Where Neurons Marinate Ideas At Will

...And I am moving!

2010-03-02T13:35:00.000-05:00

Honorable Mention: My Photography 101

2010-01-22T16:02:00.015-05:00

Ever since I was a kid and started burning eggs while learning how to cook food, I realized I truly enjoyed doing creative works. As such, and finally, 15+ years later I decided to try my hand at photography. As luck would have it I got a Canon A-series camera a few
years ago as a birthday gift. For those who do not know, the Canon A-series are known for having a lot of manual options for the price. They are pretty straight to the point and although you would not utter their name in the same sentence along DSLRs, one cannot deny that for a budget camera and if you want to stay away from dumb-proof-yet-boring point and shoots, they about the best option you can have.

I remember I took some nice shots with that camera. Then it stolen. Sadly during a move, the bag my camera was in *disappeared* from within my moving truck. A call to the moving company proved fruitless.

A few years ago, I managed to save enough to buy a new camera, another Canon, this time an A640. A 10 megapixel camera which again like my previous camera was heavy on the manual options. So I stated shooting again. I would have to say some really nice pics came out of that. You can see them here on my Flickr! Which I am very proud off! Specially since my camera just stopped working and I do not think it is financially feasible to send it back to Canon for repairs.

BUT! Before the camera died, I was able to take a few more shots which I did enter in the City of Toronto Photography contest, and was able to earn a Honorary Mention for my work. Although monetarily speaking I get squat, I am truly proud to have been honored and that is proof that at least, photographically speaking, I am not burning eggs anymore.

My Paintings (Part II)

2010-01-13T17:36:00.007-05:00

This is one of my first *real* paintings where I actually tried to convey a message. The 'Sandman' is a piece where the observer might not be sure at what exactly they are looking at. Whether it is a wineglass or a hourglass, a surreal bowler hat adds to the anthropomorphic work and asks to be open to interpretation. In one, it might be a glass of red wine while if the latter, the contents of the hourglass seem to be spilling onto the ethereal.

All of the paintings are done in watercolor as I find the medium interesting and most importantly, fun. The idea of creating has always been a pleasure of mine and painting is merely another tool, a gateway in which to let some of those ideas that linger inside all of us a path into the real world.

I used to be more into poetry when I was young (read: early 20's) heck, I ended up writing over 50+ poems! Some of he later, non-romantic ones have found their way in here but for the most part, I have kept it a poem-free zone as I tend to cringe when I read blogs which are 100% poetry. However I am thinking of putting some of the best ones up, you know just for kicks. As I have been feeling pretty creative in the last couple of weeks. Not only through painting but through some more serious matters which will eventually be making their way up here. So until then, feel free to ponder and give your two cents on the painting.

My Paintings (Part I)

2009-12-31T09:21:00.044-05:00

A few weeks ago, I attended a star-studded and relatively new European Film Festival held in the glorious...well, actually my ancient-locally-owned independent movie theater about twenty minutes from my house... and on top of that, the screenings were free. So...maybe it was not all that but you really couldn't go wrong with that.

Anyway, one of the last flicks I saw was a pseudo-historical tale called El Greco (PS:. You can watch the movie for free off from that link) that's based on the actual life of, El Greco --one of the most influential painters of the western world, and no, I did not make that up. Which reminded me of exactly how bad my paintings are however, since I have never claimed to be in the same league and I love doing them --did I mention that painting can also relieve stress?

So, I decided to keep on going. I find it to be an excellent hobby which is useful as a 'stream of consciousness' exercise that preps your mind and focuses it into the right frame for any other creative projects. With that said, this little work over here is called 'One Tree Hill.' I know, I know, no pivotal proverbial peek into the human condition. Although I have been told, if you look closely at the blue sky lines above where they meet the red sunset that you can actually make out the shape of fishes on a stream. Personally, I do not see it but hey, the more seriously people take me 'dashing' on canvases, the closer I am to one day selling one. *I hope*

Fightin' Stress -- Paint Through It!

2009-12-02T15:23:00.011-05:00

Stress comes in many forms and sizes. It is part of life and for some out there it happens more often than with others. People handle it differently, depending on the subject in question. I once knew someone who lost their home, separated from their wife and got laid off work, all within the same month, sounds like the start of a feel-good movie, no? They went into a downward spiral which lasted years. A bit of self-destruction and self-pity never helps anyone. Couldn't blame the man though. Although he finally snapped out of it, I will admit I did no approve of the way he handled it although he is doing better now. However, who am I to judge?

But as inspiration of his tale of woe, I decided to start painting as a way to get out of any gloom or glum that somehow manages to come my way. 'I change is always good,' I say; a change of perspective, a new beginning is something we all need from time to time. A start a new chapter of one's life per se. So I thought of posting some of them in the upcoming posts.

So without any further ado, my first painting ever, 'The Rabbit Hole.' An excellent abstract work in which, if you observe, it perfectly juxtaposes man's ever haunting need for existential relevance and me smearing globs that slimed off the paint lids onto canvas.

Seriously, I seen works like this at the AGO, so you just gotta love art's crazy subjectivism. All I have to do now, is convince their board that it is worth $1359.99! And that I accept Visa and Mastercard.

Little Known Facts In British History (Prt. II)

2009-11-28T19:00:00.004-05:00

One of most interesting developments in the Human condition occurred in the small-backwater-town of Enfield, England, just 16.3km from Charing Cross, 18.8km from the London Stone and in case you are an abradant cockney, 18.9km from St. Mary-le-Bow, you dandy city-folk.

In 1810, at age 40, philosopher but mostly part-time cat farmer Meil Sans Bishopsgate had, after living a tremendously menial life come to the realization of his sad menial life and decided to do something about it. Being far too poor to purchase bullets or rope, he decided to make the best of it.

He immersed himself in philosophical study for two years at the Clarke's School in Enfiled, with the set intention of improving the quality of his being or at the very least be able to then afford a bullet or two - the second, in case he missed.

Sans Bishopsgate almost quit his studies mid-way due to the elements and the never ending stream of insults coming from the children who attended the school -although in all fairness, from time to time, the teachers joined in too.

His muse, per-se, was a young and brash tuberculosis ridden boy who beat Bishopsgate to a pulp outside the local pub after a fight broke over the iconic importance of the King James Bible, England's level of abject poverty and Meil having a stupid name. In his memoirs, published for his mother in 1815, Sans Bishopsgate describes the incident in detail and joyfully recalls, 'Damn Keats' boy. Hope he dies soon.'

After finishing his two years of standing outside the window where the philosophy class was taught, a full year of what he called 'staring up at the sky' followed with him to the conclusion that he was perfectly happy in his life. Meil wrote, "Even though, I have yet to taste the pleasures of the flesh, one must wonder, what does the body of a man truly encapsule? His Spirit? His gravitas? Does a man's worth be set upon his receding hair line? Would the tender touch of a woman, nay, the spectacle of her bosom and weaving flocks heaving through the wind from a galloping horse bring peace to an aging man? Am I able to achieve these sights with my bare hands and sheer will?' Sadly, Meil's body was found at his mother's cottage the next morning. Who knew? Sliding off the stairs head first had accomplished what self-illusion and the two bullets encrusted on the wall had not.

In the end, Meil Sans Brishopsgate peeked into the human psyche seventy-three years before Freud and coining the term "Mid-life Crisis" in the last page of his journal. Now, used by men loosing their hair and in desperate attempt of transcendental gratification. For this, he will always be remembered. By the way, that Keats boy ended up becoming one of England's best poets. Go figure.

3000 Member Bash -- We Have To Do This Again!

2009-05-15T13:58:00.005-04:00

Who knew? What a great bash it was. Indeed. On May 1st we had a chance for all three social groups to come and socialize under the same large dance floored, pool tabled, patio-ed studded roof! The evening just like most parties start small with most people being fashionably late, after all, no one wants to be the first one at a party, some individuals consider that a bit of a faux pas. Luckily as the Organizer, I had to be there to set the stage just right for the evening and to have a small talk with our Montana's sponsored snacks. Soon, however everyone came in droves!

Thanks to another of our sponsors, JamesVII who kindly donated a few free T-shirts, valued at $127 each, we had a raffle which is something we don't get to do as often as we would like for our members. Plus there were a few random free drinks to the winners of impromptu games played throughout the night. Seriously, I have this is the best way to make events, and I am already thinking to see how we can make larger and even more fun bashes. Later in the night, pool games and dancing ran wild, just the way we like them!

It is interesting to see so many people having fun, and it really has made all these last few years as an event planner seem worth while, leaving me with a desire to do more. Of course it is not all fun and games. There is a bit of planning that goes behind the scenes which are far from hosting a party. Great it would be if it was just all about that.

But a great thanks goes to Moe from Montana's who was the liaison between us and Montana's 2nd. He was quite friendly and flexible. Indeed I wish most locales where like that but that is just part of the game. So what is next for these groups which started as a hobby a few years ago? Well, that is an interesting question, as much fun as it has been, I sometimes wonder if I can keep this up. I already have entrusted one of the groups to an assistant who runs about half the responsibilities of Toronto's Spanish Group and I am about to name a second one for the To23-35 Socials. Am I taking on more of a managing role? Ha, nah. But I would like to have more time for myself although I would like for the groups themselves to grow, even if I am not there anymore. 6000 Member bash? Sure, why not.

So going back to the bash, it was a great time had by all. With over 100 people this is one of the largest parties we have had -- this month-- and I certainly hope our next party is as fun and as pleasurable to host as this one.

Getting To Know Your TTC -- Part 1

2009-05-05T23:27:00.003-04:00

It is no secret the TTC is far from perfect and if used extensively, you surely have come to curse it at one point or other; which is a natural response to all Transit Systems, politicians, lawyers, and well, everything actually. However if you are car-less like me, then you know Riding The Rocket is probably the best way to and fro around Toronto's urban jungle.

For my own motives --mostly common sense-- I have always tried living within a token's throw of a subway station. Having grown in the suburbs and commuting then two hours to York University for school pretty much scarred me for life --but my mental state is another post altogether. In the end, unless you have children, are urban-phobic or your mate demands he/she is chauffeured, then the TTC is your best bet.

Escalating fares aside; $109 for a Metropass... Really? SERIOUSLY? Well, rant aside, I guess, I am happy to see they are trying to modernize the system. The newer subway cars will hit the tracks rolling sometime in 2009 and look at 'hem, they might be a nice pimpin' ride. Although that remains to be seen, there is no mention as of when in 2009 the deployment will start and if it does, it will be only on the wealthy line that is Yonge-University... plebbed Bloor-line be dammed! There are other changes like the Transit City project which is basically making lots of Spadina's and St. Clair's right of way streetcar lanes, but that won't be finish until 2021. So, let's just wait on that one for now.

For the time being, one of the best new services provided free of charge are their TTC-eAlerts. Which in our always-on-line generation can be seen as a blessing in disguise. Having been launched on January 14, it has been tested by me and has given its users another perspective of the TTC. The only catch is that at best --with about 10 minutes advance warning-- you might find out of an outage until you are about to head to a station, so "knowing" is not half the battle, as you might not be able to circumvent the issue due to it still being too short notice. Thus you will be hindered, except you are now armed with the knowledge that you will be stuck and left wrestling for shuttle busses or cabs with hundreds of other passengers ahead of time.

So yes, subway lines go out of service a lot, the most I have seen is four in one day! So if you want to have a daily shot of paranoia as to whether your train breaks down in the middle of a tunnel while someone in your car may or may not be coughing up a lung due to swine flu, this is your ticket!

In the end, it might not save you a headache or that much time or money if you decide to cab it but it will provide you with undeniable written proof you can show to your boss as to why you are late and in my opinion, that's a start. TTC, I salute you.

If you would like to subscribe to the TTC alerts, click here.

Adventures of an Organizer! (2009)

2009-04-15T19:46:00.005-04:00

Flash back to circa 2005 -- Who knew? A quick search to find like minds with whom I could practice my fleeing Spanish, would lead to such a great adventure? Indeed, 4 years ago, my Google search led me to a fruitless dead end. There were no Spanish Speaking networks in Toronto! At least not ones wanting to be found easily. Where did Spanish speakers convey then? Shady backrooms accessible only through back way alleys? Where you had to knock 7 times to the rhythm of La Curacha and dance a riff from the Macarena before a doorman suavely said 'Si' and allowed you entry? Seriously, I was at a loss.

Ah, such dichotomy in between the world wide web and the Spanish speaking community in Toronto.
Then the one thing I have learned is, if you can't find something that you need, then well, create it. As such I started a group on Meetup.com. Back then the site had already been at it for a few years and it seemed like the perfect venue. For those not in the know, Meetup allows people to become an organizers and pretty much become an event planner. If people like your group then they join and off you go.

It went well at the beginning and with time I decided to branch out into other areas. Mostly social, since it is my belief that there are never enough ways to meet new people and enlarge one's circle of friends. As such, the Toronto 23-35 and the Toronto 25-40 Social groups came to life about a year later. It seemed easy at first, pick a random pub, send an email to the then 10 members or so and see what would turn out. 'Keep it simple' I used to say.

Well, 334 events later, we are crossing quite the milestones! What started as smalls flower requiring plenty of attention and care have become a weed and is spreading like wildfire! On May 1st, we will having a party to celebrate the 3 group's combined 3130 members! Incredible!

It has been quite the journey, meeting so many interesting people including some very quirky ones. If anything, it was a constant reminder of just how different and alike we all are. Regardless of religion, ethnicity or age, we all found something in common. The underlying desire not to be alone and to share experiences with one another. Some pragmatists would also include dancing and booze but digress it has been well worth it.

Aside the countless friendships, many have found significant others within the hundreds and a few --5 couples, that I know of-- have gone off and even gotten married! You know, its corny but being able to make a positive difference in people's lives is really quite the upper, not to mention Dharma-friendly. Take that, Law Of Attraction!

What will the future hold? Who can tell at this point... but I consider myself, not only I have learned some valuable skills but made some friends who I cherish and count myself as being very lucky to have meet. I am sure, eventually a point will come in which I may not have time to keep them up, but slowly a new generation of people are coming in, helping out as the groups keep on expanding but until then, let the Pachangas go on!

Obama's Lifts Stem Research Ban: Religious Right Applauds!

2009-03-22T00:20:00.002-04:00

San Francisco - In a bold move President Obama signed an executive order lifting the ban on stem research instituted back in 2001 by the Bush Administration. The order signed on March 9th is being hailed as 'exciting news' throughout the scientific community as it re-opens the path for possible cures for a myriad of diseases and disorders which affect millions of people, such as Parkinson's, diabetes and cardiac malfunctions, just to name a few. Needless to say this is bound to ignite some fury in partisan groups who see this move as not only a declaration of being in touch with the 21st century but a middle finger to all that is moral in Christian values, like the Crusades.

'We could not be happier," said Cardial John Matthew, 'this is a sign of the times which Christians everywhere should rejoice. We are moving one step closer to Jesus and the Holy Father,' and Cardinal Matthew is not alone, back in the US shouts of exilihartion are being heard in religious quarters most evil, Godless soul-dead non-believers would not expect to hear. 'Obama has really proven to be Satan's lapdog and a harbinger, we could not be happier! It's fabulous! It is obvious the Rapture is a coming soon. From now on he can do anything he might was well he pleases, I am just going to sit on a lawnchair and crack open a Bud. I am going ot heaven, he is not!' added Pastor Ned Haggard, 'By the way, it's with an "N" not a "T."

A spokeperson for The End Is Now, a Christian interest group in San Francisco whose main mandate is to inform people of the upcoming Doom's Day has hailed the move as imperative to the end of times. 'Steve, one of our members, who was watching the signing on the news swore he heard hoofs of four horses coming from the TV, I am sure he was joking but we were sooo high that afternoon... Who knows? Either way, I will step on the side of caution and believe him. Hey, you aren't going to write the thing about being high on your article, right?'

On the West coast, MSNBC reports 'Supporters of Change' a Pro-Choice group are very optimistic while hailing the unsung heroes, mostly actors and politicians --no one would have cared if a dentist becomes a quadupligic after a horsing accident-- who would had quietly aided the pro-movement on Stem Research had they not gotten sick and paraded stem research to whomever listened. 'They are real heroes, we are just having a party in their behalf on April 1st at Hooter's private party room. If you are coming, we have made arrangements at 7:00pm, remember it's BYOB. It may take a while, but chances are it will saves lives. We are with the Religious right on this one, what does a stem cell look like anyways?'

Editorial: About That Last Post

2009-03-22T00:12:00.003-04:00

NOTE: READ PREVIOUS POST FIRST. Stem Research, why are people okay with this? Perhaps in the end, perhaps people are tired of an old parable book telling me to throw sheep off a cliff to clean my sins. Wait that's the old Testament. Okay, New Testament, because it says if someone smacks your cheek then that I should give him the other -- good moral. What a great book! Wait, later it read that if someone hits your cheek to smack him back. Eye for an eye! Are people tired of ancient bi-polarism trying to rule people's daily lives?. The fact is that when it starts saving lives, Religion as a whole will probably just quietly accept it, as no one is disputing the earth is the center of the universe anymore. Food for thought, technically, are you allow to 'refuse' treatment as the Bible says you cannot choose to take your own life which if you refuse treatment isn't that like doing the same? Only God can do that, right? Aha, Religion backpedals itself into vagueness yet again. People might be tired about that. Also because religion per se has nothing to do with this topic, as there is no difference in between killing an embryo which would have been a life than a man masturbating, washing the sheet and killing millions of possible (half) humans. Harsh but a point to think about. Either way, I am sure everyone is going to be waiting to see results.

Hunting Through The Job-o-Sphere

2009-03-10T17:45:00.003-04:00

If you swing a cat down a street, chances are you will hit someone looking for a job or someone counting their lucky stars they have one. 'It seems no one feels very safe at the moment,' a friend warned. 'You should feel lucky too.'

Apparently, one can't switch on a TV without fear mongering smacking you in face in the form of news anchors warning you, your neighbour and swinging cats in general of the hole in the mud the economy is right now.

And are we? In a word, yes. It seems we have been face first in it for quite sometime, just didn't know it. Yet even with all these fears, I am still prepping my resume for a excursion into the land of employers.

The word on the street is that for every job posting out there, Human Resources personnel are getting waist deep in resumes. Not like they did not get swamped before, although metaphorically speaking it seems back then it was only about ankle-deep, and that my friends, was considered business as usual. But not anymore.

