You know, it's one thing that freeware used to come with all kinds of garbage bundled with it, but now you just get the garbage and the freeware you were supposed to get is not even in the bundle at all. WTF???

Still the most epic game ever.

Things I do at work: stock; merchandize; count inventory; draw diagrams of unusual species of spiders.

And then I realized I still have 14 boxes to unpack. Sigh...

You know, I thought I was joking my last few months up north when I said my horrible headaches were caused by my brain shrinking from disuse and so splitting from the side of my skull. But the longer I have no Economist, the worse my headaches and nausea are getting. So maybe it's true... maybe I DO need constant inputs to keep my brain inflated. Maybe if I stop taking any knowledge for long enough, I'll just die. In horrible pain.

All this to say, I feel really sick and I want to lie in bed with an Economist instead of going to work.

Guess what?

Tatelena: You got your Economist in?

Me: Close! I actually DIDN'T get my Economist. I don't even know enough swears to comment on that.

Missed the working people bus, caught bus that goes through the rich ghetto. No one on this bus but me. Guess the rich are still asleep.

Thank God I'm riding the bus home. I'm in no shape to drive.

Does keeping a journal of all the douchebags who get in my way count?

Look, you insect or isopod or whatever you are: don't step on me, and I won't step on you. Deal?

After coming in late about ten times, I finally realized that my accompanist skipped a beat when she taped my accompaniment. That's just cruel...

It finally happened... I finished typing up my notes on Ancient Egypt. Thank God for the Persians or I'd be typing Egypt notes until I'm old and grey.

Test piece for my upcoming audition on Wednesday. It's harder than it sounds.




The poem it's based on:

Sure On This Shining Night
by James Agee

Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand'ring far alone
Of shadows on the stars.

Trying to decide what to do with my money this fall. a) drawing class, b) music theory class or c) groceries?

After insisting for weeks that I change my lesson to Thursday, causing me to arrange my schedule accordingly, my voice teacher decides she doesn't have time for me on Thursdays anyway but I can have another teacher on Tuesday. I'm getting aggravated.

Also the proposed new teacher is a Newfie. Yeah, like that's really help my diction problems. >8(

Guess what I got in the mail today? NOTHING! Choking on my own rage here.

I'd like to thank everyone who expressed concern for my dog's health. Most of the time I think y'all not even reading all my cleverly crafted status updates, but actually you are. Aaaaaaawwwwwwww... You're so sweet.

A friend with epilepsy: Did you figure out if the problem is the heat?

Me: I'm not sure how to confirm it, really, but I've been cooling her and she hasn't had further seizures, so nothing contradicts my theory so far. Of course her existing neurological condition makes her more prone to seizures, too, but it's not like she has them on a regular basis.

"The quality-to-quantity pendulum: a metatheory of money". Sigh...

So my car insurance refunded both payments. In one lump sum. Showing that a) they HADN'T issued the first refund when I called them about the second one and b) it wasn't that hard after all, was it? Douchebaggery. Also... no Economist. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuugh!!!!!! Why do you persecute me, Canada Post?

I'm not too keen on going to work when Her Majesty isn't feeling well.

Female roommate, responding to something on TV: Wow, how gay do you have to be to not know who George Foreman is?

Male roommate: I don't know who George Foreman is.


Case in point...

Downside of Winnipeg: now I don't just get aggravated by people who say the windchill "feels like" whatever, but also by those who say the same about the humidex. Sigh...

Female roommate, responding to something on TV: Wow, how gay do you have to be to not know who George Foreman is?

Male roommate: I don't know who George Foreman is.


Case in point...

Dog is now resting with ice pack on her belly and fan blowing. Guess it's hard to get up the energy to be ornery after a seizure.

The dog just had a seizure again. I was looking right at her. It stopped before I could reach her.

Ioana: Is there any medication that you could give her for these seizures??

Me: I'm thinking this was brought on by the heat. She's been resisting any form of cooling today and it's d'ed hot.

Jackie: OH no... give her a hug (if she'll tolerate it)

Me: Her Majesty accepts your offering.

I wonder what it takes to get a job as a deck hand for Maersk.

Please God, let my Economist be here when I wake up. I haven't had my last two Economists and I'm sad.

