The Chesterfield McFisticuffs Blog

The Office 2: Farewell to DellBob

2007-03-12T20:46:00.000-04:00

After a three week hiatus, I’m happy to report that my job is still entertaining, if not because of the work that I’m doing, then because of dynamic of the office. Speaking of which, I still haven’t watched that show, so if anyone has a copy of the first season on DVD, please let me know so that I can borrow it.

Since the last time I wrote – and only 2 and a half weeks into my Dell tenure - I’ve had my desk moved. It’s not surprising that the computer company that couldn’t provide me with a computer also couldn’t decide where I was supposed to sit, but I digress. I’m actually quite pleased at the change of scenery for a number of reasons.

The first of these reasons is a tad bittersweet. With my relocation, I’ve had to say goodbye to DellBob whom, while extremely loud and annoying, had provided me with lots of entertainment through his choppy accent and chronic mispronunciation of words. Just the other day he was speaking with a customer about a piece of software that apparently was “the wong one”, which must be some program out of Asia that I haven’t heard of yet. I’ll have to ask him next time I see him.

There are a lot of other reasons that I’m happy about the move as well. My old desk was right beside a very commonly used boardroom. This board room is booked solidly pretty much every day from morning till night with meetings. On a side note, there are some employees that I’ve encountered here that do nothing except “meet”. I see them in that boardroom between 4 and 6 times every day and I’m convinced that at least half of their meetings are just hang out time with the buddies in which they talk about sports and women. I hear way too much laughter coming out of that boardroom, and I know for a fact that their jobs are not even anywhere close to being fun.

Speaking of boardroom noise, I’ve come to the understanding that the louder you are, the more likely you are to make your way higher in the company hierarchy. When the boardroom is in use, the next group of corporate types who are slated to use the boardroom are congregating 3 inches away from my desk having a conversation which could also double as a pep rally or a screaming match. The conversation starts off at a regular volume. Occasionally, one of the more astute upper management types will realize that I’m talking to a major client on the phone – or that I’m on the phone, period – and begin his conversation in a near-whisper. All that is short-lived, however, as every single conversation that takes place outside of that boardroom escalates into a contest in which each member of the conversation tries to talk louder than the person who precedes him. They do this for two reasons: 1) they feel more important when the talk loud and 2) they want everyone else to know how important they are by ensuring that the rest of the office can hear about all the important things that they talk about.

The lady in sales on the other side of my cubicle wall caught on to this ruse pretty quickly, and as a result, has decided to attempt to parlay her piercing, annoying, “cut through all sound barriers like a hot knife through butter” voice into a promotion. She is late for every work day, but I know when she is coming because I can hear her voice carrying ahead of her, almost like a warning to all people within a 50 metre radius to get off the phone and cover their ears, because the bullhorn is about to power on. I really don’t think she understands the concept of the cubicle layout in the office. There are no ceilings or doors on anyone’s cubicle, so everybody in the office can hear everything she is talking about. Take, for example, the snow storm we had a couple of weeks ago. Her kids were off school for a snow day, and from the conversation that I could hear if I were a block away, I deduced that she had 2 girls and a young boy, with the oldest child of about 13 years being in charge of looking after the home for the day. Apparently there was some sort of skirmish at home in which the youngest wanted to play PS2 while the girls wanted to watch some inane and unrealistic girly movie, most likely something along the lines of “The Notebook”. Not surprisingly, the young male, who has proved himself to be quite intelligent already in his movie selection, said “No Dice”, and all hell broke loose. Needless to say, everyone in the office knows exactly what happened, since she was taking turns screaming at each one of her kids on the phone for about 20 minutes.

One trend that I have noticed is that the men of the office can’t handle more than an hour in the office at the time and as a result there is a constant stream to the men’s bathroom (no pun intended). I never thought that I would find a men’s bathroom to be a lively place, but at Dell, this is the case. I often find co-workers catching up on the happenings in each other’s lives over a trip to the urinal, which at times, continues with both men leaning against the sink and continuing their conversations while other men awkwardly reach around them to wash their hands after doing their own business. One would think that this is a place where no one will be disturbed by loud and rambunctious conversation, but that would be a false assumption, especially for the Bathroom DJ.

The Bathroom DJ is an actual person at Dell, one that I have yet to identify because I have never seen him. However, I have heard him on more than one occasion (3 times and counting). This DJ is an African-American male who is always in the corner stall, chatting away to someone on his cell phone while “sitting down”. Not only is it odd to talk to someone while you’re dropping the kids off at the pool, it’s even more strange to intersperse your phone conversation with, “what dong do you want to hear?”, followed by a riveting live performance of whatever song the girl on the other end wants to hear. I don’t think I’ve ever booked it out of a washroom so fast in my life. How can I concentrate on my own sit down job when I have to listen to some guy in the stall next to me serenading his girlfriend over the phone in a public restroom?

Having left DellBob and the lady with the megaphone voice behind, I thought that my new area of the office would be a lot less lively. I was wrong, but that’s a story for next time. Check back in a few days.

The Office

2007-02-19T15:02:00.000-05:00

It’s been a long absence, but now that I’ve seemingly gotten my post-university life into some semblance of order (read: found a damn job), I figure that I will have a lot more to write about and reflect on.

Earlier this month, I became gainfully employed at the head office of Dell Canada in Toronto. Having never had a position of any consequence in a major company, let alone a large office building, I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I also assumed that it would be a pretty boring environment with not a lot going on. I was wrong. This place is packed to the rafters with comedic gold. I wish I had watched the television show “The Office” before I started this job, because I’m pretty sure that I would have been tingling with excitement at all the drama, humor, and irony that I have encountered since I started here only 3 weeks ago.

By the time my first day was half over I was in shock. Half of me wanted to quit and the other half of me wanted to explode on someone. I was originally scheduled to start work on a Monday, but a last minute phone call pushed by start date back three days to a Thursday, so they could – and I quote – get things such as my phone, computer, and e-mail ready for me when I started. Remember these details later on.

On my first day, I showed up 15 minutes early, figuring I could make a decent impression. At 8:45 I walked into reception and asked the receptionist to let my new boss know that I was here so that he could come and direct me where I was supposed to go. The receptionist indicated she would let him know, and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing of the sort as I walked over and sat down in a visitor’s chair. After 25 minutes of watching the news on the TV, I walked back over to the desk and asked her if she had let my boss know that I was here, because I was scheduled to start work 10 minutes previous. She responded by saying, “I didn’t know you were a new hire, I will page him right away!” Incredibly, she hadn’t even called him, but rather sent him an e-mail saying that someone was here to see him. Good work, its reasons like that why you’re on THIS side of the security doors and not in the office itself. After several calls and pages, I was informed that my new boss was “in a meeting”. I proceeded to go back and get comfortable in the visitor seating, knowing I was probably going to be hanging out for a while. At 10:00 – and three cycles of the morning news later – I was finally met and brought to my desk, which was not surprisingly devoid of any work related tools that I might need, such as a computer and a phone.

I’d like to be able to say that my first day was a blur, but it actually more of a crab-walk… backwards. After being promised that I would be “fully equipped” by lunch, I sat at my desk, twiddling my thumbs until 4:00, when I was provided with a broken laptop. On Day 2, I actually got some work done, but it only took me 2 hours to finish the reports they assigned me, reports that they figured would take the whole day to do. On a positive note, I did manage to win the World Series of Poker Game on my cell phone. Since my computer was broken and not able to connect to the network, I had no work to do the following day either, which prompted my boss to say, “You’d think that we would be able to get you a working computer, considering the industry we’re in!” No kidding, boss. Maybe that says more about your product than it does about your IT department’s capability to get me a machine so I can start doing the work that you’re paying me for. As for the phone, I’ve been here 3 weeks and I can’t leave anyone a voicemail, since I still don’t have one set up for myself. Dell, a model of efficiency.

My desk is also unfortunately located right on the fringe of the sales department. I share a cubicle wall with a Chinese guy in the Sales department. Apparently his name is Bob, and he has THE thickest accent I have ever heard. Also, from what I gather he is the hotshot in the sales department, because people are always asking him to help them out. I don’t understand this for the life of me, since I can’t understand a word he is saying. I almost laugh out loud when he answers the phone because he emphasizes all the wrong words. For example, he answers the phone like so: “Dellbob, SPEAK…ing” (and yes, I know that “Dell” and “Bob” are two separate words, but apparently Bob doesn’t know that). He also had a 20 minute conversation yesterday with a customer about “Michael-soft”, which, as Tyler Wells tells me, is the softest of the Michaels. Sometimes he will take a call from a friend, and proceed to yell in Chinese into the phone at the top of his lungs. I don’t understand the change in volume from English to Chinese, but maybe that’s because I know nothing about the Chinese Language.

A trend that I have discovered as common practice in this particular office building is one that I call, “zoning out”, simply because it reminds me of Office Space, where Peter tells the consultants that he comes into work and stares at his computer screen for the first 90 minutes of his day. At our building, the common practice is to come in to work, turn your computer on, and then make a break for the coffee shop on the main floor and hang out there until 10. I would love to see the productivity numbers for the first hour of the day. On second thought, maybe that’s where my boss was on my first day.

Lastly, a story for all of you “Facebookers” out there. On one of my breaks, I was in the elevator on my way to the coffee shop with two women. They were engaged in a very animated conversation about ex-boyfriends and one of the women went on a rant about her ex-boyfriend, whom she had “caught” wearing a sweater – in the presence of another girl, no less – that she had given him on an anniversary of some sort. That in itself is funny enough, but she then proceeded to say that she had found out through a picture that she had seen of him on Facebook. Thank God we have Facebook to keep tabs on all those who have wronged us in our lives. It’s nice to know that the Facebook Stalker transcends multiple demographics and isn’t limited to just the university/college population.

While this is just a small sampling of things that I have learned and experienced in the life of an office worker, I am confident that there will be much more idiocy to encounter and report on my newly resurrected blog in the weeks to come. Enjoy.