So, here I am, typing away. Borrowing ideas from one employers' list of job qualifications and unmercifully pasting them onto my resume. Let's see... One from that job off Monster.ca... another from Workopolis.com and a third off Craigslist, its like cherry picking in July! The idea behind such intellectual borrowing is that in the end, you have filled your resume with exactly what you can do for the employer, which at times is less than what you can actually perform, however one is not here to prove your ego but to prove you can align your strengths to theirs. If you want to apply for a Marketing position and you can also Ethernet their entire office network on top of that, chances are they will not give you the job. As such, delete the Ethernet part, emphasize your MS-Office wizardry 'Look everyone! I too can print in Word!' Thank God for the highly payed government sponsored recruiter who shared that little gold nugget.

'Tell rather than show.' That is a good piece of advise I picked off an employment advise website. "Show your accomplishments!' another generic site went on, 'Avoid being like the rest!' Okay, got it! I am so pumped up!

'Don't bore a HR manager with crazy antics' cries another. Uh, alright, so I will use New Times Roman, can't go wrong with the classics, then BOOM, another site demands you use anything but New Times Roman as it is antiquate and old fashioned. 'HR Managers see hundreds of resumes a day, they expect you to be different!' Arrgggh!

Anyone with a pulse will agree of the sheer disgust that is writing your own resume. Akin to a mixture of Chinese water torture and being flambeyed alive; somewhere among those two is in the happy median where the typing and retying your resume resides. It is a necessary evil, of course, 'Or stay in your crappy job then!' is often be the rebuttal of many site and indeed they are right.

Thus I hammer on trying to be distinct... HR managers like that... but not too much, HR managers apparently that too. Finally, after two hours, I finally extracted the juice out of the words I originally started with. We are talking liquid gold ladies and gentleman. I write yet another cover-letter and press send. Thank God that is over... Oh wait, there are another nineteen job posting to go. DAMN!
Drip. Drip. Drip.

Valentine's Has Passed!

2009-02-25T19:54:00.003-05:00

Not everyone can get to be an everyday hero on Valentine's. Not everyone gets to come to the aid of a box full of kittens in front of their beloved's lustful gaze; feed a homeless person a banana or purchase cigarettes for a minor. For those lucky to be attached during or around February the 14th, chances are you did "OK." You purchased that nice, hopefully thoughtful gift or experience the melodrama of making reservations at a restaurant during Western society' most marketed holiday after Santa Claus' day.

But I ask of you, what about the underdogs? Those people out there who neither fame nor riches has helped them in their quest for that especial someone? There are people out there, not only joe-six-pack or divorcered soccer moms, these are people of the social elite who have at one point been a victim of Cupid's sardonic humour rather than helped by the steward of love that has been engraved in our heads thanks to endless marketing.

True Valentine Horror Stories

Now that Hallmark’s holiday has come and gone is time to call it what it is: a "Hallmark's Holiday" and that is to put it nicely –as this is a quality, respectful blog— Valentine’s Day has become far too glamorized. Not everything is roses and chocolates out there. Sometimes it’s a war zone where your heart is no man’s land. Don’t believe it? Then you are deluded and probably on some cheap meds. As such, if you are lucky to have survived with your ego intact then maybe you won’t get suckered into Valentine’s next year. Still don’t believe? Then here are the experiences of some poor celebrity testimnials from souls who have been scarred for life:

Mark Hamill:
‘I finally worked the nerve to ask this lady I had been eyeing since ’96. The date was going great, until I couldn’t help to murmur to myself: ‘The force is strong with you tonight, Luke…’ Suddenly, she twitched in horror and said, ‘Oh, you are THAT guy.’ She then excused herself to the ladies room never to be heard from again. I should really stop reliving the past.’

Paul Martin:
‘I lost my cushy ass job; my gerbil turned NDP and Harper is now wearing my old jammies! How would you feel?’

Paris Hilton:
‘I like told my boyfriend of the week we could get a room and make a sex tape. And like, he got all upset. I don’t get it.’

Eddie Murphy:
‘Actually, I am happily married, but my agent can’t get me any auditions so I had to settle for you people. I am starving here. How come no one told me I can’t sing for shit?’

Britney Spears:
'I asked Kevin to surprise me on Valentine’s Day. He got up really early for once, then went out and got a real job at a Jack in the Box but got fired the same day for slacking. I wasn’t surprised, but somehow I got pregnant, again. BUY MY ALBUM!

Bill Gates:
'I am also married, but I was wondering when you would show up…’

Kate Moss:
‘So he opened this baggie, I thought it was baby talc, I swear!’

Colin Ferell:
Why am I on this list?

Angelina Jolie:
I am with Colin. Who are you fucking people?

Poetry Corner: Somnio, Spero, Victum!

2009-01-27T23:43:00.011-05:00

Now, you are sleeping, so late at night

Eyes closed and lost in dreams

I think of you. In the frost of winter,

where nothing clear it seems

Yet, your lover thinks

That he does deem

Indeed, he is so lucky

To cherish you, my love, so he can you esteem

Hold close in thy arms

feel through the seems

The grains of passion

Too small to be seen, yet strong enough to hold

A love, sensible and tight.

We both know what it means

Yes, we are afraid. Yes, we are...

But we know is THERE.

We are afraid.

So afraid. To be hurt, yet again.

But it cannot be denied

What we feel should not be strained

Or be misguided. Why? Because it is wrong and safe?

Since it is easy, for what? To throw it all away?

Why? You know why? We done it both before

We are better than that now.

We are no longer stone.

We've grown, no longer alone

Whether through mistake or fault,

As we painters

Of life's canvas

We color and shade

To be in love and behave, not to linger or just play

But for once, yes finally in life, to truly, in love to stay

Dialogues I: " Peter"

2008-08-17T18:10:00.002-04:00

"On your way to a job interview," said my old boss who was also a good friend, "you must always be prepared."

"No kidding." "Be serious! You only have one chance to make a good impression." He continued. "The secret to success, is to read them before they read you. Companies are faceless corporations. Pure evil. Ready to toss you down the deadwood-chute the moment you cease to be useful or in your case, if they don't like you." "Uh?" "However in the end companies are run by people. Now, people are not evil but quite likable or at least, that is what you want them to believe. Everyone loves to feel they are better than everyone else: Special. Even if they don't admit it." "I fear a sense of horrible irony in what I am about to hear..." "That's what you got to exploit. That's your ticket in!" "One word: Cynical." "You want to get the job or are you going to insult me?" "May I do both?" Peter then went on about a famous story from his past or something more akin to an anthology of them. Everyone always liked those. They were always funny and fantastical: Like, Spiderman-swings-in-and-sa

ves-a-convent-full-of-nuns-from-berserk--Gigolos fantastical. Such stories, you quickly learn to hear with a healthy side of a grain of salt. Otherwise, your brain simply explodes. "When on my first job interview at an insurance company, a would-be manager asked me a series of questions meant to throw you off and think on your feet. Like: 'Where would you see yourself in 5 years?' I love time traveling questions. Or 'Tell us a time where you were in conflict with someone and you just magically fixed it.' Or 'what would you do if your found your boss stealing office supplies?' (I would have said blackmail) and other sanity-vague diatribe. The point: No one wants to hire a moron. No one will ever say that to your face, of course. But now that I am a manager, trust me, they do. Sometimes walking an interviewee out without bursting in sub-political correct cachinnation is the hardest part of the interview!" "Cachinnation? Really? You are a bastard Peter..." "What is your strongest weakness?!" My manager said. "That one does come to mind a lot." "Isn't that a Wynonna Judd song?" "Silly no fuck!" "What did you say?" "...He was my strongest weakness... I surrendered heart and soul..." "Shut up. You did not said that." "I said something about working too hard for my own good, but I was on the process of balancing it out with some sports." "Sounds normal, and he believed you?" "Here is where you must shine: The Look. Everyone knows these answers are anal and vacuous. The internet has made sure to spread that fact far and wide. But the look and tone mixed in with a hint of a honest smile throws them off. That is what sells it. Don't over do it, you don't want to come off car-salesman smooth. Everyone hates that! And you will come off as if you are lying. That is something you want to avoid at all costs! "Isn't that exactly what I would be doing though?" "See? Right there. You just failed to get the job." Wondered if asking Peter was a very, very, bad idea. "Oh, wait, I will tell you my favourite question! At another interview few years later, a manager asked in a very serious and imposing tone: 'Hypothetically, after you got the job, if my manager, came in here. Pointed out the window there and told you the sky was purple and I said to him it was blue... and he asked for your opinion. What would your answer be?' "Finally, an interestingly attitude question..." I thought. "I said you could not see the sky because it was in fact overcast." "Wha? You did not say that either! You are really BS'ing now." "He said it was hypothetical. Didn't see a hipothericalistic thought sale at Costco. Its free. Anyone can use it." "What did he say?" "He just sat there. Index finger raised upward, mouth opened, as if he was going to say something. After about 10 seconds he asked me if I could come up with anything else. I added we should definitely call his wife, as I would be worried for his boss going home and careening right through a red light. "Hahahaha...And?" "I hired you two years later, didn't I?." Peter said, smiling. "Spiderman saves the day, again." I thought. In the end, I got the job. Not sure how but definitely not thanks to Peter's advise.

Poetry Corner: Tempus Beatum Est

2008-08-17T18:06:00.001-04:00

Night time.
With the faint and ever lingering humming of cars in the distance
And incandescents hanging outside my windows which never seem to rest.
White noise for the desperate.

How long has it been since my dreams took hold?
Leading to lush lands? Islands teaming of vibrant thought and endearing peace?
How lucky mellow-minds are.
Free to stroll through fields of wild ponderings and soft-oranged mornings

To welcome sleep's soft hand, nurturing and pleasant, like a mother's tender touch. Knowing your rest and time are blessed.
Rather than embrace it as cold escapism. A hamac of obscurity. An unplugging tool to hinder the surges
Pardoning a fool's head with levity thus allowing it to hang lighter

What time is it now? Three more hours? Then, is there not a choice?
I recall traveling endless kilometers within my living room. Carving a path through my carpet
Pacing my worries. Passing and pacing. Endless.
Your mind is the worse enemy.

Days gone by remind me of quieter times
When I did not loose myself in the rules of numbers & words, and lived.
I am still like that inside. I know it! I think...
I can see it, when I am not empty like a canteen or peddling fears to myself

Something hardly ever seen in my mind now, are the galleries of memories. My museum of flashbacks.
Halls full of wonders, some innocent like those of a child. Or some among loved ones --Spring picnics, drunken nights and love making on a whim. Gently running your fingers across someone's lips before that first soft, lusting kiss.
All of them now amalgamated within the retreat of my mind, along my statues of granite reason. What will happen to them? I wonder.
As the comfort of silence, unleashed and uncontrolled can make you mad

So then, when they found me the next day. They couldn't understand it. How could they? You can't blame them either. I didn't, and I was there
Ah, silence! Peaceful. And right before I fade. Just before I fade.
I despised the white noise, a pestilent symphony without coda. Never desisting. Now, I see nothing.

Only blackness. Blinded.
Dear God, ...where am I?

Danza

2008-05-28T15:07:00.005-04:00

Cuando las noches caen

El firmamento escapa

Entre las nubes, el vuela

Descubriendo su horizonte

Pintando las estrellas

Empujando los rayos anaranjados de nuestra realidad

Y regalandole a la luna, su amor, vuestra claridad

Que baile mas bello

Esta noche pasara

Que baile mas bello

Entre la luna y la ubscuridad

"Hermoso en puresa!

Por siempre durara"

Eso es lo dicen y eso es lo que se diran

Lastima, el sol nunca los dejara

Estrellas! Creaciones!

Su luz nos recuerdara

De esta mentira mas bella

Entre claridad, amor y obscuridad.

-Mauricio

The Happy Hormone Presents -- How To Be An Internet Playa!

2008-05-09T18:50:00.008-04:00

Aren't you tired of the dating scene? Where the good looking horde all the attention? Flashing their dimples and smothering everyone with their blasted Darwinian advantage?

Well, it was only a matter of time before technology and the human mating dance met face to face, went out for a few drinks and ended up in a Super 8! The result? A cyber-jungle of IM services plus a volley of single, dating and discrete encounters sites. A scene not much different than the de-humanizing meat-markets found in any half lit nightclub on a Friday night, it seemed like things are just going to be business as usual.

BUT WAIT!

With the invention of that great equalizer known as the Internet, it is finally irrelevant if you are shy or if your friends call you a Picasso come to life!

THERE IS MORE!

Now not only the ludicrously hot (not you) and extroverted (again, not you) can enjoy the sinful pleasures of straying into the fancy of multiple partners, whether you like it or not!

BUT WAIT!

‘How does this remarkable system, undoubtedly created by a sage in the arts of seduction works,’ you ask?

Simple, I made it a personal quest to travel the world, hopping from frisky Jamaica, to romantic Paris and to the ironically more laissez-faire city of Amsterdam to research and collect data. The rest of Europe, Asia, and Africa were also on the itinerary—somewhere— but unfortunately, I got as far as the mythical city of London, Ontario before running out of funds and forced to find a Money-Mart to buy the bus trip home. Either way, after ten minutes of Googling, I was able to extract the elixir to create this revolutionary system.

WOW, I AM GETTING A LITTLE EXCITED!

Yes, and you should be.

TELL ME MORE!

As part of your guide into history, you will receive my smouldering ‘How to be an Internet Player’ guide, smack full of essays, wisdom and ‘how-to’ nuggets. Such as:

Chapter I:

Don’t offer to buy her a drink, you stupid.

Chapter II:

Typos as the lubricant of Internet love.

Chapter VI (a):

Stretching the truth by saying ‘I love you.’ Is just another way of saying ‘I like you.’

Chapter VI (b):

Instant Messengers are crude forms of communication, so what if you said you are 5’11’?

Chapter VI (c):

Having a six pack means different things to different people. How to just go with it.

Chapter VI (d):

Ask her who in Hollywood she thinks is hot; then tell her you just happen to be his look-alike! If you have any qualms with this, refer to Chapter II.

Chapter X:

How come the women in the Lavalife website don’t look anything like the ones in the commercials? The mystery explained!

Chapter XII:

How to type with only your left hand!

Chapter XV:

Avoid obstacles! Don’t start off by talking about Star-Trek, Star Wars, Stargate, Starship Troopers or anything that begins with the word ‘Star.’ Example: I think Star Jones is hot.

Chapter XX:

So she ended up being a man? How to just go with it. Not everything is lost. Is she post-op?

Chapter XXV:

Play the numbers. Email every single woman in the entire dating site. Including the webmaster, the dating and ISP support staff, remember, you are not being desperate, just passionate.

THIS IS PURE LITERARY GOLD… I AM SALIVATING!

Yes, but there is more! Aside this soon to-be New York best seller, you will also get my 24\7 email support in case you have any questions. Yes, I will personally read and analyze your concerns and will advise in true mentor fashion. Send me your questions and orders to: Sendmeyourmoney@techemail.com

IS THERE A CATCH?

Are diamonds ever free? Most women have to get married just to get one. But don’t worry; you don’t have to marry me. I will settle for only five easy payments of $19.95! Yes, benefit from my lack of pride! You will be enjoying the benefits of this brilliant system in no time, whether you like it or not!

TTC STRIKE: Walking Nirvana

2008-04-30T13:10:00.013-04:00

So Last Friday came. I was out running one of my events at the Raq N' Waq on Queen Street near Bathurst. Everything was going well, the weather was warm and cooperating, people were friendly, conversing and the drinks had flowing freely. I had even managed to get a few free from our nice brunette waitress for our group. Still don't know why though. Then at 11:45pm, my friend Kristina text messages me "Hi. Don't know if you know, the TTC is going on strike at midnight. You may want to let your members know." Damn.

I passed on the bad news. As fate would have it almost everyone lived downtown. Phew. Well except for two of us. A member, Reggie lived in Scarborough, I lived near High Park. Both quite far for walking, specially after midnight. As such Reggie paid and made a quick dash, in the hopes of catching a lingering street car or a snaring a cab before the frenzy home began. As the organizer, I am always one of the last ones to leave any event so I stayed until everyone was ready, that was at around 1:15am.

Once outside, most managed to squeeze into taxis. I unfortunately was heading the other way. Thought of catching a taxi --each one I saw however was bursting with passengers-- so much of that idea. So I decide to walk... at least part of the way. "It would be good for me," I sold the idea to myself, ignoring the fact I could just as easily get mugged too.

After deciding on a safe route, backtracking Queen towards Bathurst, then north until Bloor and then west until Dundas West seemed like the better way. As you can imagine, Bathurst was surprisingly busy with cars and people cursing the TTC as they did the same thing I was doing: Getting home. Needless to say, the animosity was quite palatable. It tasted like burnt BBQ chicken.

You will be surprised what comes into your mind when you are walking by yourself for a few hours. Recently I have started looking for a job. 'Did I say everything I could in those last three cover letters? Was I straight forward enough? When will they call?' Then once that fades, you start thinking about more meaningful things. 'Is that where I want my career to go? I don't want to end up like those people who work for a company for eighteen years, look like zombies and are only going through the motions until quittin' time!' By the time a got to Bloor St. existential questions started creeping up and questioning a lot of life decisions. 'Why am I not married yet? Are you sure?'

Existential questions after only two drinks? Impossible. I thought it silly. It wasn't the alcohol, that's for sure.

Then again, it could just be that I had the time and place to think. After all, It was beautiful night. Serene.

As I begun rushing west, I began feeling quite lonely as most people stayed near the beehive that's the Annex in order to catch speeding cabs. I called another friend, Matty who was surprising awake and gave me much needed company for almost forty five minutes before succumbing to her illness: She had the flu and she just went off to bed. Nothing serious! She told me about her week, her trials and tribulations. I was very lucky to have her to chat. When the streets are almost deserted, having someone speaking to you through a phone gives the feeling of walking through an ocean with one long line tethered to the outside world. Funny. Whenever you feel alone is great to just listen to someone who really wants to share her mind with you. In the end, it felt like I had walked for only thirty five minutes. In reality it was almost an hour and half.

