I'm just wondering... is this where we jumped the shark?

Someone puked on my carpet.

Every once in a while I have this dream that I've can solve the mysteries of life, the universe, everything. The secret lies somewhere in the fact that if you re-arrange the continents you can roughly make this giant man.
 
Then just as I'm about to connect all the dots and reveal the answer, I'm awoken by a wretching cat.

I was thinking maybe we should interview Shields and Yarnell too. They did that robot thing so they must know lots about computers.

Exciting accomplishments of the day:

• spliced/HTMLified major page
• built section and linked everything
• avoided Grey Cup parade
• got haircut (Rory says I should bleach it again)
• fixed files until monday when they'll probably turn out to be wrong
• "backed up" some files on to cd
• made omelette
• windy bike ride
• took out garbage
• bought Yusef Lateef cd that turned out to be relatively uninteresting compared to others
• acquired edible food
• scared cats with vacuum cleaner
• bought vacuum cleaner bags
• rebuilt Flash file
• chased cats after they clawed couch
• listened to Badfinger mp3's
• did laundry so I won't be living in crepulence next week
• drank Slurpee
• watched parts of Highlander until the pain was too great
• got headache - possibly from Badfinger, Highlander, or Slurpee

Rachel nixed my Paulie Shore idea. But if Peewee isn't available, I thought maybe David Soul would be another good person to interview. Judging from the pictures on his website, he probably could use the work and comes cheaper than any of us. And I bet he has Poco albums he'd be willing to share.

If you have to work 12 hour days, I think the least the company could do is send someone to your house with a mint julip. Or even send someone over to clean all the kitty litter off the carpet.
 
How To Hide The Fact That You're Mr. T From Your Coworkers.

If there's going to be some hiring going on, this man better be on the interview list.

I coughed up a huge ball of phlem this morning. Just thought everybody would want to know.

Mr. McIntosh found this gem of a site, C.A.H.R.A.. If you've been experiencing "fake kocking [sic] on your door" or "Vivid 3-D images while awake, occasionally even with eyes open". Then maybe you should check it out.

Took a slightly different route to work this morning. I'm not sure if it was the slight deviation that caused the feeling of wanting to quit or all the little things. Or was it the different route that caused the little things that in turn caused the feeling. Oh well, I'm going to buy some music this evening and finish watching Eegah. Maybe the world will be semi normal after that. I filled the dunebuggy's tires with water too.

Discovered this morning that my work email address has finally been found out by the bulk emailers. Bastards!
 
Maybe it's all the cat feces I've been sniffing, but I've been having the most vivid scatalogical dreams in recent memory. Visiting all sorts of places, people shifting into different people on the fly, dust bunnies the size of watermelons.

I'm very disappointed that my brain isn't growing.

Found a real nice like peanut butter jar to put my brain in.

Dreamt last night that Mike D. brought a pizza with no cheese in to work. And there were some dopplegangers lurking about too. They didn't get any pizza.

Accidently overwrote this blog while trying to set up a guest blog

Every once in a while get this real urge to re-do this entire site as a faux gopher site being read on an old green or amber UNIX box.

I was planning of trying to get through some real work today so I wouldn't have to deal with it next week. But I seem to be failing badly. Instead I'm going to rant.

Somebody please tell me why the fuck I should like Mike Bullard? Let see he's not funny, his interviews are painful, his delivery is pathetic, he has the charisma of a dead gopher, and his band sounds like they're playing lame-ass outtakes from Beverly Hills Cops. Everytime I see his god damn squinty face on TV I lunge for the clicker. His existence on network television yet again re-inforces my theory that if you suck off the right person in the Toronto broadcasting circles you're garaunteed airtime (it's the Ralph Benmurgie law of broadcasting). "Canada's best talk show host" - he's the only canadian fucking talk show host.

Somewhere along the line I've lost a day this week. I'm not sure if it's because my life is so excessively dull and filled with work that I can't tell the difference between the days anymore or if someone is using a mind-controlling implant and I've been brainwashed. Well, I'm going to the dentist today so if it's an implant I'll try to get him to remove it. Or maybe it's the dentist that put it there to begin with.

I've got nothing to blog about but I thought I should post something.

A recurring event in human behaviour that I've noticed. As the laundry piles up, the underwear drawer gets emptier and emptier until finally you're down to those briefs relegated to the bottom of the pile. You know, those ones that just don't quite "fit" right. Then you spend all day in a pair of those awkward shorts twisting and turning. The waistband cutting into your mid-rif. Wishing you had done the laundry last night.

I saw the movie "Almost Famous" last night. One line I could identify with... Lester Bangs on the phone to the Cameron Crowe character, "I'm always home because I'm not cool".

Last night's dream:
Was in a small auditorium with the old metal fold out chairs. Most of the people from work seemed to be here. Suddenly, this shabby gathering turns out to be the Oscars hosted by the actor James Cromwell with a Ronald McDonald wig on. I go about mocking the proceedings like Oscars should when they call my name out as the Best Supporting Actor winner for my work in L.A. Confidential. I'm baffled, stagger to the stage, get distracted for about a half hour backstage by Mel Gibson, who's guarding a cooler of beer while lounging in a lawn chair. In the meantime, about 5 other people get up and accept the award for me. Finally, I get to the podium and still stunned by the Ronald wig blurt out a generic thanks instead of the scathing "these awards mean nothing" speach I meant too. It all goes blurry after that. Try to find a place at home to put the statue etc. Mom's best Mrs. Cunninghamesque "oh that's a nice award" remarks. blah blah blah.

What's the perfect way for a pet to greet you when you get home? Why to come downstairs and pee on the carpet of course. It's not love if it's not yellow.

Going to the dentist is not the most pleasant experience on any given day. But going to the dentist with huge sinus congestion creates a whole new experience of euphoria. Leaning back in the chair so the sinuses close a little bit more. Having the Rubber Dam put on to restrict air flow through the mouth. Saliva and mucus building with no escape. Two sets of hands probing and drilling at your back molar. Air supply slowly shortening. It almost is like the plot of every episode of Lloyd Bridges's old show Sea Hunt; you know, trapped underwater by sharks/criminals/leg in bear trap while the air tank slowly is running out. Just a thought.
 
My strange dreams continued last night. don't remember much but there was a lot of "anglo-saxon" food present (high cholestrol, boiled till there's no flavour or nutrients left). That and a track meet.

Okay, I've drunk so much fluid in an attempt to stave off this head cold that I feel like a walking hot water bottle.

Bronte must have felt guilty for not getting me a birthday present because she left me a couple nuggets today. One on top of the desk. The other in the middle of the floor.
 
Watch out! It's Hot Kid. I wonder if Hot Kid would use this as a form of defence.

A belated thanks to all at the office who appeared at my desk with Pims. Honestly, I didn't want any fuss made over my birthday but I must admit it was a loverly gesture. It seems like this was the first year in a decade when I didn't have to work late, have some relative suddenly arrive, or deal with some other crisis. So it was a bit of an odd feeling being able to kick back. It was nothing like last year when we relaunched the e-commerce site the next day. That day was spent creating a UK version of the site till about 7:30 in the evening then coming in around 5 am-ish the next morning to watch the Search engine crash and burn. This year just seemed to be a day of coping with a sugar induced attention deficit from all the Halloween candy kicking about the office.
 
Anyway, thanks again folks!

Another year older and I'm as fresh as a Foghat concert....
 
Oh... that might be a bad thing. And I got a loose filling too!

I've been having crazy ass dreams lately. It's not often you help aliens do cesarean sections in hockey rinks or return Bea Arthur's wallet to her in a T-shirt shop.