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Sunday, May 3, 2009
Her book is about a little girl who was conceived mostly to provide her sick sister with blood, marrow and organ transplants.My book is about a Jedi operation to halt Separatist production of deadly bio-droids, starring Obi-Wan Kenobi.
In her book, the little girl hires a lawyer to gain the right to make her own decisions.
In my book, there's a lot of cool battles between droids, clones and Jedi.
Her book is emotional and thought-provoking.
My book is awesome.
What are our books?
Labels: live
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I opened my birthday presents already. The day of the great arrival isn't until February 2nd, but circumstances resulted in early toys. Circumstances such as limited schedules and Amanda's incredible excitement for giving gifts.We went down to Niagara Falls this past weekend for some shenanigans. I didn't even realize I was going to be getting gifts, however, as it was recently my Dad's birthday and I thought the gathering was for him. So it was extra surprising when we had presents and cake, all for me! FOR ME! AHAHAA! Anyways...
My gifts all came in disc form this year, with the exception of the gifts I got from Sabrina. She got me the Ninja Handbook, a wonderous source of information on flipping out and being ninja-like, and a Chewbacca bobble-head thing that has joined Han, Leia, Lando and the foot-tall Gamorrean on my so called "nerd shelf".
The parents got me the Clone Wars movie, which I hadn't seen since going to the show with Stuart when it came out. Watched it already, and may watch it again soon! They also got me the first season of South Park to start up another TV series collection, which rules. Amanda and I have already watched the entire thing, and it brought back precious memories of vulgarity from my childhood.
Also, Rod surprised me with a temporary gift. The guy loaned me his six-string base guitar and a bunch of Metallica base tabs to play around with while he's off on his cross-country thingy he's doing. That's awesome. I'm gonna thump this place to the ground. The only trouble is that I had to leave it behind because it wouldn't fit in the car on the way back to Toronto. Amanda's brother Glen picked us up as he was in town, but with two extra passengers and a trunk already full, the guitar didn't make the cut. My parents are coming up here in February though, so I'll get it then :)
Amanda got me a HUGE pile of great stuff, which is just amazing. I received the first season of the Simpsons (yet another collection begins!) and the first TWO seasons of Robot Chicken (woo!). The icing on the cake was LEGO Star Wars for the Wii, which is a great big heap of fun.
Upon loading that sucker up, I realized it was two-player simultaneous (something I didn't really clue in to previously), and we started it off by bombing around a Trade Federation ship, her as Obi-Wan and myself as Qui-Gon. We've now played through all of the prequels and it's a blast.
I think we had the most fun with the Revenge of the Sith levels, especially Amanda. The game fits the bill for her perfectly, being a platformer where you collect little shiny things and the bad guys are easy to kill. Add in devices that give your character various hats, and you've got a girl in hysterics as she runs around as Chewbacca in a top hat, pulling the arms out of droids with a "thwock" noise and punching Yoda (myself) with a "dshh" noise!
Twas a great haul of stuff, and I'd just like to thank everyone again for knowing exactly what I like and making my birthday very happy, even though it hasn't even officially happened yet!
I'm gonna be twenty-five in four days. Solid!
Labels: live
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Amanda left this, word for word, on my voicemail a while back. Just thought that I'd share :)"Hello, I'm calling to tell you there is a little birdie in front of me and I think it's a-sleeping. It's all poofed out and it's eyes are all droopy and it keeps closing them and it's so cute and it's right in front of me. I could, like, touch it, it's so cute, it's all fluffy and sleepy. Hmmm!"
Labels: live
Friday, January 9, 2009
First of all, Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year to all! I've neglected the old websitey goodness over the holidays due to general craziness, but I'm getting back into posting about boring topics.
Today I'd just like to briefly mention weird bread. Amanda somehow managed to crush it into a weird shape while bringing it home from the shops. I made myself a bunch of mutated sandwiches from the unholy slices and they were tasty, if sacrilegious.
Yeah, I brought back to the photo-comic gimmick that I once dabbled in. I like too many concepts :)
Today I'd just like to briefly mention weird bread. Amanda somehow managed to crush it into a weird shape while bringing it home from the shops. I made myself a bunch of mutated sandwiches from the unholy slices and they were tasty, if sacrilegious.
Yeah, I brought back to the photo-comic gimmick that I once dabbled in. I like too many concepts :)
Thursday, November 20, 2008
So I've decided to start a wee adventure to explore the origins of my surname, Atack, and perhaps do some kind of genealogy tomfoolery.I think I was a little inspired by the latest Star Wars book I read, in which Han Solo finally decides to seriously look into the history of the Millennium Falcon. The guy has the ship for 45 years before he bothers to see who owned it before Lando? I guess he HAS been a little busy with all those galaxy-altering shenanigans that seem to crop up, but really. Let's get with the program.
Anyways, I figured that since I've lived for almost 25 years without really bothering to look into it, I'm going the same way as our fictional princess-marrying hero. I don't have all the details. When asked, I generally say something along the lines of "It's actually English, just a little obscure".
Actually, I do know one thing, which I've recently bothered to confirm. Many years ago, we went to Medieval Times. No, I don't have a Delorean. It's a show here in Toronto where these dudes ride horses and pretend to kill each other in the ways of olde.
We splurged on a printout detailing the history of our deliciously odd and often mispronounced surname, and it indicated to us that it was originally meant to label some English guy as living near an oak tree. That would make it a toponymic surname, one derived from features of the landscape in the area. Neat.
Today on a wild and crazy impulse (and also as an excuse to test out my new winter coat against temperatures like today's whatever-below-celsius) I ventured to the reference library and sought out some books on English surnames. The first five or so yielded no results, but the sixth! Oh, the sixth had a listing for Atack. It said only this: "variation of Attack".
Rolling my eyes, I went down the page to the entry for Attack, and found what I was looking for, along with several varations. Attack, Attoc, Attock, and Atack, all variations of a name meaning "dweller by the oak". It even listed the first known record of the name, one Geoffrey atte Ock, which is some serious Old or Middle English style awesomeness.
There was a date there too, for good old Geoffrey that is. The year of 1296. That's 713 years ago. Seven hundred and thirteen if you were to spell it out in letters forming words. Talk about keepin' on keepin' on.
Tracing my lineage all the way back that far will likely be very difficult, bordering on insanely impossible, but it's something to do at least. It would be pretty badass to even locate where this supposed oak tree was exactly. Then of course I'd have to trace the oak tree's lineage, which is a whole other ball of worms. Or something.
I'll keep ya posted.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
6:00am
I wake up.
7:00am
I leave for work, and work ensues.
5:00pm
Lucasarts and Bioware announce Star Wars: The Old Republic, a new massively multiplayer online roleplaying game. Fans and SWG veterans go wild.
8:00pm
I get home, eat some chips, and watch some Corner Gas.
9:07pm
Amanda calls me to get a phone number off facebook for her, pulling me away from Corner Gas. I help her out. Then I start randomly browsing the TGi boards. An alert about the announcement is waiting for me.
9:24pm
My membership to the SWTOR community is confirmed and I get caught up in a triple-threat whirlwind of SWTOR boards, TGi boards, and TGi chat. I start contemplating my SWTOR character.
10:11pm
Phone rings. It says "Stuart" on the call display. He barely says "hello". Rather, he manages to say "The address is swtor.com-" before I cut him off with "I'm already there, dude!" Geek talk ensues.
10:23pm
I stop listening to AC/DC and put on Anchorhead's Shredisode IV, a death metal medley of tunes from A New Hope. Geekdom reigns across all mediums.
