Rants from Cold Cold Canada

I cause power failures

2005-11-15T18:50:00.000-05:00

I'm told that Windsor gets more thunderstorms than any other city in Canada. Consequently, Windsor seems to get a lot more power failures than any city I'm familiar with. I guess that the power grid gets zapped so often that something is always just a hair's breath away from breaking and plunging some or all of Windsor into darkness.

Because it was failing so often, this summer I just gave up on keeping most of the clocks in the house accurate. I'd set the one or two that I use most and just not bother with the others knowing that I'd just have to do them all again in a few days. But earlier this week, I decided that thunderstorm season must have finished and I could probably count on a steady supply of current until it's knock out by a blizzard, or ice storm or god knows what some time over the winter. So a couple days ago I set the clocks. All of them.

I woke up (late) to a power failure covering several blocks around my house. Clearly my smug clock setting had angered the gods and this was their punishment. Power stayed off for about 45 minutes and then flicked back on.

Not one to surrender to the whims of the gods, or for that matter to logic, I reset the clocks. That may not have been the best idea since it's thundering out now...

An Interesting Evening

2005-11-10T02:23:00.000-05:00

I've had quite the evening. But I'm feeling tired and lazy, so instead of typing the whole thing out, I figured I'd just post the conversation I just had with Mary about it. (with some minor editing)

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CanadaDave: I've had an interesting evening...

mary ann: oh??

CanadaDave: I was sitting and happily vegging in front of the TV when my phone rang

mary ann: k

CanadaDave: It was a number and area code that I didn't recognize, so I answered it.

mary ann: okay

CanadaDave: It was WereGirl. She'd been in some sort of accident on her way home from Toronto and wanted me to get hold of PilotBoy and tell him to meet her at her house.

CanadaDave: She hadn't been able to reach him

mary ann: oh no

CanadaDave: So, after a few phone calls and checking her house to see if he was there, he finally got back to me

CanadaDave: He was home in Michigan and was heading over as quickly as possible

mary ann: i guess so

CanadaDave: I talked to WereGirl again, and she said she'd meet me at my house since she was being being given a lift by a nice man driving a semi.

CanadaDave: So, PilotBoy showed up at my place a little while later and we hung out and watched for WereGirl.

mary ann: she hitched a ride in a semi?

mary ann: that's not safe.

CanadaDave: She did

CanadaDave: Eventually a big truck pulls over and PilotBoy helps WereGirl out of the passenger seat and we all thank the driver profusely

CanadaDave: She then fills us in on what happened while we drive her to the hospital.

CanadaDave: She'd been driving home and run out of gas.

CanadaDave: He car normally bugs her when it's low, but it hadn't this time, so she'd just run out

mary ann: oops.

CanadaDave: So, she got the jerry can out of the trunk so she could walk to a gas station to get some gas

CanadaDave: Except that it was really windy here and the can was blown onto the highway

CanadaDave: Her first instinct was to chase it, but she caught herself before she made that particular mistake

mary ann: this doesn't sound like it is going well for her

CanadaDave: Instead, the can was hit by a truck and smacked her in the chest and face.

CanadaDave: Hard enough that she thought she'd broken her collar bone

CanadaDave: So, it's dark, windy, and she's in pain, but the gas can is alright and she starts walking to the gas station, sobbing as she goes.

mary ann: oh wow.

CanadaDave: At this point the nice man in the semi pulls over.

CanadaDave: She realizes that getting a lift in a semi is not safe, but she just wants off the road and is willing to risk whatever might happen in the truck so that she can get off the road and not be creamed by a car blown off the road...

mary ann: i can see why she took the ride, although why she didn't just get gas and drive home....

CanadaDave: Well, she tried

CanadaDave: They went to the gas station

mary ann: k

CanadaDave: she filled the can and he drove her back to her car.

CanadaDave: She put the gas in the tank, but the battery was dead because she'd left her four way flashers on

mary ann: oh

CanadaDave: So, the nice trucker agreed to take her to Windsor and even let her use his phone to call me.

mary ann: why does she leave her home?

mary ann: ever?

CanadaDave: No one knows

CanadaDave: She really ought not to

CanadaDave: So, we drop her at the hospital and PilotBoy and I head out to deal with her car

CanadaDave: We find it on the side of the road and vainly struggle for a while trying to boost it.

mary ann: it wouldn't go?

CanadaDave: Nope

mary ann: ack

CanadaDave: We tried and we tried, and only succeeded in damaging the hood. It ended up catching a gust and getting blown all the way back

mary ann: oh my

CanadaDave: Eventually we gave up on that nonsense and I called 411 to get the number for a Tow Truck company

mary ann: k

mary ann: good idea

CanadaDave: The first one I called was busy so he gave me the number for a second one

CanadaDave: The second one was busy, so she gave me the number for a third...

mary ann: oh my

CanadaDave: The third finally agreed to send a truck

mary ann: hooray!

CanadaDave: Which took, like, forty minutes.

mary ann: how long since released was weregirl at this point?

CanadaDave: Dunno. But she called while we were on the way to the dealership asking what was up.

CanadaDave: Eventually she took a taxi home. At least I hope she had better luck with that than, well, anything else tonight, since I haven't talked to her since before she hailed the cab..

mary ann: y'all really shouldn't let her leave her house

CanadaDave: She really shouldn't

CanadaDave: But then the house would likely fall down or something

mary ann: fair enough

CanadaDave: So, it's been quite the evening. We spent a long time in the wind and cold trying to make that car go.

mary ann: i bet

mary ann: i spent twenty minutes on an elliptical machine and i thought that was eventful

No Candy

2005-11-01T16:15:00.000-05:00

Just a quick post to share this pic I took of a neighbour's pumpkin last night. There's just something about it that I find funny.

American Politics

2005-10-03T22:16:00.000-04:00

I've been finding American politics to be particularly fascinating lately. Part of it may be that my course load has a couple of classes on the US this semester, but I don't think that that's all there is to it.

On of the stories I found to be of interest was Bush's reaction to the hurricanes that hit the gulf coast. When the first one hit he was on vacation and seemed a little reluctant to cut that short. He eventually did, and then kept such a close eye on the events that he believed that FEMA's Michael Brown was doing "a heck of a job".

Bush's approval rating rather predictably took a hit over his handling of Katrina and its aftermath.

The really interesting part is what happened when Rita started heading towards the gulf coast. Clearly Bush and his staff had learned that people expected him to actually do something when a natural disaster strikes. The problem looks to have been that neither Bush nor his staff seemed to have a clear grasp on what precisely that something should be. The solution was simple enough and is something I've been guilty of trying now and then myself. Bush simply had to look busy. Now, my preferred strategy while trying to look busy is walk quickly while frowning and holding a piece of paper. Bush was going to need something a little more creative, so his staff arranged for a few photo ops. He was photographed looking at maps, photographed being briefed, he even wanted to be photographed overseeing hurricane preparations. (Because that wouldn't have been disruptive at all. The Whitehouse press corps and the United States Secret Service are both well known across the world for being subtle and unobtrusive. Thankfully that photo op was cancelled).

The other fascinating and slightly more recent event are the two indictments brought down against House Majority Leader Tom Delay. The charges themselves are not surprising and frankly, from what I've heard it sounds like there's more than enough to convict him. The interesting thing to me was something that was just mentioned in passing in the coverage I was listening to. Apparently Mr. Delay's lawyer is a little worried about his client's ability to get a fair trial. Seems he thinks the jury pool might be tainted because citizens of Texas are a little angry at Mr. Delay because he spearheaded an extremely partisan redistricting of the state that gained the GOP several more house seats and the majority in the House.

Now, that kind of partisan redistricting is technically known as "gerrymandering" and is one of the more unethical things one can do as an elected official. If Mr. Delay suffers at the hands of the people he willfully attempted to disenfranchise, then I believe that that is what is technically known as "poetic justice".

