Test Pattern

Yes Yes, this is the longest I've gone without writing an entry...

It's strange how much stuff there is to do around the house when you don't have a job to go to every day...

I don't want HAL 9000

Wednesday, Lunch, Shoeless Joe's in Brampton

I'm having lunch with real-world buddy Paul, who's been reading my blog for a short while now. General chit chat, blah blah as the meal goes on and then I pop the dreaded question:

"Do I write like I sound on my blog? I mean, does it sound like me?

"No you're much more coherent on your blog," Paul says without hesitation.

note: I decided not to hurt him at this point, but Paul, I do know where the skeletons are buried. I will be writing about you in the future.

---

But this did get me thinking...

I can't write for shit without my word processor. Those promised voice activated computers that have been talked about since I was 6 won't do me any good. I think on the keyboard. If I had to actually talk to a machine, I doubt if I'd want to write anything.

I hate my speaking voice. And besides, if you had to talk to your machine to write, wouldn't everyone know what you're writing about? What happened to privacy and private activities? (no, not THAT activity!) Anyone else in the room would KNOW if you're writing about them, wouldn't they?

I'll throw this out to any passers-by that happen to be reading this right now (Dear God! Don't you have anything else to do?)

Do we really want to TALK to our machines? Or is the keyboard good enough for the foreseeable future?

I mean, I like my computer, but it's not like I want to have meaningful conversations with it...

Sometimes I think of nothin' but the Monkey Man...

Your soul is bound to the Fifth Totem, Homid:
The Monkey.

Homid appears as a viridian monkey. He embodies
intelligence, potential, understanding, and
skill. He is associated with the color
viridian, the season of spring, and the element
of fire. His downfall is pretentiousness.

You are most compatible with Owls and Tortoises.


Which Animal Spirit Totem Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla


via Ghost of a Flea, source of all my better quizzes, and one stop shopping for Kylie Minogue worship...

Quit

Well I did it yesterday at the end of business-

Heard those magic words out of Bosslady's mouth: "I've gotta go, like, in ten minutes and I still have to get the wire transfers done..." She rushes to her office. I follow, letter in hand...

"Bosslady, something else needs to be talked about."

In response to this I get the deer in headlights look of fear.

"This is a resignation letter." I hand her an envelope. To my amazement she visibly relaxes! The buggers were trying to figure out how to sever me before Monday!

"OK," she says quickly turning back to her computer screen.

As I back away towards the closed door: "If you wish to talk about this tomorrow..." before I finish the sentence I'm already standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, OK."

And I put on my jacket and leave, leave, LEAVE!

---

'cause I wasn't too much of a jerk I gave them notice 'til this Friday, the original last day when I told them I wanted parental leave.

We'll see what kind of interesting response I get when I walk through the door this morning...

Stay tuned.

To Quit, or...

I think I'm gonna give my notice tomorrow. I've had enough of the adrenaline pumping through my body, waiting for them to decide if I can or can't take leave.

Truth be told: if we weren't planning on moving I would've been searching for a better job from week one...This place just isn't me.

It doesn't matter anyway. Parental benefits are the only EI benefits that you don't lose by quitting, so I'd rather take my own destiny in my hands and quit.

I've never been fired before in my life. I don't like the idea of starting now.

Conservatives are U2 fans too...

More of this "natural ruling party crap" as the Liberal Party takes over CTV for several boring hours of patting themselves on their backs...

Pretty regular stuff really, until fuckin' Bono shows up...



(singing to myself) One of these things just doesn't belong...I'll give you a hint. It starts with a C. The one starting with a T wasn't that good either, but at least he was entertaining.

Bono apparently thinks that he should somehow have some kind of influence over our government. Great. Who the HELL elected Bono?



Am I the only one who just wants to hear him sing?



Oh, I thought it was corruption and a total disregard for human and individual rights that allow brutal dictatorships to arise, and then that natural discontent is funnelled against the most prosperous western nations because that's always a convenient excuse for the lack of progress these backwards nation produce.