10:36pm
Shredisode IV draws to a close. I go AFK and finish watching the episode of Corner Gas I started a few hours earlier.
11:01pm
I head to bed.
10:53am
I tell Amanda the good news. Her reaction is mild. She'll come around.
Labels: live
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The TTC is the public transportation system in Toronto. It consists of subways, streetcars, and buses. There is a fascinating and annoying variety of people who use the system, which I've organized into the following types, with handy solutions on getting around them. Let's find out, together!
TYPE A: NORMIES
Those who exhibit what can be called "normal behaviour" in transit riders. That is, those who keep their yaps shut while reading or listening to music and make neither visual nor physical contact with anyone else. They limit themselves to one seat, put their bags on their lap or the ground in front of them, and only go to the exit when they plan to leave the vehicle.
Suggested non-violent solution:
None.
Suggested violent solution:
None.
TYPE B: IDIOTS
Idiots play their music out loud on their personal devices, which are completely devoid of bass and suffer from an abundance of treble. They put their bags on the seats next to them, or stretch out over the seats next to them, or otherwise conduct themselves in a manner that blocks seats around them, rendering them unavailable to others. Idiots sometimes travel in packs, and are capable of annoying people all the way down at the other end of the vehicle with their antics. Alcohol is sometimes a factor in the severity of their idiocy.
Suggested non-violent solution:
Increase distance, increase volume on mp3 player.
Suggested violent solution:
Blows to the head and upper body, vulgarity.
TYPE C: MORONS
Morons are dangerous in their ignorance of the world. They rush into the vehicle while everyone else is trying to get off (a major faux pas indeed, one that will likely get you yelled at by other riders). Once aboard, they like to cluster around the exits, even though they have no plans to vacate the vehicle anytime soon. They further impede traffic by stopping at the front or middle of the narrow passages through busses and streetcars, seemingly oblivious to those behind them who are now trapped. They also like to wear their bulky backpacks in packed vehicles, sometimes swinging them into the unsuspecting faces of others. They are easily confused by how the "stop request" and "door open" systems work.
Suggested non-violent solution:
Show patience, request behaviour modification, volunteer information
Suggested violent solution:
Deck them.
TYPE D: FOOLS
Fools know what they're doing is annoying, but they do it anyways, due to what they consider to be a lack of alternatives. They bring large, ungainly items onto cramped vehicles, and try to hide the fact that they're toting it around by holding it as close to them as possible. This, however, isn't good enough. Fools bring their bikes onto vehicles, automatically blocking three or four empty seats or trapping people in three or four full seats. They also try to hide their incredibly oversized mobile child carriers in main aisleways. Sometimes those carriers are doubly as wide, for extra offsping. Also, the squirming spawn that dwells within is often none too quiet. Fools are sometimes apologetic for their foolishness, but do not waver in your disapproval.
Suggested non-violent solution:
Smile, nod, then edge past and retreat to safe distance.
Suggested violent solution:
Baby punching. May cause uproar.
TYPE E: THE ELDERLY
The elderly are shambling, confused prune people, who can exhibit the traits of idiots, morons AND fools all at once. Their apparent feebleness or sense of entitlement (or both) may force you to vacate your seat so they can rest their weary bones and not lose their balance while trying to stand on a moving vehicle. After all, any accidents of that nature will turn their hip bones to powder and send their dentures flying off to an undisclosed location. When travelling in packs, they tend to be quite loud. They love to prod at the babies of strangers and don't trust dogs.
Suggested non-violent solution:
Give in to demands, then increase distance and find happy place.
Suggested violent solution:
Throw up the horns. Old people fear Satan.
TYPE A: NORMIES
Those who exhibit what can be called "normal behaviour" in transit riders. That is, those who keep their yaps shut while reading or listening to music and make neither visual nor physical contact with anyone else. They limit themselves to one seat, put their bags on their lap or the ground in front of them, and only go to the exit when they plan to leave the vehicle.
Suggested non-violent solution:None.
Suggested violent solution:
None.
TYPE B: IDIOTS
Idiots play their music out loud on their personal devices, which are completely devoid of bass and suffer from an abundance of treble. They put their bags on the seats next to them, or stretch out over the seats next to them, or otherwise conduct themselves in a manner that blocks seats around them, rendering them unavailable to others. Idiots sometimes travel in packs, and are capable of annoying people all the way down at the other end of the vehicle with their antics. Alcohol is sometimes a factor in the severity of their idiocy.
Suggested non-violent solution:Increase distance, increase volume on mp3 player.
Suggested violent solution:
Blows to the head and upper body, vulgarity.
TYPE C: MORONS
Morons are dangerous in their ignorance of the world. They rush into the vehicle while everyone else is trying to get off (a major faux pas indeed, one that will likely get you yelled at by other riders). Once aboard, they like to cluster around the exits, even though they have no plans to vacate the vehicle anytime soon. They further impede traffic by stopping at the front or middle of the narrow passages through busses and streetcars, seemingly oblivious to those behind them who are now trapped. They also like to wear their bulky backpacks in packed vehicles, sometimes swinging them into the unsuspecting faces of others. They are easily confused by how the "stop request" and "door open" systems work.
Suggested non-violent solution:Show patience, request behaviour modification, volunteer information
Suggested violent solution:
Deck them.
TYPE D: FOOLS
Fools know what they're doing is annoying, but they do it anyways, due to what they consider to be a lack of alternatives. They bring large, ungainly items onto cramped vehicles, and try to hide the fact that they're toting it around by holding it as close to them as possible. This, however, isn't good enough. Fools bring their bikes onto vehicles, automatically blocking three or four empty seats or trapping people in three or four full seats. They also try to hide their incredibly oversized mobile child carriers in main aisleways. Sometimes those carriers are doubly as wide, for extra offsping. Also, the squirming spawn that dwells within is often none too quiet. Fools are sometimes apologetic for their foolishness, but do not waver in your disapproval.
Suggested non-violent solution:Smile, nod, then edge past and retreat to safe distance.
Suggested violent solution:
Baby punching. May cause uproar.
TYPE E: THE ELDERLY
The elderly are shambling, confused prune people, who can exhibit the traits of idiots, morons AND fools all at once. Their apparent feebleness or sense of entitlement (or both) may force you to vacate your seat so they can rest their weary bones and not lose their balance while trying to stand on a moving vehicle. After all, any accidents of that nature will turn their hip bones to powder and send their dentures flying off to an undisclosed location. When travelling in packs, they tend to be quite loud. They love to prod at the babies of strangers and don't trust dogs.
Suggested non-violent solution:Give in to demands, then increase distance and find happy place.
Suggested violent solution:
Throw up the horns. Old people fear Satan.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Let's start with a cliche: Oh yeaaahh....I have a blog!Now that I've gotten that unimaginative drivel out of the way, I'm going launch into a spiel here. A shpiel, if you will, and I know I will.
It's rather astonishing, really, my tendency to withdraw from the interweb from time to time, seemingly abandoning any and all projects I've got on the go, but this time I've got a really great excuse lined up and ready to go. Here it is.
My computer...was struck by lightning. Yeah. Well...not actually, but pretty durn close. All I know is that there was a lightning storm, a loud sound, possibly lightning, and then everything flickered, my TV turned glowy for a while in a very Poltergeist-ish kind of a way, and my computer got really screwy-like.
Couldn't really get on the net for a while. Which sucked, because I love the net. I love it's netty goodness. I like to talk Star Wars with people, and most of those people hang out on the net. That's where they ARE.
Anyways, I finally got it all fixed up after I MOVED...which was another big event that consumed my time for a while. Then my computer was on some wonky high table for a bit due to general lack of desk, but that's since been remedied by an exciting trip to Ikea.