Made it home at about 3:00am. My feet hurt, badly, my heels in particular. Kids, don't ever walk with dress shoes for two hours straight. Is that how women feel after a night with high heels? I felt sorry for female social standards and the obliged footwear. The silly things that come into your mind when you walk for a few hours. I made some choices regarding the jobs I would apply to in the future. I also had a quick reminder of just who my real friends are. The ones who will text message in the middle of the night, warning you about something just because they know out and about. Or who will keep you company at 2:00m, even though they are sick just because they do not want you to walk all alone. Including some realizations of the direction I want my life to go and the fact that I decided to kill myself a little by buying some McDonald's near my place at that unholy hour.

But you know that, hurting feet aside, I think we should all do these more often. Take the long way. You never know the things you might think of when you make the time.
I am sure I will be one of the few to say this, but thanks TTC for your last minute strike.
Just don't do it too often.

Adventuras De Un Organizador (Part IV)

2008-03-26T01:04:00.011-04:00

As some of you may already know, I run two social groups in Toronto with a combined membership of 1230+ members and hosted a total 133 events, not too shabby for a hobby. However I have been thinking of going back to the original reason why I joined meetup.com: To learn Spanish.

You see, I first joined meetup a few years ago due to my slowly disappearing Spanish skills. I had moved to Canada 15 years before and was loosing it. Loosing sucha beautiful language is like loosing a part of your past, a part of your being. As I had no one to practice with, I decided to google a way to do so in Toronto. To make a long story short, I found myself at the front door of The Toronto Spanish Language Meetup Group--or something named like that-- about three years ago. Soon, I was helping run it although in the end I simply did not have the time, so I relinquished control to someone named John and that was that.

Fast forward two years. The group still existed however now in a moribund shadow of its former self. Even though it was one of the larger groups (850+ members) in Toronto, the number of events had crawled to about one every seven months. Can you imagine that? Yeah... I know, party time!

The organizer at the time, the one who is supposed to post and host events was MIA for months. Apparently, saving the whales or whatever may entail a seven month sabbatical. So after finding his email address, I offered to take it over. He refused. Sadly the reason was not very clear to me, something to to with the previous organizer not wanting for him to give up his organizer responsibilities. Okay. So two weeks later, he gave up the position on his own. Go figure.

I immediately jumped at the chance. Annexed, revamped it and decided to make it not only a tool for me to learn but to anyone and everyone else. It's all about the good Karma, right? I was a bit worried the group was beyond repair, but there is nothing that can be achieved without some elbow grease. Thus so far, it seems to be working, my first event had 27 members show up! Second? 38! Third? 44!

What is it that we do, you ask? Primarily we chat. Somewhat anticlimactic since there is only one rule in the group: You can and must only communicate in Spanish. But our repertoire of types of events is growing, watching some Spanish movies and some dancing. Indeed it may seem daunting to those who are learning the language and are on their way in. However I have found one the best ways to learn any language is to simply immerse in such environment where you are forced to use it as often as possible. Whether you like it or not! Call it conversational sink or swim or the Spanish mother of invention or my personal favourite: Linguistic Darwinism. I baptize thy and copyright thy too.

If you would like to learn and more importantly practice your Spanish then come out. Not only you practice another language, meet new friends. Events are held at least on a bi-weekly basis if not weekly. You cannot loose! To start, click here: Toronto's Spanish Group.

A hablar Español se a dicho!

Holy Book Inc. (Part II)

2008-03-24T23:57:00.004-04:00

One of my favourite guilty pleasures as far as documentaries go --yes, they too can be guilty pleasures-- is Supersize Me. Many of you may remember the 2004 Oscar nominated film about Morgan Spurlock, a man who decides to throw health and common sense to the wind and eats only McDonald's for thirty days straight. Did anyone really think the guy would not get any fatter? Please. If anything, it squarely highlights humanity's inbred voyeuristic and sadistic tendencies. Same can be said by the explosion of reality shows clogging the airwaves for the last decade. Yes, TV's Suvivor is that old.

Having said that, this is what A. J. Jacobs has accomplished, a reality TV show created in book format or intellectual fluff, if you will. Yes, you are curious. Yes, you want to see what happens. Then he writes about his life and when I mean his life, I mean, everything. Going for Chinese with his father-in-law, taking his son to a jungle gym at a park, doing his wife. Fantasizing about doing his wife's friend! Uh, okay... Anyway, the book is more about the man's neurosis and mysophobia: A peep whole into a not-so-really interesting life. Sure, he mentions some interesting factoids which will undoubtedly be used to amuse your less thansecular friends. For example, the Bible is actually cool with slavery and it is okay to beat the living bejesus out of them --granted they must live at least a day or two post-beating, 'cause otherwise, if they die, you know, it ain't so cool (Exodus 21:21). Or the term 'Scapegoat' is ironically of Jewish etymology. For real, the head Aaron confessed all the sins of the children of Israel on the Day of Atonement into a goat. Then the goat, symbolically bearing their sins, was run off a cliff. Splat! I can imagine my friends sighing already! I will give A.J. points for creatively using the Bible the same way Spurlock milked McDonald's. Are they the first ones to ever do so? Heck no. But self-experimentation under the cloak of a higher cause is the new, hot marketing tool on the scene.

As I mentioned in the first part of my review, A.J. does not shy from pointing out he is doing this enterprise as a book project and there is nothing wrong with that. However, later in the book when he attempts to highlight a sort of religious awakening within, is where it stops being cute intellectual fluff and becomes a manufactured chain of events which are meant to pluck on the emotional strings of the reader --like the death near the end of the book. I am not denying it happened, however you can sense that actions have been filtered through a literary prism before being neatly set on the page.

Perhaps I was asking too much. Perhaps knowing someone is doing something for a paycheck drains its respectability. As you can't shake the feeling you are being shepherded into a product, not sharing a journey. This rule especially applies when the material in question is of spiritual and ethereal context. Like the Law of Attraction 'coaches' **cough**The Secret**cough** who teach students to free and release themselves from their worldly chains and miseries for $250 per seminar. Of course they forget to mention Zen Buddhists have been doing that for 1445 years. For free. These examples are all a reminder that enlightenment, whichever way you wish you find it, can be found with curiosity and most importantly, within each of us. But it cannot be reached by neither a prescribed capsuled period of time or in Oprah's choice for book of the month. Even if it is for the low MSRP of $23.95. However four million people have already done so, I call that a 'crash diet for the soul.'

In the end, The Year of Living Biblically is enjoyable as any fluff. As you are left feeling that A.J. learns nothing deeper than Biblical trivia which will last him for a lifetime of parties, family gatherings and maybe some talk shows. No, A.J. your PR and marketing handlers were only half right. Yes, it was a one man's quest to follow the Bible literally, that you did for the most part. But was it a humble one? Not by a long shot. No my friend, you made some good coin. Was that the point?

Adventures Of An Organizer (Part III)

2008-03-01T12:27:00.008-05:00

Last Friday, February 29th a milestone was crossed: My group's 100th event came to pass! As some of you know I run two social groups, one for people between 23 and 35, while the other focuses in people between 25 and 40. Yes, they do overlap, and they are both social and quite the pleasure to organize, and no, they are not dating groups. Both are quite interesting however, as the dynamic can be rather different at times. The "younger" group as I call it, the To23-35 Social Club tends to be more party and dancing oriented, while the "older" one has a more dinner & lounge vibe to it.

So which group was it that turn 100 events old? Why the TO23-35 Social Club! I had been thinking about this event and it importance of it for a while. Few groups in meetup.com have reached this far and can proudly say our group is one of the largest (11th in Toronto out of hundreds) and one of the the best rated by its members. So at first, I thought of doing some Biblical, End-of-Days-carnival-of-the-senses affair but... in the end I opted to do something a little more low-key.

You see, I have never been the clubber type. Sure, I love to dance, but I dislike the whole line-up, cover, coat check, meat-market vibe and at times ridiculous prices for a bottle of beer. I am looking at you, sub-posh-wannabe Club V in Yorkille, charging a blasphemous $8 for a miserable 341ml bottle of Stella! Let's see how long you last with such ridiculousness!

Although quite often we end up at a club as the girls in the group just love to dance, so we usually start off at a lounge only to end up at a club dancing the night away --or until they kick us out, whichever comes first. So, if we do end up going to a club the rare, odd time, I don't mind it.

Anyway, back to the 100th event, I decide on The Rivoli, a quaint hot spot on Queen Street West. Known for its concerts in its back stage, its eclectic restaurant and pool hall on the second floor. Oh, and they have a small spartan lounge bar area which they try to sell as the 'Sky Bar.' Pressumably because aside a few chairs the place has nothing in it but air. Silly marketing.

The event itself was great! The vibe was great! The weather was downright miserable and as such only about 66 people showed up. However, as you know, it is the company that makes all the difference. And it did. So many new faces that it got hard to remember everyone's name.

It was great to see so many people having socializing and having fun. Playing some serious pool and I am sure, some flirting. What can you do? Can't stop it, right? In fact, quite a few people over the years have hooked up thanks to the group. That has to be worth a sizable chunk of good karma, I am sure of it. No reincarnating as an earthworm for me!

At the end of the night, when everyone was gone and there were only a few of us left. Yes, we practically closed the place --again-- I have to say that it has all been quite worth it. Have met some interesting people and even got a few great friends out of the enterprise. You know, you aught to come out too, see what all the fuzz is about. You never know!

Fanatism VS Consumerism. Why? Because My PS3 Is Better Than Your Jesus!

2008-02-11T00:29:00.000-05:00

Darwin is rolling in his grave. Well, more like twitching uncontrollably, maybe doing a little heaving, which surely it is hard after being dead for 125 years. You see, although technologically humanity has moved forth in amazing strides, other developmental trends have in fact backtracked into more primordial states. Which ironically is due to our greater understanding of our own psychology. You see, we have learned a lot about our raw behaviour and the human condition over the last couple thousand years, which in turn, could be used for the greater good of us all. Instead we have shamelessly used this knowledge to manipulate ourselves. So, the more we move forth in self-awareness --a point of evolution which would have made Plato, Socrates and many others incredibly proud-- we again, specifically Western society, have reduced it to a tool for selling wares by seeding basic fears. Many years ago the point of adverting was "Product "XYZ" is great! Give it a try." I would call that the typical idea of an ad. They have a product to show you, you make the final call. Messages of today lack devil-may-care coolness, with most ads reflecting a more desperate "Don't have 'xyz'?' What is wrong with you? You can't happy. If you had XYZ you would happy, NOW!" Then they have some sort of sexual/financial hook. You know, a reminder that you too can be hot/rich/get laid or all three, especially in beer commercials. In the other hand, a lot of commercials basically just insult or patronize you. The problem is that it has now become so blatant and done so regularly that we don't even see it anymore. Can you see the insulting trend on these ads --mind this this are some of the worse-- this one from McDonald's, this Republican Radio ad? This mini-movie (read: long ad) rams its warning into your head of just how unhappy and lonely you too, could be, you will be if you do not use their product: Shampoo. Most beauty product ads are watered down versions of this one. Love how the guy just can't have enough of her hair! Look at those beady eyes! She will never be alone again, ever. This is really disastrous when you take into consideration that our brains can't filter out the stuff. On conscious can for the sake of our wakeful sanity but not our subconscious, and if you hear something repeated enough times, well, it sticks. Studies have been done about this and proven true. So after endless streams of commercials meant to use your sense of self-worth to sell their product, what do you think it is going to happen to you in the long run? Well, you get funny, nicely brainwashed people. Fighting over the dumbest things. Like video game consoles. For example, check this interesting article I read about the "Fall of Man," which documented *some* PS3-related injuries on the days after it was launched. Is this what we are using our vast brain power for? Brainwash ourselves into a Sheep global village? What is wrong? What's worse is that we are aware of it and yet do nothing about it. Since Television is consumerism's main tool and Gospel --I recommend reading an excellent book called the "Four Arguments For The Elimination Of Television" by Jerry Mander. No, no conspiracies or communist manifestos, just an ex-adman's cold, hard look at the stupid box seating in our living rooms. If anything you owe it to yourself to be informed. So, is Consumerism 21st century's newest Religion? It already has its own holidays. Like Christmas, and my favourite, the United States' own Black Friday. Where else can find you can find avid --and some would say, rabid-- faithful rushing to a church at 5:00am? Consumerists running a mock? Never!

Adventures Of An Organizer! (Part II)

2008-02-04T12:18:00.002-05:00

Every so often while running my group, I feel it necessary to pair up with someone else in order to spice it up a bit. Our recent Christmas Party was a perfect example of that. I teamed up with David Shapiro, a promoter from the U.S. to host a party at Fluid Nightclub. With new injected energy, lots of dancing and hours of socializing happening, the party was very well received. As such, a point to do it again was made. So this year, I teamed up with Steven, one of the members of a mysterious group of individuals who run the copyrighted Saturday Nite Social Mixer's parties. Quite mysterious indeed as they have no base of operations and are not affiliated with any one group or website, like say, I am with meetup.com. They are like a swarm of happy-go lucky locust, swooping down bars and clubs, leaving only a trail of empty beer bottles and a lot of cash on the hands of the bartenders. It's a beautiful, if strange symbiotic relationship.

So after a few emails back and forth, the joint effort was a go: We were to pillage Philthy McNasty's on Saturday, February the 2nd. So I show up and there are tons of people. I one point early in the evening I guesstimated about seventy at least. Now the interesting thing was the sheer amount of people who I did not know. Generally, in my groups there are a number of people who have become 'regulars,' or more to the point, just friends. We do not need a social event to hang out at, go for drinks or go for dinner. This time it was very much not so, although it is always a pleasure to meet new people. But every so often, just like one would in any other forum, you meet some really, really weird people.

Take exhibit A: I had taken my camera to take some shots of the social. I am surfing in and out the crowds, introducing myself as I go. This girl is putting on her coat so I think she is leaving. So I extend my hand forward, in a firm and friendly, I-am-NOT-trying-to-pick-you-up way and ask her for her name. After which I was going add that I hoped she had a good time. Instead, her expressionless face, still glued to a TV said:

'It doesn't matter...' In a monotone voice.
'Uh?' Did I miss something? Did I have something stuck in my teeth? Well, she wouldn't know that since she hasn't even looked at me. Odd...
'Are you okay?" I asked, and as one of the organizers with a bit of concern.
Her head was still locked to the wall mounted TV, her eyes starring freakishly upwards, looking both distracted and drugged.
'It doesn't matter...' She repeated, slowly.

See, the interesting part when someone doesn't want to talk to you is that you can always catch hints by their tone of voice and body language. They are always the tell-tale sign. But it gets disturbing when faced with well below Forrest-Gump-like synaptic responses, I simply stall. Should I leave? Should I be worried? Do I still have something stuck in my teeth? Are they high?

She was putting her coat quite alright, so I ruled out drugged or drunk. I wagered she probably thought I was hitting on her. But she still had not even bothered to make eye contact to even determined that I was not. Since I doubt anyone would think a guy holding out his hand the way you do to heads of state while holding a camera in the other as the coolest, smoothest approach to hit on a woman. Bitch? Nah, perhaps just very rude.

I looked at her one last time, her eyes still glued to the TV.
"You are weird." I said as I walked away. Some people are just odd.

At around 11:00pm most of the girls in the group approached me to inform me of their need to dance. So the party was arranged into three groups: Some went on to Fluid, others to Devil's Martini and the last to a place called RockWood. I for one, I chose neither, opting for a more quiet fourth option. Needless to say, for what I heard it was a really good night of dancing. That's what matters.

If you would like to check my groups, try The TO23-35 Social and The 25-40 Social Groups. Although they overlap, they tend to cater to a different crowd. Oh, one last thing, I only share the odd and strange stories to you but they are quite rare. So don't be shy, come out! Wait on for exhibit B coming soon!

Holy Book Inc. (Part I)

2008-01-28T15:44:00.002-05:00

Someone close to me bought me a book entitled "The Year of Living Biblically," ironically, as a Christmas present. At first, when you crack the sucker open it is hard not to feel comfortable as you sail past the first few pages. A. J. Jacobs, a self-described agnostic-Jew who takes pride in his generally God-less existence, is a fun, if a little neurotic scribe. He guides you quite easily through the origins and the concept of his project: To live one year as literally conscious of the Bible as possible --and yes, also book contract. So far, he hasn't let that one veer to far out of his peripheral sight. As much as he may want to learn more about the insights of living a non-secular life style, so far he has made note of his book contract about five times into the read. You need to work on that one A.J.

I am not going to lie to you, I haven't finished the book yet, as I am only on page 108 out of 332. So far he has read the bible(s) as there are countless versions --some experts count them well into over a thousand-- and pointed out many of the pseudo-forgotten rules within the 'book of all books.' Down to the downright obscure: "Kill all magicians!"or the rule disallowing men --and some women-- from "trimming the ends of your beard." Which by proxy includes skipping on shaving altogether, hence his Tres-homeless chic look. Or my personal favourite: If in the scene on an unresolved crime, you must break the neck of a cow as sacrifice. Can you imagine that?

'Honey, what happened to the $5 I left on the coffee table?'
'I don't know. I didn't take it though.'
'That's alright, I have a cow right here. Hi cow.'
'Moo?'
SNAAPPPPPP!!
'That's okay honey! I took care of it.'

There are also some other strange ones, like not touching women... specially if menstruating. In fact not only you ladies are unclean but everything you touch, including me, a chair or a bench becomes unclean as per Leviticus 15:20: "everything upon which she lies during her impurity shall be unclean; everything also upon which she sits shall be unclean." And you thought being a leper was bad enough. At least we have found a cure for that one.

With such truck-load worth of idiosyncrasies, I cannot help enjoying the book so far. Hearing some of the most ludicrous and forgotten rules from the Bible, as they themselves are presented as proverbs and parables from A.J.'s current day life in New York city make for quite the funny read. However it makes me realize two things. First, --and this is my own personal choice-- as someone raised in a Catholic household who has read the New Testament, the Torah (parts of the Talmud) and the Koran: Holy books should never be taken completely literally, as they simple contradict themselves way too much. This is how political agendas are fueled and wars started.

The "Give the other cheek..." argument VS. "Eye for an eye."
..."Stone all gays." VS. "Let he without sin cast the first stone."
..."Kill magicians\ stone sinners, and non-believers!" VS. The *Don't do onto others what you would not like done to you,* Golden Rule.

The list goes on and on... for centuries. Secondly, as easygoing as A.J. is, ultimately he is praying --pun intended-- on a gimmick to make money. A stunt, a piece of chicanery that although amusing never relents its true intentions: Sell books. Make money. So, the questioned begged here at the end of the day is: How Christian/Jewish/Muslin/Hindu/Scientology?/*insert next religion here* is that?

