Your Laughter Is Superconnected

All I Can Do - Chantal Kreviazuk

A couple of weeks ago I sat through a four hour frosh meeting. It was my responsibility to film the events for both posterity's sake and to later punish those who did not attend the actual meeting by forcing them to watch it. As you might expect, it was also my responsibility to make sure that people attended screenings of said video. In other words, not only did I endure the meeting once, I was forced to ensure that others sat through it by sitting through it with them. Truly, a new and twisted form of purgatory. The situation was not unlike an episode of Cheers, where local beerfly Norm Peterson remarked incredulously that he once watched a guy sit in the bar for 24 hours.

After the meeting, Julius promised me a ride home so I was at his mercy. He mentioned that he had to help a friend with her OSAP stuff and then we would head home. I shrugged my shoulders and agreed. Hey, I was getting a free ride. What ended up happening was that we went to visit his friend, the three of us went to dinner (she didn't eat) and then we went back to her apartment. Somewhere along the way, she convinced Julius and I to pick up an old television that was lying next to a dumpster. As we were going up the elevator to her place, I maintained my belief that this was some elaborate joke. Not until we set it down in her living room and switched it on (the damn thing worked!) did I realize what had happened. I sat around watching the Red Sox-Yankees game and Kevin Federline's performance at the Teen Choice Awards until Julius was finished helping her out. What I thought would be a short trip ended up lasting almost two hours if I recall correctly. Despite the dubious circumstances, Julius' friend seemed really happy about her new appliance so I guess I feel good about the whole thing.

*****

I finally had time to give Broken Social Scene's self-titled album a good listen. I don't think I need to tell anyone here that it's amazing, but I will anyway. It never ceases to amaze me how much more rewarding music can be when both the artist and the listener deviate from the typical pop structure. It's loud as hell and distinguishing guitar number one from guitar number four borders on impossible, but somehow it all comes together to form this brilliant alternative/orchestral rock gem.

*****

Between the last time I posted and, um, right now, I've been spending a lot of time with Shirley. It's difficult to recall exactly what we've been up to lately. I can't see the events clearly, only fuzzy Shirley-shaped images come to mind. Spring rolls. A cherry tied into a knot. A shirt with really strange, mesmerizing sleeves. A barely audible bubble tea invite. Honey rose for almond. One of the best voicemails I've ever heard (Hola Chica!). Bon Cop, Bad Cop (good flick).

I'm sure I'm forgetting something, but when I'm having a good time I usually don't put too much effort into remembering the details for the sake of this blog. I prefer to just soak in it and hold on for dear life to the traces that linger. I'm glad Shirley's been around for the last month. God only knows what I'd do without her. I probably would have gone back to Food Basics.

*****

The Chalkmaster's gone. I don't know if he finally reached his goal of accumulating enough money to afford a house in the country or if he decided to just change locations. I hope it's the former. He's been replaced by other inferior chalk artists, an old man who does karaoke and plays chess and one of those poor bastards who covers themselves in silver clothes and glitter who act like robots. I miss the Chalkmaster.

*****

Gary and I spent time with Nitasha Puri on Friday. I don't think she's changed one bit and thank God for that. We took a walk down Unionville Main Street and came to rest at the fountain behind the library. Then we sat and talked for about an hour or so. Later, Gary remarked that it was depressing and it was in a way. The three of us have known each other for a long, long time and it's only natural that our conversations drift towards the past. In addition to the wistfulness that accompanies these talks, there was the greater reminder of how afraid we are of the future. I'll be the first one to tell you that Gary and Nitasha have nothing to worry about, but I would never insist that they believe that. The future is unquestionably relative. I fear the future and I don't even have any goals! I can only imagine how much anxiety can be heightened by the presence of ambition.

That heavy handed bit out of the way, I can tell you that seeing Nitasha was wonderful. During our last year of high school, there was uncertainty amongst many of us that we would lose touch with each other and our friendships would crumble and all that jazz. I can honestly say that I never worried about that with Nitasha for a single, solitary second. We might not see each other again for months, maybe even years, but my thoughts of her will remain warm and the mention of her will always bring a smile to my face.

