Today, my boss and I are wearing matching shirts (blue, long-sleeved), pants (black), and shoes (black). He has rejected my request that we link arms and skip from office to office.

Every day I walk to work, I pass through a parking lot on the corner of Broad and Victoria. I have no idea if Victoria considers herself to be a broad but that is neither here nor there. There used to be a maroon van with a Montréal Canadiens novelty licence plate. For a long time, there was a grocery list left on the dash. The owner of the maroon van was in need of Minute Rice. Not sure why I noticed the list, but it made me notice the van. It was there every day. I noticed when it wasn't there. I noticed when it was gone on vacation. I was pleased when it came back. For weeks, though, there has been a new van in its assigned spot. Same Montréal Canadiens novelty plate. I do not approve of this development. I miss the maroon van.

Some months ago, you may remember the do-we-or-don't-we debate about going to this year's Wrestlemania. The cost ultimately settled the issue for us. Over the past few months, WWE has generously sacrificed thousands of pay-per-view buys by putting together the most boring card possible. I am convinced they did this out of great personal concern for me. Such nice guys - didn't want me to feel like I was missing out on being there for something special. This week, I turned Raw off halfway through and sent Dave and Josy an email reading, in its entirety, "Fuck it, seriously." Dave replied within minutes to say that he was just about to say the same thing to us. We're still ordering the show, though, so our complaints are pretty toothless. We are, however - and this is a first in my personal Wrestlemania history - going to drink many beers to make the show entertaining. If WWE won't give us fun, we'll just have to make it ourselves.

Also, there will be pizza.

I bought a netbook. I don't think I've mentioned this in any great detail. It's a 10" Asus that's pretty loaded. It's pretty awesome apart from the dreaded Vista. Tomorrow, Chad and I are going to wipe it out and install XP on it (by which I mean Chad will do the work and James will cheer him on and they will eat curry chicken pitas while this happens). This should make it run faster, which will be nice. Basically, this is designed to be my portable internet/music/movie/videogame/e-book machine. It's quite handy to have internet access... IN THE LIVING ROOM. The future is now.

Every Thursday, Pita Cravings sells a curry chicken pita/shawarma/whatever. I am glad it is only once a week. If they had it daily, I would buy it three times a week for a month and make myself sick of it. I'm thinking of you, Edo. Instead, I have something great to look forward to every Thursday. It even helps with Weight Watchers, since I will always force myself to save some points for the end of the week. I'm not missing out on my curry chicken pita.

While I'm giving internet hugs to companies that don't care about me, I'll mention that today, the Extreme Pita at the mall (I spread my pita love) gave me coupon price even though I screwed up and accidentally brought in the wrong coupon. Very generous! Some other company did something lately that impressed me. I have no idea what it was, though. I already mentioned how great Eddie Bauer's return policy is - it was more recently than that. Where have I been recently? Comic Readers, Safeway, HMV, Safeway again... can't think of anything. Oh well, I'm sure it wasn't important.

I'm supposed to go see some dude talk about the tar sands at the University tomorrow. All I know is that I am to meet Chris there sometime between 6:30 and 7:00. I'm sure it will be interesting. It's been a long time since I've done... anything.

I went to the game store at coffee time today. Not the video game store, for a change, but the actual game store. Board games. Mind games. The store that appears for three months every year right around Christmas time. Also has lots of calendars.

I bought something at the game store, but I can't tell you what since it was a Christmas present. It's probably not for you (sorry) but I can't be too careful about my secret Christmas secrets.

While making my purchase, I saw the most incredible thing. It was the fart game. I'd be more specific on the title, but I am shocked (not really) learn that if you Google "fart board game" - if anyone checks my search logs they will be amused - you get 440,000 hits. As such, I don't know WHICH specific fart game was at the game store. Suffice to say it was a board game about farts.

And there was a hold sticker on it.

So not only does a board game about farts exist, but... just picture this. Someone goes to the game store. They see the fart game. They maybe pick it up, read the back of the box, check the price. And agonize. They are on the fence about the fart game. Put it down, pick it up, put it down. Finally, they decide against it. These are tough economic times. We must all make sacrifices. They go home and immediately start kicking themselves. Nothing on TV. Shoulda bought the fart game.

That last paragraph reads a bit awkward but I feel it is necessary in order to leave the gender of the fart game purchaser up to your imagination. I don't want to make assumptions.