Mardrey: That is so weird that they don't come when expected. Does it have to do with the forwarding? And now you have another one. If you send the Economist your new address is it their department that's slow?

Me: Yeah, it's kinda pointless trying to change your address. Doesn't work until you have a temper tantrum. Other than that they typically come on Wednesdays... but other times not. So, hopefully tomorrow.

Diana: I'm telling ya: prison.

Me: Yeah. Then your address doesn't change all the time, too.

I bought a fan on clearance from work. At least I thought so. I seem to have inadvertently brought home a jet engine instead. It sure does a good job cooling me though.

Ah, work. No TV. No a/c. No fussy bitches. I should just drag my bed in here and never leave.

Riding the bus to work for the first time ever. I'm living the working class dream!

Listening to a recording of me singing... well that ain't not bad, actually. Other than the part I messed up at the end, I don't sound like crap.

And then let's go into an other room, leaving the air conditioning running. Not like it was doing anything anyways with all the windows open. I'd beat my head against the wall but we've had enough broken drywall already.

And now that the oven has heated up the kitchen, let's turn on... the air conditioner!!!! Because you know, a cool meal and a cold pack would be nearly free, but the oven and the air conditioner waste plenty of other people's money so that's obviously way better. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh...

Too hot? Let's turn on the oven. That should cool things right down. Duuuuuuuh...

Inside the house: too loud (TV), too humid (they ran the air conditioner who knows how long while I was out), too smelly (cooking proceeding for ages). Outside the house: too loud (neighbour listening to music while bashing things with hammer), too hot (because the side of the yard where you don't hear the neighbour isn't in the shade), too... hey, no smell! Score!

In reality I just want to go to bed.

Roommate crawls out of bed. Turns TV on before doing anything else. Vacantly watches a show on... wallpaper.

As Bolivar used to say, people are equal *in rights* because they're certainly not equal in abilities.

I will now attempt to sleep. I'm a bigger man than you, Internet. I know I am.

Today is my dog's birthday. I bought her a 6 1/2' x 4 1/2' shag rug. She watched me suspisciouly as I struggled to insert it under the furniture in our 9' x 12' room where it's 28 C at the moment. As soon as I was done, she stepped on it, scratched it madly, made a few spins and fell right asleep instead of going into the little den she's appropriated for herself.

Apparently, I TOTALLY ROCK buying dog gifts.

Roommate: Whenever I get bit by a mosquito I get a red, itchy welt.

. . . . . .

What do you even say to that?

Saving Hope. Like House except everyone is nice and the medical stuff is totally half-assed. Two thumbs down.

Wow. Is TV ever garbage.

On my Twitter feed: "'Obscene' Pakistan cricket film hits cinemas." Well, what else are you gonna do with a bunch of handsome guys who are not really all that good at cricket?

If there really are 2.3 million blocks in Khufu's pyramid, then their average mass is much more likely 2.75 TONNES than 2.75 short TONS. Archaeologists: another demographic that needs to learn some fucking science.

If there really are 2.3 million blocks in Khufu's pyramid, then their average mass is much more likely 2.75 TONNES than 2.75 short TONS. Archaeologists: another demographic that needs to learn some fucking science.

August 9: my car loan took an unauthorized payment from my account. I phoned them, they said to send a bank statement to show it cleared and they'd refund it. I did. They didn't.

August 23: I phoned again, they processed the refund (allegedly) while I was on the phone, I "should" have it Monday or Tuesday.

Later that day: my car loan took ANOTHER unauthorized payment from my account. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!!! You evil morons!!!!

So I call them and I'm like "you're going to refund my money NOW." And they said send a statement and I said no, I did that last time and you did nothing about it, so just refund my money NOW. And they said it will take (some false number) days to get it done and I said no, it will not, because that's your third mistake in two weeks and I want my money NOW.

Now all this time the girl on the phone keeps saying "I'm just explaining to you, that's our procedure" and I keep saying "stop explaining to me because I don't CARE about your procedure, you screwed up three times in two weeks, so screw the procedure and give me back my money." Except I was careful to avoid coarse or abusive language so they couldn't refuse to talk to me. Then I'm like "can I talk to your supervisor?" and she says "my supervisor will tell you the same thing."

