IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE AM...

12/01 ...And you're watching Perspectives. Yes, for some reason I've allowed my days to become inverted. It's a sad, dark existence, but somebody's gotta do it. Wait, that's not true at all. Nobody really has to do it, I'm just being foolish.  Well, whatever. This'll probably disintegrate somewhere along the line, me being lazy and all, but my biological clock won't let me fall asleep until at least seven AM, so I may as well do something with my time. To that end, then, let me just say, regular updates will soon be on the way. Christmas vacation starts next weekend, so the unofficial mini-hiatus should end then, as I go home for four weeks of boredom, work, and smoking up.  I mean... drinking. I mean... family time. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Lonely? Depressed? Oh well.

castomel@hotmail.com

Bored? Ugly? Look no further.

The Archives

TTC JERKS

ORDER OF OPERATIONS

I don't know if I've mentioned this before or not, but I am the world's worst commuter.  First off, I have this defect in my personality whereby I leave to catch the train with just barely enough time remaining... and often, just barely enough turns into not enough.  I've missed trains five or ten times by five minutes or less, and this, of course, makes me instantly one hour later for wherever I happened to be going. I also tend not to bring along enough cash for tickets and such, which turns into a problem occasionally.  One such occasion was this Tuesday.  Having woken up roughly half an hour before I was supposed to leave for home, I scooped up two bucks for subway fare and ran to the subway station. I had about five minutes to spare, so I was fairly safe.  Then, however, the stupid token machine ATE my money.  This was, as you might well imagine, a fairly distressing turn of events, so I went over to the guard in a nearby booth and told him.  He mumbled something incoherent through his little glass window and glared at me.  I asked him to repeat himself, and he said "All complaints can be directed to the office at the corner of" and then he regressed into mumbling. Not that it matters, since I really didn't have the time to go wandering over Toronto for the sake of a bloody dollar.  So then I glared at him, and ran to a bank machine to get money. By then, of course, it was far too late, and I missed my train, getting to Whitby, getting my freaking financial situation resolved, and not losing another 150 bucks in interest to my delightful university, the wonderful bastards that they are.  A service charge proportional to the amount of money... how great is that? Why not just call it interest, which it IS? It's dickery, to be sure, and well above any acceptable rates charged by banks, but to call it a service charge is just stupid. So anyway, by the property of gross generalization and unfair extrapolation, everybody at the TTC is a big jerk and I want my money back!

1. Sleep like the walrus.

2. Run to catch train. Fail miserably due to TTC bastard.

3. Spontaneously combust and set fire to Queen's Park as a fringe benefit.  Okay, I made this part up.

THE NEVERENDING ELECTION AND ITS FOREGONE COUNTERPART

Yes, it's official. Canadians know how to elect people into office.  Americans, on the other hand, do not.  Well, maybe that's not entirely accurate. They managed quite nicely in 49 out of the 50 states to load up the houses of representatives with all the stalwart politicians money can buy.  It's just Florida that's proven to be the sticking point, and now we're in the Supreme Court.  Oh, well.  Canada, on the other hand, had a nice, imbalanced contest, with a virtually foregone conclusion of continued Liberal government.  Good? Maybe. Bad? Perhaps.  Whatever the case, at least we have somebody in office to run things. I'm kind of surprised that the worst Saddam Hussein has contrived to do is hand out cash rewards to the families of any Palestinians who manage to get themselves incinerated by Israeli troops. I can just see that one.  Families with two kids, one of them stupid... "Hey, Johnny, go run in front of the Israeli train, okay? We need to send your brother to college." The other question is where Saddam manages to get all this money to be giving to foreigners.  Not that he's ever pretended to care a whit about his own people, but shouldn't he be spending money on them? Returning to the political situation up here, voting is a real pain in the ass when Elections Canada decides not to send you a voter registration card. I didn't know where to go, so I ended up running around to four separate polling stations, until finally one of the officials had the presence of mind to actually be helpful, instead of sullenly and relievedly directing me to an alternate polling station.  Is my vote THAT great a burden to bear? Is filling out my registration really going to take all that much time out of your day? Lord... Anyhow, I finally found the right place, voted, and went home to watch the guy I voted for get soundly thwacked by the Liberal, despite the fact that the Liberal, so far as I could see, didn't even run a respectable campaign. That's the problem, I suppose; he didn't really have to.  A final note: The Marijuana Party briefly held the lead in one western riding before being swept under the rug by Liberals there. I can just see that... An old hippy, showing up stoned to parliament just to make a point... ugh.

We win, we win, lalalalalala....

What? How can this be?

I---don't know...

Blast! I was supposed to be the next PM!

There's no time for that now, you fool!

You're right! I must plot my rigid right wing agenda!

Yes, surely that is what Canadians want!

To the Reichstag! mwahahahahahaha!

You mean that house I said I wasn't going to move into?

Yes. That.

LINDROS? WHY BOTHER....

Oh, boy. The Leafs want Eric Lindros.  Eric Lindros wants the Leafs. Bobby Clarke is a crotchety old man.  These are the main points in this particular situation which has arisen out of nowhere to distract and slightly horriblify the Maple Leafs' situation. The fact of the matter is, there's really no need for Lindros to come to Toronto. They're playing fairly well, and he's just a little too risky an investment.  Now, to complain.  The game: Wednesday night. The score? 5-0 in the third period.  Cruising? You'd hope so.  But, oh, wait.  Instead of actually playing, the Leafs come apart at the seams like a cheap tent.  They folded in similar fashion, giving up five straight goals in the next fifteen minutes, and then losing the game in spectacular shittiness nineteen seconds into overtime.  A FIVE freaking GOAL LEAD! What the HELL were they thinking? What? WHAT? You cannot go giving up six goals in fifteen minutes and HOPE to be taken seriously by anyone, and furthermore, you can't be doing it if you even hope to achieve ANY sort of reasonable standard of.. of.. .ANYTHING! Oh, man. It was just awful.  There's really no other way to describe it, and there's no point in dwelling upon it, because it just stinks. And it overshadows the disturbing fact that Tie Domi is becoming a scoring machine. With four goals and an assist over the past two games, he's pretty much on par with Sundin's output over that period.  I mean, a couple of them might've been fluke goals but geez! He's almost leading the team in goals scored! This just shouldn't happen... although it does rule cuz Domi rocks.  Okay, that's all, except to laugh at Mike, because the Canucks lost to Montreal.  Hee hee hee hee hee hee... Okay, I'm done.

Complete the following Rodney Dangerfield joke. Did the Leafs fall apart like: a) A cheap suit b) A cheap tent c) A Chinese motorcycle d) All of the above.

Sunny Lamorte giggles fiendishly at the horrible, horrible Canucks.

AND IN CONCLUSION

Yoiks. Boredom reigns supreme, and I'm done here for now.  Look for regular updates starting... soon.  And Christmas shopping. Yeuch. That always sucks.  And is hated by me.

INTREPID BABY SAYS:

You want boredom? I'll give you boredom! Sitting around in a crib, surrounded by incompetent infants! That's boredom, and it's frustration too! And then there's the matter of my rosy cheeks! I want to be sallow, dammit! Sallow! You can't be suitably intrepid without a sallow complexion! This just reeks of health! Ooh... that makes me so mad... although it does match my jumpsuit nicely.

Go Home! Inmediately!