I'm all for chillin' and having a coffee with friends. What with it being summer, I'm even more for chillin' and having a coffee with friends outside on a patio. However, as much as I enjoy the thought of a coffee shop with a patio, if a place doesn't HAVE a patio, I'm not about to bring my own.
Thinking I'd take care of some work for upcoming fundraising events, I headed out to my local Timmy Ho's. Knowing that it was summer and that it was a prime time for young hoodlums to meet and show each other how much money they'd recently poured into their rapidly depreciating rice rockets, I wasn't too surprised to see the spots on the edge of the parking lot already taken. However, when I actually turned into the parking lot, I was met with something new.
Yes, there were those show-off-my-car meets, but on top of that, taking up the rest of the spots were other young hoodlums who had pulled out their beach chairs in order to sit in groups in the spots between their not-as-nice-cars in order to chat with friends and pass a cigarette among them that they were too young to have bought themselves.
Not an empty spot in sight--though I could see plenty of vacant seats inside--I was forced to keep driving right on through the lot and out on my way to find another place to do my work. Phooey. Seriously though; bringing your OWN chairs to Timmy's? C'mon.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
It's in the eyes
Dawson showed up at my place today wearing these. I nearly died. While the rest of the afternoon was fairly tame, driving around place to place running errands, there was one moment that happened by accident, but was absolutely priceless.
Heading home, Dawson decided to don his dumbass-eyes one last time. Of course, I cracked up. However, at that particular moment we were at a redlight with the windows down, and as my laugh is anything but subtle I caught the attention of the guy in the car next to us. Suddenly, he's cracking up; laughing and pointing back at Dawson.
Next thing I know, all three of us are in hysterics due to each other's hysterics.
"Guy, that's the funniest thing I've seen all day!!! Put it on one more time!"
Of course Dawson obliges and we're all laughing afresh; Dawson's eyes laughing behind his borrowed pair, my eyes tearing-up, and the other guy's fro buried in his steering wheel. Unfortunately the light changed a second later and the guy turned off down the street and we headed on homeward. Of course that's when it came to Dawson:
"I should have offered to trade him: these glasses for his grill!"
I couldn't stop the giggles until we finally got home and took these pictures. Even then it took a while.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Mass Communication
My mother and I were never really close. I mean, we lived together, we got along, she'd drive me to school, I'd help with the chores and all of that, but we never really talked about our lives together. Everyday after I'd come home from school and she'd ask me how my day went. I'd always just tell her it was "fine" from over my shoulder as I disappeared into my room.
One winter day, I came home from school on the bus. I got off at my stop along with an elderly man that stepped off the bus just ahead of me. As I got off, I accidentally bumped into him as he stood there on the curb in the snow.
"Excuse me." I smiled at him, slightly embarrassed. I was hoping he wasn't one of those strangers that yelled at you if you ever gave them a chance. He wasn't.
"That's alright. My fault, really. I didn't see you getting off; shouldn't have been standing there." He returned my smile.
"Oh, um, that's okay." I'd been bracing myself for the worst, and was relieved when he answered back so politely. He was an elderly man, yes, but he had an air about him that made him seem much younger and yet still wiser. I was usually quiet and shy around people I didn't know, but he seemed so friendly; it was hard for me to be shy without feeling rude and so I beamed an even bright smile at him as a response.
We both stepped up to the edge of the curb, and waited for a break in the cars to cross. We made it halfway across and were waiting together in the middle for another break in the opposite direction of traffic. Our wait was made longer by a driver that decided to speed down the nearly empty road in front of us. As we began crossing again, the man spoke to me again.
"Some drivers these days," he said, "They're so…"
"Impatient?" I suggested. He nodded. "I know. It's scary."
"Yes it is. Someone's going to get hurt one day and then they'll regret it." We began walking into the neighborhood I now knew we shared. The man motioned at my backpack. "You go to school?"
"Yep."
"What grade?" he asked as we tramped down the slush covered sidewalks.
"Grade 10," I replied.
