Chalk: the other white meat!

Colleen does an impression of me.

She won't do the impression for me.

That is one reason why Colleen and I are no longer friends.










OK, I'm kidding about not being friends anymore, but I'm not kidding about her doing an impression of me. Admittedly, I've never seen her do it, but I can think of no reason for her to lie about it. Colleen is exceedingly clever, but this sort of prank is not in her devilish repertoire.

Maybe I should start telling people I do impressions of them, but then claim a shyness about doing it in front of them. If I can get the occasional accomplice to chirp in with an "Oh yes, he totally has your mannerisms down," then I'll be in heaven.

Speaking of which, there was a line in Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin that was translated as "Heaven gives us habit instead of happiness." This last Saturday I went to see the live Metropolitan Opera broadcast of Eugene Onegin. It was amazingly good. It had all the perks of the movies (popcorn!) and all the perks of live opera (opera!) and was also its own weird nexus thing: I don't remember a cloud of stale perfume hovering over the audience when I went to see Smokin' Aces, for one thing. If you live in the civilized world, or just outside it (as I do) then it shouldn't be too hard to find a theater showing Met Opera broadcasts. I've already got my ticket to Barber of Seville on March 24th. (Note to burglars: this is yet another reason to steal my wallet.) Come on, it's only $17, ya uncultured cheapskate.

In other news, I have the urge to write mean things about people. It's been that kind of day, where all you want to do is ... write mean things about people.

So here we go:

1. Vladimir Putin: Poisoning enemies aside, he doesn't seem like a particularly nice man.
   
2. That kid who wrote an opinion piece for this week and insisted on hovering over my shoulder and arguing with me about a comma. I took out the comma just to get him away from me. He's a first-time writer so I thought it would be inappropriate to drive him away too early. I'm going to put that comma back in before the issue goes to press.
3. The ad guy at our paper: Today was the first day I was allowed to help lay out ads. It should be done by me, but he's doen it alone for years. Today I saw why. For one thing, I showed up on time and he wasn't ready (though he initially wanted to do it on Friday, and since when has not having a file ever stopped him?), and for another thing, he didn't wear deodorant. He's not an old guy, like the adorable Paul Slachta at the McGill Tribune. No, our guy is in his forties and should be looking for a job that offers a pension, because the clock's ticking.
4. Me. I'm a bad person. Look at how much I wrote about that useless douche in #3!
5. Me again, because I haven't emailed Trish or Leah in ages.
6. [If you could help me out with #6, I'd appreciate it.]
7. You, for writing/not writing #6.
   

You can tell by the texture

I have a feeling the soup I just ate is also sold under a different name as a laxative. I'm about to leave for a party, but I'll keep you in the loop.

More about my day later, lovey.

Please and Thank You (and Sorry)

I didn't attend my Computer Ethics lectures this week – it was one of those weeks – and today I got an email from one of my group members asking A) if I'm still alive, and B) have I taken a look at out project proposal because my tasks and timeline are in there. I hadn't taken a look at the project proposal; it was submitted while I was away, and I was in no mood to do work while I as on break. Bah. "Mood". "Feelings". "One of those weeks". Ridiculous! I'm a week and a half behind, so it's time to start pulling some delicious all-nighters. I'm excited because I'm in charge of the database stuff. I've forgotten how to do database stuff because that class was ages ago, but I really enjoyed it then, so it should be fun now (assuming I can find my notes).

There was a blizzard warning earlier today, but it recently changed into a "snowfall warning" of 10-20 cm. I'm feeling a combination of relief and disappointment with a touch of incredulity. Relief: I can go food shopping. Disappointment: I would have been prepared for this blizzard and would not have gone out in search of a second guitar for Guitar Hero 2. A touch of incredulity: 10-20 cm of snow merits a warning? Really? Is it all falling at once, like Thor pulls a chain and it all gets dumped at once?

subject goes here

I don't know how much more I can take. I've got about 3 hours and 20 minutes until boarding, and I'm near the breaking point. Imprecise language in email, body odor, and a weak laptop battery are making this day worse than I could have foreseen.