Hmmmmm... Think think think. As it happens, I just took the "Dealing with Difficult Customers" training at work. And at MY job, when we have a disgruntled customer, it's our job to find a way to say "yes". Even if it's their fault, let alone if it's ours. So if it's good enough for a minimum-wage grunt at Home Depot, it's good enough for a financial institution that just confiscated nearly $350 of MY money. So, I refused to get off the phone and just kept repeating that I wanted my money, until the girl stopped thinking up more excuses and just didn't know what to say anymore. Then she was quiet and I said "let me talk to your supervisor", which at that point she did. After having a very lengthy conversation with said supervisor while I was on hold. And the supervisor... did exactly what I asked. FINALLY.

Now there is still the issue that their accounting department might overrule the supervisor, but at least I got them to say yes. Thank you, Home Depot, for teaching me to be a more difficult customer.

The Economist: "Readers in prison in Missouri probably didn't receive the June 29th issue of The Economist. For this we apologise, though it wasn't our fault."

Er... People get The Economist in JAIL? Like who? Bernie Madoff? And how many readerS does the Economist have in Missouri prisons?

Well, at least it's good to know that you can take your Economist along when you go to jail. I'll have to remember that.

Diana: Sounds like they get more reliable delivery in jail than you do on the outside.... Hmmmm

Me: I know, right? That's messed up. When the dog dies I'll see about going to jail. Free room and board, take university courses, get Economist on time... I don't see any down sides, really.

Winnipeg gets rainstorms, windstorms, and apparently a unique weather phenomenon that I shall call "humid storm". Cause the weather was fine at 5 am coffee break, and then the humidity hit us like a... simile or something.

I decided to do a purge, but when I went through my friends, I couldn't find any that I a) want to purge and b) CAN purge without them causing a fuss. I suppose that's a good sign. Of the universe telling me it's time to stop wasting time on Facebook and go to work.

Pô l'temps d'niaiser; still plenty of time to spend 45 minutes fixing a Microsoft malfunction. Le sigh...

And now, back to Egypt. Pô l'temps d'niaiser.

Both my roommates suffer from delusional parasitosis. There are so few mosquitoes in Winnipeg this year that the city stopped spraying them. There are so few flies I can't even get them to walk on my arm (I like it cause it tickles). And, we're in a very developed part of town with no standing water. Yet both roommates complain of the number of mosquitoes in the house. ??????? How do you get through life being such a fussy bitch?

Hello, home wifi connection!

So other than the utilities thing and the princess thing, the new house is actually really nice. Pourvu que ça dure.

Eat. Sleep 7 hours. Eat. Still 6 hours of sleep possible. Sweet.

Head touching pillow at 0816. Thank you, Lord.

Youngest Roommate (yesterday): You know how you said I could use your van to move stuff if I needed it?

Er... No, I said no such thing. I said I could do one load for you on moving day, which you declined. And YOU don't get to use my van: I use my van to help you.

Me: For a limited time, cause I'm taking the insurance off.

Roommate: I got to pick up stuff from the university tomorrow. Between 9 am and 4 pm.

Me: That totally doesn't work for me, but I suppose I'll just have to get up.

(Follows a series of garbled and contradictory instructions from him.)

This morning. I return from work.

Roommate: What time do you get home from work?

Me: When I get around to it.

Roommate: (lengthy complaint about Eldest Roommate)

Me: Right. Well, I'm going to bed. I'll think about it later.

Afternoon. I get up to go move his stuff.

Me (texting as I leave the house): I'm leaving the house now.

Roommate (texting me while I'm driving, which obviously I didn't check): I'll meet you at the stadium.

Me (texting after arriving at the previously agreed rendez-vous): I'm at the previously agreed rendez-vous.

Roommate: I'm at the stadium.

Me (apart): Fucksakes...

Driving to the stadium, I spot the roommate standing on the side of a busy road which is a bus route and has a "no stopping" sign on every single light post. I drive past as he waves at me.

Roommate (texting): You just drove right past me.

I turn around where it is safe and go park in the stadium parking lot across from where he is.

Roommate (arriving at the car): I was on the other side, you drove right past me.

Me: You were standing right under a "no stopping" sign.

Roommate (not interested): Really? (As we drive past where he had been standing:) See, I was standing right there.