So, long story short, things are mostly back in place, and I can get back to it. Got some very cool art projects coming along that should prove to be MOST fascinating, and I can't wait to start showing 'em off. The art projects.
I'll get back to the blogging too. Bloggy blog blog.
Labels: live
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
My computer is starting to stutter and shudder and exhibit other symptoms of old age, which sucks. It's a couple of years old, granted, but I always expected it to last forever, or at least into the next century. Sadly, the little box that I thought could, probably can't.For the last couple of weeks it's been harping at me about the system battery. "Alert!" it would say. "Buh?" I would reply. Then it would continue with "System battery voltage is low!". I'd come back with "fuh?".
Then it made a big mistake and gave me the option of pressing F1 to continue or F2 to review setup. I responded to that with something like a "pah" and hit F1 to continue into the realm of personal computing.
Yesterday however, I got a kick in the pants for my renegade ways. The system booted thinking it was July in 2003, which simply is not the case, at least as far as I'm aware. I did some research and apparently that little battery on the motherboard (that's just a regular looking watch-style battery) is in charge of allowing for information like that to stay intact when the PC is off or somesuch.
Later in the night the system started crashing randomly, sometimes just shutting off and sometimes giving me the highly irritating blue screen of death! Well that simply wouldn't do, so I made plans to get a new battery for the thingy, and do some OS reinstall/repair type stuff in the hopes all would be well afterwards.
So I went out to the shops today to procure a new little battery thingy, which cost me five bucks. I came home and popped the hood to replace the dead battery, and as soon as the fan on my video card noticed that opportunity for freedom, it lept free of the card and started clattering around the interior of my once top-of-the-line machine.
After staring at that little snapped-off video card fan for a few moments, I uttered an obscenity that would explode a nun's head and render holy water acidic.
It snapped off in a way that quite literally ended the card's life. I'm not about to go in there with a hot glue gun and try to re-attach it (like some misguided schmendrick did with Amanda's computer back in the days before she had a wonderful man-friend like me for tech support).
Anyways, I had to yank the video card from Amanda's computer JUST to get my system running again and perform some disk checking and diagnostics which have thus far proven to be effective in ridding my PC of the demons which plague it, or at least in holding them back for a while longer.
Now I have to go buy another video card before Amanda notices I scavenged her machine for spare parts... ¬_¬
Labels: live
Thursday, May 22, 2008
This is a story about a train ride! A while back, Amanda and I took a trip over to the magical land of Pickering for some festivities. This was actually the first time that I'd been on that journey during the daylight hours, and I was surprised at the amount of landmarks that I'd been missing out on in the dark of night!
Amanda was kind enough to be my guide. She told me to look out for the following, and when they appeared I made little noises that may or may not have been related to rising levels of glee.
The first landmark was Che Guevera. Not the actual dude since he's kinda dead, but some graffiti of him on a wall. Intense!
Shortly after we passed a wall that had "Welcome to Cliffside" spray-painted on it. According to Amanda, it previously said "All your train are belong to us" which has since been painted over. Genius is always squelched in it's own time!
Next up was a couch. That's right. A couch in the OUTDOORS. Pretty crazy, yes? You betcha!
After that was a horse. Amanda told me that sometimes the horse is there, and sometimes it's not. It seemed to just be in some guy's backyard. I was skeptical, but then there was a horse. Bizarre.
I didn't think anything could really top the random horse, but Amanda insisted there was some really pretty greenery coming up, and that the greenery was very green and pretty.
She kept looking for the greenery, but couldn't find it. I saw things that were green, but apparently they weren't part of the greenery she was looking for. We never did find it. However, if we had, I suspect there would be sasquatches afoot.
Our next landmark came after the trees gave way, and we were right there beside the lake shore! It was really nice and watery looking, and I imagined that there were all manner of sea creatures within, living their complicated sea lives.
Then we apparently passed some area that sometimes has groundhogs. I don't really remember, I'm just going off my notebook here. It just says "groundhogs". My notebook doesn't lie! Watch out for groundhogs!
The final landmark was a funky tunnel that went under the highway. Though the other side could clearly be seen, it was nonetheless a mysterious tunnel that held many secrets. One can only speculate what might dwell therein!
It was a fun journey. Remember, something doesn't have to be large and impressive and French-built to be considered a landmark! The best landmarks are the ones that might have a horse present or the ones that may only exist in your girlfriend's delusions!
Amanda was kind enough to be my guide. She told me to look out for the following, and when they appeared I made little noises that may or may not have been related to rising levels of glee.
The first landmark was Che Guevera. Not the actual dude since he's kinda dead, but some graffiti of him on a wall. Intense!Shortly after we passed a wall that had "Welcome to Cliffside" spray-painted on it. According to Amanda, it previously said "All your train are belong to us" which has since been painted over. Genius is always squelched in it's own time!
Next up was a couch. That's right. A couch in the OUTDOORS. Pretty crazy, yes? You betcha!
After that was a horse. Amanda told me that sometimes the horse is there, and sometimes it's not. It seemed to just be in some guy's backyard. I was skeptical, but then there was a horse. Bizarre.I didn't think anything could really top the random horse, but Amanda insisted there was some really pretty greenery coming up, and that the greenery was very green and pretty.
She kept looking for the greenery, but couldn't find it. I saw things that were green, but apparently they weren't part of the greenery she was looking for. We never did find it. However, if we had, I suspect there would be sasquatches afoot.
Our next landmark came after the trees gave way, and we were right there beside the lake shore! It was really nice and watery looking, and I imagined that there were all manner of sea creatures within, living their complicated sea lives.
Then we apparently passed some area that sometimes has groundhogs. I don't really remember, I'm just going off my notebook here. It just says "groundhogs". My notebook doesn't lie! Watch out for groundhogs!
The final landmark was a funky tunnel that went under the highway. Though the other side could clearly be seen, it was nonetheless a mysterious tunnel that held many secrets. One can only speculate what might dwell therein!It was a fun journey. Remember, something doesn't have to be large and impressive and French-built to be considered a landmark! The best landmarks are the ones that might have a horse present or the ones that may only exist in your girlfriend's delusions!
Labels: live
Saturday, May 3, 2008
That Sega Genesis I salvaged from a junk heap works just fine! Well, it's a little jittery, but once you give it the old blow-in-the-cartridge maneuver, it works like a charm. Although, that was the case for these things when they first came out new, so maybe I'm just nitpicking.I was perusing the shelves of a downtown video game store that actually sells old Genesis and NES games for really cheap, and snatched up NBA Jam, because Amanda has fond memories of playing it back in the day. Not the Genesis version in particular, but it's all good :)
I also picked up a second controller for the bugger (one actually in worse shape than the one I found with the system). It is necessary for good old fashioned one-on-one combat. I totally kicked her ass in game one. I'm awesome.
I didn't just want to get a sports game though, so I also bagged an ancient classic by the name of Ecco the Dolphin. I remember playing this game about three million years ago. I also remember playing the sequel, and the Game Gear version. They're all hard as fuck. You play as Ecco and try to find your dolphin buddies and go to the past and the future and stuff. It's weird.
Finally, in an abrupt change of system and on a wild impulse, I snagged Diddy Kong Racing for the N64. That game rules. You can race in a car, a plane or a friggin' hovercraft. It's awesome. You should go play it. Now! That's what I'm gonna do!