The Golden Rule of Parenting

2006-07-28T16:26:00.000-04:00

This particular incident took place a while ago, but even after a month or two, the fact that I actually witnessed this event unfold is still every bit as incredible and humorous as it was immediately after the fact.

I had to go to the bank and deposit some money into a roommate's account so that he could pay our rent for that particular month. As i drove into the parking lot and by the front of the bank, I happened to glance over my right shoulder, in the general vicinity of the entrance to the bank. What I saw caused me to do a double take and almost crash my car into another car that was stopped directly in front of me. A child of approximately 5 years old was standing in the opening to the bank, with the two sliding doors open, pants around his ankles, in a slight crouch, and wearing a huge smile on his face. There could be various reasons that he would be wearing such a smile, such as the feeling of freedom that comes with being naked or the satisfaction of a well executed and well timed mooning. However, in this particular case, the individual in question was wearing an ear-to-ear smile because he was peeing out the front door of a TD Canada Trust directly onto the sidewalk and the feet of all surprised passersby.

I parked my car, wondering if what I had seen had actually taken place. Upon approaching the bank, the big puddle outside of the bank confirmed that it had all been real. This in itself would be a good story had it ended there. However, there's more to this particular tale.

As I entered the bank, I noticed the same kid, standing in front of the bank machines. He was pressed up against the glass, with his lips blowing on the window and his cheeks puffed out. Also present was his younger brother, who was about 3 years old. There was no parent in sight. I proceeded into the bank and went to the end of a long line. While I was in line, this same kid came into the bank and tried to climb into the shelving underneath a giant fish tank that was there for display. A bank employee came out from behind the counter and scolded the child, telling him that he was scaring the fish. Once the employee went back to the counter, the kid tried to climb under the tank again, only this time, his 3-year old brother kept telling him not to do it. Does anyone else see anything wrong with this picture? I find it kind of ironic that rather than a parent telling their child to stop misbehaving, it was a 3-year old toddler with snot all over his face trying to keep his older brother out of trouble. The mother, who I had failed to locate earlier, was no more than 4 feet in front of me, in the same line, and was completely oblivious (read: moronic). She did nothing more than utter 2 or 3 words in another language to her misbehaving son before turning around and focusing on her banking (read: standing in line). One woman in the line was so disgusted at the ineptitude of the mother that she went over to the child, yanked him out of the shelving and took him back to his mother, before saying loudly "Are you stupid or something?" With another blank stare, the mother ignored her kid, and he took off again.

A couple of minutes elapsed before there was a shriek from the front entrance of the bank. Everybody in line turned in that direction and believe it or not, the kid had not fully emptied his bladder in his previous foray to the sidewalk. This time however, there were no innocent bystanders as the kid was standing right in front of an elderly lady, whose legs and shoes were getting saturated.

I learned that day that apparently potty training is not as high up on some parents' to-do lists as it should be. It's pretty incomprehensible. You buy a pet such as a dog, and one of the first things you do is teach it not to pee all over the rug. When you have a child, you potty train them at a young age. Those parents must have skipped that chapter in the handbook without realizing it.

I've definitely learned my lesson. My kids will never use their hose in public unless they become firemen.

Top 10 Tyndale Moments... PART 1

2006-05-15T16:22:00.001-04:00

Having graduated with a B.A. in Business Administration from the illustrious Tyndale University College (stay tuned next week for an entry entitled "A day in the life of a Tyndale grad"... should be a good one) approximately 2 weeks ago, I've had a lot of time to reflect over my time at Tyndale and have come up with my top ten memories of my experience at Tyndale. For the most part, these are humorous and lighthearted things but there might be a couple of serious or sappy parts in there, as would be expected. However, those are few and far between.

Without further ado, presented for your enjoyment, here are my top ten Tyndale moments, starting with numbers 10 through 6:

10... "Are your pillows dirty or clean?": In quite possibly one of the most heated moments in the history of the spring banquet celebrations, Jon Gordon manages to alienate the entire female community while the vast majority of the school goes into an uproar over his controversial "dirty pillow" comments. The alleged incident included possible organized dancing, of an inappropriate variety, that may or may not have caused Tyndale President Brian Stiller's heart to skip a beat and his Bible to fall off of his night table and land open, possibly on the page containing Exodus 32:19. As for Jon, he managed to ride out the situation, tucked away from angry faces and sharp pitchforks, taking refuge in the school library.

9... "We're going streaking": In what could otherwise be termed a complete bust of a weekend, the RA retreat was livened up by a little male RA bonding on the beaches of Grand Bend, with the entire male component of the student leadership team went streaking along the shore. Not only was the late night/early morning a dark, cloudy, and cold one(thus promoting an excessive amount of shrinkage), but it was also made even more interesting by the fact that we didn't realize that the vast majority of the female population on the leadership team were mere feet away from us, thus getting a show that they won't forget (but may want to) for a long time.

8... "The John Mark Factor": You may remember an earlier story on this blog that describes the adventure it is to be assigned a business presentation with the infamous John-Mark Raddatz. John-Mark is a very enthusiastic and zealous person, traits that do not particularly help him in the realm of business presentations. Incident #1 has been previously described, but here's a refresher anyway. John was given a strict script to stick to in the presentation, and not only did he ignore that script altogether, but he also made up millions of dollars worth of numbers and figures in the presentation and punctuated his point by vigorously circling his final, made-up, figure and proceeded to spike the whiteboard marker directly into the floor before walking off-stage. Incident #2 was just recently. We were assigned a case study on how to make changes to a board of directors that had no outside authority. John managed to turn his 5 minute segment into a ten minute rant on the emerging church, which had nothing to do with anything we were talking about. To top things off, fellow groupmate Chris Lewis burst into laughter in the middle of the presentation and didn't stop until John was finished.

7... "Residence 2002-2003": My first year of Tyndale was spent in the confines of 4 north, which was an amazing dorm, top to bottom. There was always something going on in 4 North, whether it was naked cartwheels or wrestling in the hallway. One memorable moment was the waxing/shaving/nairing night, which took place in the lounge. Bushey and Feeney waxed their legs, Smitty shaved his, and I naired my chest. Unfortunately for me, I failed to fully read the instructions, which warned against the Nair creme touching my nipples, and as a result, they were on fire for a week. Lesson of the day... If the instructions say "Do not apply to the nipple area", you'd better damn well heed those instructions. A favorite activity in 4 North was the game called "Bowling for Nuts" which essentially was the bouncing of a tennis ball at the other guy's groin. One epic moment came when Bobby McKay, 100 pounds soaking wet, floored Oliver Clarke, Hulk Hogan lookalike with a no look head turned backhanded bounce that kept him down until well past the amount of time it took Bobby to sprint down the hall, locking his door and hiding in his room.

6... "Summer 2003": My 2003 summer was spent working maintenance at Tyndale from 8:30 in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon and in the process I got to know the ins and outs of the school on a much more in-depth perspective. The first thing I realized is how ridiculously crappy the building is. If a fire ever started in that place, the whole building would be gone in a matter of minutes. Secondly, I learned that the administration either has absolutely no idea how much they are overcharging their students to live in residence, or they just don't care. Either way, that looks awful on the administration. All that aside, I had a great time helping to fix up the school and in the process getting to know a good friend in Jarod Broughton. We worked together every day tearing out walls, patching them, sanding, and various other repair jobs. With Jarod being a lot more mechanically inclined than I, it presented a great opportunity for me to learn from him. The highlight of the summer was when we got to demolish classroom 143 in order to make way for the new student life wing. Andrew Fortier, my boss, set us loose with crowbars and sledgehammers, knocking out walls and tearing them down. Another example of how cheaply this building is put together presented it self when I tried to have a little fun. From about 70 feet away, I wound up like a baseball pitcher and launched by crowbar towards the wall. I expected it to dig into the wall and hold, so that I could pull out that section of the wall. What actually happened was that the crowbar went straight through the paper-thin wall (i had no idea HOW paper-thin it actually was), and flew right in between the faces of Andrew and another colleague, who were having a conversation on the other side. Needless to say, I did no more demolition work on that day.

Check back in a couple of days for numbers 5 through 1.

A Primer in Creating Your MSN and IM Identity (Part 2)

2006-03-20T03:17:00.000-05:00

As promised, here is part 2 of 3 in a series teaching you how to create your MSN Identity.

After determining which classification of photo best suits your MSN needs, it is important to create an MSN name that not only identifies who you are but also defines your character and your personality.

There are 6 distinct categories of MSN names that exist, each as generic as all the others. No matter how unique you think you are when you come up with an MSN name, you will ultimately end up with a name that falls under the wings of one or more of these categories. The kicker is, none of them are any good.

1) The "Hopelessly Romantic" name (also known as the Pathetically Romantic name... or just drop the Romantic part so it just reads "hopeless"): The Hopelessly Romantic name is one of my favorite categories, mainly because it's so hilarious. For one, its not as popular as you think it is, and that reason alone makes it funny because the person who uses this category thinks that its normal for the average couple to proclaim their love for each other over the world wide web. Examples of this type of name can be: "Baby, I'm so in love with you", or "I love you so much, you are my world". Anything along those lines can work. I think that the people who choose this type of name are some of the least self conscious people around. I mean, I'm sure your significant other knows how much you care about them, and if they don't, an MSN name probably isn't the proper medium with which to let them know. Using this type of name is the equivalent of making out in front of your parents. Please, if you really want to be mushy with your potential future spouse, use the phone, at least we don't have to listen to it.

2) The "Inside Joke" name: It could be something that was said when you were out the night before, or a comment about an experience that you shared with a friend of yours at some point, but ultimately it only has relevance to to you and the people you shared it with. Outside of those people, no one really cares. You either have this name because you feel the need to change your MSN name and you have no idea what to change it to, or you're starved for attention and you want someone to ask you the meaning of the name so you can tell them the relatively unfunny story behind it. An example of this name is "Batten down the hatches MATEY... Great Night Boys!". I'm sure it was a great night, and if you enjoyed it so much, maybe bring it up with that group in casual conversation. Also, I don't have a clue on earth what hatches or "matey" have to do with anything, but I do know that I really don't care.