I hate Detroit

2005-09-20T17:31:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I went for a short flight with WereGirl and PilotBoy. We flew to a nearby airport, had dinner and flew back. The flight itself was pleasant and uneventful as was dinner. Generally a good time was had by all.

Where things got a little interesting was my trip back to Windsor from PilotBoy's house, which is in a nicer suburb of Detroit. WereGirl was staying over, but since I had to work the next day, I was borrowing her car and driving back. The trip to Windsor from PilotBoy's place normally takes about half an hour and is not a huge deal, plus, it was the middle of the night, so traffic should be light to non-existent. I don't know the area very well, but generally am fine once I get on a highway. So, I made sure that I got detailed instructions that far, and trusted that everything would be pretty simple from there. Nothing that involves WereGirl's car is ever that easy.

Anyone who has heard me talk about the roads in and around Detroit has heard me compare them unfavourably to the streets of a country that has recently gone through an extremely destructive civil war. Basically, they suck. The city of Detroit, however, seems to have realized this and has basically undertaken to fix them all at once. I suspect this has something to do with the fact that they are hosting the Superbowl this year.

Whatever the reason, the end result is that every single highway going into and out of Detroit has some sort of lane closure or some kind of detour happening at all times. So, driving in the Detroit Metro area is currently an exercise in frustration, at best. The likelihood of lanes or exits being closed seems to be directly related to how much I'd like to use them. Detours are long, convoluted and seem to go through neighbourhoods that I'd usually prefer to avoid.

So, I had found the highway and was nicely on my way home in WereGirl's car, whose controls are a little unfamiliar to me, and is arguably a little cursed. (Presumably due to a lot of close exposure to WereGirl.) The first little problem was that a bright red SECURITY warning light lit up on the dash. My guess was that this was because I was using a copy of WereGirl's key. (WereGirl had given it to me after a previous incident in which she had managed to be locked out of her car for about a week after losing her only key.) This was my first time driving with that key and I wondered if there was something about it that the car had decided that it didn't like. Maybe it would eventually shut down the engine. No, that was ridiculous and would be remarkably unsafe. Maybe next time I shut down the engine it would refuse to start until WereGirl's key was put in. I decided that that was pretty likely. But that was okay. I had plenty of gas and had no reason to turn the car off before getting to WereGirl's house.

During this time I'd started passing a few signs saying something about lanes being closed. I didn't recognize the roads being referenced, but hoped that that section of the highway would be after the exit to the bridge. Quite the optimist am I. Shortly thereafter a line of pylons gradually forced me out of the express lanes and into the collectors. Okay, that was fine. Traffic was relatively light and this shouldn't affect me all that much. Then the pylons forced me off the highway I was on, and onto another one.. One which I'd failed to take note of the name of. Things still weren't that bad, though. There were detour signs, and I was still on a highway. I stayed on this new highway for a while, taking some comfort in the friendly detour signs the reassured me that I was going in the right direction. This was a little inconvenient, but things seemed to be well under control.

That is, until I saw a sign that seemed to indicate that I should take the next exit. I can only surmise at this point that the sign meant I should have taken that exit, because there was nary a detour sign directing me where to go where I got off the highway. There was a sign directing me to the University of Detroit Mercy, which I was passingly familiar with, having visited it a couple times during my first year of school. Sadly, after two signs directing me along the way, I must have missed one that wanted me to turn.

So, I was lost. Lost somewhere in or around Detroit. And I couldn't stop to ask for directions, since I wasn't about to get out of the car and leave it running and I didn't think it would restart if I turned it off.

My method of getting myself un-lost, something I have to do startlingly frequently, usually involves basically driving by zen until I see something familiar. The trouble with doing this in Detroit is that there is a rather copious lack of landmarks I recognize.

I wandered. It started to rain, creating a fog that obscured any potential landmarks more than a block or two away. I flicked on WereGirl's wipers and realized that the blades had likely last been replaces sometime in the Palaeolithic era. I wandered some more, squinting through the windshield. I found what looked like a broken water main in a dip under a bridge and wondered briefly if I was going to be testing WereGirl's car for any amphibious ability it may or may not have. Wandering through Detroit is a little frightening. There are a lot of homes and businesses that have been boarded up, and the citizens, especially those on the streets this late at night, don't exactly radiate friendliness. I had visions of the police eventually finding my bullet riddled body and wondering just what I was doing in some bad area of town.

Eventually I saw a sign pointing me towards the bridge to Canada. I think I actually said "Yes!" out loud and may have actually pumped my fist in the air a time or two. Mind you I never did find the bridge, but it did get me pointed in the right direction.

Somehow I stumbled upon the tunnel a gratefully made my way back to Canada. Where I immediately made a wrong turn and ended up driving away from WereGirl's house for a block or two...

When I did get to her house, I experimentally shut her car off and restarted it, just to see if it would work. Of course it did and the little red SECURITY light even switched off.

I was still muttering about that, the city of Detroit in general and the Michigan Department of Transportation people in particular, when I got in my own car and drove home.

This and that

2005-08-23T10:15:00.000-04:00

After spending a whole lot of my summer in Orillia, I have now returned to Windsor and should be here pretty much until Christmas. Reason being that I have started a part time job for the fall which involves working twelve to five every Saturday and Sunday. The good news is that it's a decent gig, isn't all that hard to do and pays okay. The bad news is that I can't do much on weekends and it's only ten hours a week, so despite a more than adequate hourly wage, I won't actually be earning as much as I'd like.

Now, as much as I'd like to blog about certain aspects and happenings in my new job, I shan't. At least until I no longer work there. I have no desire to be fired because I wrote something the company doesn't think is as funny as I do here.

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In other news, the swim mentioned in my previous post went very well. My mom swam steadily across the lake while I swam in circles, around her, under the canoes, under water, here there and everywhere.

It's 5 kilometers across the lake, but we managed to make it 6 due to everyone's inability to actually swim in a straight line...

Anyway, my mom raised a lot of money for charity and we both got out picture in the local paper, horrible picture that it was...

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This blog turned one year old, oh, about two weeks ago. A fact that I celebrated by not realizing it or posting. So, ummm, happy belated birthday blog. I promise I'll try to neglect you less in the coming days and months.

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I've been in Michigan a fair bit over the past couple days, hanging out with WereGirl and PilotBoy around his place and doing some flying with them. Now, I've criticized the roads and highways around Detroit before. Lots, in fact. But what I wasn't expecting was for them to try and fix them ALL AT ONCE. There is more road construction, closed exits and detours in and around Detroit than I have ever seen in my life. This makes getting around the area very close to impossible. Certainly impossible to do efficiently. Especially for me, since I have a bad sense of direction and can barely make my way around that area the best of times. I have grown to hate orange signs from my time around Detroit.

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If you pay attention to the little counter at the top of the page, you'll know that I am shockingly close to my 30th birthday. No more twenties for me. I'm not really pleased about this. Frankly, I've not accepted leaving my mid-twenties.

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Anyway, that's all I'm going to write for the time being... I promise to try and come up with something funny or interesting in the next few days...

The Swim

2005-07-28T22:11:00.000-04:00

Growing up in a city that borders two lakes, I did a fair bit of swimming growing up. I took swimming lessons at the local park as a small child, and later joined the local swim team. (Checking my ribbons was a good way to tell how many guys in my age group were entered in a particular event. First place meant I was the only one. Second meant there were two of us and on down from there.. But I digress.)

I'd gotten out of the habit for a few years, swimming rarely, yet enjoying myself when did. I'm swimming a lot more lately, though. Partly because I'd like to get in better shape for my upcoming 30th birthday (see the countdown above) but also because I promised my mother that I'd accompany her on the cross lake swim she's doing in honour of her 60th birthday on August 10th.