*abrupt end of blog*
Friday, May 2, 2008
Boxes. Boxes! We've got boxes here! See, nobody cares. Nice hat. What are you trying to look like, a secret agent?Now that I've got my Jurassic Park quoting fetish all nice and satisfied, I might as well tell you about boxes, and the fact that I'm currently surrounded by them.
A lot of moving-type things have been occurring as of late. Such as this blog moving to it's new home here at wrathbox.com! Kickawesome! My previous domains of bustedribcage.com and snaptofiction.com have been allowed to expire and fade away without a trace, much like the elusive ninja, in favour of this one new, all-encompassing domain.
I plan merge my web presence together into only this website and it's subdomains, so there's gonna be a lot of cool art stuff on here, organized nicely! Oh and mattatack.com still belongs to yours truly, and redirects to wrathbox.com. Gotta hang on to that one :)
This website still needs some bits added onto it though, and those will start to appear as soon as I can clear my work area of actual boxes, which are filled with my girlfriend Amanda's stuff, as she's moved in to my place!
In her defense, there's not actually much. Most of her things had to go back to her parents' place in Pickering because I quite actually have no room here, an area once lovingly referred to as M-Spot, due to the fact that it is just a tiny little spot :P
In fact, this surge of stuff has me finding nooks and crannies I didn't know existed just to accommodate it. All of her clothes are stowed away neatly, so there's just a few small boxes of odds and ends to find a temporary home for, and we're set.
We're only crammed in here for May and June though, then we're skedaddling to a new apartment will actually have been built to hold more than one person, and will allow for the inviting of guests!
Well, after we scrounge up some kind of furniture that is, or it'll just be a campout on beach towels. Fun time!
Anyways, I'm off. I've got to brave some cold rainy weather in my currently less-than-healthy state and travel to Amanda's place of work to borrow her Metropass, then go pick up some supplies, a new backpack (my previous one got destructified) and possibly a few ancient games for the Sega Genesis I snagged a few days ago :)
Labels: live
Sunday, April 27, 2008
A few days ago, it was a mighty strange time at my place of work. That is to say my mobile office with a big metal bin on the back.The story starts with my name apparently falling out of the work schedule for some unknown reason. This resulted in the strange situation of being scheduled to work, yet not being assigned a position. I was rendered nomadic!
Anyways, since the day was shaded in grey, which indicates workage, I showed up at the office. Then, by some bizarre coincidence, one of the other drivers didn't! Some kind of scheduling mishap, as he was only then on his way back from his vacation.
That resulted in an empty driver position, which I was given. It was made weirder by the fact that the driver I was replacing was supposed to be certifying another new hire in the ways of the junk that day. So two new guys were rolling out for a regular work day, one of them uncertified.
Anyways, we're all cool and set to go, but we have no truck, because drivers are supposed to pick up their trucks from somewhere in the city in the morning and bring them in. So the truck was still sitting at it's parking spot, all far away and stuff!
In the end, we got assigned a truck parked at the office, designation: TOR1. The first truck to be used at the Toronto franchise, hence the oldest truck. Old Glory, they call it. There are stories.
Anyways we get our shenanigans together, roll out in TOR1, and book up to Vaughan, the "city above Toronto". I was about to exit the highway and hit up York Metal to do some good old fashioned recycling when Old Glory started giving me some trouble.
First, I couldn't steer. The wheel just wouldn't go, and I had to force it really hard to manage what could only in the loosest sense be referred to as "steering". Then my navigator Mike noticed all this smoke pouring out the backside. I managed to get that sucker off the highway and lurched to the Esso across from the metal yard, which is when I noticed the breaks weren't working either!
So I try my very best to slow and steer even though both are responding extremely sluggishly, and pull into the gas station, where I immediately cut the engine. We piled out and saw that Old Glory was leaking all manner of fluid, and popping the hood revealed that the engine belt had come off.
Neither one of us really knows shit about vehicle mechanics, other than how to open the hood and check a few of the simpler things, so we were scratching our heads about this development. I called it in and we were told to call up a cab to take us to another truck, which, ironically, was the one that was previously parked too far to get to from the office. They called a tow truck for Old Glory.
The cab finally arrives and we slide on over to TOR7, which gives us a decent ride for the rest of the day, despite the fact that we were running two hours behind. Oh, and at one point the load we had on was apparently too much for the hydraulic lift, and we had to hand bomb half of the junk before it finally got it's wussy act together and hoisted the rest of the shit off.
I'm now certain that I've picked the one job where each day is going to be full of wacky adventures.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Something creepy happened to me on the streetcar today. I decided to venture forth from my lair to do lunch with myself and also pick up some art supplies at Curry's. Got a sweet new pad of bleedproof paper for a comic I'm working on, plus a few new pricey inking pens.Anyways, the creepy thing happened on my way back to headquarters. I always have my mp3 player cranked to max when I'm on the TTC, to drown out the annoying people (ie. everyone). Nothing like grueling death metal for such situations. However, there was someone on the streetcar who finally prompted me to turn down the volume on my growling doom music for a moment, just to hear what she was saying.
It was this little girl, maybe six or seven, all dressed in pink, sitting two seats up from me. She was there with her mom for most of the ride, so I had plenty of time to observe the situation and become perplexed. She was extremely fidgety, and kept crawling all over the seat and sticking her face out the open window. She was also jabbering nonstop about something. At this point, however, I was still fully plugged into Dimmu Borgir, so I didn't know what she was saying.
A couple of times, when we were stopped, I noticed that one or two people outside would glance at where she was sitting, while she talked out the window and moved around in her seat. Her mom seemed completely oblivious.
Finally, out of sheer curiosity, I dialed down the volume on my mp3 player to hear what she was going on about. By this point I had formed a hypothesis that she was singing a song or reciting something that would necessitate constant speech. As the dark lyrics of symphonic black metal faded away, her voice came floating into my ears.
She was singing J-E-S-U-S to the tune of the song Bingo. She just kept saying the letter part repeatedly, never quite getting to the "And Jesus was his name-o" part. While she was singing it, she continued to fidget in her seat, looking forward and back, and sticking her face out the window to look at the people outside. She wasn't singing loudly, but still with enough volume that people in the immediate vicinity could hear it.
At this point I'm just about to shake my head and turn my music back up when she launched into "Oh the bad men want to kill Jesus, oh J-E-S-U-S, J-E-S-U-S, the bad man wants to kill Jesus, oh".
After that I was tensed and ready for some kind of unholy event of biblical proportions to unleash itself on our frail mortal realm. Clearly the child was possessed or something. I was fully expecting her head to start going all 360 and the pea soup to start gushing. I glanced at the guy across from me, and he looked kinda freaked out, which I thought was pretty funny, despite the fact that pretty soon we'd likely all be dead.
At the next stop, however, the succubus rose and took her demon spawn off the streetcar, and they crab-walked away into the shadows.
Things could've gone much, much worse, but we were lucky this day.
Labels: live
Friday, March 21, 2008
There used to be a sense of panic and urgency that accompanied the shrill, ear-piercing tones of a tripped fire alarm. That purposely unpleasant eardrum assault would shatter the silence and send those present scrambling for the exits, snapping up pieces of pretty they just couldn't do without in their post-blaze existence.I'm certain the fire alarm still means something to many, but in my own personal experience, the traditional warning of a creeping conflagration falls on mildy irritated ears.
Back in school, fire alarms were routinely activated. In the beginning, we all filed out according to evacuation procedures, a little concern showing on our schoolyard faces. In the end, we grudgingly scraped our chairs back and got up, rolling our eyes at one another while trudging towards the exits.
Two habitations ago, in my days as a condo mooch, alarms were set off every now and then for testing purposes. Make sure that they actually still work and all that. I was informed of such, and did not feel compelled to evacuate.