3) The "Deeply Philosophical" name: This name is either a philosophical statement or a direct quote, most of the time profound, from someone famous. This type of name most often appears when the user is confused, or going through trying times, and as a result they feel the need to take inspiration from elsewhere. Either that or they just want to seem like they are smarter than you. Examples of such are "There is no afterlife, so live for the moment", or "Only the descent into the hell of self-knowledge can pave the way to godliness." That's all well and good, but how does posting such inspiration on your MSN name help you? Wouldn't it be more beneficial to print off the quote or saying and stick it on your wall next to bed or something? Maybe make it a screensaver? Also, everyone knows you ripped that quote off of someone because the odds aren't in favor of you having the ability to come up with something that profound on your own.

4) The "Emo Song Lyric" Name: This is a frequently used type of name that high school and university students love to use. Their bodies are going through change (or something) and they just don't know how to cope with life or express their emotions in their own words, so they just steal lyrics from some emo band. Examples of Emo Song Lyric names include "Now cut my wrists and black my eyes" or "Stop burning bridges, and drive off of them, so I can forget about you". If you're feeling emo, stop talking on msn and leave your screen name as is. Then, go cry for a half hour (Hey, you're emo, it's what you do.), and then resume your chatting. Problem solved.

5) The "Running Commentary" name: This type of name is by far the most annoying one out there. Oddly enough, it is probably the most commonly used. This one is exactly as described, a running commentary of the user's life. To clarify, if you've "gone to the store to get milk", or you're "in the shower, back in 5 mins", just put your status on away, and go wherever it is that you need to go. Either that or log off. Believe it or not, there is no one on your contact list that needs or wants to know your whereabouts at all times.

6) The "Superfluous Punctuation" Name: This name is the most ridiculous of the bunch. If anything, it just illustrates how excitable you are or how much of a teeny-bopper you are. This name is always in the form of either a statement which ends with three exclamation marks (!!!) or three question marks (???). Examples of this name include "exam time!!!", or "It's snowing in May???". What I want to know is, what more can you say with three question marks than you can with only one question mark?(??)

Stay tuned for Part 3, which details how you can use all the perks and other toold of MSN to express yourself.

A Primer in creating your MSN and IM Identity (PART 1)

2006-03-01T00:55:00.000-05:00

As I was looking for ways to procrastinate from studying, I began looking at people's msn profiles and began to notice some very compelling similiarities between many of these profiles. It made me realize how ridiculous we make ourselves look over the internet. With a culture that is becoming more and more obsessed with Instant Messenger programs and sites such as MySpace, it is important for the new user to understand the etiquette and how-to when it comes to creating your own personal profile to be viewed by hundreds of thousands of internet useers.

This is part 1 of 3 segments that will inform you, the user, on how you can maximize your internet profile. This segment focuses on your MSN picture.

MSN Profile Pictures:

The "Free Spirit" pose:

This pose seems to be a very popular and common choice for one's MSN profile picture. The user's goal with this photo is to show everyone who clicks on their MSN profile exactly how cool they in fact are. Note the attempt to create a face that shows how much of a party animal they are, and the attempted look of arrogance and confidence that displays exactly how cool they think they are. Honorable mention goes to the squinty eyes and mouth shape that almost creates the impression of an "I'm living large" sneer directed at those who are deemed not as cool as the subject in question.

In reality, this pose seems to create more of an air of insecurity and begs the question, if you're so cool, why the heck is this picture being taken in your room, and furthermore, why are YOU holding the camera?

The "Thoughtful" pose (AKA The Contemplative Pose):

Another popular MSN pose is the thoughtful pose. This pose endeavors to show exactly how deep you are (which, if you need to express that through this kind of picture, is only as deep as the shallow end of the public park's wading pool), and also is meant to serve as a gateway to your inner soul... or something. Seriously, this pose is almost as overplayed as the latest Nickelback song. The authenticity of a picture like this is marginal at best, and it would probably be a lot more convincing if it were taken in front of a more scenic background than that of your dorm room or student apartment. If anything, this pose does nothing but indicate that you're too unoriginal to come up with a better picture.

The "Webcam" pose:

For those that don't want to waste their digital camera batteries, or just want to use all the tools at their disposal, the webcam shot is a very feasible option. I'm not sure what the purpose of this picture is other than to provide the viewer with a grainy, low resolution, and poorly lighted picture. The only other purpose it serves is to creep out the viewer by begging the question, "What other purposes does a webcam serve?". (Disclaimer: This picture was not taken with a webcam but with a cell-phone to create the impression of a webcam. I do not own a webcam... ew.)

The "Awkward Friend(s)" pose:

Lastly, a classic MSN picture is one that tries to show off who you're friends are, and how many of them you have. This picture can come in various forms in terms of how many friends actually appear in the picture. Some choose to showcase one friend who may be more popular (and/or ridiculously good looking... Ty, have you been working out?), than all the others. Some choose to go with a quantitative approach and attempt to show off as many of their friends as they possibly can. It's all well and good that you have friends, but leave the "show and tell" in kindergarten where it belongs. Also, if you need to show a picture such as these, chances are that your "friend" looks as awkward as Ty does in this picture because he/she knows exactly what you're trying to pull.

Next up... Instant Messenger Screen Names: A tutorial on how to make your innermost feelings known to the entire online community...

Illegal use of a condiment

2006-02-13T00:05:00.000-05:00

I seem to have a love/hate relationship with Ketchup. I love it because it is the greatest condiment on the face of the Earth. I put it on everything, be it Grilled Cheese Sandwiches or French Toast. I consume it in mass amounts. I buy it by the 4 Litre Can and I store it in my room, away from the prying chicken fingers and french fries of those I live with. While I enjoy the taste of ketchup more than any other thing that I've ever tasted, I also endure several trials and tribulations due to my "ketchup tooth" (see this particular blog entry for an example of an unhappy ending from an encounter with my beloved kecthup) and no, they don't involve half hour excursions to the john.

While Ketchup and I had gotten along quite well as of late, with no damaging stains or anything of the sort to speak of, our burgeoning friendship took a step back last week. As is the case with any disagreement that Ketchup and I have, I was once again the victim. I was out at Centerpoint Mall, buying new goaltending pads for the Tyndale Intramural Ball Hockey League, just minding my own business, when I decided that I would have lunch in the food court. I decided on McDonald's, which I'll probably pay for later, but it tastes good going down!

After paying for my purchase, I noticed that this McDonald's, unlike most, did not have a ketchup pump. I had just super sized my fries, and I refuse to eat fries without ketchup. It's just not right. Many of you are probably wondering aloud, "Why not ask the nicely groomed, well educated McDonald's cashier for some packets of Ketchup? Then you would have some ketchup and then this story would have a happy ending..." I don't know about you, but when presented with the choice between using a ketchup pump and using ketchup packets, I always choose the pump. I despise Ketchup Packets with a passion. They are messy, time consuming, and taste terrible, not to mention the fact that I never get as much ketchup as I want.

However, all was not lost as I could see a ketchup pump in my "periph" (for those who aren't versed in the comedic stylings of Dane Cook, 'periph' = peripheral). Yes, New York Fries, 3 booths down, had their own ketchup pump. With this knowledge, I found myself a table and put my coat and food there. I then stealthily made my way over to New York Fries to mine myself some red gold. I filled up 3 dixie cups with said condiment and as I was preparing to make my way back to my seat, I was confronted by the esteemed manager of New York Fries. The conversation went a little something like this:

Manager: Eexcuse me sir, but did you purchase some french fries from us?"
Me (not knowing that he meant in the immediate past): "Absolutely sir."
Manager: "I don't remember serving you, are you sure that you bought fries from us?"
Me: "Yep."
Manager: "I don't think you did, I'm going to have to ask you to give me that ketchup."
Me: "I don't think that's going to happen."

And then I turned and walked away.

I got back to my seat and began to consume my meal when I noticed the manager of New York Fries on the telephone behind the counter of his high class establishment, but thought nothing of it until I was approached by mall security. They informed me that I was to leave the mall and that they would escort me out. So there I went, food piled back into my McDonald's bag, dragging two enormous sets of goalie pads behind me.

So, dear New York Fries Manager, while you may think you scored a moral victory by having me escorted from your low-budget flea market of a mall, I still kept your ketchup... bastard.

Half Man, Half Amazing

2005-12-04T02:41:00.000-05:00

Often, when I was growing up I would complain to my parents about certain rules that were in place, regardless of whether they were household rules or society's rules. I'm sure it was the same for all of you when you were growing up as well. However, as you grow older, you realize the necessity for these rules, as they are in place to maintain a certain order within society. Yet, despite this realization, you still feel restricted by society's rules, as if they are unjust and unwarranted, or simply downright absurd. Well, there's a reason for this, and this reason exists in just about every state and province in North America, and it goes to the tune of the following:

For example, in Tucson, Arizona, it is illegal for women to wear pants. In Arkansas, a man can legally beat his wife, but not more than once a month. In Wichita, Kansas, it is illegal to carry a concealed bean snapper (side note: I'll carry my bean snapper any damn way that I please, concealed or not). There are various laws like these that exist all over the place, some as laughable as the first one listed and others as equally horrifying as the latter two, with one obviously being more horrific than the other.

It's these laughable laws and rules that make you wonder, "Who the hell comes up with these things?". Not only does it make you think that, but it also makes you wonder who in the world is going to enforce a law such as the one that dictates how often a man is allowed beat his wife in Arkansas. One of these instances cropped up this week while I was browsing random news articles on the web.