*****

The Frosh Committee's retreat at Hart House Farm was freakin' CRAZY. I've already broken this down in great detail for most of you guys, but allow me to jot it down here for the sake of the archives. In the span of twenty four hours, I:

- broke out in hives when I realized I was going to be spending a day out in the middle of nowhere with about fifty strangers
- was stricken blind by the sight of a Russian beauty named Elena
- learned the names of almost everyone involved in Frosh Week
- dubbed a female frosh leader named Alex, "Lil' Al"
- tossed around a football and frisbee with surprising accuracy
- jumped into a pond wearing nothing but white underwear
- immediately regretted that decision
- filmed whatever I could until I ran out of tape
- tried to figure out how I could properly approach Elena
- chugged four gulps of 63% rum at the campfire
- immediately regretted that decision
- experienced what I believe is called a "buzz" for the first time
- dealt with a killer headache
- woke up around five in the morning and played solitaire while listening to Plans for the next couple of hours
- made a new friend in this guy named Song
- tossed the frisbee around some more with Song and Julius at about seven thirty on a foggy Sunday morning
- went for a walk by myself around the farm while listening to the Garden State soundtrack

That's all the important stuff. Again, it's all a bit of a blur. A worthwhile experience though, for sure.

*****

Max made me accompany him on an illegal Xbox 360 deal. Apparently, his "cousin Ricky" knows "a guy" who gets Xbox 360s from "trade shows" that he works at and this guy offered to sell one to Max on the cheap ($360). How could anyone walk away from a scenario like that? As we drove around town collecting funds (Max was over his withdrawal limit for the day and I had to lend him $200...two hunny!!!), we couldn't stop making the usual drug/hood/urban/gangsta/POP-POP!/big pimpin' jokes that we always make. The genuine shadiness of this deal didn't help things. After having a ridiculous amount of trouble finding a mutual meeting spot, both parties parked and we made the exchange. He was with a girl, who we assumed was his girlfriend or his emotionless, genetically enhanced, Deadly Viper Assassination Squad bodyguard. We never did get a definitive answer on that. After losing the cops that had been tailing us (fuck tha po-lice!), we picked up Dead Rising and played it until we were as zombified as the seemingly infinite antagonists that infest the game itself.

*****

This rambling post will be right back after this commercial break:

I really thought I was being original when I came up with an idea for a Pac-Man movie. I was wrong. Seemed to be some kind of man...some kind of...Pac...Man."

And courtesty of Max Wong, The Worst "Price Is Right" Contestant of All-Time. I actually saw this episode and I'm glad that Max found this clip because it's a classic. I'm always trying to tell people about this contestant, but hearing about it is nowhere near as good as seeing it for yourself. Of course, the thing to watch here is how Bob reacts. Bob Barker is God.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled rambling:

*****

Am I fucked? I'm fucked, aren't I? That's how I'm feeling about Frosh Week right about now. I'm on top of things and yet, at the same time, I'm not. There's all sorts of crap I'm responsible for, I won't go into it here, and I'm not exactly handling that responsibility with the utmost efficiency. My head hurts.

At least I got to spend the whole day with Michelle yesterday. It feels like I haven't seen her in forever, even though it's probably closer to a few weeks. She works a lot and she didn't show up to many of the meetings, so this committee thing hasn't given us as much time to hang out together as I'd hoped. But yesterday we walked around campus establishing how the events were going to be laid out and talking to whoever we had to talk to to secure space. It was all kind of boring. However, we spent the time catching up and cracking wise and having an overall kick ass time. She also went out of her way to tell me all this stuff that she learned about our friends when they got drunk during this trip they went on last week, even though I was not in the least bit curious. Good to know, though.

It's funny. A few days ago, Julius was expressing his frustration at how the support of our friends during this whole frosh planning stage has been lacking. I told him that that was why I never put too much stock into any relationship. I'm like Robert DeNiro in Heat, I never get attached to anything that I can't walk away from in thirty seconds, especially if I see that heat coming around the corner. Sorry, I got lost there. Anyway, he mentioned how he was disappointed in Michelle and how they'd drifted and I told him that even she was expendable to me. Even after yesterday, I'm still convinced that if, for one reason or another, I couldn't be friends with Michelle any more I would not let that bother me. I love her to death, but if I had to, I could walk away from our friendship just like that.

Thankfully, that's a walk I will never, ever have to take.