One habitation ago, in my days as a roach wrangler in a tower of pestilence, alarms went off frequently for seemingly no reason. This was a particularly biting siren, one that chose to carve it's way through my auditory canals at obscene hours. There never was any actual fire. Eventually I had to cover the speaker in my apartment with duct tape to quiet it some.
Zero habitations ago, in my current abode, things are quite still. However, the other day, an alarm went off. I sat at my computer for a few seconds, pondering. I glanced out the window and saw nothing of note. No flame-engulfed citizens fleeing the premesis. No hose-laden red trucks. I glanced back at the door, and saw no smoke curling up from the gap at the bottom. I smelled the air and detected no hint of burning merch.
So I shrugged and went back to work.
A lifetime of testing and falsely prompted alarms has left me generally unconcerned when I hear one. It used to mean "Evacuate immediately!". Then it meant "Should we evacuate?". Now it means "Man, that's annoying. Pass the doritos."
Pass the doritos indeed.
Labels: live
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Let me tell you about young Gavin Stover. A simple hunter lad from the West, he travelled to the East to seek the aid of heroes in ridding his land of the marauding orcs that plague it. Little did he know that he'd be thrust into a wide world of adventure!Why, just the other day, Gavin caught a squid-like chest-burster in a big bag of salt, where it thrashed and bubbled, dissolving to death. It had of course been accompanied by shards of both sternum and spinal column, as well as a bucket's worth of bloody entrails, due to the fact that it had just leapt from the thorax of a comrade-in-arms.
After that Gavin embedded a battle axe past the unprotected pectorals of an orc, splintering the ribs and decorating the landscape and himself with the reddish hue of internal orcish whatnots.
Then Gavin went on to fire some arrows at a wyvern while his companions tripped it up with some rope and hacked it into yummy wyvern meat, a feast suitable for gala events or box socials or just some good old fashioned camping out in orc-infested foothills.
All of these things accomplished with the roll of some dice! That's right. Gavin Stover is none other than your friendly neighbourhood Matt. I'm into the thick of a role-playing game over at Stuart's place, RuneQuest to be precise. I've wanted to get into the traditional tabletop pencil and paper RPG type stuff for a long while, and it's a good old time.
So it finally happened, true believers. I went over to the other side. That dark and terrible place that your standard carbon-based meat unit fears like nothing else. But, my fellow land monsters, you only fear because you do not understand. I forgive you.
I'd like to extend my thanks to Stuart, Steve, and Mike for putting up with my n00b-like ways for the time being. Oh, and the rest of you might be subjected to Gavin's exploits every now and again. That's just how it's going to roll around here now. Pun definitely intended.
(P.S. Isn't Wikipedia great?)
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
As I sit here eating my way through three hardboiled eggs, one of them horribly mutated thanks to my less-than-delicate touch in placing them in the pot, I am contemplating.My contemplations have led me to the conclusion that I must tell you about my online handle. I'm sure you will find this most fascinating. Wait...wait...I've got to watch an episode of Family Guy while I eat these eggs. Hold on.
Okay, I'm back to this now. After Family Guy I worked on one of my comic projects for a bit. Did the drawing and inking and now it's in the scanner, but I didn't scan it yet. I also ordered a pizza which will be ready in 15 minutes. So let's write a bit more!
I guess it's fitting that all this time is passing while I put this post together, as my online handle, in it's entirety, is chr0nometer, which relates to keeping time and the passage of time in several forms.
The name actually made it's first appearance on the old SWG Genboards, the common way we refer to the original Star Wars Galaxies General Discussion Forum (have fun looking through that archived nonsense, sports fans!). I was surfing some random gaming site when I saw an ad for SWG in one of those fancy animated tower banners. Intrigued, I clicked on it, and entered an online world of wonderment that I'm still involved in to this day. That was...seven years ago? Eight? Maybe!
Previously I went by handles like Dreadnaught and variations of such, but I thought it was too evil sounding. The name I registered with, though, was the obnoxious all-caps CHR0NO, with a fancy zero in the center to mix it up. Despite what many people would later think, I didn't take the name from the game Chrono Trigger, as I hadn't even played that game and was scarcely aware of it at the time (though I have since played almost all of it, and it's pretty sweet...so far!).
Anyways, I was actually looking for online nicknames in names from old Greek mythology and whatnot, and came across Chronos, the personification of time (not to be confused with Cronus, the titan). Chronos is apparently also the god of space, and emerged from Chaos (the dark void from which gods spew). He was imagined as incorporeal, serpentine, and had three heads (a man, a bull, and a lion), though these days he's usually portrayed as the Father Time figure, the old guy with the clock and sickle fetish.
Regardless of all that, I just thought it was a cool name, and I like discussing weird stuff like space and time and spacetime and continuums (without having any actually scientific knowledge or facts) so I dumped the "s" off the end, and went with CHR0NO. Historical records would claim that I had it in all-caps because I had caps lock on when I entered my name, but truth be told, I just liked how it looked :)
It was only after I started going by CHR0NO that I realized that "chrono" and variations of such were quite common across the intarwebs. But I paid no heed, because I was the only one with that name on the Genboards, and that was good enough for me (some other n00b showed up later with a chrono-ish name, but he wasn't as slick, so we paid him little attention).
As is my custom, though, I started switchin' it up. I dropped the caps and went by chr0no_riggs for a while. I must've just finished watching Lethal Weapon or something. I thought it was kinda cool, but don't think it was too popular with the folks about town! After that nonsense I went to full on chr0nometer, because that's what a lot of people were calling me anyways, as a nickname for my nickname.
There's actually been a lot of nicknames for my nickname, which is sorta weird. I don't mean one or two, I mean...ten...or so. They've included such clever names such as...hang on, pizza's here. I'll continue in a second...
Okay, I'm done with pizza now. I watched an episode of MXC while I was eating it, the one with Team USA versus the World. Pretty awesome. Onwards now!
So yeah, nicknames for my nickname. They've included variations such as chr0nomenon, chr0nosaurus, chr0-magnon man, chr0ntastic, chr0nslice, chr0ns, chl0no (that's my evil clone), chr0nopants (my favourite), chr0n00b (something pretty much only Rec calls me, that English git!) and what I think is the first nickname nickname I got, I think also from Rec: chr0nads (ho ho!).
For a while I started going by ridger, as Ridger Khronos is the name of my SWG character that just became my regular every-day SW character (using Ridgerion a few times in fantasy settings!), but I soon switched back to good ol' chr0nometer (or chr0no, for short!).
Well that's that I guess. The world is safe for another day.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
A couple of my online buddies have joined the little blogosphere we've got going on here, so I thought I'd just make a post to give them some recognition, and also make it look like I have something interesting to say....and also to move that Smoke on the Water video down a bit, because I'm tired of looking at it!
First of the two newcomers to the Blogosphere of Righteousness is my pal 201d. Yes, yes, it's a handle, and I didn't put his real name (as is my custom here) but from past conversations with the dude, I don't think he's really fond of his real life moniker. Besides, his handle is pretty cool. It's actually l33tsp34k for "zoid", which I believe stems from the cartoon character Freakazoid, if memory serves me correctly. If not, sorry for twisting your backstory man! Anyways, our own personal Dr. Zoidberg just started up his new blog (having left a previous one), so we'll all be watching in anticipation to see how he runs his show!
The second newcomer is my friend Mark from across the pond, who goes by the name Turra online (possibly in reference to his last name, I think?). You should go to his site because it has a sweet url, and your browser's address line will highlight with glee upon it appearing there. He hadn't updated it for almost a year until we started this blogging business, and he decided to get in on our nonsense. So all of us here at wrathböx watch him in anticipation too!