The article that grabbed my attention had a very unsual title, sticking out in bold letters, and was as follows: "Legless Football Player Sidelined Over Knee Pad, Shoe Rule".

Now, I'll be the first to admit that the first unusual thing that jumped out (please forgive the pun, it was unintentional) at me from this title was the fact that it involved a legless football player. It would seem that this designation would be a little oxymoronic, but I digress. The other thing that stuck out in the title of this article was the fact that it seemed that this legless football player was being prohibited from playing the sport he loves because he failed to don protective equipment for body parts that he does not have. The rule that he had been apparently breaking stated that all high school football players in the state of Ohio have to wear shoes and knee pads or they would be removed from the game. As a result, Bobby Martin was removed from his team's game at halftime. Now I've heard some instance of rules being ridiculously enforced in my time, but this one takes the cake.

This guy probably feels centred out enough on a daily basis, what with having no legs and all, without having national exposure brought upon him because of this moronic event. I would have loved to know what was going through the head of the game official whose job it had been to tell this kid that he couldn't play anymore.

All ranting aside, and at the risk of sounding really really insensitive, there were several items in this article that made me laugh and I can't resist sharing them. The first of these is the first quote from Bobby Martin. When asked how this incident made him feel, he replied, "This is the first time in 17 years that I've actually felt disabled". Either this kid is really really good at lying, or he is living in a parallel universe where people who don't have legs don't notice that they are missing two major limbs.

The second thing in the article that brought a smile to my face was a sidenote that he was also a member of the school wrestling team and was running for homecoming king. They just couldn't resist throwing those tidbits in there in order to leave this story open-ended for follow-ups on the "exploits of Bobby Martin." For all of you readers keeping track at home, the key word there is exploits. As if the kid hasn't been humiliated enough, local and national outlets are ready to turn him into a massive sideshow. Good job America.

On the plus side, one mistake has been rectified and Bobby Martin is once again allowed to take the field as a member of the punt return team. When asked if he had any encouragement for anyone else in his situation, he said, "Try new things in life, that's what life's all about. Don't look at me as having no legs, just look at me standing six feet tall".

Great advice in itself Bobby, but last time the athletic board in Ohio followed your advice, you got kicked off the team for not wearing shoes.

PART 2: 12 Friends Every Guy Should Have

2005-11-19T21:20:00.000-05:00

Finally, Part 2 has arrived. Once again, don't take anything you are reading too seriously, especially if it's about you. The descriptions are general and aren't meant to be specific to your relationship with me in any way. If you didn't make it into the list, you probably shouldn't take it personally, unless there is a reason you think you've been "neglected". In that case, you should take it at least slightly personally.

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed putting it together. Enjoy!

The Single Guy: Chris Pitman

A bachelor to the nth degree, the single guy lives life by his rules and has the stories (and tattoos) to prove it. Uncompromising in every way, he reports to no one and is always first in line for a raucous boys' night out.

Why he's an asset: Whenever you need a 10th guy for basketball or someone to kick the party into high gear, you can be certain the single guy isn't out having cucumber sandwiches with the in-laws. He prevents you from getting into impossibly complicated relationships and reminds you of the sweet taste of freedom. He's up for anything, including dozens of activities currently prohibited by state and federal laws.

The Innocent Friend: Tyler Wells

Generally a small town boy from an all-white school who has been thrust into the big city, the innocent friend is perpetually being "broken in" to the real world. Every week brings a new "first" for this friend, from his first time in a club, to his first interracial relationship, to his first time seeing a prostitute on a street corner. Eventually, this person runs out of firsts to experience and inevitably becomes the "corrupted friend".

Why he's an asset: The innocent friend is always good for a laugh as his reactions to his various firsts are priceless. Your social awkwardness level diminishes substantially due to the fact that at any time you can kickstart a conversation by saying, "Remember when ______ heard/saw/did/experienced that for the first time?".

The Prankster: Dave Arnold

Possessing an Honors Degree in Chemistry and Rocket Science, the Prankster may be 23 years old, but is a full grown man in appearance only. He is young at heart and won't hesitate to throw a whoopee cushion under any unsuspecting rear end in sight. He will do anything to anyone just to get a friendly laugh at their expense and to make sure that there is a story to tell for years to come.

Why he's an asset: The Prankster is always up for a good time and is ready for any situation. If there is a chair that needs to be pulled out from underneath someone, he is there. If there is a car that needs to be buried in snow, he is first in line with a shovel. If your buddy's car needs its tires, radio, and driver's seat stolen, never fear, because he has a 450 piece toolkit in the back of his truck.

The Married Guy: Derek Bouma

Despite being your age, he already has 2.3 children, a lofty mortgage, and a wife. You rarely see him, as activities such as "picking out a new bath mat" and "wallpapering the dining room" have become bigger priorities than hanging out with the guys. Although he'll never admit it, you're reasonably certain she has his testicles locked away in her purse.

Why he's an asset: Above all else, he reminds you of the intrinsic value of staying single. One look at his weary face and stooped shoulders are enough to make you never want to commit again. As an added bonus, he can also tell you which couches offer the best night's sleep.

The Opposite Sex Friend: Elea Hofman

She's your tour guide into the freakish inner workings of the female mind, an invaluable spy in the battle of the sexes who has been to the other side and back. She is your female confidante and has enough dirt on you to soil your reputation beyond repair. She may be a cousin, a former lover or a childhood friend (or all three if you live in Oshawa).

Why she's an asset:
Her jump shot is dreadful and she throws like a girl, but she makes up for it by helping you to buy clothes and interpreting your love interest's psycho rants. Her brutally honest advice might even help you get a date, if you're lucky. As if that weren't enough, she also helps your image by being your sympathy date for big events when other women are too busy "washing their hair."

The Emo Friend: Eric Conlon

The Emo Friend always deals in extremes. He is always extremely happy, extremely down, or extremely stoned. He loves music and has mood music for every single life situation that could possibly happen in your existence. He is extremely emotional and it wouldn't surprise you to hear him begin communicating exclusively through the use of ballads.

Why he's an asset: You always feel like its ok to cry about something when you're having a deep conversation, because chances are that he's already been crying for a half hour. No matter how emotional you get, he is always more emotional. Also, girls dig sensitive guys, 'nuff said.

12 Friends Every Guy Should Have... PART 1

2005-09-24T01:33:00.001-04:00

Well, it's been a while, but I've been working on this entry for a long time, trying to get everything right. This is part 1, with part 2 on it's way in a few days. Hope you enjoy it. (I have to give credit to AskMen.com, which published an article entitled "11 friends every guy should have", from which I got my idea. Note: I used all of my own titles for friends for all but 2 people, and when I borrowed a title, I either re-wrote the description or added to it.)

The Party Animal: CHRIS HARRIS

He's a lazy, unemployed bum, teetering on the edge of vagrancy, but somehow he always has the resources and the wherewithal to want to party 24/7. He is loud, obnoxious, and sleeps in until 3 PM every day, but he always manages to be the life of the party. He has a complete disregard for the fact that you have employment obligations and expects you to value a good time over keeping your job and maintaining a steady income.

Why he's an asset: Whether it's morning, noon, or night, he is ready, willing, and able to have a good time. He is always in the mood for the consumption of junk food and he boosts your self esteem because his physique reflects it.

The Fitness Guy: MIKE MACKNEER

A combination of Tony Little and Dr. Phil, this friend has the uncanny ability to inspire your body, mind and soul. He's a trusted companion in the weight room who will make sure you stay focused no matter how many hard female bodies are bent over the nautilus equipment. He's usually entertaining whenever any form of urban music is playing, as he can dazzle the masses by flexing his individual pectoral muscles along with the beat.

Why he's an asset: He motivates you to stay in shape and spots you in the weight room. As long as you take his advice, you'll never get scurvy... again. If you ever need to know which way it is to ehe beach, he's your man.

The Wingman: ADAM TRINDER

Like a Tonto to your Lone Ranger, the wingman's goal in life is to make sure you get lucky. He's there to brag about your prowess, back up your laughable lies and cockblock the competition.

Why he's an asset: Easily one of your most selfless friends, the wingman is always willing to take one for the team. When in the presence of a possible love interest, he'll laugh at your jokes no matter how terrible they are, and he will always back up your bold statements with a "Hell yes!", or a "Damn Straight!" When absolutely necessary, he'll even slow dance with your pickup's Sasquatch-like friend just so you can have some alone time.

The Miscellaneous Race Friend: Frank Sinatra

Like "Fez" in That 70's Show, this friend is the lone minority in a group of friends that otherwise contains only Caucasian males. He's always there to force you to try spicy ethnic foods which may or may not include "Korean BBQ", and which ensure your bathroom attendence will reach peak levels in the days that follow.

Why he's an asset: You get instant credibility with the ethnic group that is his origin and are automatically labelled "NOT A RACIST". As a result of hanging out with him you gain insight into the mind of someone who is not "whitewashed" and therefore can officially call yourself cultured.

The Pushover: ADAM CLARKE

An all-around good guy, he is always willing to help out out when you're in need - and even more importantly - just for the sake of helping you out. He is too nice for his own good and therefore is sarcastically pegged as the "bitch" in your group of friends.

Why he's an asset: No matter how disgusting or inconvenient the favor you need is, he will be there for you. Whether it's fetching a beer from the fridge or cleaning your 4 week old dishes, no task is too gruesome for him.

The Drinking Buddy: MIKE HAMILTON

The drinking buddy is always around when there is an opportunity to down ridiculous amounts of alcohol. To him, it doesn't matter if it's 1:00 PM or 1:00 AM, because there is no wrong time to have an ice cold beer in hand. He'll egg you on when you need it and call you a "panty waist" when he must, all while drinking Ireland under the table. Chances are you've been going out to bars with him for nearly half your life and you still only know him by his nickname.

Why he's an asset: Not only does he have your back in the event of a rowdy bar fight, he's also willing to buy rounds in order to get the party started. Let's be honest: He might not be much of a designated driver and his financial advice is misguided at best, but no one's better when it comes to anchoring your boat race.