I picked up some deodorant, so the b.o. ain't mine. No, if it were mine I'd be disgusted with myself, which is easy enough to deal with. Earlier I was sitting next to some guy who smelld like cigars, teriyaki chicken, and whiskey. I had to withhold a bit more outward disgust than I'm used to.

My noise-cancelling headphones are chirping, but I dare not take them off, else I'll be subjected to the conversations around me.

I've got movies to watch, oh, lots of movies. Why aren't I watching a movie?

My skin feels funny.

I want to take a nap, but this place is even more crowded than it was earlier so I don't know where I could go for a stretchy lie-down. Grrrrrrr.

Flowers, maybe

I just woke up from a nap and I feel like garbage. I can't think of the last time I've slept for 90 minutes in an airport. I also can't think of the last time I was booked on a flight in the last day for 90 consecutive minutes without it being cancelled.

Which is my nap-addled way of saying that my 9pm flight hasn't been cancelled yet. I think I just passed the five-hour annivesary of being booked on that flight. It feels pretty special. I'm trying to think of how one celebrates a milestone like that. Chocolates? Another nap?

Spending Valentine's with the one I love

Did I say I was leaving Chicago at 10am, flying to Washington DC and then arriving in Toronto at 3pm?

I'm sorry, I was mistaken. What I meant to say was, I would leave Chicago at 10am, fly to Washington DC and then arrive in Toronto at 3pm if that Washington - Toronto connection hadn't been cancelled twenty minutes ago ... which it had. For purposes of clarity, I should have said that I'm scheduled to take a direct Chicago - Toronto flight at 9pm tonight.

Mmm, 12 hours in Chicago O'Hare.

I'm thinking of changing my motto to
"Dave Bushnell: I get screwed over more by 7am than most people get screwed over all day."

It's a touch on the wordy side, so the font on my business card is going to be tiny!

Fig 1: I'd like to see Survivorman handle this with as much aplomb

These days

Here's a fun quiz.

Q) What's better than getting up at 3:30am for your flight out of Chicago?

A) Getting up at 3:30am for your flight out of Chicago, and the flight's been cancelled and now instead of leaving Chicago at 6:45am and arriving in Toronto around 9am, you're leaving Chicago at 10am, stopping in Washington, DC, and arriving in Toronto at 3pm.

BONUS MARKS:

Q) If they're still putting you up in first class and ticket agents think you paid for first class, is it easy to be amused by all this?

A) Yes.

Q) But doesn't it suck not to be with your friends in Toronto?

A) Obviously. Given a choice, I'd much rather be in Toronto than in some combination of Chicago and Washington --

Q) I feel a "but" coming on ...

A) but now that we've added a new city to the mix (ie, Washington, DC), who knows where my journey will take me? I wouldn't mind being shunted off to NYC or someplace in New England. Ooo, or maybe Real England. That would rock.

Q) As long as you're in Toronto by Sunday to get on your return flight to Saskatoon, right?

A) Y'exactly.

Pencils down. Please wait for the invigilator to come by to collect your exam paper.

Annoying + free = tolerable

You know what first class is? First class is an unending series of interruptions:

1. [while you're still on the tarmac] "Water or juice?"
2. [after take-off] "Something to drink?"
3. [five minutes later] "Warm nut assortment?"
4. [and then] "Refill on that drink?"
5. "Hot towel?"
   
6. "Would you like the curry chicken salad or the open-face pulled pork sandwich?"
7. "Refill on that drink?"
8. "Warm cookie and milk?"
9. "Refill on that drink?"

I wanted to nap, but I was afraid I was going to miss something. Wah wah, first class.

We were late leaving Orange County and late arriving in Chicago. By the time we landed in Chicago, my connection to Toronto had been cancelled for hours. I had two concerns while standing in the customer service line: I wanted to get on a non-standby flight to Toronto, and I kinda wanted to be in first class again. Yeah, it was annoying, but the odds are astronomical of again sitting in front of that woman with the penetrating Chicago accent reading "Little House on the Prairie" to her adopted Chinese daughter. (Really: I was wearing noise-cancelling headphones and her accent pierced my high-technology and nearly drove me crazy.) Also, it'd be free. Annoying + free = tolerable.