It's not a big lake, by any stretch of the imagination, but it should take more than a couple hours to swim the 5k across. It should be a good swim and I'm looking forward to it.

My mom is using the opportunity to raise money for a few charities, including the one she works for, by taking pledges for the swim. Me, I've been mostly focusing on the actual experience and less on the money raising part. That said, if you'd like to sponsor me and contribute either to NSVCS or to the CanadaDave Student Beer and Pizza fund, email me using the link at the bottom. Contributions to the former as even tax deductible for Canadians. Not so much for the beer and pizza fund.

Close Call for the Communicator

2005-07-08T16:32:00.000-04:00

Yesterday's attacks in London struck fairly close to home, since London is the current home of my brother, the Communicator. (Hence the London weather link on the lower right side of the page.) Thankfully, he ended up being inconvenienced, but not hurt and also on the front page of my hometown paper. (Not sure how long that link will keep working) How he ended up in London is a story in and of itself.

My brother graduated from university with a degree in commerce and went into investment banking. He worked for several companies for a few years, working insane hours and making what I gather to be a rather decent buck. He'd dated the same girl since high school, lived in nice apartments, played hockey and was mostly pretty predictable. Or at least it seemed to me. We're not terribly close and rarely see each other or speak outside of family occasions.

The joke had always been that one day he'd call me and say "So, uh, are you free this weekend? I'm getting married." That didn't happen. The Communicator and the girl I called my "sister in-common-law" broke up, and then I think possibly aliens took over my brother's body.

First he fairly abruptly quit his job and then went to Europe on vacation for a few months. I guess he liked it there because shortly after he came back he started talking about finding a job in London.

Since our grandmother was a British citizen, my siblings and I are allowed to work in the UK. So, after some paperwork and some packing, off he went. He landed a job fairly quickly there, doing the same sort of investment banking stuff he did here. (I have only a faint idea of what it is he actually does. It involves lots of money and natural resources).

He shares a "flat" with two 23 year old Swedish girls and a Norwegian chef and from all accounts is having quite the time there.

He was quoted in the article as saying "I won't let it (the attacks) affect how I live my life."

Frankly, neither would I.

Dave Day

2005-06-13T15:26:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow (June 14th) is international Dave Day. And to quote another famous Dave, I am not making this up.

If you haven't finished your Dave Day shopping, you best get a move on. It's probably too late to beat the inevitable Dave Day crowds, but you certainly wouldn't want the important Daves in your life (cough, me, cough) to be disappointed.

Guest Entry

2005-05-19T13:07:00.000-04:00

WereGirl has enjoyed the stories about her enough that she thought she'd have a go at writing one herself. I can only speculate as to why she wrote it in the third person (because she's nuts?), but she did. Anyway, here it is for your enjoyment.

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A long long time ago, in a land far far away (well ok, maybe not that far) there lived an evil monster Weregirl likes to refer to as the Provincial Offenses Office of Toronto.

The story begins some 2 and a half years ago on a cold dismal night in February. Two days after a lonely valentines day, Weregirl decided to visit her friend crochety in her west end too posh for kind people apartment on the west side of Toronto. Weregirl has a nasty habit of forgetting to put gas in her car, and this night was no different. She heard the echo of her gas guage as it reached empty and she thought to herself, "ahhh...no big deal, I have enough gas to get there and
back...this car has made longer trips on empty before." Yes, despite the fact that Weregirl is aware of her ridiculously bad luck, she still enjoys tempting her arch rival the Fate God, and yes, the Fate God beats her every time! So, Weregirl passed three gas stations on her way to Crochety's house, and spent some 'not so quality time' with Crochety until the wee hours of the morning. Upon her return, Weregirl's car began to lurch...no problem she thought "I'll just put the car in neutral and coast down the hill on lakeshore to the gas station on the other side." So, Weregirl put this brilliant plan in motion, stomped her foot heavily on the clutch, and shifted into neutral. At the time, Weregirl was travelling at a modest speed, however her car quickly accelerated down the hill and in no time she was travelling 30 kilometres above the speed limit. "Wow, this is great" she thought, "at
this speed, I'll be able to make it to the gas station with fumes to spare!!!" Unfortunately for Weregirl, the Fate God wasn't impressed with having been tempted twice in one night, so he decided to retaliate against Weregirl. Just as Weregirl rounded the bend and approached the gas station she saw the twinkle of starlight in her rearview mirror, followed by the colours of the star spangled banner...yep, that's right, the police had clocked her going 30 km over the speed limit at 2 o'clock in the morning, with not a car in sight but hers.

"Are you aware of how fast you were going ma'am?" exclaimed the officer better known as "Chip".

"No officer" Weregirl sheepishly responded.

"Well is there any reason that you were travelling 30 Kilometres over the speed limit ma'am?"

"Actually...." she paused... "I'm out of gas and..." she began to explain, however, Chip's eyes grew thin as he scowled at her lame excuse..."no, really look" Weregirl pointed to her gas guage that was reading below the empty line.

"Yes ma'am, I see that, however your car is off, all cars read empty when they're off, let me see your license and ownership please."

"Honestly officer, its empty" she exclaimed as she turned the ignition key to once again start the car. Weregirl is actually brutally honest, and so although her explanations are often beyond comprehensible, she never softens the truth, no matter how dumb it makes her look and sound; this time, she was cracking the scales on the dense-o-meter. She proceeded to beg the officer to once again poke his head into her car to examine her gas guage. Reluctantly, he did so, and as the Fate God
would have it, she indeed was almost completely out of gas. Chip unfortunately was not overly impressed with Weregirl's stupidity and reiterated his request for her license, ownership and registration.

Weregirl began fumbling around trying to find her paperwork. Naturally, this was no small task. Weregirl has enough clutter in her glove compartment to send Martha Stewart and all of her wanna be compulsively organized cronies to the looney bin for good. Needless to say, Weregirl was not able to produce all of her paperwork and sure enough, more annoyed then ever, Chip left the car in a huff. He returned to her car with 3 tickets, one for each piece of paperwork that she was missing and one for her expired plate sticker. (If you are doing the math right now, as shocking as it sounds Weregirl actually had her driver's license on her for once, so 3 tickets was all she got.)

The officer reminded her that she was lucky her story panned out and that she actually was coasting down the hill to save gas, otherwise he would have given her a speeding ticket as well, however he decided this time to let her off with a warning to slow down. Weregirl thanked him and Chip bid her A Dieu. As Weregirl watched the police car pull out from behind her and speed away, her car began to sputter. Sure enough she had been idling since Chip reluctantly poked his head into her
window for the second time. Weregirl listened closely to the sounds of the Fate God chanting his victory song "put, put, sputter, put, put" the car moved 4 feet and then died. The Fate God had won again. Weregirl was left alone and deserted on lakeshore boulevard with nothing but 3 tickets, a cell phone with a dead battery (yep, she always forgets to charge her phone) and a horribly cluttered and immobile car on the side of Lakeshore Boulevard.

Tune in next time to read what happens when Weregirl tries to fight the tickets at the Provincial Offenses office...

Mistaken Identity in the Dryer

2005-05-06T17:07:00.000-04:00

Before leaving for her summer job last week, WereGirl did a humongous amount of laundry here. (I have a washer and dryer, she doesn't, so she sometimes does laundry here). WereGirl has enough clothes for about 5 girls, or (with some suitable substitutions) 87 guys. I know this because I helped her pack last time she moved. The bags of clothes completely filled the bed of a full size pick up truck. Completely, as in no more would fit and it's entirely possible that one or two fell out. I counted them at the time, and I remember it being an impressive number, but it has long since faded from my mind.