Offensive Driving

2005-09-04T20:25:00.000-04:00

Car accidents happen. There's really nothing you can do to avoid them because even if you're the safest driver on the face of the Earth you can't control the actions of others who have been deemed to be roadworthy drivers. However, there is always that one accident that you hear about every once in a while on the news that makes you laugh out loud and wonder exactly how someone could be stupid enough to do whatever they did to cause the accident in question. I'm sure that a lot of you have borne witness to such an accident and can tell a similar type of story as the ones that I'm about to tell.

Before I go any further, I need to preface the rest of this entry by saying that I am not under any circumstances - and by any stretch of the imagination - a racist. First of all, I go to school, and now live in, North York. I can't speak for the rest of North York, but I know that my area of North York has a very high Asian population. Second of all, ALMOST everytime I see a car accident in North York, or just in general getting cut off on the highway, almost getting hit by other cars, or being stuck behind someone who is driving 20 kilometers under the speed limit, the culprit is generally of Asian persuasion. At first, whenever we got cut off or something of the like, myself and my friend would jokingly say, "Bet you the driver is Asian", and then we'd speed up to see who cut us off. It didn't take long to notice the trend.

Once again, I am not a racist. I need to re-iterate that. In fact, I have Asian friends with whom I joke about the Asian stereotype when it comes to driving, as in they CAN'T drive. So, Mark Chan (a good friend and my basketball coach), if you're reading this all the way in the Philippines, know that you moving half a world away will not exempt you from my taunting.

This taunting is the fruit of countless run-ins with irresponsible Asian Drivers, run-ins that are exponentially larger than the number of run-ins that I've had with Caucasian, African-American, Middle Eastern, and any other nationality of driver. In fact, since I've been going to school at Tyndale, I've already been cut off so severely that I had to swerve into oncoming traffic lanes to avoid killing the people in the car that cut me off, not once, but TWICE! I've also had my car written off at the expense of an Asian person driving a van through a light that had been red for 3-5 seconds, and hitting me so hard that my car spun 3 times and my rear axle broke.

The first story that I want to regale you with is just a mild introduction to my second story, but nontheless, it is still a quality recollection. In December or first year at Tyndale, Ryan and I were returning to the school from one of our many McDonald's runs that year (Tyndale Cafeteria food is far worse than McDonald's). We were travelling northbound on Bayview, driving down the hill where the Catholic School is right before you turn on to Garnier Ct. I look out the passenger window to see a very nice Lexus jutted out of an wraught-iron gate, front end submerged in snow and the rear end suspended about a foot off the ground. Accompanying this image was the fact that this fence was approximately 10-12 feet off the road, meaning that this car would have had to jump the curb, travel over the sidewalk, and then be airborne over another 6 feet in order to reach its final, 45 degree angled, destination. While such a task doesn't seem too difficult to accomplish, keep in mind that the car was perpendicular to the road, meaning that it would have had to drive straight across the street, through busy traffic, untouched, in order to logically reach its crash point. What made this scene even more hilarious were the 4 people (all Asian) surrounding the Lexus, with shrugged shoulders and scratching their heads. It was like something out of a cartoon.

Now, to the grand finale, which is surpassed in humor only by how surprising shocking this event was. It was Wednesday, August 31st, at approximately 3:00 AM. I was out on the balcony at Ryan's apartment just staring at nothing when I noticed a Silver SUV driving north on Bayview. With no other traffic to be seen, this SUV unexpectedly swerved off the road, ramming into a traffic light and knocking it right out of the ground. After hitting the traffic light the car swerved back onto the road and then into another sign, then jumped the curb and landed on the other side of the sidewalk. This crash must have awakened everyone in the building because quite a few people were with myself and the occupants of Ryan's apartment shortly thereafter in our quest to figure out what the hell had happened. We then rushed outside to ascertain what had happened. If the crash didn't wake the whole place up, then what followed certainly did. When we got outside, the driver, Asian, was pacing up and down the sidewalk, screaming the 'F' Bomb as loud as he possibly could, and as drawn out as he possibly could make it. He was not screaming in pain, but rather in frustration. That makes me wonder, what the hell did he think was going to happen if he swerved off the road?

After having determined that he was in fact alright and unhurt, we did what any normal college students would do... We took pictures. What made the whole thing even funnier is that the fallen traffic light was still wired, so it was changing from Green to Yellow to Red in unison with the other lights, all while lying flat on the ground. Amid the strewn wreckage on the lawn and the curb was the front passenger side tire from the SUV, which had flown off and landed perfectly in an upright position. Without further delay, here are a couple of photos...

Moral of the story... Don't drive north on Bayview.

A Pirate's Life for Me

2005-08-28T16:59:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wanted to be a pirate? Ever wanted to sail the seven seas in search of hidden treasure? Do you have a strange attraction to parrots? If you would answer any of the above questions with a "yes", then you may just be in luck.

Most of you will remember the very successful "Pirates of the Carribean" movie that came out a year or two ago, and starred Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, and (most importantly) Keira Knightley. Well, apparently, not only is the sequel to that movie in the final stages of filming, but Part 3 is beginning filming as we speak, and avast ye swabs, they're looking for pirates! Sande Alessi Casting, which has done casting for several "blockbuster" movies such as Still 'Bout It, In My Life, and They Call Him Sasquatch is taking care of casting for a few scenes in this new Pirates of the Carribean movie.

Firstly, this casting company's résumé isn't exactly stellar, by any stretch of the imagination. Would everybody who was seen, or even heard of, "They Call Him Sasquatch", please raise their hands? That being said, it didn't take long to figure out what is holding this company back from bigger and better things. Take the following excerpt from their casting website, in which they are advertising for an open casting call for extras to play pirates:

Pirates:
Extreme characters and hideously unattractive types, ages 18-50. Odd body shapes or very lean to extremely skinny. Missing teeth, wandering eyes and serial killer looks with real long hair & beards. Wigs & makeup are not what we're looking for. We also need little people, very large sumo wrestler types, extremely tall or extremely short people, albinos, amputees. Any size or shape that is NOT average is best. All ethnicities. Mostly men, very few women.

The person who writes their casting ads should be shot point blank. He/she has probably alienated just about every person who has read the ad. Can you imagine what it would be like for a person who has OCD about their appearance or a person who has low self-confidence to read an ad like this and then have to look in a mirror? Essentially, the message that's being conveyed in this ad is, if you're anything but the average human being, you're ugly enough to be a pirate! I think my favorite part of the casting call is where they say they have a need for people with wandering eyes and serial killer looks. People with those kinds of attributes are normally found in insane asylums and jails and not on our city's streets.

Another quality line is "we need little people, very large sumo wrestler types, extremely tall or extremely short people". Talk about being all over the map. We're going from wanting very little people, to wanting ENORMOUS people (i.e. sumo wrestlers, who by the way are probably too busy sumo wrestling in ASIA to be an extra in a movie about pirates), and then wanting people who are either small or tall. Speaking of ASIA, the ad writer manages to alienate an entire continent with the following:

Asian Men & Women:
We need tons of Asian people of all ages and types to play Townspeople, Shopkeepers, Prostitutes, Pirates etc. All shapes, sizes and ages over 18.

Is this the '50's? Are we still in a world where we segregate races? I'm sure it wasn't meant to be offensive, but I can just hear the casting director saying, "Sorry, you're not good enough to be a pirate, but since you're Asian we can offer you the role of Prostitute #5". At least they aren't being as picky about physical attributes and offering it to all shapes and sizes of Asian. For goodness' sake it sounds like they're trying to sell you a car or a boat. We've got 'em in all shapes and sizes, for any of your diverse needs.

So, if you're someone who's desperate to be in showbiz, I think you can probably make it in to this movie if you just get someone to whack you in the face a few times with a shovel and you'll be all set for Pirates of the Carribean 3: The Sea of Ugliness.

The Tow Truck Chronicles

2005-08-23T15:57:00.000-04:00

Last week the inevitable finally occurred to my 1993 Ford Escort, the key would not turn in the ignition and therefore the car refused to start. As I was forced to deal with this sudden misfortune, I decided to call CAA to come and try to start it for me. Being an atypical male and knowing absolutely NOTHING about cars, I figured (and hoped) that whomever CAA decided to send over would be able to start the car for me. Considering that this same event had occurred about 5 months ago with me being able to start my car after 45 minutes of cursing, grunting, and punching the ignition and steering wheel, I figured that the prognosis was a good one, since I had a more experienced person around to handle my situation. However, as it always does, it turned out a lot worse than I had hoped for.

After calling CAA, myself and Adam Trinder (who works at the same place as I do), played catch on the road in front of the apartment until CAA's designated tow truck driver arrived within their window of "45 minutes or less". One thing I have learned over the years is that people seldom arrive when they say they will arrive, and when put in a situation that you actually need them to be there, they are even more tardy than usual. This day was no different. After 55 minutes, my cell phone rang to the news that the Tow Truck Driver would arrive in approximately 30 minutes. Now I don't know whether or not CAA employs a mathemetician, but last time I checked, 45 minutes or less subtracted by 55 minutes of waiting time does not equal 30 minutes left until the Tow Truck arrives.

Finally, the driver arrived and took a look at my car. The man that stepped out of that truck looked like a cross between Hulk Hogan, Billy Ray Cyrus, and the Trailer Park Boys. With his neatly coiffed mullet tied back into a pony tail, his arms hanging out of a sleeveless T-Shirt that looked like he had removed said sleeves with a butter knife, and unkempt facial hair, he promptly informed me that he doesn't know anything about cars (Does CAA even interview these guys??) and that he would be happy to tow me to wherever I needed to go. That would have been an acceptable solution if it weren't for the fact that my mechanic is located in Etobicoke, and my car was in North York. Unfortunately I am not the proprietor of a CAA PLUS membership which gives the holder a free tow up to 50 kilometers. No, my limited CAA membership gave me a whole 5 kilometers to tow my car. Thanks CAA, why don't you just move my car to the end of the street and then I'll figure everything out from there.