I find it amusing that as I read this book, I am getting stopped on cafes, buses, subways and well, anywhere I like to read--9+ times so far-- about this book. Mostly because they have seen the author getting interviewed on CNN, or some morning show. Guess the advertising budget is working its magic. Pretty sharp A.J. Pretty sharp.

I will post more once I finish the book.

Pre-New Year's Flu

2007-12-28T13:36:00.000-05:00

In our western society, few are the times for greater reflection than on, and around New Year's. A time to look back at a set of time and space and ponder on the deeds and non-deeds that have carried us to this point in our lives. A time only followed by one's birthday and the death of a loved one in the totem pole order of reflectiveness. Surely many secular-types would like to add Lent, Christmas and Ramadan to name a few, but from an general perspective, New Year's still has a certain Je ne sais quoi, which can inspire or still be abhorred by all people equally. As I have always said, 'people do not take enough time to know themselves.' It is most unfortunate as this is one of the most important lessons a human being can learn. Alas, this is generally not the case. In fact, people will pay others to half-ass do it for them. Hence the number of inspirational Jesters out there who, for a fee, will surgar coat wonderful promises of 'how you too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three!' ...It is quite the multi-million dollar industry. While omitting the fact they themselves would be as poor as dirt had you not paid them to tell you how you too, can be like them. Which ironically, it would have to be by you charging other people and tell them how they too, can be happy with money/love/sex/or all three. Creating some evil infinite loop where someone just has to be miserable for the whole industry to exist. So I sit here, babysitting the flu and wondering about my last year on earth. Nothing better than spending it alone and sick as an old chapter approaches to a close. As you can imagine, it had both its highs and lows. Ultimately --for us who do it-- that is, put your life on a proverbial balance from time to time, the hope is for said balance to lean over onto the highs rather than he lows. But this year, sadly, it has been a little too even. Losing a very loved one, changing jobs, faced some life-long illnesses. Well, I could just take it in for what it is and call it George, right? But I can't do that! For it has been a year of some really good accomplishments. As they say, 'the longer the fall, the more alive you will feel looking back down at the abyss when you climb out.' And although I am not totally out... no point in lying, right? I can see the top closer than ever before. Teasing me to move forth. It will be sad to let go of a few things --someone in particular-- but that's how life is. The view is going to be breathtaking. So, I sit here, waiting for the flu to get the hell out of my body and for my immune system to really get cracking. I mean, what else do I pay it for? I hope all of you are in good health and have some interesting plans for the weekend; And subsequently, take the time to find out where and who you are. Only then you will know where you are going! Cheers.

Adventures Of An Organizer!

2007-12-06T10:20:00.001-05:00

In one of my adventures as an organizer of a social group I found myself at a trendy lounge in downtown Toronto next to someone who was wearing a shirt that read: ‘Remember my name, because you will be screaming it later.’
Never having heard before, I could not restrain myself from commenting: ‘Funny,’ I said with a hint of friendly sarcasm. Then asked if it ever worked, ‘It worked while I was in Vancouver’ he responded.

He was funny and he didn’t strike me as the shy type. Actually he seemed like the type who would benefit from a little shyness.

We quickly got into conversation. The usual things you would talk to a stranger at a bar. He had just moved to Toronto from aforementioned Vancouver –hated the weather, by the way—and had just gotten a job at a computer firm. My old job as a computer analyst gave us more few things in common but being a Friday, we non-verbally agreed not to speak about our jobs. ‘So what else do you do?’
Ah…here is where things got interesting.

‘A have a side business…’ he said hiding a smile. ‘I am just starting.’
I could tell he was hesitating. It was understandable; I was a complete stranger and had talked for less than five minutes. He reached in his jeans and pulled a business card and handed over to me. It was thinner than average, matte and with cheap looking ink. The main caption read ‘Enlightened Heart.’ Printed in calligraphy not much different than what you would find on a turn of the 1800’s cover of a Harlequin novel. His name was below this.

Wha? I said out loud, not fully understanding.
‘I teach shy people how to get women.’
‘Really?’ I said without disguising the doubt in my voice.
‘Yes.’
‘What are your credentials?’
‘My life.’
‘Huh?’
‘Yeah.’

Then read the back of the card, ‘Personal life and relationship mentor,’ and an uplifting quote regarding being able to get what you want out of life. I asked if he was any good with the ladies. No answer, just a sheepish smile.

‘If so, why come out to my social group?’ I asked.
‘Field research.’
Damn. At least he was honest.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘I give a lot of free advise; doing it for over a decade now… Heck, you could say that I am giving away the business for free.’
‘The world is not short of misguided people.’ He commented.
God, did I know that to be right. He made me think: What if I have gotten five dollars for every time I helped someone hook up with their crush? Ten for every time I set someone up? And, what if I charged by the hour for the long nights spent over the phone telling a friend who had just been dumped that he\she would be fine until four o’clock in the morning? Holy mother lode! This guy was onto something.

From then on we jumped head first into many theories regarding dating and the mating dance. I have to admit, he had some good points regarding how to approach a woman: avoid pickup lines at all costs. The importance of attitude over looks, paying attention to details most men overlook and other general things. Even though we saw it from different sides of the fence, which is understandable as a point of view based on experience. It was still interesting to see the similarities and not so similar takes on the opposite sex. The verdict: ‘the dating scene’ is biased towards the shy and the timid. No secret there.

By the way, did I mention there were four ladies sitting between ‘Dale’ and me? Listening to everything we had said and I have to admit they did not seem very impressed with either of us. Not that we were being lewd, but I think she did not appreciate two men sucking the romanticism out of romanticism by making it sound like some sort of hard science. By the way, Dale, if you ever read this, I am giving you free advertising, so don’t come complaining.

A few hours later, Dale said he had another party to attend to but he was glad that the dropped by. I knew he was in fact networking for his business but told him he was welcome to drop by anytime. After all, that’s my job as the organizer of a social group.

’So is this what he really does?’ A woman in my group asked at the end of the night while studying his business card.
‘So it seems,” I said.
‘Strange, overall, he seemed kinda quiet.’

** Would you like to find out more about my social groups? Then wait no longer, click here!**

STUDY REVEALS: Nerds Get Laid More In Adulthood Than Any Other High School Clique.

2007-11-18T23:17:00.000-05:00

Chicago – A new study spear-headed by the Sigma Xi Scientific Research Society released its results last week after two years of statistic and physiologic data collecting. Its results were of no surprise to the scientists involved, or anyone with an IQ higher than 138 points.

'We found that on average, an IQ of 138 was the cut off figure a High School aged youth could no longer masquerade his intellect or brainy interests convincingly enough away from his peers.' Said Dr. Carlton, Head Researcher of the “Virgin Project” as it became affectionately known. 'The idea of the initiative was to determine why high IQ students tend to sexually lag behind their less intellectual school mates. It has always seemed like a case of Darwinism in reverse.'

The experiment consisted of rounding up 12,500 subjects from twenty different High schools from around the country who had to fill a questionnaire probing into their career, social and sexual views and accomplishments. 'The results were quite astonishing at first,' Dr. Carlton commented, 'and very soon, the pattern basically hit us right on the head like a Klingon death dart.'

The studies showed most 'jocks, cheerleaders and the generally cool crowd' in High school are now stuck in dead end jobs and drinking their sorrows on Friday and/or Saturday nights. Have barely expanded their social circles and are constantly reminiscing about the ‘good old days.’ 'In some instances,' Dr. Carlton commented 'A few subjects were actually employed in companies ran by the same individual they used to pull wedgies on. It is a case of extreme poetic justice.'

The results even illustrated instances of sad irony as in the case of Jacob Williams. Back in high school he was the soccer team captain for three years running. 'Yeah, I got some sweet snatch back then, drank like a fish too, yeah, those were good years. (But) lately my career has been taking most of my time.' Unfortunately, our interview at his place of work was cut short by a phone call, which required his immediate attention. 'If you excuse me.' Said Williams as he placed the phone back onto the receiver. 'I gotta run. Some yuppie loser just puked his guts out in the men’s washroom on the 17th floor.'

The status quo of the study showed intellectual prowess and the willingness to apply it in scholarly interest proportionally reduced the chances of a student getting laid.

'I was chess captain in high school and it was not until university that I kissed my first woman.' Reported one Oscar Escobado, 'But after I got my medical practice going, women have been practically throwing themselves at me. Honestly, I lost count how many I have had in the sack. You could say that I came back with a vengeance.'

The data also showed ‘Nerds’ tended to be better lovers than their ‘cool’ counterparts regardless of their financial success as their self-esteem with the opposite sex is permanently damaged. As such, a desire to always try harder, more passionately and/or for longer is ingrained in their psyche early in their teenager years as they feel they are never quite good enough. 'We called it the Ugly-Duckling Syndrome.' Said Dr. Carlton. It was also noted that none of the spouses or significant other of those in the study ever complained or seemed to mind their partner’s obvious emotional unbalance.

'It was almost impossible to conceal my astuteness when you can remember what was taught three weeks before or the fact that I had to keep correcting the teacher on her calculus solving skills. Back then; being smart was like the kiss of death. Mind you, my ex-playmate wife things I am over exaggerating.' Said one George Kyperous from his private yacht. Now a multi-millionaire whose patent of a drug that nullifies nicotine addiction is being subsidized by cigarette companies who are paying him not to bring his invention to market.

The project even had a chance to reunite many subjects who had not heard or seen of each other in years. As was in the case of Stevenson “Stevie” McNicoll, a Hyundai mechanic, but a Football God in high school. He had the chance to attempt to amend the years of emotional abuse he inflicted to Josh Patterson -- now a powerful stockbroker, member of the board of the Bank of America and married to Miss Florida ‘98. Later that day Mr. Patterson smirked as he commented, 'When his house is repossessed, we’ll see who’ll be laughing then.'

At the end of the study, it was discovered that in extreme cases chess, debate, science team captains and most serious nerds in general produced an income that was on average twice to five times greater than their entire high school populous combined. 'Such flexibility, and liquidity in assets,' Observed Dr. Carlton, 'Is a humongous turn on for women, who instinctively gravitate toward such needs as companionship, security and diamond jewelry.'

Since the results have been released, The Bank of America and a number of Top 100 companies have generously subsidized the entire funding for the “Virgin Project.”

NewsBrief Part XI: Harvard Student Plays Russian Roulette with Semi-Automatic. Dies.

2007-11-14T11:17:00.000-05:00

BOSTON - It was a shock to both faculty and the student body when a suspected murder case on campus was discovered to be nothing more than the self terminating, fool-hardly attempts of a law school undergraduate Michael Sanders out to prove he was still the 'big man on campus.'

According to witnesses, on Saturday the 20th of this month, Michael crashed a party with three of his friends, drank at least a dozen beers cans, crushing each “empty” on his forehead before noticing a party guest had brought a .9mm Luger semi-automatic and was showing it to a few blond members of a visiting sorority.

Seeing it as an opportunity to improve his fading sovereignty within his fraternity, Michael seized the gun out of the owner’s hand and announced he was still 'the big man on campus,' before pointing the gun onto himself.

Witnesses report the victim as laughing out loud as he tried to get the crowd’s attention screaming the words “Russian Roulette, Russian Roulette, who dares me?!” right up to the moment in which he pulled the trigger.

'It was a desperate cry for attention.' Said Terry Wales, the newly designated ‘big man on campus.’ 'He was a wash out and no one took him seriously anymore. He had lost most of his support base late last semester when he started dating a Philosophy grad. That girl really messed him up. Making him go to art galleries, the ballet and read and shit. His stock and street cred had dropped to the level of a freshman.'

The victim’s family was devastated to hear the news as a state of disbelief and fury rippled through the entire Sanders household.

'How much of a moron do you have to be to play Russian roulette with a semi-automatic gun for Pete’s sake?' Said Michael’s mother Mary Sanders. 'Just the thought that he came out of me, that he and I share the same gene pool, is really frightening. If he knew he would be playing dumb-ass macho games like that, the least he could do was think of his family first and have the decency to go to a cheaper college.'

Mr. Sanders expressed utter fear their remaining son, Arthur Sanders could in the future display such idiocy. 'We had set some money aside for him too,' explained Mr. Sanders. '(But) we aren’t taking any chances. We have worked too long and too hard. I am cashing his trust fund next week. Maybe go around the world with the wife!'

Michael’s younger 17-year-old brother Arthur was quoted as saying; “Mike fucked me up!” over and over.

The family has expressed their full intention of taking legal action against Harvard for what they call “Mind-boggling False Marketing.”

'They go around flaunting they are one of the best universities in the world! Over 40 Nobel laureates? Oh yeah?! Look what they taught him! Look at what they let my baby do! Doesn’t matter what they say. With the money we payed them, I could have gotten myself an Audi TT instead, and still have my son!”

Harvard University has refused to comment but has not denied its seeking legal counsel from its lawyers on retainer.

Two Years And Counting! (Part I)

2007-10-09T21:13:00.004-04:00

I found Meetup.com quite by chance. Now for those who do not know, Meetup.com is a Web 2.0 social website in which like Facebook for example, members can find like-minded individuals, but unlike Facebook, then meet in the real world and, well, do whatever those interests are on an ongoing basis. You see, I was looking for a language group as I was forgetting my Spanish faster you could say 'Dos cervesas y tacos por favor.' So what better way to practice then to speak the language with other native speakers? Maybe even make some friends to boot.

Anyway, so I decided to bite the bullet and joined the Toronto Spanish Speaking Group. Overall it was good, however Richard the organizer left a lot to be desired. Like not showing up to any of his own meetups for example. In fact he never showed up to any outings and after a few attended events I relented to the possibility he was likely imaginary or the work of someone's fiction. Specially, as I would later find out, if an organizer does not select a time or location, Meetup.com will automatically pick both for you. That's what I call full service. But you would have to be abnormally dense not to get bored going to the same Starbucks again and again month in and month out. So I became a bit disillusioned.

Eventually curiosity got the best of me as the thought of organizing a group myself kept on marinating in my head. So without much dramatic ado I jumped right into organizing the TO23-35 Social Group.

Just like all group we started small. However we pretty soon exploded... 100 members, 200 members... then *boom* past 300! As of this writing membership is 667 and counting. Not bad, not bad. Then within the year a second group followed, the TO25-40 Social Group. Yes, the names are pretty almost carbon copies, but the demographic is on average older. How many members on that one? 461! And counting... As you can imagine lots of outings and funny adventures occurred within the group, a highlight would be the couple who not only met but ended up married after meeting in one of my groups. Now that has to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

How do I choose events? Well, a few tequila shots help... no wait...that's not it. Basically I pick locations through experience. Having been a party kid in Toronto in my younger years helps. I keep track of the never-ending stream of event s going on in the city at any given moment. We have gone patios, lounges, nature walks, indoor rock climbing, roller-blading, museums, movies, wine tastings, dinners, brunches, you name it. Pretty much anything that sounds like a great time to be had by all. That's the easy part. The hard part is the colourful mating dance I must enlist myself to do with managers of establishments I want to do business with. As locales will not reserve busy nights unless you pay a ridiculous premium in advance or with your first born or a pint of blood from your mother. Selling off a next of kin may also do the trick. They are that anal. Sadly, I can see their point since they do not want to do have empty spaces on a busy night, but that is not the best way to woo future repeat customers. Although so far we have done pretty well. Over 105 events so far!

But all in all, it has been quite the adventure, and an excellent opportunity to meet and see the people and the city of Toronto. I would highly recommend it.

Blogs, Blogs, Blogs, Blogs: Blogs!

2007-09-24T15:39:00.000-04:00

Just in case you are wondering, I can almost feel the strangle-hold of irony chocking me as I write this. You see, about two years ago I had an interesting conversation about the 'Year of the Blog.' My friend and I spoke about ease of accessibility and amazing technology penetration in North America. After a sad and ill-timed prostitution joke or two later, we continued. Just two years ago, blogs although abundant in number resembled an endless field of useless weeds. With only a few leaving the rest behind as they sprouted high, both in content quality and lucrative aspirations. But since then the playing field has changed drastically. The weed field is now millions of times larger. Yup, that's about it, really.

Now everyone and their illegal gardener Ortiz has one. So what do they write about? Pretty much anything. But when I mean anything, I mean anything. Is this a good thing? With over 50 millions bloggers as of last year and hundreds of thousands of posts a day of people dispersing and rehashing the same stories over and over, one would think the times of a draconian, government controlled media outlet to be a thing of the past --Uh, China anyone?-- okay, fine. Aside China that is... --how about North Korea?-- okay, fine! In North America, at least... but then I think about the war in Iraq and the ever missing WMD's... Argh! Forget it. I give up.

So the real question is what is a blog? As the name implies it began as an online log, people would write their thoughts, maybe use it as a portafolio piece *hint-hint*. Whether the writing was childish, deeply insightful or just plain dumb, the point was that they were people's thoughts, ideas and dreams.

Now it is more about posting something and off the press. Anything people think cool and more importantly, before anyone else does. Take this example: A British guy named Bill gets his laptop stolen. He understandably gets pissed. Then next day logs on to his Flickr account and finds a picture of the thief's face mistakenly uploaded because the thief forgot to log off bill's account and sign on to his OWN Flickr account. Don't believe me, click, here. Before I go on, this is a perfect moment for me to add, there is no such thing that will ever be 'idiot proof.' Idiocy, like life will always find a way.

Anyway, keep reading at the bottom, there is post upon post of people saying, "Oh my God, I must blog this RIGHT NOW! They post the picture on their blog and rehash the same tag-line, over and over and over again. What is the point of that? So they can look at themselves through a mirror and say, 'I blogged. Therefore my job is done!' In the comment section there are at least fifteen people who have posted that they blogged the pic onto their blogs and the link to their own blogs and asking everyone to take a look. Like, 'hello!' we are at the source why go to a blog? Aside to answer the blogger's cry for attention? Never mind that Bill just lost over a $1000 dollars in computer equipment.

On that note, an interesting point was raised on last week's Stephen Colbert Report's The Word segment a few days ago about Andrew Meyer and blogging. Mayer was the student who not only got jumped by six security guards but also taser-ed for asking one too many questions at a John Kerry event in front of an assembly full of students. Every one stood silent and motionless as Andrew screamed 'Don't taser me!' Thank God for all the people who blogged about it the very next day while Andrew sat in jail. Great way for the blogger generation to lead the charge of civil protest and.