Me: Yeah. There is a "no stopping" sign on every single light post.

Roommate (not interested): I didn't notice.

Douchebag... So we go pick up his stuff which was a heavy(ish) old desk and some miscellaneous stuff. He goes inside and comes back shortly.

Roommate: Can you come with me? There's no one to help me.

Sigh... Fine. I go, load his desk on a cart, let him pull it to the car, load the car, wait for him to return the cart and load other stuff, blah blah etc whatever, then we head back home.

Roommate: Moving is so much work. And nobody helps you here. In my country everyone helps.

Dafuq??? First of all if you don't like it here feel free to go back where you came from. Second, you had two suitcases and a box and two people helped you. Third, you shouldn't complain, of all people, to the person who got up after five hours of sleep and is using her gas money to help you. Douchebag. And fourth you shouldn't complain to ME anyway because I've just moved 650 kg of stuff three times in six months, and my furniture twice, and you don't hear me making so much drama.

We arrive back at the house. I get my handtruck and unload the desk, which then will not fit through the back gate. With a real guy I could have lifted it over the gate, or I could have spent time and effort lying it down and working it in at an angle, blah blah, but no.

Me: Here. You'll just have to walk it around to the front.

Roommate (looking at me and not moving): Ok.

Me: Ok, so take the handle, and walk around to the front.

Roommate: Oh, like I have to walk around?

Me: Yeah. Here you go.

I hand him the handtruck and he promptly almost dumps the desk.

Me: You have to tilt it toward you.

I go into the house and take my dog for a walk. When I return, the roommate is sitting down.

Roommate: Do you know any home remedies -

Me: No I don't.

Roommate: - for heatstroke?

Me: Heatstroke is a life-threatening condition, the first aid for it is to move the victim to a cool place and provide rest, water, and ice packs to cool them down.

Roommate: Water?

Me: And cold packs.

Roommate: I had a shower.

Me: You don't have heatstroke.

Roommate: But I feel so exhausted!

Me: Then rest.

Roommate: Oh, I'll do that. (Goes to his room which is the hottest place in the house. Hmmm... I don't think we're getting through here.)

I'm sorely tempted to buy a bunch of Disney princess decals to decorate the place, as a sort of subliminal message.

Having a conversation when suddenly I forgot the name of the male lead and the title of the third movie in the Man with no Name trilogy. Sometimes you can just see the brain cells die in real time.

Is it just me or is there only one duplex receptacle in this room?

Sitting in the shade with my dog and a liter of sherbet. Yeah.

Noon on a sunny day: roommate using electrical light. I think I'm going to regret this when the utilities bills start to come in.

One roommate to the other: "can you fix my humidifier?" WTF???? The house has a moisture problem as it is, WTF do you want a humidifier for?

I can't imagine how anyone needs to run so much water to have a shower and breakfast.

Everyone can stop asking me if I'm done bringing stuff out/in. I'll be done when I'm fucking well done. Not like I'm asking you to help.

Every time I move I'm thankful my parents bought us Tetris early on.

Goodbye, little house of insanity. I'll miss you after all.

The geese and seagulls are getting ready to leave already.

Moving 2013.3, day 3. Went to the new house after work. First thing I see is: not my dog kennel where I left it. Eldest Roommate was up.

Me: Where is my dog kennel?

ER: I put it in the shed because I didn't know if it was gonna rain.

Me: It's made of solid plastic.

ER: Well I didn't know where you wanted it. I wasn't sure if it was gonna rain or not.

Me: It's made of PLASTIC. It can stay in the rain.

ER: And I put your lawn chair over there cause I didn't know where you wanted it.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh... K here is a simple way to tell where I want something of mine. If you look very closely at where I left it myself, you'll notice a very subtle similarity between all the places I put my stuff, as follows: THAT'S WHERE I WANT IT. Why the fuck would I put it somewhere I don't want it to be??? Obviously if I put it there, that's where I want it to be. Stop fucking moving my stuff. Good grief.

Other than that, not too bad. Neither the heat nor the a/c was on, thanks be to God. Apparently they're complaining about the silence since the TV and interwebs are not connected and they have no stereo, and therefore no way to make noise. Er... so?? Read a book or something. I declined to delay going to bed so I could unpack my vintage stereo for their convenience. It took about 1 1/2 hour to unload like 12 things and get out the never-ending conversation and off to bed.