Obviously, I didn't get the car moved. When I called my boss to inform him that I would be coming in late, he volunteered his CAA PLUS membership to get my car towed back to Etobicoke. Since he had to be there in person for his card to be used, he drove out to North York to do so. The driver that arrived on scene was none other than my mullet-sporting, sleeveless friend from 2 hours previous. He hooked my car up, and then we proceeded on the trip back to Etobicoke, which unfortunately required me to ride shotgun with the aforementioned mullet man.

Now, for those of you who don't know me, I hate awkward silences, especially when riding in a car for a long period of time. It is a 30 minute drive from Ryan's apartment (where I had stayed the previous night) to my mechanic, so I had to come up with some small talk in a hurry. Ironically enough, I hate small talk, so this was a bit of a task for me to accomplish. The following is the sequence of events that occurred while I was in the truck...

After making small talk for about 5 minutes, the driver went on a rant against his former employer, talking about how much he hated the dispatchers and how they always screwed him over on calls. After getting by that, he asked me what I do for a living, so I told him that I am a student and that I work in Rexdale in the summer running a drop-in sports camp for the youth in the area. This answer brought out three especially amusing anecdotes from the driver.

The first of these was in response to me being a student. His exact response was, "Wow, staying in school really is the way to go. I wish I was that smart when I was your age, I would have gone to school for sure." You would have gone to school for sure? School is the smart thing to do? If you're just realizing this now, then you might want to re-organize your priorities in life. I know that on my priority list, "driving a tow truck" falls several spots below "getting an education", "graduating", "getting married", "raising a family", and "washing my hands after using the bathroom". I don't think it takes an intellectually advanced person to realize that a post-secondary education is something that will only benefit you in life.

Next, he elaborated on employment. As if wanting to impress me and prove to me that he was something much more important than a tow truck driver, he revealed a second career that he carried. Not only is this man the most celebrated tow truck driver to ever grace the Earth, he also dabbles in illegal movie duplication. He spent ten minutes of our ride elaborating on the ins and outs of his operation, telling me exactly what system he has, how he breaks the encryption, etc. He told me that he has over 1000 movies in DVD quality, and that he just rents them, duplicates them, prints out the labels, and sells them for 5-10 bucks a pop. I don't know about you, but if I'm him, I don't reveal this kind of detailed information to someone who I've just met and will never see again. All it would take would be for me to get out of the truck after he drops my car off, watch him drive away, whip out my cell phone and dial 1-800-222-TIPS and have a little talk with Crimestoppers. If I do that, a couple hours later, and with me being 100 bucks richer (or whatever they give for tips that lead to an arrest), Chris London of CAA is behind bars and I'm blowing my newfound wealth paying for my new ignition lock in my car.

Lastly, we somehow ended up on the topic of gun violence and teen violence. I think we managed to get onto that topic because of where I work (Rexdale) and the amount of shootings that have occurred in the last month in that area. He went on a soliloquy about how youth these days are so out of control, and they don't know how to take care of themselves and so on and so forth. Then, he revealed to me that he almost ruined his life when he was 18 because he almost made a "small mistake". Before I proceed, let me re-iterate that his exact words were "SMALL MISTAKE". Being curious, I naturally pressed for more information on the topic. Obviously wanting to tell his story, he proceeded. He revealed to me that he used to be a hardcore partier in high school, and that when he was 18, he decided to throw a party in his backyard one night while his parents were away. After drinking too much, he got a little irritated, and decided to go in the house to retrieve his sawed-off shotgun, at which point he tried to shoot three people. Luckily, he missed and was only charged with discharging a weapon in an enclosed area, or something of that nature. That's not exactly my definition of a small mistake! Needless to say, the ride was nearing its end and I was definitely not feeling compelled to stay around and chat more with Chris "the Pyscho" London.

As soon as we pulled into my mechanic's driveway, I was out of that truck faster than a bat out of hell. Needless to say, the next time my car breaks down, I'm holding out for a clean cut, nicely dressed tow truck driver. Either that, or I'll just abandon the car.

Analyze THIS

2005-08-16T21:22:00.000-04:00

In my boredom at work - and through the help of one Stephanie Haggarty - I've discovered the wonderful world of the Face Analyzer. This so-called Face Analyzer can allegedly take a photo that is submitted by the user and analyze that photo and determine what gender and race you are, as well as give you certain insights about your character, such as your ambition, intelligence, honor, promiscuity, and even what your income is. All of this information can be given to you based on a single profile photo in which the only requirement is that it is a front shot of just your face and shoulders. There's a great message for kids... On one hand you've got your parents, teachers, and even those motivational speakers tell you that you can't judge others on what's outside and it's what's on the inside that counts while Face Analyzer disregards all such inner beauty and assigns you a set of ratings based solely on a picture of your face!

Not only does Face Analyzer claim to be able to give you a characteristic profile based on one picture of you, they claim to have a technology that backs up their claims. They also have access to the most recent developments in the field of evolutionary psychology which evidently makes them able to provide you with a patented process that correlates facial characteristics to personality traits. Not only does this claim render your B.A. in Psychology obsolete, it also tells you that something like the size of your nose or the shape of your jaw either dictates - or is dictated by - your personality type.

Here is a step by step rundown of the process that Face Analyzer uses (taken directly from their website) interspersed with my own commentary and observations.

1) Your picture is sent to our facial recognition engine.

OK, so one would figure this is a pretty basic step in the process. Even skeptics of this Face Analyzer gig would acknowledge that its probably pretty likely that software and a set of algorithms could determine the sex and race of the individual who uploads the photo. It would appear that it is safe to say that this section of the process is the least likely to break down. WRONG! They can't even get past this part of the process. I sent my picture in for analysis, and this was the result of step #1:

Now I don't know about you, but I don't need a facial recognition software to tell me that the person in that picture is a caucasian male. However, it would appear that Face Analyzer does not reach the same deduction as the human eye. According to this software, my racial breakdown is 77% South East Asian and 23% Chinese. Not only is my face paler than a sheet, but ironically enough, the picture does contain a certain hooded sweatshirt that has "CANADA" emblazoned across it in large block letters. But who would expect that to be factored into the "complex" algorithms of a super computer?

One amusing feature of this service is that it provides you with a celebrity match, or look-alike based on the "expert" analysis. I was intrigued to see which celebrity I would be likened to, and was extremely surprised to find that these complex algorithms determined that the celebrity that I look most like is none other than...

MIKE TYSON!!!

2) The world's most accurate facial recognition software determines the placement of major facial characteristics (e.g. nose)

The world's most accurate facial recognition software?? That must be a joke, considering this caucasian male was just likened to a psychotic black man with a hideous tattoo placed strategically around his eye. I'm willing to overlook the fact that my celebrity lookalike is a convicted felon who has a taste for earlobe.

I also find some humor in the boasting nature behind this statement that celebrates the fact that it can determine the placement of major facial characteristics. THIS JUST IN... a 4 year old can tell you the placement of such characteristics thanks to miraculous advancements in kindergarten education. Just to clarify, eyes come in pairs, and are situated at the upper area of the face, evenly spaced... The mouth is located near the base, and the nose, which is the prized example of the aforementioned statement is located in between the eyes and the mouth, right in the middle of the face. If you need facial recognition software to tell you that kind of information, then you might want to re-evaluate your education.

3) The measurements of these major characteristics are then inputted into the Faceanalyzer algorithms.

I think that this statement has been rendered irrelevant at this point. We've already seen the much acclaimed FaceAnalyzer algorithms in action, and let's face it, they are nothing to boast about. I also find it hard to believe that the measurements of these characteristics can give insight into my income, but I digress... The only thing left at this point is to see the fruits of the algorithms' labor.

4) Your statistics are sent back to the page for you to view!

Lastly, and certainly not least, the results of Face Analyzer's analysis and their accompanying comments:

Intelligence -- 5.1 ----------> Average Intelligence
Risk -- 5.5 ----------> Average Risk
Ambition -- 6.0 ----------> Average Ambition
Gay Factor -- 1.1 ----------> Very Low Gay Factor
Honor -- 4.3 ----------> Average Honor
Politeness -- 5.7 ----------> Average Politeness
Income -- 5.7 ----------> $30,000 - $50,000
Sociability -- 5.8 ----------> Average Sociability
Promiscuity -- 4.1 ----------> Low Promiscuity

So apparently, I'm average in every sense of the word. They were right on two counts, at least, I'm not gay nor am I anywhere close to being gay, and I'm not promiscuous at all. It's also great to know that my future income is limited to no higher than $50,000. Hell, since face analyzer is obviously so advanced, it must know more than I do, and that means I might as well forget about aspirations of management.

Not that I think I'm simply average in some of the characteristics that were listed there, but it's pretty safe to say that you could peg a large number of the population accurately by stating that they are average. I don't need complex algorithms and a super computer to tell me that much. The Face Analyzer is a ridiculous concept that provides amusement and is at best, a unique way to kill time. So, if you're bored one day and feel the need for some useless entertainment, send your photo in to Face Analyzer.com and their boasted 87% accuracy rate! If you can't spare the time, just take a quick glance in the mirror or ask a friend, because I'm sure they could surpass 87% accuracy without a second thought.

Security Blanket On A Leash

2005-07-02T20:11:00.000-04:00

Sorry it's been so long since I last posted something. I just really haven't been in the mood to attempt to be humorous, but hopefully this post rekindles some sort of consistency in regards to my blogging duties.