Anyway, the person spends all night getting so worked up about the fart game that going back to the mall at their first convenience isn't good enough - they have to phone in and get the clerk to set aside the fart game just in case it sells out before they can get back there. Hot commodity, this fart game.

Back in MY day, when Saturday morning had cartoons and Cocoa Krispies roamed free across the Canadian wilderness, cereal had awesome prizes. Now, not so much. The last prize I got inside a cereal box was a pedometer in my Special K. I would complain about this, but really, even eating grown-up cereal, I have it better than the youth of today.

During our recent trip to Plentywood (snicker), I bought a box of Cocoa Krispies because they're now extinct in Canada. And they were great - they're always great. But did I get a prize? No. Instead, I got some "get off your ass and go be active" propaganda on the back of the box. This kind of thing is common enough that I can't complain. However, I guess American cereal makers think that American kids are stupid, because inside the box was a list of EXTREME biking terms:


Seriously.  This is a true thing.  Extreme sports have never seemed less extreme.  Or more clinical.  "Do tricks for fun.  Progress to new levels of excitement."  I can hardly wait.  Was this translated by machine?

Also, they use "anyway" when they mean "any way."  But I suppose the rules of grammar are no longer considered to be sweet rad butter.  Did I say that right?

This reminds me of Grade 11 social studies, when a list of TEEN SLANG was printed in the newspaper and our teacher decided to try and read it.  The highlight was when he read "yo g" (which not one person in my class had ever said) as "yog," pronounced like "yog(urt)" or "Yog(i Bear)."  Then he cut his finger on a broken stapler.  Good times.

I stole another price tag the other day.



I tell you, it's downright AMAZING what they sell at Toys R Us these days.

Called my dental insurers today.  As it turns out, the reason that most of my wisdom tooth extraction estimate wasn't approved is that those particaular procedures are... um... not approved.  So that's that, I guess.  We've got a new contract here - still has to be ratified and everything - so I hold out some faint hope.  There IS talk of an "enhanced dental plan" but I don't know who would know the specifics of it yet.  Anyway, if the contract doesn't save the day, I'm out about $725 after getting money back from insurance.  I guess we'll see what happens.  Not like there's much I can do about it. 

Feist review up at music_kma.  Many new Peeps pictures up at savemrpeeps.  Apparently, Peeps went and got himself hitched.  How about that?

Tonight I have to go pick up my suit from the dry cleaners.  That should be... fun.  I guess.  If you like paying for clothes that you already own.  Chris and Maureen, if someone's suit stinks at your wedding, I assure you it will not be mine.  Unless I get, like, sprayed by a skunk between now and then, or something. 

Weekend plans: coming to Saskatoon tomorrow after work.  Going out for Heather's birthday on Friday night, going computer shopping with Dave and Rob on Saturday, seeing Dinosaur Jr. on Sunday, back to Regina on Monday.  Should be fine enough.  Might be bringing Guitar Hero.  Not sure.  Depends how I feel about packing a lot of crap, I guess.

Good thing I know where my towel is - I'm going to need it on Friday.

The computer shopping should be fun, despite the fact that it is only Rob's 23rd favourite activity.  My computer at home is ancient and I am finding it increasingly difficult to use.  I haven't had a new computer since... hmm... well, I was at the Institute, so let's say fall of 2002 or thereabouts.  And I bought my computer used at the time.  It's time for an upgrade.  I am pondering a laptop since I have a lot of crap and I would like to be able to take it with me wherever I go.  I also want a video card that will let me hook up a VCR so I can make DVDs of all my old videotapes.  This requires a DVD burner - another necessary feature.  So much to consider.  Luckily, my work offers interest-free computer loans.  How nice of them!

I'm also thinking that any computer I buy will come with Windows Vista pre-loaded.  Would I be stupid to wipe the hard drive and just install XP?  I like XP!  These are things I can discuss with Dave and Rob, who know a lot more than I do.

Speaking of shopping, I bought a really stupid product today.  I went to the mall for lunch with Colin, Andrew, and Trevor.  Afterwards, Colin wanted to stop at Shoppers, where I found these.  I figured they were so ridiculous that I had to buy them.  If I didn't see them in an actual store, I'd have assumed they were a bad joke.  I guess normal Band-Aids are just too wussy for a real man?  I don't know, I generally only wear bandages that have hilarious cartoon characters on them.  If I can't stick my wounds together with the help of SpongeBob Squarepants or Scooby-Doo, I just won't bother.