Later that day, I get up and decide to load the desk I'm taking with me. The roommate at the old house insisted on "helping" me. FUCKSAKES GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY! The thing weighs next to nothing, I have a handtruck, you don't have a clue what you're doing, fuck off. Just everybody for the love of God FUCK RIGHT OFF AND LET ME GET MY STUFF MOVED. God, I hate people.

Tomorrow, day 4, I'll probably have to interact with the roommate AGAIN because he lost his keys AGAIN and instead of taking the spare from under his bed he took mine. He's supposed to leave just the deadbolt locked (I gave him the key for the keyed-entry lock, since he'd otherwise lock himself out for sure) but he'll forget and I'll have to wake him to get in. Then I have to go to church and a music rehearsal with a woman who never, ever, ever stops talking. Then I really need to finish moving out of the old house because Sunday is my only night off.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh...

Well, it's starting to look like I'm getting close to done. If I can get both bookcases in the Fnord at once tomorrow, I'll be laughing.

All this would go so much faster if everyone would stop following me around making conversation.

I see the moving fairy did not come and load anything while I slept. Lazy biyatch.

And now once again the best part of moving: bedtime. Next up, move furniture.

Moving 2013.3, day 2. Slept. Woke up circa 15:30. Spent the rest of the day eating to rebuild reserves, and loading stuff in the Fnord. Now the Fnord is good for moving because it has infinite space inside and is never full. On the other hand, it never lets you rest, because it's never full enough that you could just sit down and leave the rest for another day. And the other thing, I know I said that three months ago, but how come I don't have enough boxes for all my books? They must have come here in a box, right? Oh well. Buy some from work in the morning. Unload this load at the new house, go back to sleep at old house, then start loading furniture in the afternoon. Not only I have my bed and bookcases that I didn't have up north, but also I scored a desk that the roommate wasn't using. SWEET! I totally need a desk. But short of disassembling everything, it's gonna take a couple Fnord loads to haul it. And then, that will be about it for the old house.

Meanwhile, the new roommates have been in the house for 36 hours and I haven't had any hysterical texts so I'm assuming things are ok... though I wouldn't be entirely surprised if I show up tomorrow and they have the heat AND the air conditioning on and there isn't any drywall left. Oh well. For now, sleep. Oh wait... I mean, work. Zut alors.

The new room is 35% bigger than the old room. Sweet.

So. Moving, day 1.

In the new house, there are three of us, and we're renting the house together, as opposed to the owner or lessee renting out rooms. When we viewed the house, Youngest Roommate immediately called dibs on one of the upstairs rooms. Then Eldest Roommate called dibs on the downstairs room, which annoyed me because I needed that room since Sissi can't do stairs. On the other hand that room is hardwood whereas upstairs is carpet, which Sissi prefers. So, oh well. Upstairs it is.

However, as we're inspecting the house this morning, first Youngest Roommate found some reason to be grousing about the room he picked, and then Eldest Roommate found out the window in the room she picked won't fit a window air conditioner, so she announced she'd just run the one in the kitchen and leave her door open. "Absolutely not", I told her. Not only because of the cost but I absolutely hate conditioned air, it's foul and wasteful. So I told her she'd just have to buy a portable a/c. So in the end they agreed to switch rooms, which I don't care. Had either one asked for my room, there'd have been some snarking. Not only I got the last room, but I decided it was extremely suitable in great part because of its southwest orientation, which is auspicious feng shui for me and also good for starting seeds in the spring.

Then, Eldest Roommate's parents arrived with her furniture. She had told me a million times that her parents would help me "at least with the heavy stuff", which aggravated me because a) I can carry all my own stuff, obviously and b) her father is over 80 and her mother has fibromyalgia, so if I can't do it, neither can they. Duh. Anyway, first of all there was a gigantic 80ies couch which the father, Youngest Roommate and Youngest Roommate's buddy spent an hour trying to get into the living room, ripping out half the drywall in the hallway in the process. Sigh... Eldest Roommate assures me her father will fix it for free since he's a drywaller. Right. I wonder how promptly that's gonna get done. But the good thing is, while everyone was doing that, no one really got in my way. I mean, other than the fact that I had to park on the street and walk around to the back because hall from the front door was mostly blocked by a couch.