Consequently, WereGirl doesn't need to do laundry very often, but when she does it's a major production. She also tends to start and not finish, so I usually have a load of two of her clothes stowed somewhere. This time she was here every hour or so for a couple of day, bringing more dirty clothes, taking clean clothes away and putting the wet clothes in the dryer. And after all that she almost finished. Almost. When she left for her job she left a load in the dryer, but this is the smallest amount of WereGirl's clothes I've had here for a quite some time.

But the load abandoned in the dryer reminded me of one of the first loads left there a couple of years ago. At the time WereGirl had two roommates living with her. One we'll call "Miss Independence" and the other isn't important enough in this story for me to bother thinking up a clever name. Miss Independence also did laundry here now and then when she lived with WereGirl. The girl other did not. I have no idea where or even if she did laundry. Anyhow, on one of her infrequent visits, Miss Independence did a load and then completely forgot about it in the dryer. I'd just done laundry, so the load went unnoticed and unattended to for about a week.

The next weekend I left town for reasons that I no longer remember. What I do remember is that when I came home WereGirl was folding a recently finished load of laundry. I put my bag away and noticed that she had put Miss Independence's load of laundry on my bed, with a black pair of panties placed jauntily on top (which I didn't notice as having been done intentionally at first). I put the laundry in a basket and carried it back out of my room.

"Did you see the laundry on your bed?" WereGirl asked pointedly, clearly very annoyed about something.

"I did. It's actually a load Miss Independence left here." I replied.

"Oh..."

WereGirl, had obviously thought the laundry was mine. And the panties... Well, me, I can think of many reasons why I might have women's underwear in my home. I could have had a visitor since she last was there, for instance. Also, there were two girls who both did laundry at my house. These were not the sort of conclusion that WereGirl drew.

It's important to note at this point that WereGirl is a pretty small girl. She doesn't really think so, and rarely behaves that way, but she is. She's an inch or two over five feet tall and very slim. Miss Independence is a more average sized girl, and thus wears slightly larger underwear..

"Did you see the underwear?" WereGirl asked.

"Yes..."

"I have a pair like that. I thought you'd stolen them and had stretched them out by wearing them." She admitted.

WereGirl can be a little strange sometimes.

Stir Crazy

2005-04-29T19:28:00.000-04:00

After handing in my last exam a little before 4:30 today I finished school for the semester. My plan for the summer is to make like any other student and get a summer job. I really could use even a brief respite from the whole poor student shtick and I'd like to try and minimize my loans for next year. To that end, I've sent out a few dozen resumes.

The glitch in this idyllic plan is that I may as well have sent each and every one of those resumes into a black hole and not to potential employers. In fact, I'm not entirely certain that some flaw in the time space continuum is not sucking them into some sort of quantum singularity (I love Star Trek techno-babble) as I've yet to get even a nibble from a potential employer. It's not like I've been overly picky. (thought I have been a little bit). I've sent out resumes for postitions I really want (Like a fun sounding job at the Windsor Library teaching basic computers skills. I'd be really good at that.) and for jobs that I'll do if they hire me and agree to pay me money (deliver flyers, a well trained chimp could do this).

Consequently right now, as of about three hours ago I have nothing to do and no money with which to do it. Which means that I'm going slightly nuts. Which, frankly, took about 20 minutes.

I may be forced to do something productive like spring cleaning or something...

In the meantime, if you'd like to hire a former IT support guy (who is at least as skilled as a well trained chimp) for the summer, shoot me an email... (seriously, really... The address is at the bottom of the page...)

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

2005-04-18T22:38:00.000-04:00

My good friend WereGirl is, if nothing else, an excellent source of blog fodder. You see, WereGirl does not have good luck. WereGirl has phenomenally bad luck, luck that you really can't understand without spending time with her. There's an ancient Chinese curse that states "May you live in interesting times." I'm not sure exactly how WereGirl managed to piss off the ancient Chinese, but this curse fits her life to a T. The last couple of stories prominently feature her, and this one will too. For most people, myself included, these events would be exceptional. But they're just par for the course (or, perhaps curse) for her.

Our latest story starts when WereGirl's boyfriend boyfriend, PilotBoy, had to go to a funeral in central Michigan. What would have been the last snow of the year had been forecast and because the Family Truckster does not handle well in the snow, WereGirl had insisted that they trade cars for a couple days and so he could take her car north. It didn't actually end up snowing, but it was a nice, caring thing for her to have done. Unfortunately in, especially for WereGirl, no good deed goes unpunished.

I enter the story once again hanging out at WereGirl's house. She told me that an employee of her mother's had had car problems and needed a lift home, across the river in Detroit. Being the good person that she is, WereGirl had agreed to take her across in the Family Truckster. In hindsight we should have taken my car, but WereGirl is a silly girl and felt that asking ne would be an imposition. It really wouldn't have been, except for the fact that the Family Truckster is far more comfortable for three people, but like I said, she's silly. This was another good deed. So, now she was really due some punishment.

I knew that she wouldn't want to be driving in Detroit after dark, so when she asked if I'd tag along, it wasn't really a surprise. So, we headed off to her mom's store picked up our charge, and then to the border.

American Border guards almost always like to know who you are and exactly why you'd like to enter their fair country. It took a while for WereGirl to explain that we were driving her boyfriend's car, and that no, that wasn't me. Two of us were Canadians, one of us was an American. I volunteered that I was coming across to keep WereGirl company on the way back "since Detroit doesn't have the best reputation" (this elicited a bit of a scowl). Eventually we were deemed worthy and granted access to the United States.

The actual drop off went without a hitch, though I swear that Bosnia has better roads than Detroit. One in particular was a series of potholes separated by speed bumbs. We got slightly lost but eventually found our way back to the border where the real fun began.

I've never had much of a problem with Canada Customs. When SouthernKitten and I were dating I crossed every couple of weeks and the most thorough interrogation I received was when an agent asked "Are you sure?" after I'd said I had nothing to declare. The longest I'd ever spent at customs was after my last visit to Kentucky, just before the day before the US election. The guard was bored and wanted to talk US politics for a while.

This time was different. The woman in the booth noted that the Family Truckster had Michigan plates, and since neither WereGirl or I were US residents, she said that we were not entitled to bring it into Canada and would have to pull into the inspection area to discuss it.

Once there, we were approached by a pair of customs agents, a veteran officer and a young one. The veteran did most of the talking. WereGirl wanted to have her mother (who is a US citizen) meet us and drive the car into Canada. However, since WereGirl had admitted that her mother was a resident of Windsor, this wasn't going to fly. Her next idea was for her mother's boyfriend (also a US citizen, but one she had not admitted to be a resident of Windsor) do the same thing. Again this did not fly. The agents were concerned that we'd just cross the border, then she'd resume driving. The agents wanted the Family Truckster out of the country and back in Michigan.

At this juncture WereGirl and the customs agents both felt the issue had been resolved, though both had completely different ideas about just what this resolution was. The agents said they'd open the gate to let us out and send us on our way. The gate led back into the tunnel and ultimately back into Michigan. WereGirl had somehow gotten the impression that the gate led to the impound yard and that customs would be keeping the Family Truckster until PilotBoy could come and pick it up. The agents instructed us to wait and told they'd be back.

The younger agent came back with a piece of paper that would allow us back across without paying a second toll. Suddenly WereGirl understood what they wanted and took this opportunity to re-open negotiations. She basically offered the same solution, but the younger, more inexperienced agent fell for it, er, I mean, agreed.

WereGirl called her mom at home and her mom and her mom's boyfriend headed to the border to meet us.

A couple of minutes later a very chagrined younger agent re-approached the car. The older agent had apparently vetoed the idea and chewed him out a little. We'd have to figure something else out and the car could not proceed into Canada.