These two guys have been a part of my online group for a long time (ie. years, with an accurate number in front to indicate how many, a number I don't currently hold in my memory banks) and I welcome them to the Blogosphere of Righteousness! How will this all proceed? Only time will tell!
Addendum!
A new contender has entered the arena! I was just informed by my sister Sabrina (known on the intarwebs as Tacks) that she has a bloggy blog too! I'd write more about it, but I have to go to work now! *gone!*
First of the two newcomers to the Blogosphere of Righteousness is my pal 201d. Yes, yes, it's a handle, and I didn't put his real name (as is my custom here) but from past conversations with the dude, I don't think he's really fond of his real life moniker. Besides, his handle is pretty cool. It's actually l33tsp34k for "zoid", which I believe stems from the cartoon character Freakazoid, if memory serves me correctly. If not, sorry for twisting your backstory man! Anyways, our own personal Dr. Zoidberg just started up his new blog (having left a previous one), so we'll all be watching in anticipation to see how he runs his show!
The second newcomer is my friend Mark from across the pond, who goes by the name Turra online (possibly in reference to his last name, I think?). You should go to his site because it has a sweet url, and your browser's address line will highlight with glee upon it appearing there. He hadn't updated it for almost a year until we started this blogging business, and he decided to get in on our nonsense. So all of us here at wrathböx watch him in anticipation too!
These two guys have been a part of my online group for a long time (ie. years, with an accurate number in front to indicate how many, a number I don't currently hold in my memory banks) and I welcome them to the Blogosphere of Righteousness! How will this all proceed? Only time will tell!
Addendum!
A new contender has entered the arena! I was just informed by my sister Sabrina (known on the intarwebs as Tacks) that she has a bloggy blog too! I'd write more about it, but I have to go to work now! *gone!*
Labels: live
Monday, February 25, 2008
Everyone's got blogs! I've just realized that I know a handful of people who publish meticulously crafted sentences containing their opinions on the always handy interwebs.
Thusly, they have been linked on the side there. This is by no means a ploy to gain the sympathy of my more successful blogging companions in the hopes that they will provide links back to my own little corner of these digital lands! Perish the thought.
On an unrelated note, greetings new visitors! Let me be your guide! BOW UNTO ME AND FEED FROM MY TROUGH OF SWEET BOUNTIES.
Why is it that the concept of a trough is pretty gross sounding? Maybe it's just me, but stuff doesn't seem so good if it's served in a trough. Let's just forget the trough already.
It's become obvious I have nothing more of value to contribute to this particular article. Henceforth, I shall stop. I don't know if that's the correct way to use "henceforth" or not, but whatever. Thusly.
Thusly, they have been linked on the side there. This is by no means a ploy to gain the sympathy of my more successful blogging companions in the hopes that they will provide links back to my own little corner of these digital lands! Perish the thought.
On an unrelated note, greetings new visitors! Let me be your guide! BOW UNTO ME AND FEED FROM MY TROUGH OF SWEET BOUNTIES.Why is it that the concept of a trough is pretty gross sounding? Maybe it's just me, but stuff doesn't seem so good if it's served in a trough. Let's just forget the trough already.
It's become obvious I have nothing more of value to contribute to this particular article. Henceforth, I shall stop. I don't know if that's the correct way to use "henceforth" or not, but whatever. Thusly.
Labels: live
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
I generally pride myself on being sure of foot, not only on even ground, but also on unusual turf that undulates in unsymmetrical ways. Unfortunately the current tilt of this planet has resulted in environmental conditions that have slowly but surely forged the local landscape into a veritable labyrinth of frozen crags and gullies, putting both my inner ear and my penny loafer purchase to the test.I don't actually wear penny loafers. I only adore half-assed attempts at alliteration, at the expense of realistic portrayals. Anyways...
The other day my company-condoned clodhoppers (hehehe) lost their tentative grip on Earth's crust due to slippery conditions on the back road, and I plummeted to the deck like Red Leader's Incom T-65 X-wing starfighter into the surface of the first Death Star. I survived the impact though. I bounced back from that without a mark on me. I'm like Bruce Willis from Unbreakable.
The TTC is a mess, of course. Streetcars are messed up because of random weather-related nonsense. Like power losses that line up twenty streetcars to block up regular traffic and inconvenience me oh so horribly. They ran a shuttle bus instead. The dude didn't have a sign on his bus saying where it was going, pulled into the wrong spot, and proceeded to get angry when people asked where his bus was going. Serious.
Car crashes too. It's interesting how a simple dented car or two on the tracks can cripple the system.
I had to get off the thing and walk the rest of the way home, a task that took a half hour extra, and, interestingly enough, the streetcars still hadn't resumed to pass me and interrupt my trudge with a flash of irritation.It's cool though, I can still get around-ish. I can still get to places. Locations, if you will. I got to Indigo, and I got the Promise of the Witch-King in hardcover for eight bucks. That's because it was on sale, and I also had iRewards. I got to BMV books and got some Star Wars comics, the old Marvel ones. Yes. I also got to the World's Biggest Bookstore and got the Lando Calrissian Adventures. You know why I did that last one?
Because Lando Calrissian is the fucking DUDE.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to tell you about something quite extraordinary. This thing I'm about to speak of is not for the faint of heart. Your innards must be forged in steel to withstand the mighty awesomeness of the following concept...The Epic Speech of the Twelve Kingdoms is upon you! Speak only in the words of the far away lands of adventure! Your pitiful peasant existence can be renounced by discoursing in the dialect of the Dragon Lords! You appeal for an anecdote? BEHOLD!
"You must go! But before you forge your foray to the furthest of the forbidden fjords, you must adorn your extremities with implements of incising! You will find the mystical broadsword in the cursed hills to the frigid north, where I hid it many years ago while escaping the dread witches who would stop at nothing to reclaim it for their vile coven!
Upon acquiring your blade, you shall embark on a endeavor to save the Twelve Kingdoms from the unholy madness which threatens to undo all that can be undone! Beware of the brigands and bandits who would snatch your gold pieces on the back roads, and do not trust the trail-side tellers of fortunes who's tricks would lead you astray! Your path must remain TRUE!
Go forth to these realms I have spoken of, and do not forget to bring back the silks and spices that will make you a HERO amongst the good people of the land! Your regal features will no doubt be emblazoned on the back of our precious pieces of eight once you have shown the King that you are worthy of such honours!
...*cough*....so um....have a good night, Chris, and I'll ah....see you tomorrow at work."
Talk like this. It makes your day that much more interesting.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
I was going to let it go with that last cop-out posting for the day, but I just had to come back for more. I re-discovered a soul-shattering activity today. Cleaning! Fuck, I hate cleaning. Cleaning needs to DIAF, if you catch my drift (that's "die in a fire" if that drift passed you by).Cleaning sucks mooseballs. For serious. Today my girlfriend suggested that cleaning my apartment would be a good idea. I thought this was a silly proposition indeed, as I was still basking in my post-birthday state of lethargy. Yes, it was my birthday yesterday. I am now an astronomical twenty and four years old. Oh well. At least twenty-four is better than a googolplex.
Anyways, my apartment did need a good clean, as I'd let it drift into a state approaching a bio-hazard. She insisted on cleaning the washroom, and in the end, I let her do that. I know, I know, the whole "Matt, how could you let your girlfriend clean your washroom?!" bit, but she insisted I tell you! It's like she thought I would do an unsatisfactory job or something. I can't help it if I'm easily distracted by gleaming objects. Not that anything was exactly gleaming in that washroom, but that's beside the point.