Other than that, the main problem is that I never got to unload the Fnord completely since Hay River, so it was full of stuff to begin with, so I unloaded THAT in the house and now I can finally load for real and get things done. Except I'm tired. Good thing I have until the 20th to be out of the house.

So now you know. Also, coffee is over. Bye.

I forgot my wallet at home. That's annoying, but oh well. I also forgot to check the mail and see if my Economist came. WTF?????? I must be REALLY tired.

Everything went better than expected. Now sleep; tomorrow phase two.

Smurfs looked fine the way Peyo drew them. New Smurfs smurf like crap.

And now, move 2013.03 part 1. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh...

I'm so not looking forward to trying to move with a million people getting in my way.

Best part of the day: coffee! Promptly followed by worst part of the day: clocking in for work. Sigh...

Is it unrealistic to suspect my dog of having hidden her nightlight so I wouldn't be able to go to work?

I don't think "skeletonious" is a real word.

Fucksakes. Why do I have to answer the same question several times when it didn't need to be asked in the first place?

Downtown Winnipeg is like my new happy place.

You know the AED that was "temporarily out of order"? It still is.

Four buses in a row at a traffic light. One went on green, one on yellow, two on red. Winnipeg.

No Economist. Is it a) late, b) lost or c) at the new house?

Me: Google.

Google: Yes, Dave.

Me: Use of seashells as -

Google: toilet paper.5


Dafuq?????

I went for a stroll / photohunt around part of the Exchange District, as I had been intending for a long time. And as I was strolling along, I came upon a theater. "Blimey!" says I. "A theater! Sure it's an eternity since I went to a theater." So I hie me inside to obtain a season's program. But as I read the blurbs for the productions, each sounded more idiotic than the last. Finally I find Jane Eyre. "Great," I says. "I'll see that." Then I read the blurb and it says that "Jane embraces love on her own terms and finds her own unique voice." Er... What in the world are you talking????? I've read Jane Eyre three times or more and I can assure you that never happened. I don't think Charlotte Bronte would even have any idea what this sentence means (I'm not sure I do either).

Sigh. I guess that leaves The Seagull. I don't trust it, but given my age and heritage it's hard to make excuses for not having seen it yet.

Yet another kind of people who aggravate me: the ones who "wish they could be like me." You know why you're not like me? Cause you wish instead of doing. Do, or do not. There is no "wish".

Wow. The interwebs is ever boring today.

There are perfectly good reasons for moving out of this house, but I think I'm gonna miss my cozy little room.

Boxes loaded in Fnord: 9. Cat escapes: 2. Dog escapes: 1. It's gonna be a long-ass week.

Moving would be so much more convenient if I could just palletize my stuff instead of these amateurish box jobs.

That embarrassing moment when you can't read your own handwriting.

You know how I know when people are being overly dramatic? Because their lips are moving.

I don't even have everyone's performance schedule yet and I already have 3 conflicts for the coming season. Woe!

Well, I had a fine afternoon walking hither and yon in downtown Winnipeg. Not too many places one could say such a thing.

Winnipeg has a planetarium?? Sweet.

"Fifty Shades: the musical!" Please don't be what I think it is...

Dear library: stop emailing me obsessively about those books I borrowed. I KNOW they're yours, I know where they are, I'll give them back when I'm done with them. If you didn't want to lend books, you shouldn't have been a library. Sheesh.

At first I was annoyed that a bunch of chicks gathered in the library's Reading Garden to do yoga over lunch, cause nobody wants to see you sweating with your ass in the air in downward dog when they're enjoying a beautiful park. Then I realized the sweaty-ass-in-the-air chicks were what attracted all those burly construction workers to eat their lunch at the library, of all places. Hmmmmmm... There goes my respect for construction workers.

And now my favourite hobby: packing up all my worldly possessions.

I got some unsollicited advice from a friend and it... totally worked. That's seriously WEIRD.

At least I know that no matter how I struggle in singing, I'll never sound as awful as The Voice contestants.9

And by the way, I finally found someone who agrees with me that Pavarotti's voice had an ugly edge and he worked way too hard. HA!