3 cheers for weather

A storm, or the potential for a storm, has led United Airlines to cancel its 1:30pm flight from Chicago-O'Hare to Toronto-Pearson.

An exciting word-picture like that is usually enough to leave you on the edge of your seat ... so just imagine if I added the information I had a seat on that flight!

Can you imagine the tension??!!

Finding out one of my flights has been cancelled is not the kind of email I like to receive. I like to receive email from friends, especially if I haven't initiated contact. I like to receive email from Ebay, telling me I've won something. I like to receive email from professors, telling me class has been cancelled. But email from an airline telling me my flight has been cancelled? Don't like it.

I called United Airlines. The friendly-ish customer service agent started to put me on another flight, and then suddenly she noticed that the airline had already taken care of that. Instead of leaving Orange County at 6:45am, I'll be leaving at 11:04am. Instead of arriving in Toronto at 4:08pm, I'll be arriving at 8:52pm. And instead of hating the airline for cancelling my flight, I'll be loving the airline for bumping me up to first class at no charge.

I'm sad that I'll get to spend 5 fewer hours with my friends, but I'm happy I'll be sad in a roomier seat. I'm sure they'd be happy for me, too.

Blogging ... from the FUTURE!!

That last post was from yesterday.

I haven't changed my timezone on my blog's settings, so it thinks it's 12:21am Sunday in Saskatoon, but actually it's 10:21pm Saturday in Laguna Beach.

I don't plan on changing the timezone on my blog's settings, so trust me: this post is also from yesterday, not from two hours ago.

Tennis, anyone?

This evening found me in a Frederick's of Hollywood with my grandmother and her boyfriend.

How was your evening?

California!

Dear "healy",

Thank for you being an unprotected wireless network that is demonically fast. Due to your generosity, I am able to download last night's "Office" as I write this post, all from the comfort of my grandmother's guest bedroom. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a nap, but I hope you'll stick around while I sleep.

I hope I dream of things I want to do while here, because I realise I've arrived totally unprepared.

Yours,

DYB

Dumb and mean

Normal airports are bad enough with their unattractive people and their too-loud, too-many conversations, but the Las Vegas airport has that little something extra: slot machines! Everywhere! Why, it's a veritable wonderland of sensory overload!

Taking the shuttle last night from the Edmonton airport to the Travelodge, I fought back some guilt: If I were checking in at 10pm only to check out at 4am, wouldn't that be kind of a waste of money? Could I not just sleep in the airport?

Yes, I could have slept in the airport, but that bed was so good. I'm reminded of that because I want nothing more than a bed right now. A bed and quiet. Those two things, one or both or either, would be heavenly. It's not the unattractive people who bug me; it's their conversations. I actually quite like all the unattractive people. That's one reason I like airports: so many more unattractive people to see! It's like a zoo. Unattractive people come from all over the world to parade themselves for my amusement. Even more beautiful is that they have to sit in airliners to get here, so they've got that little extra bit exhaustion that adds immeasurably to their unattractiveness.

Holy shit these people next to me are so unattractive and so boring.

A couple in matching sweatsuits just walked by.

I LOVE YOU.

Edmontons of fun

Get it? I'm in Edmonton, and there's the suggestion I'm having tons of fun. Edmon-tons of fun. I'm not sure I can make a judgment on the fun, to be honest. Here are the parameters:

1. I got in a half-hour ago. It's 10:30pm local time. I have to be back at the airport at 4am, so I have to be up at 3:30am. That affords me 5 hrs of sleep.
   
2. I just got to use "hrs" instead of "hours".
3. The hotel's NBC station is based in Spokane, which is an additional hour behind us, so I can watch 30 Rock right now.
4. But that gives me 4.5 hrs of sleep.
5. I just got to use "4.5" instead of "four and a half".
6. The wifi in the hotel is free.
7. The front desk girl told me that I get two queen beds for the price of one. I told her, "That's great. I'll need the extra bed." She asked if there were more people staying with me, and I said, "Just prostitutes." She didn't think that was funny.