So where are we going to go from here? Aside living our writer and exhibitionist's wet dreams, are we becoming a society of people whose social discontent, whether larger or small is displayed not through civil outcry but in really mean posts on blogs? Go, go society!

Man, I have an urgent to go for walk.

Online Dating: Where do we go from here, Darwin?

2007-09-20T04:50:00.000-04:00

Many years ago I ran into a High School friend at a comedy show after party with his 'new' girlfriend in hand. Seven years had gone by since we last chatted and I felt the need to say hello. After a cordial if brief re-acquaintance and a polite introduction to his lovely girlfriend, I asked how they had met. They looked at each other, smiled, as if sharing some dark secret before admitting, 'We met online.' Then they smiled to each other some more. As if somehow by dating they have breached a rare social contract where it is stated people must meet by having one partner pick up the other while participating in some sort of mysterious community-based liturgy.

During this time sites like Lava Life and Plenty of Fish had just begun to flourish and meeting over the web was still not quite in vogue. It is amazing what a difference a few years make. These days, it is not only socially acceptable but if you dare denounce online-dating, you risk the chance of on-lookers to well, look at you as an archaic individual more at home at a cave with only dial-up than a citizen of the new millennium.

Indeed, the search for the perfect partner is now hotter and easier than ever! As online dating is now not only considered normal but is in fact one of the fastest growing ways to chat, meet and bed members of the opposite sex since the invention of the mini-skit and the sport convertible. So... now that it has gotten this far, where do we from here?

Sure if you are hot, you can post a picture, toss some lines on your profile and sit back, sip on a glass of wine and let the matches pile up. Although just like in a club, you are bound to get a plethora of 'undesirables.' Both men and women vying for your attention, with their funny quips and insights and claims of how they are different than those who just posted funny quips and insights on how they are different then the first people who posted something about just how different they are. It is like the bar scene just set to fast forward. You can do three weekends of bar-hoping without leaving the comfort of your living room. No dancing, drinking, friends or fresh air required. Anyone can see the advantages in that.

But now what? How can they this fun be taken to the next level? Well, some enterprising people have. At first I thought it was a joke but I recently found out about this site called Darwin Dating. A dating site which only accepts 'HOT' people. People with genetics south of Homo Sapiens need not apply! So now you can reject hot jerks as well!

Enjoy the snobbery of clubs in the comfort of your own home! But there is more! Have you ever wondered if you are a chimp? Now you can find out using their questionnaire!

Not sure if you are hot? They are more than willing to let you know through their easy to follow 41 point check list. Obviously not only they think you are ugly but not very smart as well. 'Lack of visible skin between eyebrows? Pocket protectors? Crooked or webbed toes?' Damn! So close!

Since the service is free, they surely make some of their expenses through distinctive and well placed ads. Which by the way point to other more idiotic dating services such as 'mate1.com' and the more ludicrous sounding sugardaddie.com where their tag line is 'Where the classy, attractive and affluent can meet.' Followed by the ever affluent statement 'As seen on Dr. Phil, Richard and Judy and WB11 WPIX News TV!' Since when do we take dating advise from news shows? Or a pseudo-crackpot, pop-psychology who found fame at the fancy of Oprah? And who abused the practice and ended up pay $10 million in a class action suit because he told people if they bought his weight loss supplements they would 'help you change your behavior to take control of your weight.'

Food does that? How come McDonald's have not put some of that magic pixie ingredient on their burgers. Oh, yeah, the $10 million class action suit. But Dr. Phil can't be wrong!

My God, and I have been meeting women through face to face encounters all these years? How retro am I? Don't get me wrong, online dating has its advantages. They do help to plow through the profiles of jerks, assholes and psychotic-rabbit-loving women who litter the path to the perfect partner. In the end I can't help wondering if we are transcending and complicating what started off as a good idea to the point of lunacy. What is next? Marry an Ugly Millionaire Online service?

A Glimpse: Paris, France

2007-09-11T10:48:00.000-04:00

Ah, Paris, the City of Light and the capital of Amour... this is exactly what the French have been propagating for decades. Is it true? Would you find true love? Face the epiphany of your existence by strolling through its streets while writing on your silly journal and sipping an overpriced (€4.70?!) cup of coffee? In one word? 'No.' In three words? 'Yes and no.'

The city is by any world standard a true cosmopolitan metropolis. Trees and parks abound. Beautiful neo-classical edifices along architecture from different centuries can be found literally on every corner. The city hosts some of the world's most famous art galleries and museums. A Latin-based language which sounds more like a poem than it has a right to when spoken does add to the charm of the region. It would be almost impossible to find fault. However I am confident in my talents, so let's begin.

An ancient settlement with archaeological signs going back as far 4200BC reveals the inhabitants of the area had some serious head start in which to perfect their now famous baguettes and croissants. But hey, this is why the world is not a fair place.

Paris, which original Roman name was Lutetia, began to be known by its Gaulish name of Parisii after six centuries of Roman occupation. So around 5AD the name got into vogue and has stayed on like a cheap suit for the next sixteen centuries.

Now, Paris is renown for the snobbery and rudeness of its people, which can easily be found at numerous locations and in copious quantities the moment you open your mouth. However in their defense, with over 30 million tourists a year and therefore 9 times the entire population of the Région Parisienne asking the same stupid "I am lost. Where is the Eiffel Tower?" question in languages other than French year in and year out; its commendable they haven't stopped being rude, snapped, taken an AK-47 and legislated open season on tourists. Since even a blind man shooting randomly could take out more than his share per capita of tourists. Really, it would be like firing a cannon into a school of fish. It's that easy.

Let's not all play saints here. Since the beginning of time and this includes the Bible, there has been an inherited local disdain for tourists and interlopers of any nation or kingdom (Let my people go!). Thus Parisians can hardly be found at fault when realizing the quagmire they are in: A positive cash flow from tourism which also doubles as a dilutant of local culture.

Simply read what Le Lido and the Moulin Rouge where originally all about and how they have devolved throughout the years in order to satisfy tourists' cliched expectations. This a social danger which few modern cities have to deal with. However Paris as the most touristic destination in the world will have to face this threat soon or later.

Back to the city today: Its huge. It's over-priced and it takes some time to get over the ever-present musky smell of dry urine around the Seine. Especially in the hotter months. Now I am not saying the city is filthy, just that it has a huge nightlife and not enough public washrooms. Trust me, you can find almost anything along the Seine. From book-stands near Notre Dame encompassing the renown second-hand book market on one side to thong-only wearing retirees catching sun along really shocked stares from tourists on the other.

Their subway (Metro) is massive yet needed since the metropolitan area of Paris is over one hundred square kilometers. Interesting to know that due to the historical nature of the city core, no legislation allows for the low-density buildings to be torn down and create the infrastructure of say New York or Toronto with their sky-reaching high rises. Therefore France as a whole is a very flat city. As such, most inhabitants along with the financial district, in their quest for space have moved into the suburbs. Thus having the rare situation where the center of the city has an old town vibe --but with lots, and lots of cars.

Oh Paris, you are a true Metropolis, in both size and style that is is truly your own. France too lives up to its reputation as a country where ANYTHING you order to drink at a restaurant will cost you more than a glass of wine. Including water. Yet like in Spain, I hardly saw drunken people, especially taking into consideration just how accessible alcohol is. Toronto should learn a lesson here. Importing a few better cheeses would not hurt. Are you listening Toronto? However, it is the lifestyle which is the biggest difference. Even as a financial, fashion and artistic European powerhouse you cannot shake the feeling that somehow they are doing a little more living than North Americans. Whether it comes down to the food, their outlook, their jazz or the musk of urine during hot summer nights, I have to admit that a part of me fell in love with Paris. Just not with their $#%$@!@#% overpriced coffee. Avoid it.

A Glimpse: Andalusia, Spain

2007-09-07T08:58:00.006-04:00

The one thing to remember if you ever travel to the south of Spain, specifically to Andalusia, the second most populous province, the birthplace of Flamenco, Bullfighting and pretty much every single Spaniard cliche us Westerners hold dear, is that people there smoke. A LOT. Sure, there are beaches, Roman ruins, a historic castle on every hill --or every other block-- and more churches per capita, that by now every Spaniard can easily afford to coldly kill three priests and still get into heaven by proxy. Yet nothing will hit or leave a longer, lasting effect than their tobacco.

Spain is truly a smoker's nirvana. I felt guilty for not smoking enough and looked at ways to integrate myself into this culturally rich, gray-lunged society. A task in which I excelled! And as a plus, I have now been back for over two weeks and there is hardly a trace of my smoker's cough! Well worth it. However if you don't smoke at all, are a tourist and do not speak Spanish, just skip the country altogether. Go to a wimp smokers' country, like France. Aside from delicious nicotine, which you will learn to love or become a master at holding off your gag reflex as your body struggles for survival, Spain is quite a breathtaking country. The weather is hot and dry, covered in yellow clay and almost arid inland, yet oh so breezy near the sea.

Fish, pork and beef are in abundance. Always, ready to be served at one of the many Tapas restaurants which litter the region. If you hate falling into tourist traps you will be pleased to know that non-tourist friendly and therefore easier on the wallet areas abound. All that is needed is an adventurous spirit and a fifteen minute walk in any direction away from gift shops selling badly punned T-shirts, over priced photographic books and to no surprise: engraved ashtrays. Knowing Spanish helps, as most Spaniards can't be bothered to learn English but if you are adventurous, then you would not be above using some pointing and sign language to get what you want. The staff will be understanding, helpful and only mock you once you are gone.

About the most annoying and yet refreshing thing in Spain, especially for Westerners is the Siesta. Entire towns screech to a halt from about noon to about 4:00pm, as if the whole city goes into a deep slumber. During the August's month-long celebrations, they can go for even longer. Restaurants will re-open at 8:00pm, so expect to have dinner at around 10:00pm. Every night. That's just the Spanish way. So pack a snack if you are planning to meander through the older cobbled-street cities.

If you are a night-owl you will be utterly comfortable with this lifestyle, while others will wonder how exactly can Spaniards earn a living. I did. Same goes for the food, supermarkets simply do not exist, groceries stores which are smaller do. However they are few and far between. Alcohol is an entirely different story, you will find booze every where digestible matter is sold and likely it will be cheap. Especially in the capital of Sevilla where with its two million inhabitants is the largest city in Andalusia.

It is interesting to note in the week I traversed the land, I never saw one local drunk, the only ones were tourists, who were both loud and obnoxious. It made me feel how my ex-girlfriend probably felt when I used to get boozed up on red wine many years ago. I felt embarrassed for them. As if we all had been invited to the same party, and they were my annoying cousins I never talked to or liked, who got stinking drunk and everybody looked at me for an explanation. Strange since while in an unknown country, being foreigners can, and does unite complete strangers. An odd and brief comradery which luckily and quickly subsided well before we reached the next street.

People drink, with the goal to hang out and socialize not get inebriated. You will find tapas restaurants bursting with people drinking beer and 'Tinto de Verano,' a refreshing red wine and lime flavoured soda drink. Sangria is left for the tourists as no local in their right mind would prefer so sweet a drink in such dry heat.

Ah, the South of Spain, a land where passionate and energetic dancing, lisps, Moor and Roman architecture, castles and Mosques are poetically inter-winded. The land Muslims conquered in 711AD and the rest of Spain spent the next 587 years extirpating. But on the upside they taught the whole of Europe how to bathe! But that is another story which I will probably cover in another blog entry.

Ah, Andalucia, where you can sustain a family of four with wine for a week for less than it costs to feed them for a day. You will forever have a special place in my heart and now, after visiting you, a dark spot on the x-rays of my lungs.

A Series of Unimportant Events (I)

2007-06-28T02:04:00.003-04:00

Friends always tell me I tend to meet strange people everywhere I go. My defence usually goes along the lines of “Hey, I am friendly; people tend to end opening up, that's not my fault! Sometimes they tell me stories they would not tell anyone else and... well, we all have quirks. So when I tell you about them, it sounds like an above average number of people who are like that. However, I am sure we all have them, both friends and stories although we just don’t tend to share the latter." Or something like that. Really.

Take a few nights ago for example. I was at a bar and a girl was trying to unbutton my shirt. Sure, it doesn’t happen often, and yes, it is a great boost to one’s ego but all this was happening right at the bar and for the amusement of all onlookers. I felt the need to say something. Like asking for her name but as a gentleman, I felt I would be intruding onto her dedication and defer fervent concentration from her craft, and trust me, it was taking her quite bit of concentration. 'Vodka shots unwieldy fingers make,' that is what I constantly warn my readers.

Anyway, so after she tried to kiss me a few times --by the way, the locale in question is a rip off, a glass of table wine for $12??-- Anyway, I asked to go for a cigarette to relax. Once outside, this woman turned into the perfect example why I would never date someone I meet at a club. Not only she almost got into fight with a random girl whose boyfriend was right there. Which meant that me, as the defacto guy in tow, almost got sucked into a fight I had no part of. But wait there is more! After I managed to talk everyone out of a lot of scratching, hair pulling and punching, she then decided to curl up into a corner and become an emotional wreck. We are not talking fender bender either, more like two monorails going 215 km\h and crashing into each other kinda of catastrophe. With wheels and metal shreds exploding and decapitating flying birds and small herbivores everywhere.

All of the sudden she hated her job, her age, her life and just for kicks, me. To be honest, I was just standing there lighting a cigarette a few feet way. I knew we were just outside the lounge but I felt bad leaving her like that sobbing her problems away. Eventually her guy friend came out and asked me what as wrong with her.

‘Life.’ I said, ‘But Vodka helped.’

‘Ah.’ Then he asked me for a light.

‘Take it she gets like this...’

‘Sometimes.’

‘You are just friends?’

‘Oh yeah.’

‘Is she single?’

‘Oh, yeah.’

She then glimpsed at us, squinted and called us losers. Her friend then moved closer and asked her what has wrong? She replied by slapping his smoke off his hand. Then both stared at the lighted cigarette now on the ground. ‘That’s bad for you!’ she argued. He then came back to my side, rolled his eyes and said he was going back inside for another drink. The now obviously drunk girl (NoOdGi) left the safety of her corner and stumbled to a fountain about 75 feet away. I followed. After repeating her ‘I hate my job, age and life’ mantra she decided to throw her purse, along with all its neat contents into said fountain. Then sat on the floor and cried some more. Wow.

Out of human pity --as at this point it could not possibly be for any other reason-- I looked into the fountain but the purse which was glittery white, blended with the incandescent yellow lights of he fountain just perfectly. Adding to this, the the fact it was night time, made the purse and the make up and cell phone invisible.

A few minutes later, her friend came out and after catching on to what had happened, took off his shirt and began looking for the damn purse in the fountain. Looking and searching, working his way more by touch than by sight. Pictures of Pirates of the Caribbean came to mind. He couldn’t find it and Noodgi was getting pissed off. I could not help smirking at the sheer spectacle. At that moment Noodgi caught me and began insulting me. But can anyone take the insults of a drunken woman who threw her own purse, along with her car keys into a fountain seriously?

Her friend couldn’t find the purse and he was getting pissed off. Why? Because he was going to get a ride from her --something I DID learn is that both of them lived in Mississauga-- mostly thanks to his rantings of disbelief.

It dawned on me that maybe just maybe, she may have overshot the fountain even though from my point of view it seemed like it had gone in. I decided to take a look a few feet further away where some patio chairs were located. As I went behind one of the chairs, lo and behold, guess what I found. A small white albeit now very dirty purse. I took it back to Noodgi, hanging off my index finger.

‘Is this yours?’ I asked.

She then gave me a hug, said she loved me and began fidgeting with its contents. I asked the guy if they were okay to make it home, as there was no way she could drive. He said yes, he would probably wait it out until she sobered up. Noodgi then asked if I wanted another vodka shot. I said I would light another cigarette first.

As they went inside, I remembered my tab was paid and all of my actual friends had gone home. As I finished my cigarette, I checked the time, found my bearings, found Yonge and King and walked for my life.

Gliese 581C, Or “The Bible IS Wrong Planet!”

2007-05-01T15:19:00.005-04:00

The big news in astronomy last week was the discovery of a ‘New Earth’ or as scientist call it Gliese 581 C, proving again why these gentlemen went into astronomy instead of creative writing.

Indeed, the new planet or exo-planet if you will, was found in, wait for it, the Gliese 581 C system and it is the closest rock which resides in what astronomers call ‘the habitable zone’ from its sun. It basically means its surface will not boil you alive or fry you to a crispy bacon-red or leave you frozen solid after only a few seconds exposure. Or suffocate, radiate, evaporate, burn your lungs from the inside out or melt you into a big pile of flesh. Umm, we do have it really good here on this little planet of ours, don’t we? And yet, we are still destroying, burning and polluting the hell out of it. Human stupidity amazes however our greed amazes me even more. But that is another story…

Anyway, back to New Earth…In fact, if you were to lie there you might be left with a nice even tan assuming of course you had somehow managed to get there and there is oxygen for you to breathe. Since quite frankly almost everything we know about this planet comes mostly from speculation.

Sure, we can apply some models and some seriously nerdy math and get pretty close as to guessing its weight, mass, volume, orbit, gravity, age and possibly what it had for dinner. However the one thing we can’t know for sure is the question which is on everyone’s mind, whether life there exists.

I would like to know if there is life on this little planet orbiting a red dwarf for the simple reason that it will give the human race something to think about. A point –a planet sized point— worth of perspective and maybe some insight into our beliefs. I would love to see how organized religions try to handle this one. No intelligent design here boys and girls! Unless God, that two-timing, work-a-holic deity lied to us and was moonlighting and creating other planets during that first week. The earth is only six thousand years old, you know.

Since every time science rebuffs some wacky idea written in a secular book not meant to be taken literally --yet taken literally by millions-- organized religion’s heart suddenly jumps and skips a beat. Then they gasp for air and just like that, the beliefs that had been held as correct, worshiped and unchangeable for centuries gets suddenly changed in order to avoid looking like a rustic belief system from a bygone era. Yup, just like that!

So, my main question is, if one day, we discover intelligent life in Gliese 581C… as it will take a while before we know for certain because although the planet is only 20.5 light-years away, this translates into a 730,000 year trip in our currently fastest craft, best bet for communication is radio, but even that would take 20 years… I wonder, what will their Jesus look like?