So while she did that, I dusted and tidied the rest of the joint. Dust is so stupid. I mean, what is dust? It's little particles of random stuff coming off of other stuff or something. We have too much stuff these days. I bet cavemen didn't have to worry about dust.
After all that nonsense was over, the place looked pretty sweet, and it still does (hopefully I can keep it that way for a while). And just to illustrate that I'm not a total jerk, I did indeed go with her to her house to help her do her weekly chores and clean up over there. I can now say with truth in my voice that I've vacuumed carpets at a sorority house.
How you take that last statement will say a lot about your mental state, so be wary of the fact that you may be as warped as I am.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I hate Dumbass West Station (or Dundas West Station, as it's more commonly known). It is one of the most annoying stops on the entire subway line here in Toronto.
The number of fleshwads crowding in and around there during the day is roughly a googolplex. That's a number so big that you can't even write it down in decimal notation because there's not enough matter in the universe to write it on. Wikipedia taught me that.
What should be a half-hour trip can be elongated to almost an hour because of the sheer number of walkers and talkers that are trying to cram their oily hides into the subway over at Yonge and St. George, and then take it to west to Dumbass West, where they all get off to travel towards one of the poles.
There are two streetcar pickups at Dumbass West, which constitute what I like to call the Loop of Doom. One car goes south on Roncesvalles, then east on King. The other car goes south on Roncesvalles, then east on Dundas.
Quite often, while I wait for my precious King car to slippity slide it's way into Dumbass West, I shall witness not one, or two, not negative thirty, but yes as much as positive six Dundas streetcars roll in and out of their confounded docks, dropping off and picking up infinitesimal amounts of human cargo. That is to say, the two or three random nomads who take that line.
Meanwhile, I'm standing with the googolplex over on the King side of things.
Apparently it doesn't occur to them to divert one or two of those cars to start filtering off the throng of commuters standing out in the frigid night. Or (mod forbid) send a new empty car from the Roncesvalles yard at the south end to help out. Although, if that were to occur, I'm sure fares would go up another ten cents to compensate.
Finally, enter the operator who pulls his much-awaited electric sardine can all the way up to where myself and the googolplex are standing shoulder-to-shoulder in order pump more bodies into the fray, rather than kick 'em out a little way back in the vast wasteland of nothingness due east.
Myself and the googolplex then board the evil hell trolley and proceed to get really friendly. As in one foot's inside a purse, the other's got a dog sitting on it, and some lady's been forced to set up camp in my armpit. By the time I finally get to my stop, I'm holding a bag of fresh produce and wearing someone else's underwear.
And yes, that map is kind of backwards. Just pretend that south is up. I wasn't really paying attention.
The number of fleshwads crowding in and around there during the day is roughly a googolplex. That's a number so big that you can't even write it down in decimal notation because there's not enough matter in the universe to write it on. Wikipedia taught me that.
What should be a half-hour trip can be elongated to almost an hour because of the sheer number of walkers and talkers that are trying to cram their oily hides into the subway over at Yonge and St. George, and then take it to west to Dumbass West, where they all get off to travel towards one of the poles.
There are two streetcar pickups at Dumbass West, which constitute what I like to call the Loop of Doom. One car goes south on Roncesvalles, then east on King. The other car goes south on Roncesvalles, then east on Dundas.
Quite often, while I wait for my precious King car to slippity slide it's way into Dumbass West, I shall witness not one, or two, not negative thirty, but yes as much as positive six Dundas streetcars roll in and out of their confounded docks, dropping off and picking up infinitesimal amounts of human cargo. That is to say, the two or three random nomads who take that line.
Meanwhile, I'm standing with the googolplex over on the King side of things.
Apparently it doesn't occur to them to divert one or two of those cars to start filtering off the throng of commuters standing out in the frigid night. Or (mod forbid) send a new empty car from the Roncesvalles yard at the south end to help out. Although, if that were to occur, I'm sure fares would go up another ten cents to compensate.
Finally, enter the operator who pulls his much-awaited electric sardine can all the way up to where myself and the googolplex are standing shoulder-to-shoulder in order pump more bodies into the fray, rather than kick 'em out a little way back in the vast wasteland of nothingness due east.
Myself and the googolplex then board the evil hell trolley and proceed to get really friendly. As in one foot's inside a purse, the other's got a dog sitting on it, and some lady's been forced to set up camp in my armpit. By the time I finally get to my stop, I'm holding a bag of fresh produce and wearing someone else's underwear.
And yes, that map is kind of backwards. Just pretend that south is up. I wasn't really paying attention.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Today a big bloody blot splattered on the otherwise pristine document of my day. It took the form of a small woman whose shrill vocalizations nearly took down my deflector shields (which are quite sturdy indeed).
Imagine, if you will, a busy coffee shop, where gratuitous amounts of un-caffeinated human meat units seek to end their current caffeine-deficient states and go about their jittery stimulant-assisted lives. It's loud. It's hectic. And I am making drinks at ye olde bar, a furious flurry of flailing limbs marking cups, pumping syrups, pulling shots, and of course, steaming and pouring bovine extract.
Into my ears floats the horrid sound of a customer trying to do something other than stand damn silently and wait for their drink before leaving my sphere of awareness.
Old Lady: "On the quad...!"
Me: "..."
Old Lady: "Oh, on the quad expresso!"
Me: "...what?"
Old Lady: "On the quad expresso, can I have it extra foamy? There's foam on expresso right?"
As I pondered her poor grammar, incorrect pronunciation and odd request, it occurred to me that I had no quad espresso in my drink queue. So I grabbed a short cup and quickly tapped the double shot button twice to pull her some shots and get her out of my face. As I did this, I explained to her:
Me: "Espresso has a crema on it, but I don't control the amount or consistency of it with this machine."
Old Lady: "I can't have it extra foamy?"
Till: "TALL LATTE!"
Me: "Tall latte."
Old Lady: "What?"
Me: "Look, would you like me to put some milk foam on top of it to make it more foamy?"
Old Lady: "Oh, I'd like that very much!"
Me: "Okay, no problem."
At this point, the shots have finished, so I take the cup down from the machine and start to scoop some foam into the cup.
Old Lady: "Is it decaf?"
Me: "...was it supposed to be?"
Old Lady: "Yes, I'd like it decaf please."
My eye started twitching at this point. I abruptly dumped the shots into the tray on the machine.
Old Lady: "Ohhhh...."
Me: "Don't worry about it, decaf coming up."
Till: "GRANDE CARAMEL MACCHIATO!"
Me: "Grande Caramel Macchiato..."
Old Lady: "What? I don't want caramel."
Me: "What? No, that's something else."
Old Lady: "Oh."
The decaf shots finished at this point, and I grabbed the cup off the machine again, getting ready to put some foam on it.
Old Lady: "Oh, it's a paper cup?"
Me: "What?"
Old Lady: "Do I have to have a paper cup?"
Till: "DOPPIO ESPRESSO!"
Me: "Doppio espresso..."
Old Lady: "No, I want a quad expresso."
Me: "No, that was something else! Look, do you want a for-here cup?"
Old Lady: "Oh yes, I'd like that very much!"
At this juncture I started wishing that I could slap customers in the face without fear of consequence. I silently left the bar to go grab a for-here short cup (which is like a little tea cup) from the shelf around the corner. Upon my return to the bar:
Old Lady: "Oh, is that the only cup you have?"
Me: "What? Why?"
Old Lady: "You don't have any mugs?"