"Do you know what you're going to go into?"
"No, not yet," I admitted. He smoothed down his silver hair as he continued talking to me.
"I have three boys. They're all out of school now though." He grinned again. "One of 'em went to the school out there," he motioned back out to the main road. "And took up mass communications. But he doesn't even use it now. I still don't know why he did it." He paused for a second and I found myself hoping that he would continue his story. I looked up at him encouragingly. He went on.
"He was so happy when he applied. He came home right away that day and told me, 'Dad, I applied and I'm going to study mass communication.' And then I asked him 'Now Tom, why would you go and do a thing like that?'" By this time, we'd reached the road on which the man lived. He turned up the road, but I stopped at the sidewalk to finish listening. He continued the story over his shoulder to me as he walked away.
"When my son asked me, 'What?' I told him, 'Why take mass communications when you can't even communicate with me?'" We both smiled yet again and he chuckled to himself. With his story finished, the man turned around began to walk away. "Take care of yourself, love." and with that, he was gone around the bend.
My smile stayed with me all the way home as I thought about his story. When I got in the house, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Glancing up at me, she raised an eyebrow at the grin plastered on my face.
"So, how'd your day go?" Still smiling, I sat down and told her.
...
I found this story as I was sorting through crap on the computer. Believe it or not, I wrote it. Eons ago. And I didn't even write it for anything, just because I wanted to. Not for marks, not for publication, not for anything. In fact, I think this is the first time that this has been shared with anybody but myself. Just imagine if it takes me almost 10 years before I feel comfortable publishing each piece I write...whoa.
One winter day, I came home from school on the bus. I got off at my stop along with an elderly man that stepped off the bus just ahead of me. As I got off, I accidentally bumped into him as he stood there on the curb in the snow.
"Excuse me." I smiled at him, slightly embarrassed. I was hoping he wasn't one of those strangers that yelled at you if you ever gave them a chance. He wasn't.
"That's alright. My fault, really. I didn't see you getting off; shouldn't have been standing there." He returned my smile.
"Oh, um, that's okay." I'd been bracing myself for the worst, and was relieved when he answered back so politely. He was an elderly man, yes, but he had an air about him that made him seem much younger and yet still wiser. I was usually quiet and shy around people I didn't know, but he seemed so friendly; it was hard for me to be shy without feeling rude and so I beamed an even bright smile at him as a response.
We both stepped up to the edge of the curb, and waited for a break in the cars to cross. We made it halfway across and were waiting together in the middle for another break in the opposite direction of traffic. Our wait was made longer by a driver that decided to speed down the nearly empty road in front of us. As we began crossing again, the man spoke to me again.
"Some drivers these days," he said, "They're so…"
"Impatient?" I suggested. He nodded. "I know. It's scary."
"Yes it is. Someone's going to get hurt one day and then they'll regret it." We began walking into the neighborhood I now knew we shared. The man motioned at my backpack. "You go to school?"
"Yep."
"What grade?" he asked as we tramped down the slush covered sidewalks.
"Grade 10," I replied.
"Do you know what you're going to go into?"
"No, not yet," I admitted. He smoothed down his silver hair as he continued talking to me.
"I have three boys. They're all out of school now though." He grinned again. "One of 'em went to the school out there," he motioned back out to the main road. "And took up mass communications. But he doesn't even use it now. I still don't know why he did it." He paused for a second and I found myself hoping that he would continue his story. I looked up at him encouragingly. He went on.
"He was so happy when he applied. He came home right away that day and told me, 'Dad, I applied and I'm going to study mass communication.' And then I asked him 'Now Tom, why would you go and do a thing like that?'" By this time, we'd reached the road on which the man lived. He turned up the road, but I stopped at the sidewalk to finish listening. He continued the story over his shoulder to me as he walked away.
"When my son asked me, 'What?' I told him, 'Why take mass communications when you can't even communicate with me?'" We both smiled yet again and he chuckled to himself. With his story finished, the man turned around began to walk away. "Take care of yourself, love." and with that, he was gone around the bend.