Footnote – ‘Gliese’ is the name of a catalogue of all the stars which have been found since 1991 and are within 25 parsecs of our sun. Think of it as a very large, Ikea catalogue, with stars instead of disposable furniture.

One Side Of... (Part I)

2007-04-19T15:24:00.001-04:00

In poetry and in lies we hide

As the weight of memories in their dim out's twilight fade

Spared from the reach of the incoming waves from pain’s tide -– or so we go on to say...

And from denial’s might! Always hoping it is not yet too late

What misery we spread in our heads and on the written page

A flaw? A fallacy?

Who in these realities can tell?

Is it the one who reads the words they see? Or the one who weaves the tale?

I wonder if one day she will read… And claim I do not exist: A fake.

But if I may share a nugget I'm now mournfully qualified to share:

Emotions cannot be hidden or preserved forever.They must be unconfined from our pots

As we humans are not worthy or deemed to retain inside us what we need not fear nor tame.

Ode to Green Beer: St. Patrick's Is Here

2007-03-16T14:51:00.001-04:00

St. Patrick, the patron of drunks everywhere is coming to Toronto. Starting today, the festivities created to test the resilience of the human liver and kidneys began with a loud cheer followed by countless of gallons of green beer being poured throughout the city. You go liver! Break down that bitchin' alcohol!
Our dear Saint Patrick is one of the Catholic Church's most misunderstood Saints. Perhaps only second to Jesus and Saint Valentine. Don't you think that if he had known that because of him millions of people would push the limits of their kidneys year in and year out that he might, I don't know, promoted a healthy eating habit as well?

You know, to balance things out?

...Or whatever happened to Brigid of Kildare and Columba? The other TWO patrons or Ireland? Have you guys even heard of them? They are probably the ones that advocated healthy eating.
So, to celebrate I will be having a small get together as part of my social group at Hemingway's in Yorkville. What a better place to toast a drinking holiday than in a bar named after one the 20th century's most celebrated lushes? And a decent writer to boot.

Here is the link to the outing.

News Bits From Around The World!

2007-03-06T13:46:00.001-05:00

Canada – 'Politeness,' the white gooey substance that has been injected into generations of unaware Canadian children at birth will finally be hitting drug stores around the world in the second quarter of 2007. The current government, in an attempt at increasing their bottom line, has decided to go public with the slimy, parasitic-like chemical. It will be sold in three doses: Quiescent, East Coaster and Doormat.

USA – CNN fills typical post Oscar's slow news days with it's own reality TV show. Producers at CNN are currently producing a new show where “People like you or I,” a CNN spokesperson was quoted as saying, “search though celebrities' garbage, looking for that great news nugget in the hopes of getting a $500 cash reward.” The show, with a working tittled of either “Guess... Who am I stalking?” or "My Pride Ain't Worth $501" will premier on CNN in the following weeks.
South Korea – Hordes of South Korean men are rushing to dump their girlfriends in mass to avoid purchasing them gifts for the upcoming White's Day on March 14th. During last month's Valentine's Day, it's only women who must customarily purchase gifts to both their significant others and every other man they work with. As such, men will relentlessly find girlfriends before February 14th only to dump them before March 14th and save themselves the hassle of returning the favour and make a tidy profit along the way. Which in turn is amplified by celebrating being single on South Korean's annual Black's Day on April 14th. Which mostly consists of singles amalgamating to enjoy some noodles in black bean sauce –hence the name-- to commiserate their single-hood. Eventually leading into an orgy of pathetically high number of one nights stands. Once again proving that being a man in South Korea is a lot better than being a woman.

Mexico – A Mexican social study published last week warned of the ongoing defection of athletes to the United States. “The statistics are particularly worrisome when applied to sprinters and marathon runners.” said Mr. Roberto Chavez, the Minister of Culture whose office funded the study, “When these trained athletes, who are at their peak athletic performance see the border so close, they can't help themselves to make a run for it. It is very concerning.” When asked how the problem could be minimized, Mr. Chavez added, “We would not mind having a bit of a brain drain instead, you know like Canada, in order to even numbers out, after all the Olympics are only a few years away.”

Tibet -- Buddhist monks, have in an unorthodox display of emotion expressed rare outrage at the growing number of Jehovah Witnesses in the small Himalayan country. As their numbers grow into the thousands, they have been described as “coming out of nowhere like water buffalo lice but three times as difficult to get rid of. Especially when they come to the entrance of your meditation cave, as we do not have doors to slam in their faces like Westerners do. It unbelievable! First it was the Chinese invasion in 1950 and now this? I mean, f*ck them and their damn Watch Towers!” said Master Songtsen Gampo, head of Lhasa's largest monastery temple.
France – French women, in a surreal yet unified statement released to the media today have vowed to never date French men again. “Women from all over the world have been warning us for ages about their rodent-like looks, smugness and cheesy accents. True we were stubborn to listen and surely red wine was partly to blame but we have seen the light! We will be looking at resumes of men around the world who would like to fill the opening of “French male.”

Little Known Facts In British History (Prt. I)

2007-02-13T15:28:00.008-05:00

The best poem ever written in creation was penned by a Sir Archibald Fuchester Bradley in 1885 while staying at Fenwick Manor, located about a day’s travel northwest of London. It was such an astonishing feat even Sir Fuchester himself could not believe his own right hand. True his right hand had been good to him in the past, mixing sugar into his cup at teatime or to beg his second-cousin for a place to lodge. Yes, his right hand had been there for him at his most trying and lonesome times but never quite like this. Oh no, never like this. Little is known of Sir Archibald Fuchester Bradley, second cousin (twice removed) by marriage to the Duke of Fenwick and 298th in line to the British Crown in 1885. This fact would have been lost to history had it not been for the fanatical, insane-like work ethic of the Royal Historian in-charge at the time.

It must also be noted this Royal Historian’s quick succumbing to outright and full-fledged insanity soon thereafter brings the accuracy of the document into question. A quick glance at the British Royal Family tree at the time names a Rose bush outside Essex Castle as 299th and a metal pipe inside one of the mermen fountains in Trafalgar Square as 300st in-line to the throne of England.

One can only imagine the exertion required to create a tangible and concise map of the British Royal family, with its twisting vines caused by inbreeding and the endless stream of bastards weeding in and out thus culminating into an almost impossible, hair-pulling task. Insanity as a side effect can then very easily be justified as an alternative and explains why after 1886 the Royal Family tree only recorded up to a more manageable fifty individuals.

o—o—o

On the night in question, Sir Fuchester picked the finished Masterpiece off the desk and marvelled at his genius. The depth, flow, word rhythm and sexual innuendos of this love poem oozed… no, savagely impregnated everything near it with wild romantic abandon. Good heavens if he actually dared to read it out loud.

This single page could, nay, would change the course of written history and if Shakespeare was any indication, pave a future for Sir Fuchester as a literary master of prose. Humility was surely to follow.

It was unfortunate then; when the sky fell that night. As a piece of rock from outer space the size of a cow came forth, as if it were a warning from the Heavens that no mere human should write words with the power as if written by God himself. Alas, God had nothing to do with this particular act of God, as he had taken this particular night off and was in the middle of enjoying a well-deserved nightcap.

The rock gained speed as it flamed through, illuminating the firmament like most cow-sized rocks do when they flame across the night sky.

Sir Archibald’s death was quick but far from painless. No, he felt it. That bitch hurt.

However he was unable to voice his disillusionment since by the time he realized what had happened his windpipe along with the rest of his body had just finished vaporizing.

Although what was left of Fenwick Manor’s east wing could have been best be described as a hellish crater, Sir Fuchester’s ode had managed to miraculously survive the cow-rock thanks to the unbeknownst fortune of its author lifting the page off the desk at just the right time. As such, the gush of air created by the rock crushing the room forced the page from the author’s grasp and out the open window. Free to fly into the night and into the path of the goat which ate the poem for brunch the following morning.

Sadly the only witness to the magnificent act of creation that was the best poem ever written before being destroyed by a tragic and random occurrence comes from the personal journal of Mr. Whetten. Fenwick Manor’s head servant and victim of the now-deceased Sir Fuchester’s universally lame pranks, always hilarious to Sir Fuchester but unfunny to everyone else.

As such, a hundred years would pass before the world would know what fully occurred on the night of June 14th, 1885. Since after the Duke of Fenwick ordered the wing to be rebuilt, he opted to forget the entire affair and threw a picnic the next day. Then renamed the room where the disaster had taken place from 'Pity Guest Quarters,' to its current 'The East Fortune Room.'

Use your Sleeve! You Pig.

2006-11-29T04:18:00.000-05:00

Derelict Citizens: Use your sleeve!

The City of Toronto and the Toronto Transit Commission jointly released an ad campaign on Nov 9th throughout TTC stations reminding commuters to use their freshly washed garments as stopgaps for bacteria which literally already live in every cubic meter of air we breath. Including inside subway cars, by the way.

Thanks TTC! Who knew aside a shrinking ridership, disappearing budget and a fleet aging faster than six week old banana bread you are now teaching us things our parents taught us when we were six years old. I mean, we are talking about everyday common sense for God's sake.

It is a necessity, people forget! It a public service!' Would the naysayers scream? ''Where were you during the Avian Flu scare?' Would the hypochondriacs retort? Alright, all valid points which I will promptly discard down my trusty memory garbage chute. Good bye and good riddance.

You see, for the longest time I have been telling people that common sense is paradoxically not that common. People aught not be reminded about something that in this day and age should be considered common -- and sure I dare say it?-- basic sense. Sure the road to hell is not paved with posters of a woman coughing into her sleeve but I do see it as a misappropriation of limited funds. Practicing common and basic hygiene: Like washing your hands or making sure you do not sneeze into other people's nostrils is not TTC's responsibility.

How ironic would it be for a commuter to be thankfully reminded of using his sleeve as a rogue cough conspired to sneak past him only to be rundown by a flying back-wheel from a faulty and aging bus only minutes later as he waited for his usual rush hour trip. Yes, highly unlikely but it would hurt a lot more than a rendezvous with the flu.

Which leads me to my main point: In this era of budget cutting, where city services need to constantly prove their funds are achieving a set of concrete goals or fear having them cut off their next fiscal year. Then why, oh why is a Megacity's transit system spending from already lean coffers on anything then transportation improvements? Cardboard ads do not make my trip faster, comfortable and bring a rainbow to my day.

I cannot not recall NYC Metro ever reporting pandemics running rampant on their subway system. And trust me, if there was ever a system which would definitely benefit from being entirely douched in hundreds of gallons of Mr. Clean, they are it.

Add to it the recent revelation that the TTC will be running on a $1 billion deficit over the next five years! [Toronto Sun reports: here]

On a more insightful --or market motivated note -- if you are going to tell people to seed their own garments with viruses why not go the extra mile and get models using designer handkerchiefs?

Designers: Be the first to inundate the Holiday season with eye catching and colourful handkerchiefs with extra absorbent and out-of-this-world germ genocidal properties! Be the first to stop germs in style. True mavericks would soon create left and right sleeve sneeze patches. Better yet: Introduce the first ever Le Homme and Femme Manchons Collection! Have a model sneeze on a high tread-count fashionista statements and just kickback and wait for the money to start coughing in! The Quebecois nation would love them!

Just Picture the panache revolution this is bound to turn into! Imagine the innovation and statements it would create! I can already imagine the tag line: "Maybe Sick, Yet Always Chic."[*]

Alas, the TTC lacks such foresight, and why? Because they aught to be using their limited funds to improve their infrastructure first, not half cooked attempts at educating people basic hygiene.

Look at the Montreal Metro for example: Realizing people do not want to just travel to and fro. They built a streamlined system with a high reverence for design and art. In fact, some stations are considered tourist attractions all by themselves. So now tourist actually pay a fare to see architecture that had to be there in the first place. Now, how modern and avant garde is that? It surely beats our Stalin-era inspired subway stations. Want to see what we are missing? Click here and scroll down the pictures on the left hand side for a taste.

In my humble opinion, they aught to focus on the positive aspects of their service and innovate rather than to remind --and some would say: scare-- an already declining ridership of the rare possibility of catching the same virus I could as easily get while shopping at Holt Renfrew.

Even if the ads border on public warnings, the gains on such enterprise are minimal at best. As the question that ultimately gets begged is: 'Why even try?' Leave the educating of health issues and practices to the Ministry of Health. I pay my taxes TTC, now let them do their job!
It is bad news for consumers when the commission tries to expand too far from their core business and into more trivial --yes, you heard me-- trivial exercises. Since the most expected side effect of this is the degradation of its core services.

Ultimately, does the TTC brass really think day-to-day passengers are unable to remind fellow travelers to be more health conscious? Sure we Canadians, we are re-known for our polite nature but no one ever said we are like meek sheep to the slaughter or that we lack a good chunk of spine. We are not pushovers. Come one TTC, gives us your clients some credit, we'll tell that pig to cover his mouth and save you some ad money while we are at it.

[*] -- My 'slogan,' if you would like to use it, remember to send me royalties.

My Apartment: Recognized As A Nation

2006-11-28T00:00:00.000-05:00

Hell, if Quebec can do it why not ME? If Canada recognizes Quebec as a nation (If you do not know what I am talking about, click here to read) So uh-hum. Without any further ado...

I HAVE DRAWN A LINE IN THE SAND, OH CANADA.

Little did I know all had to do is act pissed and pout for you to listen. For I am sick an tired of you not counting, asking, babying or validating my feelings! You don't speak for me! Even though I help vote your government in. Do I really have to bitch for 169 years before you to listen? Well, no more! I want to be able to speak to other nations at international meetings --as I have a few good ideas I would like to run by the Chinese ambassador -- as I do not feel you are looking after the interests of My Apartment or the many wonders therein. Such as my stove, fridge, my two pet rats and my potted plant. Which looks very healthy by the window on sunny days, thank you for asking. You didn't even know I had a potted plant, now did you?! I have real reasons to be upset as you fail to treat me in any special manner and I like to be treated like I am especial, I mean, I speak Spanish as my first language for God's sake! That aught to count for something! Your behaviour towards me and more importantly towards my living expanse --I do pay for a corner unit you know-- is inexcusable. For I am not as understanding as Quebec because even though they like to think themselves as French or even European, at heart they have never forgotten it was King Louis XIV of France who disposed of them like a cheap bottle of table wine to the British at the Treaty of Paris in 1763. Choosing instead to keep the Guadeloupe Archipelago, a set of six islands hardly ten times the size of Washington D.C. instead. Everybody knows they are almost impossible to find in a world map without the help of a magnifying glass. That is what I call: 'Le slap in the face -- with vigour.' Yet they stand gracious and proud. Unfortunately I am not French. But then again neither are the people from Quebec. Since if I were to follow that logic, then I would have to announce that I am Spanish. But I am not, since I was born in El Salvador and speaking the language does not make from Spain. Oh Quebec, you have it all figured out. I promise that once Parliament Hill concedes to my demands I will try[*] not to push for further powers or cause any problems. After all, you conceded this to Quebec and if anything you can trust the Bloc Quebecois on the same. After all even the Bloc Quebecois has to agree that British Canada has been trying to suck up to them since the Quebec Act in 1774 when they re-establish civil tradition for private French law which had been revoked back in 1763. Whoops... true, true, their bad but they tried to make up for it. It was this very act that allowed the citizens of Quebec to become part of the Colonial government and eventually lead to Quebec's first charter of rights. Cheerio and well played Canada. But what have you done for me lately? Not even a bloody 'Happy Columbus Day' card. Like come on, you brought this upon yourself. Where is my own charter of rights? Is it in the mail? As such I have come to the conclusion that Canada and the country of My Apartment can exist within one nation. Particularly when it comes to sharing universal health care, security, excursions into Canadian soil and its natives plus other social services. Including sharing our military when a snow storm blocks my driveway. However not within a united Canada when it comes to other more pressing and morally diverse issues like me paying income tax. That is where I have to stand up and draw the line. No more! Remember Canada, My Apartment is its own Nation! I will remember! [*] - However I can't make any promises.

I see music everywhere! Mp3 players that Is!

2006-11-15T01:54:00.000-05:00

Best Buy opened a huge location five minutes away from my place. So I decided to go for a small stroll and browse through the wares my big blue and yellow neighbour had to offer. Especially since there is a three story Future Shop --which was acquired by Best Buy in 2001 for a thrifty $500 Million-- three minutes north on Yonge Street. As some of your may know, I have been homebound for a while yet I was curious to see what a futile exercise in laissez-faire capitalism looks like these days. Obviously I have been out of the personal electronics must-have's loop for some time. As little did I know the first pentad of the new millennium has been utterly overrun by the MP3 player. Sure music is valuable for self-expression and one of the highlights of being human, but since when do people must have a musical player attached to their ears everywhere they go? I swear I can't count five people down the street without one bopping their head left to right to some unheard beat. You would think them crazy if it were not for the tell-tale cables running from their pockets to their heads. No Sony, your Walkman is been buried and dead, so don't even try it, I won't be writing about you. Just stick with your cellphones and playstations. Any who, I simply could not believe the store, aisle after aisle, if not of MP3 players themselves than of accessories for the damn MP3 players. So who is the man in this $4.3 billion MP3 player market you ask? Who is at the top of the hill and the source of ravenous envy to all its competitors? Why the aesthete that is the Ipod of course. With 70 million sold in the last five years the Ipod commands now what Apple has been having wet dreams since its inception back in '76: A mass audience who also happen to be rabid consumers. As I walked through the rows of Ipod speakers, car holders, stereo add-ons and the ever needed Ipod socks (just $39.99 for a pack of six) really, I am not kidding. I could not help feeling a little stupefied by all of this. Perhaps 'overwhelmed' would be a better word. After all, Apple is not the only one throwing their weight around. Other companies like Dell, Toshiba, Scandisk, Samsung and many others have jumped into the bandwagon. After all, if you build it even if it sucks, someone is bound to buy it. So on that note, just when you think you can see the end of the party crasher's line. Here comes big brother Microsoft, elbowing everyone --as usual--out of the way as it tries to get in before MP3 players are passe. Microsoft obviously not happy there is a market in its road to world domination it has yet to get its sticky fingers on has created what they call an 'Ipod killer.' So what is the name of this late entry? It is the Zune. Now on paper this product sounds great. It has a bigger screen than the rest of the competition, Wifi and as such you can share MP3s on the go. It sounds all great and good until you start finding the Wifi will only work with other Zunes. That you can only play transfered MP3s three time in three days, after that the song becomes unplayable, unless you buy it from their on-line store. This includes your own collection which you may own fair and square. Heck these includes your own creations! So if you are a musician, don't put your original work in the Zune. What is the point of sharing then? However what I found out on my trip to both stores is that at this point in the MP3 market companies are not just selling you a digital player. Oh no. You see, a music player is no longer just music player. It is much more than that. At least that is what millions spent in marketing keep on stating, shouting and dancing in ad after ad: 'Our Music player doesn't only play music. It more... It's cool. Its a media and social event all by itself. It's an artistic expression, a bold reflection of your raw and unadulterated id for God's sake! It will get you laid! What are you doing standing there? GO BUY ONE NOW! Just remember before you buy any of Microsoft products --and in fairness any other product in the future-- the Zune is a first generation device. The reviews have been negative for the most part. Not to say that even big brother might not have a good thing going in the future. However right now, they don't. If you decide to purchase it anyway for this Christmas season, don't be surprised if you get a little too acquainted with windows such as this one: Oh, one last thing. The future is in all-in-one devices. Not just on Mp3 players and media players and so on. Apple and its competitors are slowly heading into that direction but will surely take their time until consumers wise up. For those who are wondering what I have used when needing a music player: I bought myself a smartphone almost two years ago. Put a 1 gig memory card on it and since then I had a colour screen bigger than an Ipod, a phone, a media and MP3 player, plus a voice recorder, pda and Internet browser all for $250. It pays to be an educated consumer, even if does not look as cool as an Ipod. Update 18/11/2006: Man uses Mp3 player to hack ATM's in the UK! Read here.