We spent some time trying to come up with a plan. Then another customs officer, this one female, approached the car and knocked on the window. WereGirl rolled it down.

"You have to leave." said the officer.

"But we're waiting for my mom and-" Weregirl started to reply. Her mom was on her way there and would be rather confused if we weren't there once she arrived.

"She can't drive the car. This has been explained to you, you have to leave" interrupted a rather bitchy customs officer.

"I know, but she's on her way and-"

"This is a Saturday night and we're busy, this is not a parking lot and you have to go." Officer McBitchy interrupted again.

At that moment WereGirl's mom's boyfriend strode into view. Apparently her mom was waiting inside. I headed inside to let her know what was happening and let everyone else sort out what was going to happen.

I found WereGirl's mom and we chatted idly about WereGirl's luck for a few minutes while a new plan was formulated. Eventually WereGirl joined us and filled us in on the new plan.

Her mom's boyfriend would drive the Family Truckster back into the US. WereGirl's mom would take us back into the US where we would meet him, then they would go back home to Windsor and WereGirl and I would take the Family Truckster back to PilotBoy's house where we would meet him when he returned the next morning.

Because of our rather complicated story and reason for going back into the States this time, WereGirl's mom decided that we should just tell the US customs officer a little white lie about our reasons for crossing. It would just be so much easier to tell the little white lie and get across than to re-tell the whole story. When we pulled up to the booth at the border, however, we recognized the guard as the same one we'd seen on our way across an hour or so before. Now, I'm sure that border guards see hundreds, if not thousands of people a day and probably remember almost none of them. But WereGirl is an attractive girl, my last name is pretty distinct and I'd insulted what may well have been his home town. If he was going to remember anyone, it seemed pretty reasonable that he'd remember us.

"Why do you want to enter the US today?" the guard asked.

WereGirl's mom opened her mouth, set to tell the lie.

"Well..." WereGirl interupted, just in time.

Asside from a whole lot of ranting on WereGirl's part, the rest of the trip to PilotBoy's house went smoothly.

In the end what had been intended to be a 20 minute hop across the border turned into an ordeal of several hours and an overnight trip.

Just another day in the life of WereGirl.

Ottawa Part II (finally)

2005-04-11T21:03:00.000-04:00

A long, long time ago the universe was created in a violent explosion that scientists call the big bang. Shortly after that I posted the first half of this story and haven't gotten around to finishing it until now. My apologies for the delay.

Anyway, when we left the tale, WereGirl and had hopped into a cab for a ride to the dealership so we could check out her car.

Upon giving our destination to the cab driver a few facts became evident. 1) English was not this gentleman's first language, nor possibly his second or third.. And 2) He didn't know Ottawa and seemed to have even less of a grasp of where we wanted to go than we did. 3) He was a little lacking in what are traditionally called "People Skills"

After some pointing, hand gestures and a long conversation with dispatcher, we were on our way.

The dealership was a rather large one with many building and departments. The driver picked one seemingly at random and let us out there. We advised he that we'd need to go in to get the chit to pay him. This did not please our driver at all. He grumped loudly about it but gradually came to the realization that we just didn't care that much, so he followed us into the dealership muttering under his breath.

We arrived at the service desk and were met by a pleasant young man who had no idea who we were or what we wanted. After explaining or circumstances to him WereGirl gave him the name of the woman she'd spoken to. This elicited a blank stare and he asked for the woman's last name, which WereGirl had not been told.

Eventually he managed to figure out which department we'd need to deal with after having had a car accident and gave them a call. They seemed to have a bit more of a clue. So, he filled out the chit for the hostile taxi driver who then left our lives, hopefully forever.

The building we needed to go to was "next door", yet he offered to have a car take us. This was a little confusing and seemed like more hassle than we wanted to go through to travel what we figured must be 50 to 100 feet. The man looked perplexed and started giving directions. By the third or fourth turn we concluded that possibly his definition of "next door" and ours may have varied slightly and we reconsidered the car offer.

After being driven several blocks to the repair shop we had a look at WereGirl's poor, beat up car. It had arrived only recently and was still coated in ice and had about 15 pounds of weeds wedged into every crack and crevice in the front end, including a number of cracks that hadn't been there when we left Windsor. WereGirl discussed the next steps with the young gentleman staffing the shop who had remarkably few answers. Someone else would have a look, and they'd get in touch. I think WereGirl filled out some papers, we cleaned about 87 coffee cups out of the car (WereGirl has a "mild" caffeine addiction and didn't want auto mechanics thinking she was a slob.)

That taken care of we walked out of the dealership. Somewhere along the way (I don't remember when exactly) PilotBoy had called back with the results of his research on how to get us home. The plan was that WereGirl and I would would take a commercial flight to Toronto where he would meet us and drive us home in his car, affectionately known as "The Family Truckster".

Our next step was to get to the airport. We were on the completely wrong side of town, low on cash, WereGirl's cell was dead and mine just barely hanging on. We walked about a block to a nearby diner, sat down, grabbed a bite and tried to figure out how to get to the airport. The first step was to call friends in Ottawa who might give us a lift. DevilBoy lives in Ottawa, but was on springbreak, and out of town. Eggman also lives in Ottawa, but had moved a while back and I hadn't gotten around to putting his new number in my cell. WereGirl's also had a couple of friends there, but just couldn't manage to track them down.

After 45 minutes or so of abject failure WereGirl had the brainwave that we could just take the bus. Brilliant plan, now we just needed to figure out which buses to take from where we were. WhereGirl found the number for Ottawa transit and got directions. The man sitting at the next table, however, was an Ottawa Transit driver and felt that the route we'd been giving was... sub-optimal. He gave us new directions and he and his wife were even nice enough to give us a lift to the proper stop to get us on our way.

The bus ride was mostly uneventful. It was a bit tricky making sure that we didn't miss the stop where we needed to change buses, and then spent what seemed like an eternity shivering there, waiting for the next bus.

The bus dropped us conveniently right in front of the terminal. After a bit of confusion we managed to find the right ticket counter and pick up our tickets. We checked in, found our gate and sat down to wait.

Predictably our flight was delayed. In fact, the plane had been delayed an hour in Montreal by the same storm that had gotten us into this in the first place. Flying from Ottawa to Toronto takes about 50 minutes, so the delay was actually longer than the flight itself.

I enjoy flying, so the flight itself was fun for me. WereGirl wanted to sleep, but had foolishly choosen the window seat, so my leaning over to stare out the window and chatter about the various great things I could see outside kinda precluded that...

After our short hop, we landed in Toronto and disembarked at the new terminal. I'd never been there before and both of us were at a bit of a loss on how to get out and couldn't figure out why PilotBoy hadn't met us at the gate. We called his cell after finding some pay phones and discorevered that, predictably enough, he was waiting at arrivals and gave a gate number that made no sense with what we could see. There were plenty of signs for restrooms, telephones and assorted other things, but none that really directed us out or to his location. We wandered in what seemed like an appropriate direction and eventually found a map. Having been awake for over a day at this point the best our sleep addled brains could figure was that we needed to go down a floor... We continued wandering, finding a dead end or two, before finally our way to the arrivals area and found PilotBoy.

We made our way to the Family Truckster and headed for Windsor. PilotBoy is a good guy. He's drive three hours or so to Toronto for Detroit, waited a few hours in the airport and now was driving us the three hours back to Windsor. I stayed awake for part of the trip, but once we left to Toronto, the almost 30 hours of wakefulness caught up with me and I blissfully passed out.

It was 3:00 in the morning by the time they dropped me off, seldom have I been so glad to see my little house or my bed.

Ottawa, part I

2005-02-24T08:40:00.000-05:00

I had planned on making this entry another rant. I’ve been stewing about stupid things Tom Wappel has been saying lately, the federal budget and miscellaneous other political things.