At this point I did something that I've never really done before while at work. I openly glared at a customer. I stormed off to get a for-here grande cup (which is a mug) from around the corner, then came back to the bar in silence and poured the four cursed decaf shots into it from the paper cup.
Old Lady: "Oh, thank you!"
Till: "SHORT CINNAMON DOLCE LATTE!"
Old Lady: "Wow! It sure is loud in here!"
Me: "Short Cinnamon Dolce Latte..."
Old Lady: "I bet you like to go home after work and enjoy the silence!"
This was where I pulled out the deadpan gaze. I then started to put a scoop of 2% foam on the top of her quad espresso.
Old Lady: "Oh, can I have the foam in a separate cup?"
Literally seconds away from leaping over the counter and throttling an old lady, I think I did a pretty good job of diverting that negative energy to simple teeth grinding, as I scooped a bit of foam into a for here short cup and sent her on her way. I think I might have let out an ear-splitting howl of discontent should she have then asked for the foam in a for-here cup. Luckily, what little sanity I had left was spared as she wandered off, apparently pleased.
All because she wanted a for-here quad espresso macchiato in a grande mug.
Imagine, if you will, a busy coffee shop, where gratuitous amounts of un-caffeinated human meat units seek to end their current caffeine-deficient states and go about their jittery stimulant-assisted lives. It's loud. It's hectic. And I am making drinks at ye olde bar, a furious flurry of flailing limbs marking cups, pumping syrups, pulling shots, and of course, steaming and pouring bovine extract.
Into my ears floats the horrid sound of a customer trying to do something other than stand damn silently and wait for their drink before leaving my sphere of awareness.
Old Lady: "On the quad...!"Me: "..."
Old Lady: "Oh, on the quad expresso!"
Me: "...what?"
Old Lady: "On the quad expresso, can I have it extra foamy? There's foam on expresso right?"
As I pondered her poor grammar, incorrect pronunciation and odd request, it occurred to me that I had no quad espresso in my drink queue. So I grabbed a short cup and quickly tapped the double shot button twice to pull her some shots and get her out of my face. As I did this, I explained to her:
Me: "Espresso has a crema on it, but I don't control the amount or consistency of it with this machine."
Old Lady: "I can't have it extra foamy?"
Till: "TALL LATTE!"
Me: "Tall latte."
Old Lady: "What?"
Me: "Look, would you like me to put some milk foam on top of it to make it more foamy?"
Old Lady: "Oh, I'd like that very much!"
Me: "Okay, no problem."
At this point, the shots have finished, so I take the cup down from the machine and start to scoop some foam into the cup.
Old Lady: "Is it decaf?"
Me: "...was it supposed to be?"
Old Lady: "Yes, I'd like it decaf please."
My eye started twitching at this point. I abruptly dumped the shots into the tray on the machine.
Old Lady: "Ohhhh...."
Me: "Don't worry about it, decaf coming up."
Till: "GRANDE CARAMEL MACCHIATO!"
Me: "Grande Caramel Macchiato..."
Old Lady: "What? I don't want caramel."
Me: "What? No, that's something else."
Old Lady: "Oh."
The decaf shots finished at this point, and I grabbed the cup off the machine again, getting ready to put some foam on it.
Old Lady: "Oh, it's a paper cup?"
Me: "What?"
Old Lady: "Do I have to have a paper cup?"
Till: "DOPPIO ESPRESSO!"
Me: "Doppio espresso..."
Old Lady: "No, I want a quad expresso."
Me: "No, that was something else! Look, do you want a for-here cup?"
Old Lady: "Oh yes, I'd like that very much!"
At this juncture I started wishing that I could slap customers in the face without fear of consequence. I silently left the bar to go grab a for-here short cup (which is like a little tea cup) from the shelf around the corner. Upon my return to the bar:
Old Lady: "Oh, is that the only cup you have?"
Me: "What? Why?"
Old Lady: "You don't have any mugs?"
At this point I did something that I've never really done before while at work. I openly glared at a customer. I stormed off to get a for-here grande cup (which is a mug) from around the corner, then came back to the bar in silence and poured the four cursed decaf shots into it from the paper cup.
Old Lady: "Oh, thank you!"
Till: "SHORT CINNAMON DOLCE LATTE!"
Old Lady: "Wow! It sure is loud in here!"
Me: "Short Cinnamon Dolce Latte..."
Old Lady: "I bet you like to go home after work and enjoy the silence!"
This was where I pulled out the deadpan gaze. I then started to put a scoop of 2% foam on the top of her quad espresso.
Old Lady: "Oh, can I have the foam in a separate cup?"
Literally seconds away from leaping over the counter and throttling an old lady, I think I did a pretty good job of diverting that negative energy to simple teeth grinding, as I scooped a bit of foam into a for here short cup and sent her on her way. I think I might have let out an ear-splitting howl of discontent should she have then asked for the foam in a for-here cup. Luckily, what little sanity I had left was spared as she wandered off, apparently pleased.
All because she wanted a for-here quad espresso macchiato in a grande mug.
I think it's high time for some wrath. Seems like so many fucking things grind my gears these days, and like the masses before me, I feel that I must unload all of my thoughts on that bullhonkey onto the interwebs.Seems like a better alternative than overtaxing the delicate inner systems of the ears belonging to the innocents I actually happen to like in real life. People like funny, not angry.
I guess nobody will like this.
I'm going to say fuck a few more times, just for fuck's sake. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
This Week in the Blog
Her Book, My Book
Man of Many Discs
Sleepy Bird
Weird Bread
Dweller By The Oak
Yesterday
Toronto Transit Condition!
Shitstorm
Crotchety Comp
All Your Train
This Is Genesis
We've Got Boxes
Junked Truck
The Strange Child
Klaxon, Klaxoff
Who is Gavin Stover?
Becoming chr0nometer
Blogosphere of Righteousness
Bloggy Blog Blog Blogoo
Hogtown Is A Rink
The Epic Speech
Cleaning Sucks Mooseballs
Dumbass West
Crazy Quad
Time for Some Wrath
Her Book, My Book
Man of Many Discs
Sleepy Bird
Weird Bread
Dweller By The Oak
Yesterday
Toronto Transit Condition!
Shitstorm
Crotchety Comp
All Your Train
This Is Genesis
We've Got Boxes
Junked Truck
The Strange Child
Klaxon, Klaxoff
Who is Gavin Stover?
Becoming chr0nometer
Blogosphere of Righteousness
Bloggy Blog Blog Blogoo
Hogtown Is A Rink
The Epic Speech
Cleaning Sucks Mooseballs
Dumbass West
Crazy Quad
Time for Some Wrath
Buddies, Friends and Jerks
Whereabouts Hereabouts
Яudy Quazar
The Standard Model
Your Blog Sucks
201d's Undeniable Logic
Thunderheart's Campfire
Emergent Future
Whereabouts Hereabouts
Яudy Quazar
The Standard Model
Your Blog Sucks
201d's Undeniable Logic
Thunderheart's Campfire
Emergent Future
Random Stuff That Rules
Homestar Runner
Weebl's Stuff
The Perry Bible Fellowship
Penny Arcade
VG Cats
Threadless
Off-Road Velociraptor Safari
Homestar Runner
Weebl's Stuff
The Perry Bible Fellowship
Penny Arcade
VG Cats
Threadless
Off-Road Velociraptor Safari
All artwork and writings © 2009 by Matt Atack, unless otherwise noted.
Template was created using utilities here, then was brutally modified by Matt for his own evil purposes.
Template was created using utilities here, then was brutally modified by Matt for his own evil purposes.