We should criminalise the word "ton". Anyone who uses it doesn't know how to use it and it just causes obfuscation.

August 10, 2013: met Gregory Dahl. He was pruning an apple tree. Are youse having this much fun up north?

The more I try to explain to my various bosses that I can't do work that doesn't have time assigned to it, the more they come up with far-fetched methods completely disconnected from reality. No matter how I explain it to them, they can't grasp that ANY method done for zero amount of time will result in zero amount of work done. That's why they're managers: because if they had to do any actual work nothing would ever get done.

Crazy roommate decided to remove a tick from his dog using petroleum jelly and rubbing alcohol, allegedly on the advice of a pharmacist. Seems unlikely since that's exactly what you NEVER do with a tick. Lucky for the dog, the tick is imaginary, so he should be ok. Unless the fool then tries to treat him for imaginary Lyme disease with crazy-ass folk remedies.

I hadn't sung my high C since I was packing up north (October). Well, I f'ing pwned it. Repeatedly. Thank you, Winnipeg.

Now that I'm full time, my vacation pay is banked instead of paid. So actually I took a 3.4% pay cut. Sigh.

Did you know that one time Egypt, Israel, Gaza, Jordan, Lebanon and Syria were all allies? Verily truth is stranger than fiction.

Fuck, I wouldn't even try that B myself and I'm a soprano.

Nessun Dorma sung by Carreras. That's better.

I replied to my voice teacher's email with a variety of possible times I could have my lesson and two clear statements that 17:00 is too early. Anyone wanna bet she's gonna suggest 16:45 next?

Voice teacher: We can schedule your lesson from 5:15 to 5:45 on Thursdays.

Me: That's too early. The only day I can be there this early is Monday.

Voice teacher: Ok, how about Fridays from 5:00 to 5:30?


Er... Do you understand that Friday is different from Monday, and that 5:00 is earlier than 5:15? They really need to put some science courses in music degrees.

Eid mubarak, yo.

I guess I'll just sleep then. After all, tomorrow is... no wait. Today IS tomorrow. Zut alors.

You know what I hate the most about people trying to impress me? When they try to impress me by doing something that *I* do better than average and they clearly don't.

Consider the following. My roommate knows I sing. He likes to sing too, as in sing along to lame-ass country songs in a horrid off-key squeaking falsetto. So today he decided to teach me about "opera", specifically "Pavarazzi". By which he meant Pavarotti. He managed to find "Pavarazzi" on YouTube by looking for "the three tenors" (the? that's always annoyed me). Of course it was Nessun Dorma, because Pavarotti was such a one-trick pony. And I've always hated the sound of Pavarotti's voice anyway, but at least he had technique. My roommate doesn't, but he decided to sing along anyway. Worst. Sound. Ever.

Having ruptured my eardrums with his hideous squawking of the last line, he kept on repeating it while looking for Andrea Bocelli (again, he can't remember the actual name). And he's singing "vincenzo, vincenzo" so I got fed up and said "it's VINCERO. Vincero, vincero, vincero! Meaning I will triumph." And so the idiot says... "I'm Italian. I know that dialect you're talking. It means did you win, like if you say to someone vincero it means did you win."

Fucking sigh... It's one thing to be mentally delayed, and it's another thing to be fucking incapable of learning. I just can't stand the buffoon anymore.

So I left for work about 45 minutes early to escape the cacophony and now I feel bad that I left my dog so early. >:(

I haven't made an Imran Khan joke in ages. Hmmmm... "Me and Imran Khan walk into a bar..."

Just because the buses drive like racecars doesn't mean they should be suspended like them. My bones hurt.

Dear Chanel: I never had any respect for you anyway, so don't get your tweets on my feed, or I'll respond to them. You asses.

I like to email archaeologists with follow-up questions on their work. Some of them are super helpful and some are just douchebags. About average, really.

I want to marry TD Auto Finance. They're the most helpful people in my life other than blood relatives.

Perhaps a spa would be a likely place to obtain hair care and a decent cup of coffee. If only there was a way to test this theory.

I like Madras sauce. It's like applying a corrective to yourself every time you put your spoon in your mouth.

No Economist yet. I'm so sad.