Well, well...Where have you been?

2006-11-14T23:11:00.000-05:00

That is what I have been hearing from most friends as of late. Since it seems --and righthly so-- that I pulled a dissapearing act. Yes, *poof* just like that. I wish I could say that I have been travelling or exploring the inner trenches of our city. Better yet, left all my belongings and joined a Buddhist monastery on a sabbatical of fancy to meditate on my many, many --well, perhaps not that many-- sins. Alas that is not the case. In fact, quite the opposite. I have stayed at home watching unhealthy amounts of the History and Discovery channels --not necessarily by choice-- and writing away my sorrows. I swear that if a gream Canadian novel does not come out of this I heads are going to roll! But basically just taking it easy and recuperating. Yes, you read right: recuperating. It is sad to say but I have been diagnosed with a condition that although not life threating --well, there is always a chance of that, but then again there is always a chance of being hit by a bus everytime you walk out the door-- has taken a good chunk of my time, patience and general happy disposition. However, it does not really affect my mind, so technically you will be seeing more of my adventures and mis-adventures in the weeks to come. So for those who kept on asking -- I am alive, and I am back.

My Rat Memoir: The End Of A Legacy

2006-10-28T15:49:00.001-04:00

Oh Cordelia, who knew when you first came to me, you rodent you, with your scaly tail and wildly flaring nostrils would so easily find a welcome place in my home? After all, who among us does not have chilling Black Death et al flashbacks when thinking of rats?

Sure, they may have 'helped' spread the virus that might have killed up 75 million people in Europe alone, but what is a bit of attempted genocide in between friends? It is not like they meant it.

Since we cannot even pretend to be equally guiltless throughout our own history. Why should we abhor animals with the IQ of 6?
At least we knew what we were doing, regardless of the BS we told ourselves to justify it.

So, back to Cordy. I took her originally as a favour to a my best friend's sister Karin, you see this cutie --the rat-- came from a lab. She had been part in a number of experiments and she was getting close to her, uh, 'layoff' date if you catch my drift. Which meant she would be put to sleep along with all her fellow rats and sisters: She had two of them.

The lab tech --whose name shall go nameless-- felt sorry for the little one and decided to spare her. However, she could not keep Cordy herself as her boyfriend at the time was highly allergic to rats and so she ended staying "temporarily" with me.

As you can imagine, my first mistake was to inquire the exact meaning of the word 'temporary.'
After all, England had temporary control over Hong Kong for over one hundred years at the end of the Second Opium war and ditto for the 85 years the United States maintained and babysat the Panama Canal.

Surely, my tenure with Cordy would be nothing of that sort as I expected the little critter out of my apartment in a matter of weeks.

So, two years and a second rat later. Who knew rats were communal creatures and can easily spin into depression unless you get them a room mate? Yes, depression, if kept alone. Obviously not what I had originally signed for.

As you can clearly see, Cordy is the pillow and Lenore -- known as the "lowly number two" or "pleb-rat" is ironically commanding shotgun and clearly enjoying the bean-bag that is her sister. Now, I don't know about you but these do not look like stressed out animals. Genocidal? Uh, no. Lazy maybe, opportunistic would be a better bet. Narcissistic? There you go, that would fill the bill even better as they obviously enjoying a symbiotic warming system. However strung out would be a hard call, I mean, this pics were taking at night and rats are supposed to be nocturnal. Damn furry freeloaders. And that they were, since I normally used to feed them anything I ate, for example chicken, cow, salmon, shrimp, pasta, mussels and sushi. Heck they even had shark, swordfish and turkey. Obviously they tasted things that would otherwise be impossible in the wild. They loved it, but I mean, a rat stalking and killing a shark? Darwin is probably rolling in his grave!

Then, only a week before her anniversary, Cordy fell ill. I never knew what was wrong as it happened suddenly. Sure she was older and she had been slowing down but from one day to the next?

She was almost motionless. Just lying there...
Later I would be told she probably suffered a stroke. I tried to cheer her up, gave her some antibiotics in the hopes that she had some virus.
But it was all to no avail. Nothing helped.

I took part of the afternoon off to spend sometime to rat-sit. It was heartbreaking to see her willfully trying to saunter as half her body refused to comply. She drag herself to my lap and it was then when the choice was made to put her down.

Later that night, Karin came by with a syringe that would do the deed in the most humane possible way. Trust me it was, I was there. We said good-bye Cordy and soon thereafter the needle went into her heart. Karin then handed her to me and I held her on a towel petting her as her breathing started slowing down.

I spoke kindly to her, knowing fully well this rodent had no possible way of understanding what I was saying. But I have read somewhere that many animals, although not as intelligent as humans, can distinguish responses and basic behaviour. Cordy passed away fifteen minutes later.

Later that night, I went to the back of the building and buried her. Throwing her down the shute didn't seem quite right. Along with her went her favourite toys and her blanket.

Had anyone ever told me that I would have been distraught at the death of a rat I would have thought it silly. However it is amazing how a little critter can become a part of your life like that.
Heck, I still know tons of my friend who would be disgusted at the idea of a having a rat as a pet and that is their choice.

However Cordy you had such a wicked personality for an rodent that I can't help but to be sorry at the loss, and if anything she won't be forgotten. How could I? She was my first pet rat.

Yup Cordy, you lived.

Now Available: XP Power Toys!

2006-10-01T08:44:00.000-04:00

Alright, this is not the average post and I am a bit of a computer geek, which is no surprise since I work in IT. Now, this post will probably not mean much to you unless you work on computers everyday. By 'working with computers everyday,' I do not mean creating just word files and spreadsheets. Not to say this post would not benefit those individuals. Anyway, even if you know a bit about the Windows Power Toys line up you know is not something that you can use to impress the opposite sex with, however it can save time by making those little things you do with your computer everyday either easier or a less bit annoying. For example: Alt-Tab Replacement With this PowerToy, in addition to seeing the icon of the application window you are switching to, you will also see a preview of the page. This helps particularly when multiple sessions of an application are open. Or SyncToy With new sources of files coming from every direction (such as digital cameras, e-mail, cell phones, portable media players, camcorders, PDAs, and laptops), SyncToy can help you copy, move, and synchronize different directories. Now they are all free downloads, although some of them may ask you to prove that you have not have a pirat--, I mean 'borrowed' version of Ms-Windos. So without any further ado, you can check the complete list of power toys by clicking here. Cheers!

Newsbrief X: Good Samaritan And Ex-Ornithologist Perishes After Attacked And Devoured By Ravenous Pigeons

2006-09-06T18:47:00.000-04:00

New York - In a disastrous instance of bloody and feathered irony, 83-year-old Anthony Greath met his untimely demise while feeding the very birds he had spent the last 37 years of his life studying. Mr. Greath had been in the same spot at The Pond in Central Park near 59th street, ready to do his weekly feeding of ‘his pigeons,’ a ritual he had been keeping religiously for the last 37 years. “He even had a special recipe for them, (he) never told me what was in it, but I always suspected it contained bananas, bread crumbs, honey, nuts and maybe some weeds. My husband always said it drove them crazy.” Mr. Greath’s widow said before breaking down in a river of tears. According to witnesses, a swarm of pigeons numbering in the hundreds surrounded Mr. Greath as they eagerly waited for their benefactor to begin brunch. Unfortunately, the senior citizen who had complaining of a sore knee joint earlier that day, tripped on the two full half-gallon containers spilling its content and effectively douching himself from chest to toe with his secret recipe. “It was a case of pure ‘Pavlov’s Dogs’ behavior gone haywire.” Said John Steinberg a grad student at NYU. “It was insane to watch! It was like, one of those things you read in the Darwin awards. They zeroed on him like Bush to an oil field. Once he was on the floor, it was over. I had my camera with me, but in the frenzy, I only got two shots. Mr. Greath’s screams for help did gather a number of spectators who thinking it to be a show of some sort hesitated to intervene, “It was like watching Hitchcock’s The Birds but for real, everybody was laughing until the minute the birds started to dissipate and we noticed there was nothing left. Eewww! I am still nauseous of just thinking about it. I don’t think I can sleep with my two canaries in the same room anymore.” A female-witness was reported as saying. Forensic investigators at the scene were utterly disgusted at the lack of victim’s remains. “I have seen murders, bear and wolf mauling victims throughout my career, but nothing could have prepared me for this.” Said Dr. Mulroney, a twenty-year veteran with the NYPD. “One would assume that after 30 plus years of studying the damn things, he would’ve known the risk he was taking every time he pulled a crazy stunt like that. There was barely anything left to id him with, even for dental. Poor bastard.” “This would be the 27th death on Central Park in the last two years, but it would be the first in the park’s 138 year history to credit the cause of death to ravenous pigeons. Really, this is the weirdest thing I have ever heard.” Said Park Warden Lt. Lendford. “Do you have any idea of how many pigeons there are in the Central Park? Do you know how much it would cost to get rid of them? We are in the middle of a budget crunch, maybe if this had happened at the beginning of the fiscal year, things would have been different, maybe… or maybe not.” Central Park officials, who are determined for this tragedy to never repeat itself have banned all senior citizens or “any other folk” who are unable to run away from hungry pigeons in case they are attacked within the park grounds. On a related note, a number of TV production companies have been trying to start negotiations with Mrs. Greath with the intention to purchase the rights to tell Mr. Greath’s story as a movie of the week extravaganza. “This stuff is gold!” Said Fox TV Executive Frank Sherburne, “We had been scratching our heads to the bone looking for ideas for a new reality based movie. If we get it, we’ll run it right after our smash hit: ‘Who wants to beat a cop?’ Fox will own Friday nights again!” ******* This is a collection of ‘Bruck articles’ that have appeared in The Torontonian Blog. A collection of strange musings which have somehow in some way inspired twisted black humour and sometimes the surreal. You can’t be found guilty if you laugh. Think of it as twisted mental comfort food.

Newsreel: The USA In The News

2006-08-14T21:13:00.000-04:00

With the impending wet dream the current US administration is bound to have after waiting 50 years for Fidel Castro to possibly bite the dust, its only a matter of time before a river of Cuba Libre is flowing like water down the Hill. After all, getting your world super-power ass owned while invading one of the smallest islands in the world on a beach called the Bay of Pigs is bound to leave a bit of resentment. So what happens when Castro dies? Unfortunately that means the focus of what is really troubling American will once again shift into yet another unknown direction. Could it be Iraq again? Gays & Marriage? – According to Republicans these are two different points of contention— and we cannot forget about the flea infested Mexicans making an Olympic run for the border. Or maybe we can re-focus Castro’s brother Raul or on our rocketing oil prices; maybe our rising interest rates; or Fluffy, the lovable chubby kitty stuck on a lemond plant in suburban Boston. How about Donald Trump and all those reality shows? or simply continue pointing fingers at who f*cked up Katrina the most. Hell, why not give Mel Gibson’s drunken anti-Semitism comments yet another 15 minutes of fame? You know, just for kicks. It is no secret the US populous as a whole cannot grasp more then three maybe four local or world events at any one given time or their attention span begins to falter. Hence why you have to spoon feed the audience or they will suffer the newscaster’s version of brain freeze. It wasn’t always like that but FoxNews and CNN have both been introducing this format for years. That is why you can’t have it all, no, no, no, that would be information overload. People might stop watching CNN and switch to TBS and catch reruns of Friends instead. I mean, its funnier to hear Phoebe’s rendition of ‘Smelly Cat,’ –the one feline who no one loves— rather than the version in which he straps himself to a jacket full of C4 and takes out half a market square. CNN knows this… too many sad stories and you risk people changing the channel –and that, ladies and gentlemen is not capitalism— that is just lost revenue to competitors. That is why, throw a few happy go-lucky stories about a carnival or a heart-warming tale of an old man and his dog. You know to balance things out. Oh, and now that Irag and Afghanistan are no longer the searing anvils of evil America insisted we needed to obliterate. I find it funny that geopolitically the countries are still there, sure the governments in place are all American puppets but where are the roughly 100,000 dead Iraqis, listed as either missing or killed? Why don’t we hear THAT on CNN? But no worries boys and girls the oil is still there, safe. Somehow we made sure not to blow those pumps with Tomahawk missiles, which would from time to time get confused and hit, lets say a civilian apartment building, whoops! So, now the lighthouse of capitalism is circling again, ever so vigilant, always ready to spot the next hot spot in the world that needs some good old fashion liberating, yeehaw! As long as they are ain't blacks (Rwanda, anyone?), unless there are some sweet diamond mines or huge oil reserves and if that is the case I am sure an understanding can be worked out. Once the agreement is in place, then just stand back and watch the United States of America defend human rights, stick to the Geneva convention and teach you the many advantages of capitalism and consumerism. But, as a note to the wise, remember Capitalism is only called capitalism when you are at the top of the food chain, when you are at the bottom capitalism can be confused with terms like oppression, sweat shops that pay a pittance and my favourite: child labour. Perhaps when a golden horde of weed-smoking-homo-erotically-charged-Mexicans start stampeding across the border; blowing themselves up right after getting married then Mr. Bush might actually worry about his citizens and the world community rather than this own flagging approval ratings. Why do Americans follow such an idiotic man is still beyond me. He is bound to go down in history as one of the worst presidents.I mean, he LIED to all you people. Clean and simple. But what do you do? You re-elect him! Well, at least he hasn’t started World War III yet, but sadly, with that man there is hope.

Conversation at Kalendar: We are not on a Schedule

2006-08-14T01:25:00.000-04:00

While sitting at a small two-seat table at Kalendar –a charming café on the outer east limit of little Italy—a friend of mine asked me a very interesting question regarding relationships. ‘Mauricio,’ she said after placing her glass of cold Summer enhanced Chardonnay back on the table. ‘Has anyone ever told you are handsome?’ Without hesitation, I said, ‘Why, yes.’ No way I could have hid the glee in my response even if I had tried. ‘No, I meant, as a pick up line.’ I looked down for a moment, ‘Well, you weren’t being specific. In that case, no; at least not by anyone who wasn’t drunk.’ Suddenly I didn’t feel so hot anymore. ‘I see,’ she smiled. Kalendar is one of those charming jazzy places, a perfect first date location: non committal or threatening but with enough décor, a menu and a sense of cosiness which elevates it a few notches above run-of-the-mill places like Just Desserts or other non-descript cafes littering The Danforth. You just got to love that turn-of-the century Victorian feel that oozes a heft that it is neither uninviting or pretentious. ‘What brought this question forth?’ I wondered. As these are not inquiries I come to expect from platonic friends. ‘Well, this is what happened…’ She took a second long gulp and simply said that she was utterly tired of the dating scene. She went through the whole ‘been there, done that.’ You see, Kamela my friend was annoyed not so much at the meat markets that have existed since one gender discovered that it could –without a second thought and with much gusto —sexually objectify the other. What bothered her what that after so many dates in her lifetime, the whole dating scene, particularly in its infant stages felt like a string of glorified job interviews: A don’t call us, well call you if you make the cut ideology where Tom, Steve or John were given a set of questions and depending on their (honest; preconceived; or outright Machiavellian) answers would secure at the very least a second date. With the expectation of some sort of sexual gratification from both parties, of course. But it was now all too routine – even worse— it had the feeling of a job. ‘Isn’t this stuff supposed to be fun with the flirting, and the laughing and the twinkle in the eye?’ ‘Called me a romantic,’ I said, ‘but shouldn’t this sort of thing happen more, uh, naturally? I do not think that two people should have to stop conversation flow and open the floor for some generally boring 'what is your favourite food?' exposition to occur. That stuff never works, otherwise it starts sounding like a bad Steven Segal movie and look where the guy is now? No one gives a shit. ‘Suggestions?’ ‘I would suggest doing the proverbial library, art gallery thing thing. You know finding places where by the mere fact that you are both there automatically speaks –without the need of words if I may add— a lot about each other even when no words have been exchanged.' 'Sure, this is where sometimes friend hook-ups come in, since they may end up doing the main legwork for you. But since I like to take my fate in my own hands I would rather say: Join a social group, a bowling league, an environmental group, anything to get you out other and finding someone which whom you already are bound to have a number of things in common. Like pets? then do some Humane Society volunteering.' 'Take me for example, I found one of the loves of my life while taking an English course at U of T. Why? Because I am a geek and I love to read. Chances were that at the very least one cute, well-read and above all intelligent woman would have taken the same class as me. Sure it was a long shot, but no different than going to any martini lounge on a Friday night and I got to read a few good books along the way.' Kamela took another sip from her glass and gave me a 'You are so full of shit, you are making it sound too perfect to be true.' 'To be quite honest,' I said to balance things out, 'I remember the pickings to be quite putrid but you know what? I did get lucky and I found someone and even though we went through the: What is your favourite food? And; Which is your favourite movie of all time status quo set of question. I can tell you that it all felt so natural that the job interview motif never entered my head, not even once. I was simply just too happy to know more about this person then feeling that I HAD to ask this questions in order to avoid dating a psychopath.' ‘I am not saying that finding a mate is simple, Kamela.’ I said as I finished my wine. I just think we put too much emphasis on loneliness (or maybe we just get too horny, who knows?) But ultimately, if you are happy without a partner, then who am I to tell you are wrong? ‘Suggestions?’ She demanded again. ‘You want the straight to the point variety?’ ‘Hell, yeah.’ ‘Do something you would do for free. Nothing stupid, just something that has picked your curiosity and join a group. There are tons of groups like that in Toronto. If you like going for dinner because you love tasting different foods abd drink, then there are tons of groups like that out there. Fencing? I am sure there is something out there. Sailing? I have tried that. Skydiving? Hey, you only live once, particularly if the chute doesn't open.' I once joined an Egyptology course at the Royal Ontario Museum because I like Egyptology and its history. Just don’t use the "I do not like going places by myself," excuse since remember, loneliness is biased towards the shy and the ugly… and even the most unattractive people can overcome some of that with the right attitude. So if you are deathly shy, then you are in for a rough and lonely ride. Unless you don’t mind being alone. It sounds cliche, but it is always our own selves who seem to keep deterring us from being truly happy. Kamela is a very attractive lady. I am sure she will find someone. I know it, I just who it. Maybe if she wasn't so pragmatic. Good luck Hon. If you would like to find more info on Kalendar AND their menu click here. Cheers!