Last weekend myself and a few guys from school entered the NBA Hoop-It-Up 3 on 3 Basketball Tournament in London, Ontario. Being at this tournament again made me remember how funny it is to watch how volatile and angry people who have no future in organized sport can get when partaking in the game that they love, which in this case, is basketball. It could probably be stated that NBA Hoop It Up brings out the worst in humankind. Everywhere you look, there are people arguing, threatening each other, or full out brawling. As sad as it is, it definitely provides a weekend full of non-stop entertainment for me, the viewer.

Aside from the frequent bickering and arguing that happens at this tournament, the thing that stands out the most is the amount of young men at these tournaments who think they are the biggest badass around. Everywhere you look, you see guys who are wearing thin, tight, t-shirts, smothering themselves with sunblock and who have an entire bottle of hair gel on their heads. These guys are a joke, but they pale in comparison to the amount of guys there who have those stupid bulldogs - or pitbulls, or whatever they are - dragging behind them at all times.

This, to me, is hilarious. These guys walk around the venue, with no shirt on and the stupid dog with them, glaring at people and pretty much trying to give off the aura that they are invincible and that they'll kick your ass at the slightest hint of hostility you direct at them. The funny thing about this concept is that they obviously don't believe that they are as tough as they think they are, otherwise they wouldn't have those retarded dogs armed and ready at all times. Honestly guys, who the hell do you think you are kidding?

These guys are obviously trying to strengthen the tough guy image that they think they have, but the first thing that comes to mind when I see you walking around with that dog is Paris Hilton, with her stupid little chihuahua that she carries around in her purse. Mind you, Paris Hilton is not a bad thing to have on your mind if you're a guy, but if you're trying to spawn the fear of God into someone, that's not the image you want to portray. Those guys might as well get the phrase "I'm a giant pussy" tattooed ont heir foreheads, because let's face it, you aren't jack squat without your pint-sized insurance policy on a string. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I'm not scared of those dogs, because they're crazy as hell. I've seen them in action.

One year at the tournament I was watching this game between these 4 guys from London and 4 guys from Michigan. It was a heated battle with a lot of physicality and yelling and arguing. The Michigan guys were fouling the London guys pretty hard, and one of the London guys told his opponent that if he fouled him one more time, he was going to kick his ass. Sure enough, the Michigan guy decided to test the London guy's patience. Rather than making good on the threat of himself administering an ass-kicking, he decided to release the hounds, or in this case, the singular hound. An all out war broke out, with the hound getting the best of one of the Michigan players, and the hound's owner receiving a beatdown from the Michigan faithful. Moral of the story: Just because you've got a hound, doesn't mean you will win the war. I'm not sure what the aftermath was, but I'm sure that the one Michigan guy got treated at a hospital, while the owner was probably treated more extensively at the hospital and was probably also arrested. Good thing you had the dog with you buddy!

Stay tuned, I'll try have some better material in the weeks to come.

P.S. I'd like to amend my last entry about Hip-Hop Lyrics. Add this gem to the list --> LFO, "Summer Girls" --> "I'll Steal your honey like I stole your bike"... LFO, what were you thinking???

How to Write a #1 Radio Hit

2005-05-21T22:06:00.000-04:00

Once again I apologize for taking a while in between posts, but this has quite possibly been the worst week of my life. I've been hit from all sides with some pretty devastating life changing events, so I've just been trying to deal with that stuff. Anyways, I figured it was time for some humor, it helps keep my mind off of things.

Now, being a fan and advocate of hip hop music, I'm doing this against my own best interests. However, after examining some of the songs that I've heard on the radio or have listened to at home, I am mystified by how some of these artists are even able to get these tracks recorded. I've come to a conclusion that the hip hop industry has some of the most undereducated personnel in the world. Take a look at some of these gems, many of them from successful albums or singles. If this is the barometer, I think I've found my true calling.

"She wants to be a lawyer, in other words shorty studies law" - Mr. Cheeks: Way to go Mr. Cheeks, you're breaking some new ground with this realization. This line reminds me of the wife of one of my baseball teammates. She thinks that everyone she talks to is the dumbest person in the world and will therefore proceed to explain to you the siginificance of everything she says, i.e: "Our car is at the shop. So, it's there because it's broken and we don't have a car now." Thanks, you and Mr. Cheeks would get along nicely.

"You ain't Russian so why you rushing?": This one is from our good friend Nelly... more from him shortly. Getting back to the issue at hand, I'm not sure how being Russian would automatically imply that you would be rushing around everywhere, and more importantly I'm not really sure how this assumption would be present in the head of Nelly. Also from the St. Lunatic himself, "Is that your ass or did your momma have a reindeer?" Once again, where does this association come into play? I'm not sure how a fully grown and functional man can mistake someone's ass for a reindeer or vice-versa, and I also don't understand where the person-in-question's mother comes into play either.

"I bang cock in Bangkok" - Ludacris: Luda, what you do in your spare time is your business and yours alone, but thanks for the update. Are you saying that we'll see you at the next rainbow parade?

"I got a way with words, I use words in ways" - Jin: You use words in ways? Good for you Jin, that puts you on equal footing with every single human on the planet that has the ability to speak or write. Congratulations on this momentous accomplishment!

"If money was height, you'd be a midget" - Nore: Believe it or not, Nore did not graduate with a doctorate, master's, or even a bachelor's degree in Philosophy. The use of the metaphor and the simile in hip hop is a common and effective practice, but only when done intelligently (read: when it makes some damn sense). I think the words "I'm richer than you" would have been more effective in this case. Also from Nore is this lyrical masterpiece, which reads "I drink Hennessey straight, with tomato juice." OK, so let me get this straight... You drink Hennessey... and you drink it straight... with tomato juice. What the hell? did I miss something? I could have sworn that drinking something straight meant that you drank it by itself and not with something else such as tomato juice.

"I like them Chinese, Japanese, or even Asian" - Chingy: I'm not sure where Chingy went to elementary, junior high, or high school, but it must be in some parallel universe where Chinese and Japanese born people are not of ASIAN DESCENT. I mean, if he was that desperate for that line to rhyme, he could have just used two different ethnicities and still used the word "Asian". You'd think these guys might have producers or proofreaders that would catch this type of thing.

Lastly, but certainly not least, one Dr. Dre claims, I get so much ass they call me an astronaut." I'm not sure how having a lot of sex qualifies the good Doctor to add the accomplisment of being an astronaut to his surely long list of achievements. Given these criteria, I suppose we could also call him an astrologer and and assistant manager.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow (Maybe)

2005-05-12T13:58:00.000-04:00

Firstly, I apologize for the ridiculously lame title that I chose for this entry. I just don't feel the creativity flowing right now. Secondly, I realize that i promised an entry on Saturday or Sunday and that it is now Thursday. You'd be surprised at how unmotivated I can be when I don't have jack squat to do. You'd also be surprised at how hard it is to come up with things to complain or be sarcastic about. I have a whole new respect for old people. I really need to get out and do something interesting so I can have more to write about. Anyways, on to the post...

It's now almost mid-May and I haven't cut my hair since December. For those of you who don't know me, I play basketball for Tyndale and I usually have my best friend Ryan buzz my head (not anywhere near skin, but a generally short haircut) for me on game days. It's tradition (or superstition). Well for one reason or another, we never got around to getting together on game days even once during the second semester and the tradition died. Now, I'm stuck with this unmanageable shag on my head and I need to get rid of it. The only problem is, I'm paranoid about going to a barber again, after what happened to me last time I went to one, way back in may 2004, and that's what this post is about.

My mom hates it when I buzz my hair and is always bugging me to get a nice haircut. Eventually I got tired of the harassment and decided to go to a barbershop and get my hair cut by so-called "professionals". I went to this place called "Frank & Phil's", a small Italian barbershop in West Toronto.

I went in and asked for a standard haircut, short back and sides, blended with a #2 clipper. Pretty easy to understand, right? Well I guess they misunderstood my request to the extent that they thought I was planning on entering the military. After one swipe of the clippers I almost had a heart attack. By the time they had finished, I was ready to kill someone. I had almost no hair on my sides and back of the head, and very minimal hair on the top, as if I my next task upon leaving their establishment was to be enlisted. I guess their definition of a #2 clipper is not the same as every other barbershop in Canada. As if to add insult to injury, they wanted to charge me $15 for this monstrosity of a hair cut, despite the fact that their standard adult cut was listed at $12. When I asked them about this anomaly, they told me that my hair was too long, so it costs more to cut it. Well, Einstein, of course my hair is too long, why the hell do you think I came to you in the first place?

What kind of shady establishment charges the average man $3 more for a hair cut just because their hair happenes to be 3.5 inches in length? When I questioned the owner of the establishment about this practice he proceeded to tell me that every place in Toronto charges as such. I mentioned that I had my hair cut at several places in the vicinity prior to that day, none of which have a pricing plan based on hair length. He replied that he knew of one such place, and that it was DOWNTOWN. I asked him for the name of the place so I could call and verify, to which he informed me that he didn't know the name, but he knew the address. I left the store and came back with the Yellow Pages from the phone booth down the street and told him to find it for me. He was obviously lying because he said he didn't know the street name or phone number. So, apparently he knew of one such place, but didn't know it's name, phone number, address, or anything else about it. Nice try, Frank.

After making my scene and ensuring Frank that I would make sure that no one I knew would ever seek his services ever again, I headed to work where I worked a 7 hour shift where I suffered relentlessly at the hands of co-workers and passersby who called me names such as "Sarge" or "Major". At that point I decided to finish the job that Frank had started and on my break used a set of clippers a friend lent to me to remove the rest of the army cut. They had shaved my hair so short on the sides and back that I couldn't use any attachments on the clippers and I had to take the guard off in order to make it all even. My head looked like a cue ball. Needless to say, I didn't need another haircut for about 6 months, and even then it was debatable that I did need one.

I wish I had some pictures to show you, but the ones that were taken have long been deleted to save me from further shame and embarrassment.

Top 7 @ 7...