Based on the data, I think it's a wash.

Scads

I was lying in bed this morning when I realised that my sleep schedule s almost the reverse of what it should be.

It was 4:30 am, see, and I was just getting to bed after another almost-all-nighter of putting off and eventually doing way-too-easy stats homework. The homework for this stats class is so unbelievably easy that it seems like a waste of time to be doing it; I might as well be making paper snowflakes for the all the intellectual engagement I feel.

It's not that I'm in the twilight of my undergraduate years ("decade", some would call it), so I should be trying to start a real-world sleep schedule, nor is it my age, advanced as it is. The problem is that I'm leaving for Spring Break tonight and in the next week I'll have some of the most hellish flight times I've ever known.

Note to potential burglars: Everything you've heard of my Bachelor Pad of Earthly Delights was an exaggeration to get you in the sack. Nothing to steal here, no sir/ma'am!

I'm leaving tonight at 9:30pm, flying to Edmonton. Last night at 9:30 I was just getting up from a nap, which is sort of bad, schedule-continuity-wise. I've got an overnight layover in Edmonton and then fly to Laguna Beach via Las Vegas at 6 am. For you unseasoned travelers out there, let me put the pieces together for you: a 6 am flight means I have to be at the airport at 4 am. Last night I hadn't even gone to bed by 4 am. So ... you see ... my schedule is exactly the opposite of what it should be. I'm taking along a book on PHP programming, so hopefully that will have an effect on me similar to that of every other programming book I've ever read: instant dreamland.

But all of this sleep schedule nonsense is still far in the future; in the meantime, I have to eat 5 eggs, a pound of coldcuts, and a small brick of goat cheese, lest they go bad while I'm away. The funny thing is that I'm concerned about eating food before it goes bad only when I'm leaving for a trip; at all other times, I like to watch the contents of my fridge form their own daily-changing artist's pallette.





EGGS ...

Leap'd

I switched to "the new Blogger". Thanks to this "new" business, I can add "labels" to my posts. To wit, I have added labels for this post. I suspect I'll have to go back and label every post if I want the fullest use of this "label" business. Also, judging by my use of quotation marks in other every sentence in this paragraph, I have a serious problem with either grammar or irony.

I listened to Neutral Milk Hotel's "Holland 1945" this morning, and it was so good that I listened to it again. Remembering that it was a love song for Anne Frank, I listened to it a third time, then a fourth/fifth/sixth time, and by the time the seventh time started I was on the verge of tears, but then my iPod froze and turned off. My iPod turns off after twenty minutes in -20 degree weather, which is a fun and educational way to remind oneself of the defenselesss victims of the Holocaust and the hipster musicians who manage to capitalize on their deaths.

Let the lovin' start

For our Valentine's issue, the news editor asked me and another editor to write some sort of "funny" sex survey. I was hoping she'd ask me to write it -- "Aww, she thinks I'm funny!" -- and I was also dreading she would ask me to write it; I don't like when people ask me to write something and to "make it funny." I can't surprise someone with funny if they asked for funny in the first place. We could just keep "funny" implicit in the request, and then there's no pressure for me to deliver the kind of funny that's expected. Otherwise, it's like organizing your own surprise party. Don't you want to be surprised at your own surprise party? Yes, you do.

Ideally we could just reprint the Might Magazine survey from issue #10, but
A) that'd be plagiarism
B) that survey wasn't very Valentine-y

Fig. 1: Survey from Feb/March 96 issue of Might Magazine

I would like to steal that "Fill in the circle" joke, though.

UPDATE: I wrote the quiz. It's hilarious. It doesn't stand a chance of going in without unfunny baboons in the office tampering with it.

UPDATE 2: People thought it was hilarious, and the quiz went in largely untouched. The ex thought one part was "creepy", but I expect such adjectives from one in her position.