Then last Sunday and Monday happened.

They were a rather eventful couple of days. On Sunday I was hanging out at WereGirl’s house watching West Wing DVDs and generally relaxing. The weather was unpleasant, but I didn’t need to be anywhere, so everything was tranquil in my world.

WereGirl, on the other hand, had an interview in Ottawa (8 hours away on a good day) Monday morning. She planned on driving all night, doing the interview and then driving right back. She’s a little nutty that way. With the weather being nasty, however, she didn’t want to make the trip alone. PilotBoy, her boyfriend, was in Arizona doing a mountain bike race that weekend, so that left me.

“Dave, come to Ottawa with me!”

“Can’t, I have class.”

“Pleeeeaaaase!”

“I would, but I have class.”

(repeat the above about a dozen times)

“If you don’t go, I’ll have an accident and die!”

Ah, guilt… Yeah she had me here.

“Ok, fine, but I’m doing school work on the way home”

So, around 10pm Sunday night we left for Ottawa. We could not have picked a worse time to travel if we’d tried.

WereGirl drove and fought her way though blinding snow, ice, sleet, big trucks and roads that had not been cleared. I think we ended up in the middle of a weather system heading east and were keeping pace with it. It was really the worst driving imaginable for almost ten hours. The trip was scary in places, but generally not bad. We chatted, called her boyfriend to find out about his race (he’d not had a good weekend and was on his way home) and stopped for coffee and rest stops occasionally.

When we made the turn north on 416 the weather gradually seemed to clear. Things were looking good. It was not no longer snowing, sleeting or raining and the sun was up, so visibility was good. We’d left most of the big trucks behind us on the 401 and it looked like we’d make WereGirl’s interview with about half an hour to spare.

The highway, however still needed clearing.

I don’t know exactly how it started. My nose was down, looking at a map on my notebook when the car hit ice, snow, slush, or something and swung to the right. WereGirl managed to stop it, but we ended up swinging a bit further to the left. Then back to the right. At this point I was a little concerned. Further to the left, and back to the right. At this point we were basically perpendicular to the road and I knew there would be no recovering from it.

“This is gonna hurt…” I thought to myself and held on tight to the door handle.

Off to the right of the highway was a large ditch, about 13 feet deep and filled with weeds and rather wide.

We shot off the edge of the road, flew through the air and landed in the ditch. Dirt and snow flew up and slowly covered the car.

WereGirl and I slowly gathered out wits about us. She noted that the car was still in 4th gear and was currently idling, that wasn’t a good sign.

We got out of the car, and had a look around. WereGirl’s car had no visible body damage at this point, but both drivers’ side tires were rapidly deflating and the rear one was at a pretty odd angle. Three or four other cars had pulled over after having seen us fly off the highway. There occupants were on their way down to the car and asked if we were alright. We responded that we were, and most went on their way. One man stuck around for a bit and eventually agreed to take WereGirl and I to her interview. I grabbed my laptop out of the car, and off we went.

Traffic in Ottawa was pretty awful. But after making a pit stop to find a washroom for WereGirl who by this point desperately had to pee, we arrived at the interview only 15-20 minutes late. Not bad, all things considered.

I went and grabbed some breakfast in the building’s food court while WereGirl went off to do her thing. After a while I finished and decided to explore a little. The office building was only a couple blocks from Parliament Hill, which I thought was pretty cool. I walked up and down Sparks Street for a while. Sparks street is pretty neat in that it’s right in downtown Ottawa, but completely closed to vehicle traffic. I wandered for a while, made note of a pub and wandered back to the building to wait for WereGirl.

She had just finished and was chatting with a fellow applicant when I got back. I waited for her to finish, and then we had to figure out what to do next..

WereGirl made a few phone calls to try and get things moving. She called the local dealer for her car, her insurance company and the police. Everyone seemed a little confused about the fact that we were no longer with the car and promised to get back to us.

We left the building, and wandered Sparks st. a little. We stopped at a couple little stores and explored. Eventually we stopped at the pub I’d found, waited there for her phone to ring and had a couple beverages and some food.

We finished, paid and left. More phone calls had been made, but nothing had really been resolved yet. By this time PilotBoy was home from his trip, and she had him doing some research on the internet for the cheapest way to get us both home.

After a long time the police found her car and examined it, then a towing company got it out of the ditch and to the dealership. There would be no charges laid against WereGirl, and we needed to get out to the dealership to have a look at the car.

WereGirl called the dealership and inquired into getting a shuttle sent out to pick us up. One was not available, but if we used a certain taxi company they’d give us a taxi chit. So, WereGirl called a cab and we stood by the road waiting for it.

A cab from the proper company pulled over, and we hopped in.

To be continued…

Be sure to check back later for the rest of the story, including checking on WereGirl’s car, and our trip home.

Inside the ping pong ball

2005-02-16T18:29:00.000-05:00

Valentines day unexpectedly turned into quite the adventure for me this year. My plan had been to do some moping and possibly post here about how I dislike Valentines day since it mostly serves to entice people in relationships to spend money and make those outside them feel like crap. Still stinging from the abrupt end of my last one I am firmly in the latter category. None of that changed, but I didn't do any moping about it.

First a brief bit of background. WereGirl recently started dating a guy whom we shall be calling PilotBoy. Now, as you may have guessed, he earned this moniker due to the fact that he actually is a pilot. Thus earning big points right away with me. PilotBoy is also an American and lives just a little outside Detroit.

For Valentines Day PilotBoy planned on taking WereGirl out to dinner. Not overly exceptional in an of itself. The interesting part was that he planned on taking her somewhere out of town. Way out of town. Flying was to be involved in getting there. Because I have a bit of a thing for airplanes and had been agitating to be brought flying, they both agreed that inviting me along would be a nice thing to do, too. This was going to be lots of fun.

I think the plan was originally to go somewhere in Cleveland. (He was going to surprise us) But the weather was kind of bad, it was raining and cold, so we decided we'd take a shorter trip and have a more modest meal.

We had a pleasant flight there and PilotBoy had me help out with the checklist and let me fly for a bit. I thought this was great. Dinner was at a small restaurant at the airport and wasn't bad at all. Things got a little interesting after dinner.

The weather had changed and the rain had begun freezing. Freezing rain and small planes with no deicing equipment do not get along. We had no choice but to wait this out.

First, we walked to a nearby bowling alley and bowled a couple games. I discovered that I still suck at bowling. The weather was no better by the time we had had enough bowling.

Next we took a cab to the local movie theatre. We saw Million Dollar Baby, which was okay, but really a chick flick and very, very long. (or at least seemed that way). It was, however, not long enough for the weather to clear. By this time it was after midnight, so we decided that we'd best find a hotel and spend the night.

PilotBoy called the cab company and was advised that the soonest they could get a cab to us was forty minutes from then. He negotiated them down to twenty, but that still wasn't great. So, we interrogated the staff and the few other patrons there about hotels that might be within walking distance of the theatre. We didn't get any very promising leads, but a couple we'd asked came back and found us once they'd ventured outside. The weather was nasty enough that they didn't think anyone should try walking in it, so they offered us a ride. PilotBoy cancelled the cab and we thanked them profusely.

We arrived at the hotel and went to check in. The lady behind the desk advised us that she was in the middle of doing an audit and thus would be unable to give us a room for about twenty minutes. We negotiated, but she wouldn't budge. We decided to try the hotel next door instead. This one was also doing their nightly audit, but the man behind the desk was either less lazy or more competent, as he agreed to take our information down give us a room and put it all in the computer once the audit finished.

We ordered a wake up call for quarter after five and retired to our beds.

Morning came way to early. The hotel had a nicer than usual complimentary breakfast so we dug into that and then took a cab back to the airport. WereGirl had a class at 8:30 that morning and we were well on track to get her back in time for it.