All right. How 'bout this one: let's say you're abducted by aliens.
Fine.
They haul you aboard the mother ship, take you back to their planet as a curiosity. Now: would you rather be in their zoo, or their circus?
I gotta go zoo. I feel like I could set more of my own schedule.
But in the circus you get to ride around in the train, see the whole planet!
I'm wearin' a little hat, I'm jumpin' through fire...they're puttin' their little alien heads in my mouth...
At least it's show business.
But in the zoo, you know, they might, put a woman in there with me to uh...you know, get me to mate.
What if she's got no interest in you?
W--then I'm pretty much where I am now. At least I got to take a ride on a spaceship.

8/31/2006 10:54:00 PM | Comments (0)

Shandalar Is Beautiful This Time Of Year

Everything You Want - Vertical Horizon

I'm an awful bastard.

On Tuesday, I took/dragged/forced Shirley to come out and see Pulse with me. Why did I choose her? Besides the obvious reasons, I was hoping to help her overcome her fear of horror flicks. A few days prior, she had explained to me in great detail the miserable experiences she'd had when dealing with the horror genre and I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to put her phobia to the test. After all, Pulse seemed like a typically hollow fright fest and after a few cheap scares and bad special effects, she'd be laughing at it just like the rest of us do. Also, she told me that her uncle could get us free tickets.

I should have taken her more seriously. She was petrified. She raised her defences immediately. Fingers in her ears, over her eyes. Feet up on the seat, knees curled up in front of her. Lids shut tightly. As the movie went on and it became more and more clear that she wasn't warming up to the whole concept, I realized what an ass I was being for making her do this. This was not a fear she was going to overcome or, more accurately, I'm not the person to help her overcome it. After the movie mercifully ended, we had a good laugh about it while we waited for my brother to get out of Miami Vice. She was a good sport about the whole thing, but I never should have put her in that position in the first place.

It was a bad ending to what was an otherwise great day. I got to eat a Teppanyaki style lunch for the first time. I wasn't prepared for the big flame the cooks create and when I said, "That almost burned my eyebrows off!", the cook asked if I wanted him to do it again. Of course I did. Then we (Gary, Shirley and myself) went to Timothy's for some tasty beverages. Lastly, because Gary didn't want to see the movie, I ended up driving us (my brother, Shirley and myself) all the way to Scarborough Town Centre! That doesn't sound that impressive, but if you know me and how incompetent I am, that's like...whoa. It was a fine day, though I'm sure it was more Alex-heavy or Alex-centric than Shirley is normally used to.

*****

I went to Kingston on Wednesday and the 48 hours I spent there are a bit of a blur. The first thing Gary and I had to do when we got there was track down Brian so we could get the key to the house. We left our things at Eileen's place and began our search. I suggested setting up a complex network of contacts and wiretaps so as best to gather any information that may come up concerning Brian's whereabouts. Instead, we walked over to his building and Gary asked where we could find him. His methods have always been questionable.

We were surprised at how helpful everyone was. As far as they knew, we could have been a couple of goons sent over by the local bookie to collect Brian's thumbs. Not that we give off that impression but hey, it's possible. Sometime later, we lamented the fact that we don't carry guns. It would have made a much more entertaining scene if we burst into Brian's office with our nines and dragged him out kicking and screaming to the horror of his co-workers. And I would have finally been able to say, "Bitch! Stop screaming or I will put a bullet in your mothafuckin' head!" A lost opportunity if there ever was one. We ended up going to McDonald's.

Later, Gary and I went to go find Ellen so we could get the key to her house and Gary could retrieve his keyboard. The receptionist at her workplace was not so helpful and seemed suspicious of our intentions (and righfully so). Again, I wish I had my nine with me. Eventually Ellen called Gary and after a brief nap, we went to go get the keyboard. Man, we are in bad shape. Just carrying the cardboard box over to her place took a lot out of us. Packing the thing up and taking it out of her house took way longer than it should have, but that was nothing compared to the journey back to Gary's place. We tried many different carrying methods, but inevitably ended up having to take a break every block (!). The good thing is that, as with every near-death experience, Gary and I are much closer after having accomplished this Herculean feat.

Later that night the boys started to play Magic. I used to play this game everyday back in elementary school and the only reason I stopped in high school is because I had no money and I foolishly thought that not playing such a *ahem* "nerdy" game would help me socially. Yeah, that worked out well. Now it's difficult for me to get back in the loop, though I still enjoy watching my boys beat each others brains to death. I decided I'd have no part of their Magic playing on this trip.

Instead, I went to Brian's room to play the Magic: The Gathering computer game.