2005-05-06T19:00:00.001-04:00

Well, as promised, I'm back. Firstly, thank you to everyone who commented on my blog, it seems as if people got my redirect message at Ryan's comments page. Anyways, I know a lot of you aren't Tyndale students, but I do want to post my top moments from the school this year. I'm restricting my list to 7 items in order to steer clear of the "Top Ten" fad that seems to be sweeping the Tyndale Bloggers' sites. In honor of Mike Hamilton, who started the fad, I choose to recognize him in the 7th spot. Here we go:

Number 7... Mike Hamilton puts the 'Swiss Miss' in her place: If you go to Tyndale, you probably know Lise Westerhoek, the Swiss girl who lives on sixth floor. She is the biggest brown-noser I've ever met with the most annoying voice I've ever heard. Anyways, for HR class we had to conduct mock business interviews and one Michael Hamilton was fielding questions for his dream job, Crime Scene Investigator. During the feedback session, Lise informs Mike that he needs to "cut his hair or he will never get hired". Mike proceeds to inform Lise "that he cuts his hair for no one" and that this is a business project and not real life. The reaction was priceless, I guess she isn't used to not being babied.

Number 6... John Mark Spikes the Pen: John Mark is another business student. He is a loose cannon in front of the class and he was in my group for an entrepreneurship presentation. Myself and the other group member deliberately kept him out of the loop on the project and gave him strict instructions on what to say during the presentation. Not only did he ignore what we told him to do, but he went on a rant, gesticulating wildly, scribbling illegible numbers on the whiteboard and THEN at the end of his segment, in order to emphasize his closing point, he fired the whiteboard marker directly into the floor as hard as he could. I almost fell off my chair in astonishment. Luckily, I talked the professor into giving us an A.

Number 5... Happy Birthday from the Prez: President Stiller graced my desk with a heartfelt birthday message from Hallmark. He probably couldn't pick my face out in a police line, so I don't know why he bothered. You may be saying to yourslves, "It's the thought that counts." Well to you I say that the card arrived on my desk three and a half weeks after my birthday.

Number 4... A Token of our Appreciation: At the year-end banquet, our basketball captain gave a season ending speech in front of a large portion of our students and faculty. We had signed two basketballs as a team to give as gifts to the coaches, and since He isn't planning on coming back next year, he concluded his speech with "so, in gratitude, we would like to present to you our balls..." Dead silence. Gotta love Christian institutions.

Number 3... White Chocolate: Basketball Playoff Weekend + staying in a hotel + trashy city + karaoke = insanity. Troy Weiland, 26 year old Seminary Student takes the bar by storm by rocking Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back" like nobody's business. As if this wasn't funny enough, the trashy 40 year old woman dancing dirty in the middle of the room all by herself just added to the madness. Troy then did the only thing any of us would have done, he went and danced like a fool with her, so that we could get footage of it.

Number 2... The "Dirty Pillow" Revival: Only at Tyndale would people get so riled up over a controversial blog entry. Jon Gordon's "Dirty F***ing Sluts" comment in response to a night out at a club with various Tyndale students who were apparently shaking their "Dirty Pillows" inspired a massive "e-gument" where people posted their fury on his comments section and no one said anything to his face. What a bunch of pansies. Jon is the man.

Number 1... Davis College Basketball Road Trip:

This is by far the number one moment of the year. It has too many moments to write about, so I'll summarize briefly. First, we get stuck at customs because some guy in front of us tried to sneak food over the border in his shoes. Then we go out to Friendly's and make a scene and despite being related to Chris Pitman (who is by far the rowdiest man alive), I get told to tone down my fun. We then stay up all night playing poker despite having lost our first game and having to play early the next day. Then, a Davis College Student who has taken a liking to us "tucks us all in". We all slept in the same room, so he made sure we all got into bed and turned the lights out. I must also mention that this student weighed about 350 pounds and was nicknamed "Pork Chop", or as he told us to call him "po' Cho". We then gorged ourselves in an all you can eat breakfast buffet RIGHT BEFORE OUR GAME. We lost by 24, go figure.

Until next time... which will probably be tomorrow or Sunday.

Proof of Promise

2005-04-30T20:11:00.000-04:00

Sorry it's been so long in between entries, but between exams and the end of the school year, most of my time has been occupied in such exciting endeavors as studying and writing 35 page papers while staying up for 38 hours straight. I will be more diligent in my blogging duties, I promise... or do I? A promise is a very serious matter, evidently so much that a select group of people feel the need to validate it by spending inordinate amounts of money through the exchanging of a ring from one party to the other. To me, this concept is unfathomably ridiculous.

To my knowledge, the most commonly used function of the promise ring is to signify the promise of engagement for marriage. In other words, boy decides he is dating his future wife thus purchasing said ring in order to promise matrimony to lucky (or not so lucky) girl in question. Then, at some point down the road, boy purchases yet another ring, this one of the engagement variety, and gives it to girl in order to promise matrimony. Am I missing something here? Does the latter situation that I just decribed not match almost exactly the former? Some ambitious entrepreneur really cashed in on this one. If you want to buy your girlfriend jewellry, go ahead. If you want to get engaged or signify your commitment to marriage, buy an engagement ring. Now I'm no philosophical genius, but I am a business major, and I know that if I'm going to buy something that serves a specific purpose, i'm sure as hell not going to by the same thing a second time. It's common sense. What a waste of money.

The above picture is apparently not a ring, but a six hundred dollar promise. We had a guy in res my first year at Tyndale who bought his girlfriend a nine hundred dollar promise ring. Why not just verbally agree to get married, and then get an engagement ring when you're ready? Does that not make more sense? Honestly, I don't see how a "promise ring" is some sort of a guarantee that it's definitely going to happen. Does it have magic power? When your girlfriend wears it, does she mysteriously feel unable to decide otherwise? Does she think to herself, "I don't love this guy anymore, but this damn ring is screwing my life way the heck up!!"? No, she doesn't! If she decides she isn't marrying you, all the promise rings in the world will not convince her otherwise. In this day and age, an engagement ring - let alone a wedding ring - is hardly enough to guarantee marriage or even that one will stay married.

It's hilarious to imagine this practice being applied in the "real world". When you get hired for a job, does your new employer say, "Here ________, have this ring that promises you that you have a job, and also take this ring that signifies a promise on our part to pay you bi-weekly for the work you do for our company." Rather than stores issuing warranties on their products, maybe they should issue two hundred dollar rings that bear a promise that guarantees the working life of their product. What about motivational speakers? When they give their encouraging pep talks that tell you that the "new you" will be more exciting and will do great things, do they finish their speech off by declaring, "This is our promise! Rings for everyone!!!!"? I submit that they do not.

Stay tuned for my next blog entry, coming soon -- I promise. Just don't expect a ring in the mail.

Weed Man to the rescue... Or not.

2005-04-10T22:04:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had the privilege of attending a Blue Jays game at the newly dubbed 'Rogers Centre', with a few friends from Tyndale. Since this outing was part of a fundraiser for the Baseball League I play in there were more than 850 people who had bought tickets from the league sitting around us. Needless to say, with teams from Pickering, Whitby, Barrie, and Oshawa present, there was bound to be an unprecedented amount of trailer park inhabitants doing their thing while getting as intoxicated as is humanly possible.

Much to my surprise, the first part of the game went down without any problems. Then, the third inning arrived and along with it came Weed Man.

This particular Weed Man was not of the friendly neighborhood variety that you see on the television, saving your lawns and gardens from the various types of weeds that infest and kill them. No, this Weed Man was the much more intellectually deficient intoxicated distant relative of that particular Weed Man.

Weed Man, as he is now so lovingly named arrived in his seat no less than an hour after the first pitch of the ball game and immediately felt it necessary to make his presence known. As he sat down he let the world - and the many little children and parents sitting in our immediate vicinity - know that he was ready to cause havoc as he let loose with the traditional cheer of the intoxicated, issuing a loud "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO", for all to hear. As if that wasn't enough, he unfurled a home made sign that revealed, "The Blue Jays play better on grass." Pure and utter genius! It may have seemed clever to his legion of faithful pot heads, but to the average baseball fan, it was downright moronic.

As is evidenced from the above photos, there is no grass present in the Rogers centre. Unless he saw the top picture and mistook it for some sort of a grow operation - the lights may have influenced his demented mind - there is no excuse to think that his signmaking would be found hysterical by those surrounding him. As if this wasn't enough, it must have been laid on his heart that he should annoy the living hell out of me, since I was so fortunate as to be sitting almost directly behind him.

Things were bound to get worse as it was discovered that there were a large contingent of Red Sox fans sitting directly to our right, and sure enough, they did. Weed Man found it prudent to add another line to his sign that boldly proclaimed, "The Red Sox can't handle our grass". He found this to be hysterical, even though one particular Red Sox fan has this to say back to him: "It's artificial turf, you dumbass!" Priceless. As the game wound down and it became evident that Toronto was going to win, the Jays faithful serenaded the Boston fans with a traditional "Na na na na, Na na na na, Hey Hey Hey, Good Bye...". All joined in except Weed Man, who substituted "Good Bye!" with "SMOKE WEED!", bellowed at the top of his lungs. As people began to heckle him, he became more and more rowdy, and at the end of the game while exiting the stadium he boldly proclaimed to the parents and children around us that "all of us rolled some big fatties, but since you didn't like my cheers, you don't get any." I'm sure they were heartbroken.

Figuring my day couldn't get any more inconvenient, I headed for home, stopping only to buy street meat at union station. No sooner did i sit down on the subway and take a bite of the aforementioned snack did a giant blob of ketchup fall out the back end of it and land directly on the lowest part of my crotch still visible from the front. Couple this with the fact that i had on light khaki shorts and my day went from bad to worse.

Luckily, I had two t-shirts on and was able to take one of them off and hang it over the front of my shorts, saving myself from further embarrassment, and preventing a rumor that there was a menstruating male on the subway, which given the amount of freakshows that ride the subway, wouldn't be so surprising. I'd fit right in with Weed Man.