My smile stayed with me all the way home as I thought about his story. When I got in the house, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Glancing up at me, she raised an eyebrow at the grin plastered on my face.
"So, how'd your day go?" Still smiling, I sat down and told her.
...
I found this story as I was sorting through crap on the computer. Believe it or not, I wrote it. Eons ago. And I didn't even write it for anything, just because I wanted to. Not for marks, not for publication, not for anything. In fact, I think this is the first time that this has been shared with anybody but myself. Just imagine if it takes me almost 10 years before I feel comfortable publishing each piece I write...whoa.
Friday, June 16, 2006
It spells "C.H.A.M.B." if you mix them around
$25 000 dollars and four and a half years later, I am now the proud owner of three extra initials after my name: H. B. A. Woot!
And despite the 5 blisters on my feet, I managed NOT to face plant on the stage. Woo, convocation!!!
And despite the 5 blisters on my feet, I managed NOT to face plant on the stage. Woo, convocation!!!
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Sportsmanship
Now, I am a volleyball fiend. But that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate other sports. Overall, I'm an athlete; I fully appreciate the effort, talent, and skill that all other athletes put into every other sport out there.
That, my friends, is why I'm still awake.
The Swiss and the French tie.
Korea Republic over Togo, 2-1.
World Cup, baby!
That, my friends, is why I'm still awake.
The Swiss and the French tie.
Korea Republic over Togo, 2-1.
World Cup, baby!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Gripping graduation tails
Did I ever tell you about how I almost didn't graduate this year? Tee-hee. It wasn't due to low marks or insufficient credits or anything, it was simply because as soon as I finished my classes in December, I stopped paying any attention at all to my school and school deadlines. So when I finally decided to check in with school at the end of February, I realized I had missed my chance to file my "intent to graduate" form by a week.
Really, not a big deal to me, but to mom...I was dead if I didn't graduate this year, especially if the reason was due to me just being lazy. I feared for my life for a week, telling no one about my predicament except for Brodder (who sympathized, but still laughed at me). Finally, I got myself into the Registrar's office a week later and begged with tears of sorrow and trepidation in my eyes that they help save me from the wrath of mom. Thankfully, they did: I was going to graduate this year and convocate in June.
I digress.
Well, today was the day that all us to-be-grads had to go into school once more to try to pick up any leftover tickets for our convocation on Friday; each of us are only guaranteed two, so this was our chance to pick-up a third. The Registrar's office opened at 9:30 in the morning so I decided that I would get there to pick up a ticket for Brodder at...9:30.
My logic for this stemmed from the fact that grads don't actually want to go to convocation. After having been out of school for at least a month, who wants to go back and sit in an over-crowded hall for hour after hour, waiting to hear your name announced phonetically incorrectly, and worrying the whole time about tripping and falling on your face in front of hundreds of people? Grads would much rather just have pictures taken standing still in a cap and gown and holding a rolled up sheet of blank paper somewhere nice outside with just the important people surrounding them lovingly. I know I'm one of these grads at heart. But of course mom wants the whole family to be there on Friday, and so...back to this morning.
I arrived promptly at 9:30am...to find a line-up of convocating grads wrapped around the building.
While I had probably correctly counted on the fact that grads don't really care for convocation (why else do they have a link to opt out of it on the website?), I hadn't counted on the fact that everyone else's parents would be just like mine, wanting to share that proud moment with the rest of the family.
And so I joined the end of the line--from where I could actually see the front of the line head-on--and waited. I finished the book I was reading and also had time to chew a piece of gum to oblivion before I got my chance at the ticket lady. Just before my turn came to snatch up someone else's unclaimed tickets, I watched the girl in front of me experience something I'd been fearing the whole time I'd been waiting: she walked out empty-handed.