The Magic computer game transports you to the magical land of Shandalar where you play a young wizard attempting to blah blah blah. Who am I kidding? There's no story. It's a video game. You play Magic in it. Simple. And addictive. I can't come up with an exact number, but somewhere in the area of twelve hours (not straight) were spent exploring this mystical realm. I completed quests. I duelled great wizards. I mingled with Fungus Lords. Truly, this was better than going to Vancouver. At one point, Eileen popped into the room (which legitimately startled me) and I felt oddly embarrassed. She asked why I wasn't playing with the other boys. I came up with some hackneyed explanation about how the game I was playing was an older version and I couldn't keep up with the newfangled cards that the kids played these days. Just something to get her out of the room so that I could return to majestic Shandalar.

At some point I passed out and woke up and it was Friday. Time to go home. The bus back was nearly empty. I slept all the way home while Gary played Magic with John (or is it Jon?). Gary thought I was supplying a ride, but I informed him that everyone at my house was out so we had to take the bus. It was a scorching hot day and as we searched for the nearest stop, I discussed my plans for a Pac-Man live action film. That's for another post.

When I finally got home, I felt an abnormal urge to call Shirley and see what she was up to. However, since she'd had more than her fair share of my company on Tuesday, I decided to leave it alone. I still felt guilty about the whole movie thing.

I am really, really sorry for what I did.

*****

The longest dunk ever.

You asked her out?
Well...not "out." She's a prisoner.
How could you ask her out?
Why not?
I remember when you wouldn't date that girl who lived in Queens because you didn't want to go over the bridge!
That was different!
I'll say.
Jerry, I like being with her. Plus, I know where she is all the time. I have relatively no competition. An-and you know how you live in fear of the pop-in?
The pop-in.
Yeah, no pop-in, no "in the neighborhood," no "I saw your light was on." And the best part is, if things go really well...
Conjugal visit?
Don't jinx it!

8/19/2006 10:31:00 PM | Comments (0)

There's A Beach Boys Song For Every Girl I Know

Having A Blast - Green Day

It's official. I'm not going to Vancouver. Everyone has been telling me that I need a vacation, but my life is a vacation. I mean, what do I need a vacation from? I'll be honest with you. Sitting around all day, playing Playstation 2, listening to music and watching dating shows at two in the morning is not the most strenuous lifestyle. I don't recommend it for anyone else, but I can tell you that the degree of difficulty in maintaining such a state is not high. I already talked to Annia about it and she's got a pretty full plate anyway, so in a way it's for the best if I just stay out of her way. I'll visit her when she goes back to Guelph.

Dinner with Sarah on Monday was GREAT. You would think that went without saying, but the last time I went out to dinner with her it was a bit awkward. Perhaps uneven would be a better word for it. I remember I was being such a dick that day. I wasn't looking forward to it too much, mainly because I've never been completely comfortable around Sarah. I figured that I would have dinner with her, because for some reason she wanted to, and then I'd never see her again and we'd all live happily ever after. But she got back from Scotland about a month or two ago and we'd been trying to set something up for a few weeks.

It went so much smoother this time. The fact that I wasn't acting like a jerk definitely helped. I've learned to accept that for one reason or another, these amazing people I know occasionally choose to waste time with me and there's nothing I can do but enjoy it and do my best to entertain them. They deserve more than that, but that's all I've got.

The other reason I'm nervous around her is because she's such a traditional girl. That is to say, she has old-fashioned expectations when it comes to what people should be doing with their lives. So I'm always afraid that she'll be disappointed in the fact that I've achieved little since high school and that I don't have any immediate, concrete goals. Bless her soul, I don't think she'd ever be so judgemental, but the next time I see her I'm hoping I'll have shown some progress. By her standards, anyway. And yes, I actually am looking forward to a next time. I realize more everyday that you don't always get to choose who you hang out with or, fortunately for me, who wants to hang out with you.

Along those same lines, I spent all of Wednesday walking around with Shirley. I mean that as literally as I can. I walked to her house. We walked to the mall. We walked around the mall. We walked to the park. Back to my house. Back to her house. Then I went back to my house.

See? That's a good time for me. This is what I'm talking about. What do I need a vacation for?

The adventure started in the early afternoon, due to our barbaric sleep schedules (I'm working on it, people). I really wanted to walk to the mall and amazingly so did Shirley. I'm not saying I didn't think she could handle it, but almost everyone I know HATES walking. It's just not an option for some people. We eventually made our way to the Best Buy where Shirley persisted in looking for a laptop with the "red nub" type mouse. She must be the only person on the planet who actually prefers that thing over other kinds of mice. You'd think I'd have become used to her quirks by now, but that was a new one.

