A Cigarette in Bed; or a Cookie, for Non-Smokers

It was a very gloom-and-doom weekend at the island, at least as much as an island on the border of Ontario and Quebec can be gloom-doomy. Allow me for a moment to be more specific: The sky spent a lot of time pissing down rain.

One bad omen was a horrible accident that had happened on the 400S the morning we departed for the island; a tractor trailer and a small car collided, spilling 400 litres of diesel on the highway and killing at least one person. The cars on the highway crept along for four kilometres, which took approximately one hour and forty-five minutes to clear. People were getting out of their cars, walking up and down the highway. Cars took a half hour to catch up with some of the walking temporary non-passengers. It was a sad sight when we finally could see it. By that time, there was no longer a 'teetering' tractor trailer balanced on the center guardrail as the traffic reports had suggested. Just a kind of banged up looking transport truck, a severely messed up guardrail, and a burned-out shell of a Mazda which had been cut apart to pull someone out. Horrifying.

After what became a staggering nine-hour drive, we arrived at Tee Lake. By this point I had re-read about a quarter of Timequake and remembered for about the fiftieth time why I have this affinity for the late Kurt Vonnegut's twisted cynicism. And yes, the piss-rain. We braved the weather, though. The lot of us:

• Took a billion pictures of frogs (even at one point seeing one frog eat another... wtf)
• Saw the incredible mountains and lakes from a lookout point in Ville-Marie and on the drive to it
  
• Drove all the way to Algonquin and saw some beautiful scenery but no moose (good thing Miklos loves to drive so!)
• Light-painted to our hearts' content on the dock by night after the lake had further filled itself with almost a foot of the previous night's precipitation.
  

It was only on the last night that my body was eaten to bits by vicious Quebecois mosquitoes. Fine holiday fun, regardless of dreary weather. And after a giant drive home, we've got two more days before we head up to my family's cottage, which I've not seen in a year. I'm excited. Hopefully less rain, yes?

"I'm going to Vegas!"

Man, I miss it up north! Luckily, I'll be heading there at the end of the week. And then again at the end of next week. Because I plan vacations real well.

I miss that cottage and that lake. But most of all, I think I miss being able to breathe easier, which is not something that is happening this week. I'm yawning just to get a complete gulp of air in me, which can't be good for the economy (but what can be these days? Hah-hah-hah).

Today a young spoiled looking gent with greasy-ish hair came in for a passport. While he and his mother waited, he kept saying things like "Vegas!", or "I'm going to Vegas! Yeah!" as I ignored him. He reminded me of a snot of a former friend of mine who had never worked a day in his life yet managed to spend all his family riches on ... jesus, I don't know, fancy belt buckles or something, and so I didn't want this replica to start talking to me about his stupid Vegas trip that I thought surely his daddy was paying for.

Then I made the mistake of trying to lighten things up while they stood in line by saying to his mother who looked at me directly, "Looks like you picked the busiest time to come in," to which the son replied "No worries, I've got til September..." and his mother chimed in, "Yeah! He's going to Vegas!" Shit.

So then I engaged in a million years-long conversation about how he was going to Vegas for free and how he makes $20/hour and how he fears for his liver during this Vegas trip, all of which he felt comfortable telling me within the first few seconds after I made the mistake of engaging in conversation with his mother.

Oi vey. At least afterward there was a more entertaining guy who ran into both the entrance and the exit doors.

Catalysts or Cattle-ists?

I've spoken of laundry partners before (I just can't remember the date, otherwise I'd link to it). When you live in an apartment building, and it's time to wash your clothes, there's often one other person (or more, but that's much rarer) starting the wash cycle in the laundry facility at just the moment you are. From there, you come to meet a half hour later, when the washer is finished, and then another hour later when the dryer is done. Most times, this is an awkward affair because you have to either establish an invisible boundary of obliviousness and complete silence, or come up with something original to say for every rendez-vous. On a normal day, I hate having a laundry partner.

Today's half-partner (as he was starting his wash as I was starting my dry) was a repeat character from the other time I wrote an entry similar to this (as stated, date unknown) -- an elderly gentleman from down the hall on my floor who I know only as Pick 3 Box, because that's what he buys at my store when he's in.

"I can't get the darn washer to take the toonie..." he griped. I had noticed earlier that a couple of the washers had the same problem so I offered him two loonies in exchange. From there he thanked me, tried it, and told me the loonies worked out just fine, in the way that older people use the word 'fine' to mean 'great'. He then told me he was in a rush because his wife, whom I've known for a while is very ill, is having a visit from the doctor today. She's down to 65 lbs from 140. They have her taking morphine for her pancreas. He said he finds himself frustrated a lot lately, despite the optimistic look on his face he wore as he said this. He also mentioned that they've been together nearly 60 years.