I panicked. The only reason that people were even at that office that day was to pick up extra tickets. Their parents, like mine, had kicked them out of bed at 7:00 that morning, and had thrown them on the bus to school ordering them to get that priceless extra admission, vowing serious punishment if they didn't return with that coveted slip of blue paper. And here, in front of me, a girl had just been turned away with nothing but her name on yet another waiting list.
The lady at the window called "next" and I entered in a daze--no more tickets...mother's going to hurt me. I handed her my student card absentmindedly as my thoughts were preoccupied with scenes of my having to tell my mom that I wasn't able to get that extra ticket while her skin turned Hulk green and she smashed me through the kitchen wall out to the garden in the back. Suddenly, I was snapped out of my day-mare as the lady at the window was handing me back my student card...as well as a blue convocation ticket.
I stumbled out of the office in disbelief, staring at the blue slip in my hand, feeling like I was Charlie and hand just found the last golden ticket. Then it hit me: I'm a nerd!
Yes, my saving grace this morning was the fact that I was a nerd. A bigger nerd than the girl in line in front of me; a bigger nerd than most of those grads lined up this morning. I was a member of an elite group of nerds that was graduating with that complex degree known as an Honours Bachelor of Arts, while all the masses in line were graduating with a something or other of Science.
Muahahaha!
My lesser populated ceremony was taking place in the morning on Friday, while those science geeks were slated for the afternoon. swEEEEt. Saved by my scholarly savvy, I went ahead and picked up a coffee for myself while I called mom to tell her the good news.
...
Listening:
Pussycat Dolls
PCD
Alright, not exactly what might be considered "high-class" listening, but it's so catchy. And not to mention, they're HOT. So what if only Nicole sings? She's good at it...and she's HOT. Admittedly, I was a non-listener until I decided to download their latest video because Sherman told me to watch it. I did, I became curious, and voila...their album's on repeat on both my computer and Nano. If I was ever looking for some booty-shaking music, I've found it.
Really, not a big deal to me, but to mom...I was dead if I didn't graduate this year, especially if the reason was due to me just being lazy. I feared for my life for a week, telling no one about my predicament except for Brodder (who sympathized, but still laughed at me). Finally, I got myself into the Registrar's office a week later and begged with tears of sorrow and trepidation in my eyes that they help save me from the wrath of mom. Thankfully, they did: I was going to graduate this year and convocate in June.
I digress.
Well, today was the day that all us to-be-grads had to go into school once more to try to pick up any leftover tickets for our convocation on Friday; each of us are only guaranteed two, so this was our chance to pick-up a third. The Registrar's office opened at 9:30 in the morning so I decided that I would get there to pick up a ticket for Brodder at...9:30.
My logic for this stemmed from the fact that grads don't actually want to go to convocation. After having been out of school for at least a month, who wants to go back and sit in an over-crowded hall for hour after hour, waiting to hear your name announced phonetically incorrectly, and worrying the whole time about tripping and falling on your face in front of hundreds of people? Grads would much rather just have pictures taken standing still in a cap and gown and holding a rolled up sheet of blank paper somewhere nice outside with just the important people surrounding them lovingly. I know I'm one of these grads at heart. But of course mom wants the whole family to be there on Friday, and so...back to this morning.
I arrived promptly at 9:30am...to find a line-up of convocating grads wrapped around the building.
While I had probably correctly counted on the fact that grads don't really care for convocation (why else do they have a link to opt out of it on the website?), I hadn't counted on the fact that everyone else's parents would be just like mine, wanting to share that proud moment with the rest of the family.
And so I joined the end of the line--from where I could actually see the front of the line head-on--and waited. I finished the book I was reading and also had time to chew a piece of gum to oblivion before I got my chance at the ticket lady. Just before my turn came to snatch up someone else's unclaimed tickets, I watched the girl in front of me experience something I'd been fearing the whole time I'd been waiting: she walked out empty-handed.
I panicked. The only reason that people were even at that office that day was to pick up extra tickets. Their parents, like mine, had kicked them out of bed at 7:00 that morning, and had thrown them on the bus to school ordering them to get that priceless extra admission, vowing serious punishment if they didn't return with that coveted slip of blue paper. And here, in front of me, a girl had just been turned away with nothing but her name on yet another waiting list.