The weather looked better and the threat of ice had passed, so we broke ground and headed home.

The sky was still overcast and we entered the clouds almost immediately after takeoff. Most of the flight was like flying inside a ping pong ball. The wings and wheels of the plane were visible out the window, but everything beyond them was pure white. The only times we broke out or the clouds was to briefly skirt their tops. PilotBoy is qualified to fly by instruments (IFR) and had filed the proper papers for that prior to taking off, so this was fine. He navigated us to our home airport and tried to line us up to land.

The weather was uncooperative again, though. There was a massive crosswind, a lot of turbulence and the bottom of the clouds eluded us. PilotBoy aborted the landing and we went back into the pattern. The air traffic controllers directed us around, and we went to try again. As we were climbing out WereGirl declared her own little in flight emergency - she had to pee. Badly. Having warned her to visit the washroom before we left, and because I'm mean, I found her discomfort to be pretty funny. The second attempt was not a lot different than the first. As WereGirl squirmed in her sear we tried one more time, and again were foiled.

PilotBoy decided that we might have better luck at an alternate airport. One was found nearby with a higher cloud ceiling and less wind. Our decent into it was less bumpy and we popped out of the clouds with the runaway just a little ahead of us and to our right. PilotBoy gently set the plane down, and the tower directed us towards the general aviation terminal. On the way there we had to cross an active runway and the tower instructed us to hold for a while before crossing it as there was other incoming traffic. WereGirl was about ready to explode by this time. She joked about the possibility of just getting out and squatting. PilotBoy took a quick look around and told her to go for it.

So, PilotBoy opened his door and WereGirl stepped out of the plane using the open door to shield herself from any onlookers and the wind. PilotBoy and and I intently studied a B-52 bomber parked at the museum in the opposite direction on the airport grounds while WereGirl made a new puddle on the already damp runway.

We taxied the rest of the way to the terminal and disembarked. We would have to try to wait out the weather again. We wandered around the terminal, snacked on popcorn from a popcorn machine, sat around and chatted. By lunchtime things had not improved. PilotBoy rented a car and we went into town for some lunch.

The weather was no better when we finished. So, we waited around for a while longer and then PilotBoy decided that further waiting was likely to be futile and drove us back to Canada in the car, deciding to go back for the plane later.

WereGirl made her last class of the day and I went home and played airplane games on the computer.

With any luck I'll get to go flying again sometime soon. I can't wait.

Just Another Diatribe on Gay Rights

2005-02-06T08:08:00.000-05:00

At present there is a bill before the House of Commons that would legalize same sex marriage across Canada. This takes us in pretty much the complete opposite direction of the US, where proposals to constitutionally protect "traditional" marriage passed last November in all 11 states where they were proposed.

Those who oppose gay marriage have already reached an unprecedented level of insanity in the States(protesting SpongeBob? Honestly, how is anyone supposed to take them seriously after that?!). Opposition here has been quieter, but they seem to be gearing up now.

At a recent protest near Hamilton, Ontario an anti-gay marriage advocate encouraged his supporters to lobby their MPs by, among other things, calling their constituency offices after hours and clogging their voicemail systems. (As heard on the CBC news this morning, I'll post a link if/when I find one). I take issue with this, both because clearly I disagree with them, but also because constituency offices do important work that they wish to disrupt for their own ignorant ends.

Constituency offices are there for people to access the federal government. People go there for passports, (especially when they need them in a rush for family emergency, etc), they go when they are having trouble getting government benefits they are rightfully entitled to, basically they go there when they need help. Disrupting this work for political reasons is, in my opinion, despicable.

These folks wish to disrupt that important work because seeing two dudes kiss is icky... Which, incidentally, is seriously the best justification I've seen so far for opposing gay rights. The only other non-vague and actually specific reason I've seen is that some groups seem to feel that gays are secretly trying to "recruit" them or their children, which I find ludicrous. I don't know about anyone else, but I don't care how socially acceptable it becomes, sleeping with a guy just doesn't appeal to me. Honestly the only people I can see this argument making sense to are closeted, self hating homosexuals. I just don't know who else would feel the temptation to cross over and then be so angry about it.

Gay rights is not an issue I want to care about. I was happy enough sitting on the sidelines of the issue, quietly being pleased as they won court case after court case. It meant that society was becoming more tolerant. I like tolerance. Unfortunately, the march of gay rights reached a point where it inspired a backlash. Primarily religious, which I also don't understand.

Every mainstream religion preaches love and forgiveness. Every religion also has various sets of rules to live by. Some have been deemed arcane and are basically ignored. Homosexuality seems to fit well in that list. However, clearly it's not. Religious organizations like Focus on the Family seem fixated on it. They do not love gay people. They fear them. A lot. They fight against teaching children tolerance. To me this seems to clash with the fundamental principles of the church. Which makes it even more bizarre that this group is referred to as "Fundamentalists".

This backlash is the reason I've been speaking up on the issue. I guess I'm the backlash to the backlash. (does that make me the forwardlash?) I just don't like seeing people treated the way the these people treat the gay community. It offends me. Also, I'm reminded of the following quote:

First they came for the Communists,
and I didn't speak up, because I wasn't a Communist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up, because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn't speak up, because I was a Protestant.

Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one left to speak up for me.

by Rev. Martin Niemoller, 1945

These people want to come for the gays,
and though I am not gay, I will stand and fight.

(granted, at least on this side of the border, it's nice to have the government on my side)

State of the Union

2005-02-02T23:30:00.000-05:00

I watched US president Bush's State of the Union address this evening. I chatted online with mary throughout it, booing and heckling when appropriate. (In other words, a lot)

The really fun parts were where Bush obviously contradicted himself.

On exporting democracy:

As a new Congress gathers, all of us in the elected branches of government share a great privilege: we have been placed in office by the votes of the people we serve. And tonight that is a privilege we share with newly elected leaders of Afghanistan, the Palestinian territories, Ukraine, and a free and sovereign Iraq.

What a nice list of places the United States has played a major roll in bringing democracy to. Afghanistan and Iraq most obviously and most recently. Ukraine by economically destroying the USSR and Palestine mostly through diplomacy. Democracy is good. I like democracy.

The United States has no right, no desire, and no intention to impose our form of government on anyone else. That is one of the main differences between us and our enemies. They seek to impose and expand an empire of oppression, in which a tiny group of brutal, self-appointed rulers control every aspect of every life.

Ummm... Democracy is good... But, uh, yeah, you kinda actually have been imposing it on other countries. Like those ones you just mentioned...

Today, Iran remains the world's primary state sponsor of terror - pursuing nuclear weapons while depriving its people of the freedom they seek and deserve. We are working with European allies to make clear to the Iranian regime that it must give up its uranium enrichment program and any plutonium re-processing, and end its support for terror. And to the Iranian people, I say tonight: As you stand for your own liberty, America stands with you.

America stands with you, but if/when they invade they promise not to impose anything... I guess they'll just bomb you...

On social security:

Today, more than 45 million Americans receive Social Security benefits, and millions more are nearing retirement - and for them the system is strong and fiscally sound. I have a message for every American who is 55 or older: Do not let anyone mislead you. For you, the Social Security system will not change in any way.

For younger workers, the Social Security system has serious problems that will grow worse with time. Social Security was created decades ago, for a very different era. In those days people didn't live as long, benefits were much lower than they are today, and a half century ago, about 16 workers paid into the system for each person drawing benefits.

Our society has changed in ways the founders of Social Security could not have foreseen. In today's world, people are living longer and therefore drawing benefits longer - and those benefits are scheduled to rise dramatically over the next few decades. And instead of 16 workers paying in for every beneficiary, right now it's only about three workers - and over the next few decades, that number will fall to just two workers per beneficiary. With each passing year, fewer workers are paying ever-higher benefits to an ever-larger number of retirees.