But I'm sorry. I forgot the prevalent belief that if we just listen to overpaid rockstars, all the problems of the world will be solved...Right? RIGHT?

Bloody 'ell

You are

Spike

"I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

What "Buffy" Character Are You?

Via the Flea.

Nothing worth fighting for

Fall 1979, Scarborough Ontario.

I get jumped in the schoolyard - I'm in a fight with three other boys. Must be Monday. This always happens on Monday.

I was stupid. I wandered out for recess thinking that the teacher supervising the playground would be there. Stupid me. I learned that day that the teacher usually took 10 minutes of the 15 minute recess to go get her coffee and gab with the other teachers about their boring teacher lives...instead of doing their damn jobs.

Any one of these kids I could probably take on my own- but they've banded together and are trying to win by using that time-honoured tactic of hit from behind and then run away. They're too fast. I can only play defense: exchanging glancing blows, keeping them from hitting my face...

They're making me madder...So mad that tears of rage are gonna flow: I hate that. Crying on the playground is a sign of weakness, but when it happens to me I feel anything but.

The rage flows. I focus on the ringleader and chase him down. I get five good shots in to his two. His buddies are hitting me from behind. His nose is bleeding and he gives up and has enough. I have a half-second's desire to kick him in the ribs as I turn to his friends...

...who are being held by the now present teacher. She's doing that superior teaching scowl that's supposed to tell me that I'm in big trouble now.

"Office." she snarls at me. She turns to the ringleader of the happy little gang who started things. "Let's get you to the nurse so she can take care of that." My stomach lurches as I realize what's happened. The teacher had only witnessed the end, when I was pounding the "poor wittle wingleader" into tenderized beef. I'm now the bad guy...

Aftermath

I would've lost that bet. Nobody took me aside to "talk" with me. My boss avoided me like the plague. Three words exchanged all day: "Hi." "Hello." "Um."

Very, very strange. I've deleted all personal content from my work machine. The snacks in my desk have been moved to my car. The cheapie radio that I was using to combat the incessant easy-listening shit has been removed from my desk and taken home. I guess I'm preparing for the escort from the building...

There are nine more days and I'm either being totally ignored, or they're a lot more subtle than I would've thought. I'll bet on the former.

Just because you're paranoid don't mean they're not after you...

Drastic Actions

...are being taken to preserve my sanity.

On Friday I stalked into my boss's office and gave notice of my intent to take parental leave. My normally yappy, can't shut her up, let private things slip superior is totally silent.

So am I.

She asks me "what I expect of them." (Ontario labour laws say that no company has to keep a position open for someone who takes parental leave unless they've worked for the company for at least 13 weeks. They are quite safe from me.)

I sense that I'm now in a poker game, 'cause she's now staring at me, awaiting my response. It surprises her.

"I know the law. And I know what your obligations are." She flinches! She doesn't know and is expecting the worst! That I'll hold up a position in her department for the full 35 weeks of leave that I'm entitled to. This is just too rich!

"I'll expect the company will do what it's allowed to by its policies and the laws of Ontario." I worked that statement out in the van during lunch hour. I'm quite proud of it...

She makes some noise about shuffling some of my tasks before I go...

I make ready to leave.

"I don't think we were asking too much- working you too hard?" She looks up, trying to probe for weakness. She really doesn't know me. In all honesty, the company has been fair, if a little cheap. They didn't really earn my loyalty, but they didn't earn my wrath either. I felt a little guilty, but as soon as I lie down a bit the feeling goes away.

"I'm entitled to take it. And the situation at home is personal" (true, if a bit nebulous on my part) "and I have to make a choice." (there is no choice actually- they were gonna lose me anyway when me, Rue and the kids uprooted to B.C...This way I get a break and can help my wife with the terrible twosome while getting the house ready for sale in January (yes, mid-November was a bit optimistic.)

I love how she's insinuating that it might be MY weakness, and how I can't hack it. Ten bucks says that I'll be taken aside Monday morning and grilled about why I'm leaving.

The truth, gentle reader, is that I hate my job and envy my wife who sees the incredible kids my little ones are becoming...