The lady at the window called "next" and I entered in a daze--no more tickets...mother's going to hurt me. I handed her my student card absentmindedly as my thoughts were preoccupied with scenes of my having to tell my mom that I wasn't able to get that extra ticket while her skin turned Hulk green and she smashed me through the kitchen wall out to the garden in the back. Suddenly, I was snapped out of my day-mare as the lady at the window was handing me back my student card...as well as a blue convocation ticket.
I stumbled out of the office in disbelief, staring at the blue slip in my hand, feeling like I was Charlie and hand just found the last golden ticket. Then it hit me: I'm a nerd!
Yes, my saving grace this morning was the fact that I was a nerd. A bigger nerd than the girl in line in front of me; a bigger nerd than most of those grads lined up this morning. I was a member of an elite group of nerds that was graduating with that complex degree known as an Honours Bachelor of Arts, while all the masses in line were graduating with a something or other of Science.
Muahahaha!
My lesser populated ceremony was taking place in the morning on Friday, while those science geeks were slated for the afternoon. swEEEEt. Saved by my scholarly savvy, I went ahead and picked up a coffee for myself while I called mom to tell her the good news.
...
Listening:Pussycat Dolls
PCD
Alright, not exactly what might be considered "high-class" listening, but it's so catchy. And not to mention, they're HOT. So what if only Nicole sings? She's good at it...and she's HOT. Admittedly, I was a non-listener until I decided to download their latest video because Sherman told me to watch it. I did, I became curious, and voila...their album's on repeat on both my computer and Nano. If I was ever looking for some booty-shaking music, I've found it.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Good Morning to you too
The first time I opened my eyes this morning, everything moved in slow motion. Awoken by the sense of something coming close, my eyes groggily opened to see Sherman's face above mine. He was still asleep, but yet his face neared mine slowly and surely until...he head-butted me.
That's right. Sherman head-butted me in his sleep.
This wasn't even a case of a bad roll-over; somehow Sherman managed to prop himself up onto his elbow so that he could knock his forehead against mine from above. And it wasn't even that he slowly fell back down onto me--there was some definite neck-motion in it. Let me tell you: not a pleasant way to be woken. He didn't even know he'd actually done it until I let out a cry of surprise that snapped him into consciousness and had him immediately apologizing and trying assess the damage as I clutched at my brow.
Because it was still so goddamn early, I was able to fall back to sleep quickly--or perhaps I was knocked back into unconsciousness due to concussive injuries--and didn't have to dwell on the pain too long. Sherman has yet to hear the end of this.
...
I do believe this just might top my previous favourite story of weird awakenings: Squiggly, while dreaming of getting into a road-rage related fight, woke up just in time to watch himself slowly finish landing a punch to his then-girlfriend's cheek as she gaped in the same amazement that I probably did this morning. Sorry, Squig--you'll just have to do better than that.
That's right. Sherman head-butted me in his sleep.
This wasn't even a case of a bad roll-over; somehow Sherman managed to prop himself up onto his elbow so that he could knock his forehead against mine from above. And it wasn't even that he slowly fell back down onto me--there was some definite neck-motion in it. Let me tell you: not a pleasant way to be woken. He didn't even know he'd actually done it until I let out a cry of surprise that snapped him into consciousness and had him immediately apologizing and trying assess the damage as I clutched at my brow.
Because it was still so goddamn early, I was able to fall back to sleep quickly--or perhaps I was knocked back into unconsciousness due to concussive injuries--and didn't have to dwell on the pain too long. Sherman has yet to hear the end of this.
...
I do believe this just might top my previous favourite story of weird awakenings: Squiggly, while dreaming of getting into a road-rage related fight, woke up just in time to watch himself slowly finish landing a punch to his then-girlfriend's cheek as she gaped in the same amazement that I probably did this morning. Sorry, Squig--you'll just have to do better than that.
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