Now, nobody ever finds that as impressive as I do. But more people really should. Who gets married with the intention of actually sticking through problems anymore, what with the availability of all the internet dating sites? Who actually talks through their issues, and what kind of sap wouldn't just condescend and demean the person they love, because (replacement) love is just so easy to come by?

Incredible. Sixty years. A man, whose emaciated, weakened wife only really knows his name anymore after her meal replacement, still loves her and makes every effort to understand, empathize, be sensitive to her condition, despite every frustration that he can't wake up and talk to her and hold her the way he did for more than half a century.

Some people die tragically in war-torn countries. Some people kill themselves because the breakfast they've eaten morning-after-morning for 40 years just doesn't taste right anymore. Some people die alone in a car accident immediately after a fight with someone close to them. And sometimes, once in a rare while, people die after being fortunate enough to have spent 60 years with someone they loved and having made every last effort.

I hope everything works out for those two.

I'll probably be the breakfast one.

Funkalicious!

I have this tendency to laugh like hell when I'm in high-drama situations. And not a nervous giggly laugh. More like a haughty and amused laugh of adrenaline, accompanied by a large and overbearing smile which is probably scary and/or confusing to those around me.

Honestly, I'm sure I prefer it to the other options people face -- panic attacks, fainting, rage leading to violence, utopian bliss, nausea, heartburn, indigestion -- I'm just not quite sure where I came to develop this sort of reaction. Do you know anyone else who does this? I sure can't think of anyone who does it who isn't drinking.

Cripes.

1. Death
2. Taxes
3. If I apply for and get a job, the training will almost certainly always fall on the ONE scheduled week of vacation I will have planned all year.
   

If I could speak in a cat language that Rico would understand, I would say meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow, which would translate, loosely, to "Slow down when you eat! That's why you're throwing up every day."

He gets so riled up before he eats, and I made matters worse tonight by getting him a different kind. This excited the hell out of him, despite how nonchalant I was acting about it to try to have him simply accept the stuff into his routine. Sure enough, as soon as I put down the bowl, he gobbled a bunch up, and minutes later when I went to figure out what was up with the router, I found a giant mound of the new food in a wet pile beside it. Thanks, Cat!

For the least cloudy day we've seen in a while, and for a Sunday off, today was pretty rubbish!

Never interrupt your enemy while he is making a mistake.

Oh my god the funny. Hopefully the funny stays, because I need some motivation to get the ball rolling.

July has been my favourite month since I can remember. August is nice but kind of depressing, and this September won't even have the freshness of a new school year to it.

Anyway, July is good. More on this later.

Git in, ya dumb bastids!

I've just seen a Johnny Depp movie that I didn't particularly like. It's a sad day in the world of me; except for all the other happy things that have happened, I mean. Which is pretty much everything else.

Earlier today, I was about to text a girl I know when the phone started ringing. Answered, and no one was there. Went to text that same person again, and the phone rang once more. Answered, and this time it was someone apologizing for hanging up on me, and asking if I would be comfortable with an impromptu phone interview. I accepted, and I've since decided that as in non-interview-related things, I do way better flying by the seat of my pants than when I have to plan things. This is why I never make plans, people. 90% of the time if I plan something, it doesn't happen, or it doesn't happen right.

Anyway, I'm in a good mood tonight. Even Johnny's bad movie didn't steer me wrong. For whatever reason.

Stop, stop! He's already dead...

It is time! Do you feel it is time? It's time to be vague, regardless of your opinion!

Tonight's date-night. Yay!

Summer Boredom

After tossing and turning the night away, I spent a very lowly day at home. It began with a long 'nap' to make up for the night, then proceeded into an afternoon full of not feeling quite right and a Vanity Fair article about Johnny Depp.

And that brought me to realize: It's been a long time since I read anything actually decent from magazine writers. But that article, wow. Well-written! Almost inspired me to go into journalism, except that I'd have to attend Niagara again, which would be a huge no-no in my books. So for now, I'll just sit around and grumble about how I'm a wasted overachiever and hope to continue to find new intriguingly-penned articles about talented actors who also happen to have personality and charisma.

Here's my dad.

Holiday, celebrate...

Canada Day was a big hit! Must bike more often. Much more fun and much less expensive than driving aimlessly. And my legs feel a bit toned. Heavens!

So, I keep learning terrible words in Hungarian. The only wholesome ones I think I know are the ones for cat, dog, dad and mom. But even "mom" can be turned into "your mom". Time to get serious!

Seniors will filter into my work tonight and complain that there is no freebie for them if they spend over $50. It's a simple life for now. And speaking of which, a bagel is in order. Cinnamon raisin. If only they made them sans-raisin.