Oh my, that sounds pretty bad. But everyone 55 and up can relax as none of this next bit is going to affect them.

Here is how the idea works. Right now, a set portion of the money you earn is taken out of your pay check to pay for the Social Security benefits of today's retirees. If you are a younger worker, I believe you should be able to set aside part of that money in your own retirement account, so you can build a nest egg for your own future.

Wait... If today's workers are paying for today's retirees... And they're gonna set aside money for their own retirement too... Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that either mean less benefits to current retirees or higher deductions? Or maybe everyone can have their cake and eat it too...

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It was a big speech and there are a few more, but those two were my favourites. The really sad thing about the State of the Union speech was that it preempted West Wing and a smarter president I like a lot more...

Boy, do I feel safe...

2005-01-25T23:57:00.000-05:00

Noticed this in the news recently.

"(CNN) -- A water leak at the Fermi II nuclear power plant outside Monroe, Michigan, forced a shutdown of the facility Monday, but no radioactivity was reported to have escaped and no evacuations have been ordered, authorities said."

I noticed this plant from I-75 when I was driving back and forth to Lexington. (A drive I oddly find myself missing). That thing is close. About 50km away, according to a map actually..

I'll have to look up what kind of fallout I can expect next time...

(Edit: It leaked again when they tried to restart it... That thing makes me nervous.)

More snow

2005-01-21T23:38:00.000-05:00

Like a lot of places in this part of the continent, Windsor is currently bracing for a pretty heavy snow dump. For me this is inconvenient, since I had planned on going out of town for a good chunk of the day tomorrow and would rather not be driving on snow and ice covered highways. (Even with the new Hummer-like abilities my car now has with snow tires).

But, before I complain too much about this, I should also take a minute to remember the fond memories of snow I have. Most from growing up in Orillia, which gets just a lot more snow than we do here.

Those of you playing the home game will remember that for a few years when I was in high school, I was a ski instructor. I trust I don't have to go into too much detail about how nice a good dump of snow was there. This was especially true early or late in the season, since it meant either an earlier start or later finish to the season.

Also, all throughout grade school in Orillia a major dump of snow brought with it the possibility of a snow day. A great little unscheduled vacation. One of those in particular stands out for me.

DevilBoy's dad was the principal of my high school for most of the years I spent there. This both had perks (access to the school, even when it was closed) and drawbacks (at least one teacher hated me because of my friendship with the princepal's son).

Anyway, this day didn't start off as a snow day, merely a day where it was snowing rather heavily. Not enough had fallen by the time it was time to leave for school, so, everyone had to show up. But the talk in the halls was all about the storm and how the school would certainly have to be closed any minute now. At any time we expected the closure to be broadcast over the school's intercom system.

In home room, we stood for the national anthem and then the principal (DevilBoy's dad) came on the intercom and read the morning's announcements is his distinct British accent. He concluded with "There will be no snow day today! Simcoe County Board of Education policy does not allow snow days!"

The school day progressed, and DevilBoy's dad made announcements of that type a couple more times. The storm ignored him, and the Simcoe County Board of Education policy and continued to pile higher and higher and the roads got worse and worse. A large number of students were bused into my high school (not me), so this was a matter of some importance.

After lunch DevilBoy's dad came on the PA system one last time...

"I realize that I said before that there wouldn't be a snow day. This was not entirely correct..."

Just a funny link

2005-01-19T03:10:00.000-05:00

Apologies for the lack of updates. I've been dealing with some insomnia of late (note the time this was posted) and haven't felt especially creative...

More updates will be forthcoming later. In the meantime, check out this link. I found it pretty amusing.

Student Funding

2005-01-13T23:14:00.000-05:00

If you'd like to experience bureaucracy at it's finest, apply for a student loan in Ontario. The program is called the Ontario Student Assistance Program (OSAP).

Applying for OSAP is a kind of involved process...

Step 1: Log into the website linked above and fill out a lengthy form. An estimate on possible OSAP funding will be provided. Ignore this number, it doesn't really mean anything.

Step 2: After receiving an email, go back and look at new numbers. These are the real numbers. Their origin is a mystery.

Step 3: Print out pages from the website. Sign them and take them to the financial aid office. You do not receive any money at this point.

Step 4: After about a month, receive an email from student aid. Go back to the office, this time you need to see someone, so stand in line and wait. Get to the front of the line, present drivers license and social insurance card. Receive new papers, but no money.

Step 5: Take the new papers to the university cashier's office. Stand in a new line. Present student card and social insurance card. The university will mark on the papers how much they will be taking off the top for tuition, then stamp them. You must sign the new papers again at this point. Receive no money.

Step 6: Take stamped and signed new papers to the post office. Wait in line. Present student card, social insurance card and a void cheque. More stamping. More signing. Receive more new papers. Sign them roughly 8732 times. Leave the originals at the post office. Return home with copies of the papers and no money.

Step 7: Wait about a week or so. The money (the part the university didn't want) magically appears in your bank account. Yay! Money!

Step 8: Repeat every semester until you leave school one way or another.

I just did it for the fifth time, and it's still as much fun as ever.

There are a few possible variations in this process depending on a few factors. For instance, sometimes there are loans people in the student center and you can go stand in their line instead of the one at the post office.

I have no idea what the student loan process is like in other jurisdictions... Hypothetically it could be worse, but I don't want to think about that.

Nevermind about the hiatus

2005-01-12T07:58:00.000-05:00

I've decided that my planned hiatus may have been an over reaction.

What happened, basically, is this:

SouthernKitten and I split up the other day. I took it pretty hard. Blogging no longer felt like something I really wanted to do. Also, I was concerned that if I did, you'd just be reading CanadaDave whine on the internet. You don't want to read it, I don't want it in my blog. Hence the hiatus plan.

Over the past couple of days, however, I've found a little more perspective. The Earth continues to spin, my classes have restarted and life goes on.

Additionally, I understand Jennifer Anniston has also recently become available. Convenient,eh?

Hiatus

2005-01-09T20:12:00.000-05:00

For personal reasons I'll be taking an indefinate hiatus from blogging. I might come back at a later time. I don't know at this point.

Assorted Miscellany

2005-01-07T00:04:00.000-05:00

I have a few short thoughts on a few different subjects today.

The Indian ocean tsunami has been in the news a lot lately, in fact it's been leading the news every day since it happened. To that extensive coverage, I can't really add very much. The number of casualties is beyond comprehension. The closest I can come is the population sign on the way into this city which reads 209,000. The vast majority of this town would be gone.

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In this country, after negotiations on offshore oil revenues broke down, premier Danny Williams of Newfoundland ordered Canadian flags taken off all provincial buildings.

In Canada the provinces can be divided into two financial categories, traditionally know as the "Have" (like Ontario and Alberta) and "Have not" (like, say, Newfoundland). "Have not" provinces receive federal equalization payments funded by the federal government and the "Have" provinces. So premier Williams stripped the Canadian flag from buildings funded by the rest of the country, something I personally find appalling.

Additionally, the negotiations basically broke down because the offshore oil revenue has the potential to take Newfoundland from the ranks of the "Have nots", but Newfoundland does not wish to give up their federal equalization payments. I can understand why they'd like to continue receiving them and, in fairness, Newfoundland has been robbed in natural resource deals before, but I'm not sure why we in the rest of the country should continuing subsidizing Newfoundland once they have the means to stand on their own.

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On a completely personal level, my car now has snow tires and the difference between them and the all seasons I've used in the past is just phenomenal. With all season tires I'd routinely get stuck three or four times doing something as mundane as going to the store. With snow tires I have yet to actually get stuck. Now, I'm not about to take my car off-roading, but really, it's a huge difference. My car no longer sucks in the winter!