After some more travelling (I'll spare the details) we ended up at the park next to my house. I forget that the swings there are not made for adults. They pinch your hips like a son of a bitch. I woke up the next day and my sides were screaming. Never again, never again. I tried to vault myself off the swing a couple of times, but I didn't get more than six inches off the ground, I swear. I robbed Shirley of the sight of my bony body flying through the air and shattering against the earth. I do feel badly for letting her down.

I should mention that somewhere in all this walking we stopped on a bridge and watched the world go by. We also talked about the trips we'd been on (me to Peru, her to Vietnam) and how different things were and how good we've got it here. That was kind of nice.

And yesterday? Korean BBQ with the boys! And for the first time in a while, I didn't feel nauseous and gassy after going. Bonus! That's the perfect capper to this post, I think.

Actually, this is the perfect capper: During dinner with Sarah, I got into one of my typical, self-deprecating rants. To snap me out of it, she began listing a few of my qualities, mentioning that I was "well-liked". Huh? What?

Perspective is a crazy thing, yo.

One last thing...BRO RAPE!!!

So George, how do I beat this lie detector?
I'm sorry, Jerry I can't help you.
Come on, you've got the gift. You're the only one that can help me.
Jerry, I can't. It's like saying to Pavorotti, "Teach me to sing like you."
All right, well I've got to go take this test. I can't believe I'm doing this.
Jerry, just remember. It's not a lie... if you believe it.

8/11/2006 07:21:00 PM | Comments (0)

So it turns out that Saturday was the fourth anniversary of The WAMBAG's first post. This obligatory three day late post should tell all you need to know about how things work around here.

There's no real way to avoid the fact that four years is a lot of time. Especially so for us, considering our reckless and dangerous crack-slinging-cop-killing-bear-fighting-lifestyles, waking up each day not knowing if we'll make it back to see another one. I say it every year, but I'm honestly surprised and at a lost for explanation for how this gig even got past a month. Consider that my high school adventure - for all the ups and downs and sheer breadth of experiences it contained - only lasted four years. (And same with most of you, if you weren't the dirty non-semestered OAC savages that you were.) It's hard to find another four year stretch in your life that plays a bigger part in ultimately shaping and defining who you are as a human being.

The proceeding (approximately) four year stretch of university might be one. Which makes me wonder if anything's going to really change for The WAMBAG, which has seen the beginning and end of at least my university experience. This year has actually seen a 32.47% decrease in posting when compared to the aggregate post averages of the three previous years. ...not that I keep count or anything.

It's been an especially eventful year for me, and I'd think for all of us, between now and the last time I had to write some crap to throw up for last year. It's a sobering when I realize that I'm all done with school and that it seems like no more big developments are waiting for me. And every year, my dream of becoming the first crime fighting professional baseball player since Bo Jackson becomes a little less likely to happen. And you'll have to forgive me for being just a little bit depressed about that.

Funny thing about The WAMBAG though, is that it never really changes. The spelling may have (imperceptibly) improved, the posts (imperceptibly) more refined, and the things we rant about are different, but the actual way we rant and the core material hasn't really changed that much since Year One. Ferrellism still rules absolute here, Van Damme is still the greatest man who ever lived, Raul Julia is still the greatest man who ever died, and subtle and blatant allusions of homosexuality continue to spin the room. And now YouTube just conveniently collects all of our links together on one site.

That's why I love this place. With all the ill-advised adventures we have, for all the things that have changed in these four years, The WAMBAG is still the rock, the seemingly unchanged constant that bridges one day to the next. Regardless if it's an barely controllable urge to groin kick a high school classmate, or the University of Toronto fucking me up my ass, or that vending machine at work stealing my money (to be continued!), there's still a place I can come home to every day, where I can proudly proclaim my love for Malaysian bear porn, my hatred for the Chinese people, or whatever ails me.

We have a good thing going here. Big kudos to my crew - here's to another year of...whatever this is.

"What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?"
"...that about sums it up for me."

8/08/2006 11:38:00 PM | Comments (0)

Now What?

