here for a moment, then we can admit that as Canadians, we hate the United States. Not individual Americans necessarily, but the nation itself, and it’s government. We smile and act polite, mainly to rake in tourist dollars, and then we spit (sometimes literally) and hurl insults behind their backs. Not exactly the most mature, responsible behavior, but we all do it.
And now, finally, our natural feelings have been validated. Everyone will back us up this time. Not only did George W. Bush stay president, but this time he was legitimately elected by the majority of the American electorate, who we can now blame openly for all his actions. No more hiding behind ‘Oh well they didn’t really elect him so we can’t judge to harshly’. Oh no, not this time.
So let’s just state this clearly for the record. I feel bad for the American soldiers who are dying in Iraq. I feel bad for the American workers who are losing their jobs in a sluggish economy. I feel bad for the gay and lesbian Americans who can’t have their relationships recognized by the law. Hell, I feel bad for just about every American out there. And to them, I’d just like to say one thing:
You brought this all on yourselves. So fuck you.
~Attila

The Countdown Ends?

Damn I'm so sick of waiting to see Dubya booted on his ass! I've endured, with varying levels of patience, the non-stop news coverage of tomorrow's election run-up for the past year!
Can you imagine if Canada devoted 365 days to campaign coverage? We'd all vote for Peter Mansbridge or Lloyd Robertson just to get them off the air, we'd be so sick of the sight of them. Not that I'm not sick of seeing Bushy, but that feeling came in the last days of the Clinton admin.
Speaking of which, does anyone else miss the Clintons terribly? Sure they had scandals, but they were funny scandals. I'll take a little errant sperm over errant missiles any day.
While we're on the topic of terms that are (or at least should be) coming to an end, Crystal's boorish ex finally left the nest today. And it only took two whole months for him to leave. Seems he was staying to 'help her financially'. Okay, here's the thing with that. When you weight the pros and cons of this (helping financially vs hurting mentally), this is a pretty ridiculous excuse. Why can't people simply admit when they're just too lazy to do something? Or when they really ARE just there for the oil?
Wasn't that a great segway? If only the scooters ran as smoothly as that did.
But back to the issue here, does anyone else find it funny that our southern neighbours are called the United States of America? Let's put this title to the test, shall we?
United on Abortion? No.
United on Gay Marriage? No.
United on The War? No.
United on Political Affiliation? God no.
Looks like it's time for a name change America! I think The Divided State of America has a lovely ring to it. Challenge time then my friends. This one's going out to any Americans, or Canadians (or Mexicans for that matter) who live near the Canada/DS border. Grab a can of spray paint, and save the DS government a few bucks in sign replacement. It's only fair that visiters be welcomed by accurate signage, or in this case a fair warning.
Only six or so hours to go now. Best of luck to you Mr. Kerry. May the Force (of the entire world's frustration) be with you.
~Attila

Short and Bitter

Which could describe either my blog entry today, or myself, whichever.
Ugh. Today went so absolutely well until about two hours after I smoked my last cigarette. Now I'm tired, cranky, tired, hateful, tired, and about to buy another pack first thing in the morning. Which pisses me off but I've got three days off coming up, and that seems like a much better time to quit than when I'm working eight hours, off for eight, in for eight, and out drinking it up all night.
Yeah, hooray for blogging when it helps you make slowly killing yourself seem like the logical thing to do.
~Attila