After changing my lesson time about eight times last year, my voice teacher just emailed me to change my DAY from Monday to Thursday in the fall. I love how people have just zero respect for my time. Cause you know, I work full time, I have hobbies, I have to sleep some time, so obviously it's not like I can't bend over backwards as required by the rest of the world.

L'enfer, c'est les autres.

K, let me explain this slowly.

There are 7 x 10^9 people. You'd have to be 6.31 σ in some given dimension before there would be less than 1 integer person more so than you. If this given dimension happens to be biological, you'd almost certainly not be viable. But you're almost certainly less than 2 σ in any given dimension, which puts the population size where you'd likely be the outlier for that dimension at 44. That's right, 44. And that's IF you're 2 σ in some dimension. At 1 σ, the population size drops to 6. And the cumulative distribution at 1 σ is 84% (being, obviously, 1 - 1/6). Which is to say that for 84%, you're not even the outlier in a group of seven people, let alone any kind of stand-out among humanity.

So in simple, statistical terms that anyone can understand, YOU ARE NOT A BEAUTIFUL OR UNIQUE SNOWFLAKE. Telling yourself you are is just a sign of a grandiose sense of self-worth which is intrinsically psychopathic.

And here's the really funny part: cooing over everyone's uniqueness is just the acceptable party line right now. So the more you tell yourself you're unique, the more you're thinking exactly like everyone else. Baaaaaaaahahaha!

Why the FUCK is our regular supervisor here on a Monday????? Damnit, I was looking forward to a pleasant shift of work getting done and no idiot douchebaggery. I want to go home.

Ok, I've enjoyed being wide awake and full of energy since 05:30, but if I don't get some sleep soon I'll be real sorry tonight.

And make me a decent cup of coffee. I'd pay her a bonus for making a decent cup of coffee.

I wish I had a maid so she could brush my hair.

No matter how many times I look up "demiurge" my brain refuses to remember it.

Today is a holiday but I have to work AND I have 40 hours this week. What up widdat?

Good grief. I have 261 pages of notes to type up, 80% of which is on Egypt. The original Song that Never Ends.

I have two fifty-year-old roommates; neither can tell the difference between power failure and getting cut off for non-payment. Sigh.

Maybe the Voynich manuscript is just a fancy Lorem Ipsum.

You know... I'm not even tempted to find out what The Handsome One is up to since I left. I guess he meant a lot less to me than I thought.

I love to watch my dog sleep. She's so small and cute and full of lethal violence.

Listen up, maggots: you are not a beautiful or unique snowflake.

Also, Manuel Valls is a douchebag.

If you don't think the way you present yourself affects how people treat you... I guess you must be pretty f'ing dumb.

Do we really need such heavy military air traffic in peace time?

Modern historiographic problems: when I read "authority" the voice in my head pronounces it "authoritah".

Dear men who "can't find a good woman": 1) you wouldn't know one if she kicked you in the nuts, and 2) what makes you think you deserve one?

Holy crap. I didn't make time to sing for several weeks and my voice totally stiffened up.

I'm not an emergency responder. Therefore, I don't respond like it's an emergency. Seems fair to me.

Well it took about two weeks but I got everyone to stop aggravating me on Facebook. Thank you, Facebookers. Now if only that worked in real life... Maybe I should friend my boss and see how long it would take to shut him up.

Large sign on AED: "temporarily out of order". Hmmmm... How did they find that out?

Still don't know about mechanics but Winnipeg has some d'ed handsome plumbers. Too bad I got no game whatsoever.

Just because you're protesting against something doesn't mean you're right.

White-breasted nuthatch.

Also, a hot air balloon.

Two more. No, four. And something else over here. Damn.

A cedar waxwing!!!! At point-blank range! Too bad I don't have my camera, as usual.

What I wouldn't give for a decent cup of coffee.

Those who can, do. Those who don't have a fucking clue, manage.

Roommate: Please don't move out, I'll never find another girl like you.

That's wrong on so many levels.

Ethnic cleansing by Buddhists = they misunderstand Buddhism. Anything a Muslim does wrong = Islam is evil. Douchebaggery.

Tool-related injuries happen to the off hand for a reason. I don't see why cat-related injuries always happen to my off hand as well.

The rabbits here actually have little white poofy tails. And they don't look at you like they're gonna mess you up.