Brave New World - Michael Penn

It's been a week since my last day at Food Basics and I can honestly tell you that the experience has been underwhelming so far. I suppose it was too much to expect that as soon as I left that accursed establishment that air would taste better, women would instantly find me more attractive and Solsbury Hill would suddenly start playing everywhere I walked. Even so, I have to say that my newfound freedom has not been put to good use. I've been playing a lot of videogames, though that goes without saying. And some time has a gone to at least thinking about Frosh Week stuff, though there is a distinct lack of actual action on that front. I have a list of things I plan to do or begin doing in August:

* Write a song a screenplay a novel something
* Exercise
* Go to Vancouver to visit Annia
* Fix my sleep schedule so that I can wake up early and go through an entire school day without sleeping in class or taking a three hour nap in a public place
* Take care of my Frosh Week responsibilities
* See the people who need seeing
* Get over the fact that I don't have a job or any kind of regular income anymore and somehow I thought this was a great decision

Let's address some of these topics.

I have no doubts that quitting my job was the right thing to do, however even I have to question the circumstances under which I've done so. For one thing, I've all but sworn off working part-time ever again. I never say never, but I can say that I would be disappointed if when next you see me I'm asking you whether you would like one or two scoops on your cone. One major reason that most of my former co-workers were so reluctant to leave Food Basics (besides the fact that they got to work with me) was that they feared not being able to find another job. Why did this not factor into my decision to quit? I'm telling myself that I haven't decided to mooch off my parents for the rest of my life. Any minute now I'm going to be out of the house and taking care of myself. I'm confident that this is how one goes about becoming a hobo.

The other thing that's troubling me is my decision to never, ever have anything to do with the store again. I mean, I don't even want to shop there anymore. There was one attempt by a coworker to contact me on MSN but luckily for both of us, I was away. It's not like I hated the store and I definitely didn't hate the people I worked with. I grew quite fond of some of them in fact. It would be easy for me to call one of them up and propose some kind of arbitrary meal that we could use to discuss whatever it is that people discuss at those things. I feel no urge to do so. Perhaps I'm just being lazy or I'm a sociopath. I've convinced myself that detaching myself completely from work is somehow noble. The logic behind that conclusion eludes me at this moment.

One month left until school starts again. I honestly cannot wait, because I have little to do with the time I currently have on my hands. I'm focused, man. That's why I truly believe that I might actually be able to start working on kicking my bad habits. No more going to bed at five in the morning, no more staring at my bony ass in the mirror, no more sitting in my room and strumming my guitar aimlessly, no more...you get the idea. One month until school starts, but I'd better start my education early. No more procrastinating.

Ugh. There's still so much I have to say about quitting my job, but I'm going to let it go. It's been on my mind all week, no need to throw it on this webpage. Instead, I bring you links:

Here's the pilot for a show called Lookwell, which was written by Conan O'Brien and Robert Smigel. Conan occasionally mentions a show he worked on that was a disaster. Here it is. I haven't taken the time to watch it myself, so if anyone does feel free to slap a comment on the tagboard. Starring Adam West.

Another Conan O'Brien link and it's not a YouTube clip! Gasp! Wait, that doesn't mean you shouldn't click on it! I'm actually amazed that William or Brian didn't post this before. Or did you? Regardless, arbitrary humour at its finest.

I've never been more jealous of a celebrity's conquests than those of Derek Jeter. Colin Farrell? Forget it. Brad Pitt? Whatever. But Derek Jeter and I share a taste for ethnic looking women. And Scarlett Johansson. The article says that his relationship with Jessica Alba began because he'd been interested in her for a while and I guess his people hooked him up with her people and then they got together themselves. How romantic. That's how this guy rolls. He wants something, he gets it. I know I've been bitching about this for the last month but...I mean, damn it, seriously? What the fuck, eh? I don't even have anything of note to say here.

Part of me doesn't want to go to Vancouver. Even though it would be a perfect "going back to my roots" vacation, I've been extremely lackadaisical in my efforts to find a flight or to even set a date. I should get out of town though. Clear my head.

I'm going to get right to the point. It has come to my attention that you and the cleaning woman have engaged in sexual intercourse on the desk in your office. Is that correct?
Who said that?
She did.
Was that wrong? Should I have not done that? I tell you I gotta plead ignorance on this thing because if anyone had said anything to me at all when I first started here that that sort of thing was frowned upon, you know, cause I've worked in a lot of offices and I tell you people do that all the time.
You're fired.
Well you didn't have to say it like that.

8/06/2006 12:43:00 AM | Comments (0)