Bamboo: Now Ultra and Forgotten

2006-08-04T00:58:00.000-04:00

I remember long gone summer days when one could leave the city of Toronto by going onto Queen Street. It was possible in one moment to be in the middle of the hustle and ‘tude of downtown and on the next be in a Caribbean oasis where friendly faces were as common as ice cold bottles of Carib beer; And there was a lot of beer. Once located at 314 Queen West, I speak of course of the now defunct Bamboo: More a laidback sanctuary than a bar and more a private party than a club. With its tacky beach décor and wild colours, it was the type of place where you could earn your chevrons quickly and where it did not take much to become a regular. The managers remembered your name easily and the wait staff would pass knowing smiles as a reminder that you were in a cosy and temperate Shangri-La. This was a place where if you tipped honestly, you get ongoing drink samples ‘on-the-house’ and an unspoken promise of even better service on your next visit. It was not unheard of to order a round for a stranger just because they were there. As chances were someone had already bought you a round just because you were there. It was an institution that kept on giving. The rooftop patio at Bamboo was a rarity. A place where suits, artistic types and just about anyone could check the North American rat race at the door and let themselves be people wanting to get some sun. Enjoy a forum where conversation flowed like Appleton rum and if you stayed late enough, catch some calypso, reggae or just about any rhythm that would have your hips jumping for the rest of the night. Then about four years ago… It came as a total shock to find our favourite hang out was closing its doors. Not due to lack of business, but greed from the landlord. Bamboo’s lease was due and the landlord was trying to capitalize more than they could chew by asking for an arm, a leg, plus the other leg and a few remaining fingers to renew it. Bamboo’s owners, unable to reach an understanding were forced to relocate to what felt like an ill, third-rate site on Queen’s Quay. What was once an ode to the zest of Caribbean life became a shadowy, sunless pub. Although they shared the same name, the soul of the original Bamboo can be said to have died peacefully on Queen Street West. What carried over was a hollow shell as very few regulars or for that matter even fewer staff ever made the transition. After two years of limbo, the skeleton crew of the once mighty Bamboo closed its doors, this time without fanfare or much press. From The Ashes… …And obviously deeper pockets, Bamboo’s successor flew up from its ashes: Ultra Super Club. An establishment trying hard to channel its predecessors laid back coolness to the point of adding the word ‘Super’ onto its name, as if to make sure we knew it’s special. Now I am not saying Ultra Super(!) Club is an ugly duckling. The new owners obviously spent a lot of coin making the place look like a fleshed out ad for Wallpaper magazine. Nothing but high-end Ikea looking furniture here, but true coolness comes from a vibe and not just the décor, even if it did help a little. While trying to be open-minded I commissioned a second expedition to USC in July. The first had been passable at best. However during winter visiting the patio would have been outright stupid and cold, but for those who like to be told the obvious, it was very cold. I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised. Sure it still tries too hard to impress. You can expect a lot of couples and large parties to be there. Also if you are interested in meeting members of the opposite sex, once the music explodes into party mode, the meat market becomes open for business. So if you are single, well, you really can’t go wrong with that. But Bamboo it is not. Unlike Bamboo, the drinks are on the pricey side. However $6 for a local beer is hardly highway robbery but I guess someone has to pay for the new Ikea décor and in this case that someone is going to be the women who might easily pay $12 for a cocktail. Enjoy. Sure I have not spoken much about the interior of the place and there is a reason for that. I am focusing on the rooftop patio, but for those who are wondering about the lower floor of USC: It is quite elegant with a lot of red fabrics and a Yorkville feel: Which is generally snooty and pretentious, particularly from the still-not-gorgeous-enough-to-be-models-but-would-like-to-be members of the staff. It is a good place to hold a summer gathering, but I am sad to inform that Bamboo and what it once represented will not be found in here. Even if it is cleaner, more modern but at the same time, more phoney. Bamboo, you are and will be missed. Want to check what Bamboo, ahem, Ultra looks like now? Click here.

Portal: The next generation in gaming.

2006-07-18T18:34:00.001-04:00

This is not the usual type of post I do, however I had to share what I found. Just released, Prey (pictured right) is a game that innovates the FPS with the ideas of portals. Yes, those holes in reality that if walked into take you to a different place altogher.
They are just there for the foolish to walk in.

HOwever, below is the is the first look at Valve's new game, called Portal which redefines that whole idea. For those who are reading this and going, 'who the hell is Valve?' They are the materminds of a small game called HalfLife. Now for those who are now reading this and saying what the hell is HalfLife?' I would say, HalfLife is as it stands one of the most sold games in the history of gaming with sales in the millions. Also it was a revolutionary game in the areas of playability, graphics, and story telling. Making you the player feel like if you were living your own thriller\action movie.

Event the way the game starts would not be out of place in movie, but unlike most blockbusters the plot is actually rather engaging. Either way a gamer's geek delight.

Anyway, this is their new game, called Portal. I would like to tel you what it is about, but nothing, and I mean nothing beats just wathing the demo: HERE.

Even if you are not into video games --which I am not-- you will still find it very interesting. Even if it is at how amazing computers have come from the days of Pong and Pacman.

Just click on play button below to see the demo.

Oh, and as desert, watch this stop-motion photography rendition of some ancient games. Now done with REAL humans! Thanks to some bored students in Switzerland.
HERE.

RBC: History In The Making! Or Just What I Keep Telling Myself (I)

2006-06-22T10:28:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I am glad that I do not have a huge readership. Mostly friends, and friends of friends; and on those rare occasions, friends of friends of friends…Uh, okay, perhaps it is not that small. Okay, anyway, so as far as blogging things of interest, I wanted to announce that as of last week, I have been part of the RBC Peon Club (RPC) for exactly seven years. Forget the exact date, perhaps the 13th, but ultimately it is amazing how times zooms, flies, explodes in your face like that. Yes, who would have known that one morning’s self-inquiry, probably based on too much coffee about the possibility of working in IT would tsunami upon 7 years of my life? That’s the way the cookie crumbles I guess. As such I am looking for other alternatives, not because I hate my job. I actually enjoy being a wing nut in RBC’s IT geek machine. However, my health has not been the best for a while and the thought has cross me that perhaps a change would prove beneficial. Do something more creative, more laissez-faire, more freedom: So most likely a pay cut. Of course I have no one to point a finger at except myself. ‘Your career is always in your hands,’ says any XYZ Corporation. So it is of no shock RBC would say the same. Sure they hired me in a field I did not go to school for; sure they threw a bunch of money at me and promoted me to the same management level as a branch manager within a year. But I think it is time that I start thinking about myself. Not just because it is in my best interest but in theirs are well. Wow, I AM a swell guy. Call me Mr. Altruistic. And I think everyone owes it to themselves to be as altruistic as me. It seems that I keep on meeting people who are sticking around their jobs not because they enjoy it (cheers to those of you who do) but because of their pay (read: it's safe), stock options or benefits. I mean, why? Is that the price of doing things we rather not be doing? Or is it something more? Like: FEAR? It is no secret most people are afraid of the unknown and throwing themselves in the wind in the hopes of facing in the right direction can be nerve wracking. But what better way to incite change than impending doom? Some would say ‘Hey, take that bitch up and use it.’ Okay maybe not in those exact words, however the point is there for anyone to take, make it your own and run with it to the nearest paid-by-the-hour motel. As such, I am currently working in making sure that I do not hit an eight-year anniversary, not because I want to leave the bank, oh no, but because I am just an altruistic type of guy.

Newsbrief IX: Fanatic Avian Faction Planning Attack On May Sweeps

2006-05-25T11:10:00.001-04:00

New York – Tensions about avian flu outbreaks around the world are flying high as the media and the World Health Organization continue to warn us of an incoming judgment day where riots, paranoia and anarchy will rule supreme right up until the bit where we all keel over and die. Fear on the grapevine is spreading like wildfire and can be found on almost all levels of human society. ‘There are rumours of underground factions working in conjunction to bring an end to humanity and usher a feathered Utopia as foretold in one of our many Holy texts.’ Said Reverend DaFellinci, ‘Not sure which one, but I am sure it is in there somewhere, probably written in some sort of code.’ ‘Homo Sapiens are under attack.’ Added retired NYU Professor Frederick Andhaje, ‘Chicks are behind the pandemic. Some of them escape from farms you see, and get together in packs. I can almost see it, some seedy red-lit hideout, toying the avian flu back and for between each other, masterminding how they will transmit it onto us. I do not need to have forgotten my pills to know those chicks are up to no good.’ A few sketchy online sources describe underground bunkers representing a clear and present danger to out existence. On one www.thefeatheredfarside.com an article by a forum member who wished to remain anonymous stated: ‘not in a million years would I have ever thought the fourth Horseman to be a chicken.’ The author finished his essay with this grim statement ‘…I am hypothesizing the existence of a vast network working in isolated cells, working independently from each other. Thus making it very hard to track them down. Novus Ordo Mundi man! Novus Ordo Mundi!’ Since this story was printed the site has mysteriously gone offline. Until the reckoning day comes Media analysts admit the best thing citizens can do is educate themselves about the danger and watch more TV. Just last week, most American channels from ABC to CNN showed no less than five movies of the week and prime-time documentaries highlighting and surmising our avian pandemic demise. When asked if the media was basing their obviously exaggerated portrayal of the flu on fear and the May Sweeps, a NBC spokesperson said ‘Well, duh.’

NewsBrief Part VIII: Waiting Three Days And Counting For Date: "She’s Coming, I Know It"

2006-05-24T07:55:00.000-04:00

Naperville – Phillips R. Sacks, a veteran greeter at the local Wal-Mart would like to let Mary Reighton know he is still waiting at Kit-Kat Tsunami, a trendy downtown pool lounge and tobacco shop to begin their first date. ‘Sure, she didn’t seem interested at first, but things change. I remember there was a time last week when she wouldn’t even talk to me. Persistence pays off.’ The date began last Friday night when he arrived at Kit-Kat at around 8:00pm. Mr. Sacks spent the first three hours playing pool, then had a few beers and since then has sustained himself on a mixture of free peanuts, water and lots speciality coffee. ‘Women are always late so I don’t think much of it.’ Andrew Beers added his establishment being open 24/7 is what has kept him from removing Mr. Sacks from the premises. We normally have a $5 per person seating policy and he has been spending $5.25 every hour he’s been here. I want the good folk of Naperville to know Kit-Kat stands by its policies. Even if he starting to reek. So if you want to have a good time Kit-Kat is the place to be. Remember we do parties, weddings and catered events; look us up in the yellow pages. Our prices ar—’ When reminded the article was about Mr. Sacks endeavour, he added ‘Yeah, what a chump. He hasn't moved off that sofa and the wait staff are beginning to complain. If he stays for another day, the stench is going to get pretty bad. The moment he runs dry, he is out of here.’ Mr. Sacks met Miss Reighton at his job where she was a customer. ‘It was attraction at first sight. Mind you she gave me quite the chase. I almost lost her twice, around the toy aisle and when she hid in the women’s change room. She was sneaky, she thought I would not dare but that is how you impress a girl.’ Mrs. Reighton was contacted but we were unable to reach her for comment.

NewsBrief Part VII: Dove: 99% Pure – Uh, Pure What?

2006-05-18T10:44:00.000-04:00

Toronto – For years Dove Soap has boasted the quality of their product by ramming us with ‘mild cleansing ingredients.’ Over and over and from all directions in the hope we would end up accepting them, maybe even enjoy them. What is more disturbing is their utter refusal to publicly share the composition of those mild cleansing ingredients and to a lesser extend letting us in on what comprises the remaining 'non' mild cleansing ingredients. ‘It was only a matter of time before conspiracy theorists began flocking. They knew we would start to take notice and began speculating what exactly Dove was made of. Just like the roves of scientists and priests who until this very day still wonder what is Ivory soap --Dove's archenemy and competitor in the soap racket-- 99% pure of. Pure what? Dried dove droppings? Cocaine? Children bits? It is a complete mystery.’ Said Walter Deminski, a professional conspiracy theorist. ‘I have worked on many conspiracies in the past like the JFK assassination, the Iraq Wars and the ‘How do they put the Caramel inside the Caramilk bar? paradox. But this one has us baffled. I devised the Soylent Green theory, but I know others are salivating for the credit. I just know it.’ When asked why they could not simply throw a sample under a microscope and do a chemical analysis Mr. Deminski added, ‘You mean, like a real test? No we can’t. That costs money. You know, with the Prime Minister being a CSIS operative and taxing us to death, most conspiracy theorist can barely afford smokes and groceries. But, shhh…don’t tell anyone I said that.’ Dove recently launched a new ‘Campaign for Real Beauty,’ an ad campaign designed to challenge unrealistic images of women in advertising but only as long as they buy Dove products. ‘They knew we were closing in,’ said Mr. Deminski. ‘They knew it. I suspected they would drop it. They wouldn’t risk us figuring it out. Another mystery solved!’ - This and other NewsBriefs are printed on the Toike Okie. U of T's premier satirical source since 1908. -

NewsBrief Part VI: Bush’s Low Approval Ratings Part Of Evil Mexican Plot

2006-05-17T16:58:00.000-04:00

Miami- Fox News released a report yesterday revealing the President’s all-time low approval ratings to be the result of evil Mexicans. The report added these Mexicans are working illegally and unified to the common goal of making Mr. Bush appear as a desperate politician willing to pull any half-cooked stunt to inflate sagging ratings. The report is yet another drop in the bucket in the never before seen flurry to stop the flow of illegal immigrants. “It’s about time!” said Fox News political correspondent Beige Bush, calling illegal Mexicans ‘lazy’ and ‘more preoccupied with tacos and siestas except when it comes to ruining my second-cousin’s good name.’ When asked to comment on the possibility the current immigration initiative to be a plot to distract the American people from the aftermath of the Iraq war Mrs. Bush added ‘What Iraq war? Are there illegal Mexicans over there?’ The issue has already reached a feverous pitch when the President made a televised address two days ago in which he informed the nation that 6,000 National Guard Reserves would be mobilized to the border to stop evil immigrants. ‘Sure they can run but we have snipers who specialize on moving targets.’ When asked why suddenly the issue of illegal immigrants has become the current administration’s de facto issue, he said ‘Mexicans have always been on my mind. Don’t get me wrong. I have always respected our neighbours to the south. Back in Texas they made 3/4 of my staff. As you may already know, America will always need maids, cleaning staff and gardeners.’ The topic was then changed to the phone-tapping inquest, Mr. Bush said ‘The fact that we're discussing this programme is helping the enemy.’ Defending his actions 'as necessary’ he continued to add that as far as he was aware no laws had been broken. ‘But it would not surprise if it was an illegal alien who tipped the press.’ --'NewsBriefs' appear monthly in the Toike Okie, U of T's premier satirical newspaper since 1908 --

Silent Hill: The Course Of The Video Game Movie Lives

2006-05-17T11:34:00.000-04:00

I have never bothered to own a Sony Playstation. However, five years ago I was able to acquire one on loan for about three months. How? Simple. A guy trying to impress my then girlfriend lend it to me in order to get on her good side. How bruck is that? Sucker. Anyway, one of titles that came with my bamboozled unit was a unique game called Silent Hill. ‘What an odd name,’ I thought at the time. Why would anyone entitle a game, or a town for that matter, after a hill? But just not any hill but a silent hill? Guess we all eventually get tired of being around loud, obnoxious, bitchy hills? Makes sense. That’s like Cuba changing their name to ‘Communist Island,’ or ‘Hemingway Got Drunk Here Isle.’ Such honesty won’t entice gringos or tourist in droves. Which is what the town of Silent Hill is trying to do. Its citizens aught to get a tax break for life to make up their forefathers bequeathing them with such an unimaginative name. Alright, pragmatism aside what I did not expect was to play one of the most engrossing games I have ever experienced. So absorbing in fact, my little teen sister who was too scared to actually play the game, devoted herself to watch the action transpire from over my shoulder as I put my own psyche on the line. With a disturbing ambiance thanks to minimalist –yet quite off-putting— music, grotesque imagery and a general sense of desolation due to exploring a mostly deserted town that chips away at your comfort level. Silent Hill is as creepy as games get. You hear things stalking you but can’t see them and only the uncomfortable hiss of a broken radio as your only means of knowing if they are closing in on you for the kill or not. The game immerses you into its world whether you like it or not. Sure you want to see how the thing ends but I remember at one point feeling such dread while playing it, I ended up giving myself a day or two just get the heck away from it. It was like playing through an experience akin to watching the exorcist. Which I have to say made it a great game that ultimately ended inspiring three sequels. Which I never got to play as I gave the unit back to the sucke- I mean, my girlfriend’s friend who perhaps realized lending me a Playstation would not yield the expected results he hoped for. Duh. Fast forward to a few months ago. As we all know, all cash cows whether be in print, TV or even a video game are nowadays the first victims to be turned into film. However since seeing the trailer of Silent Hill on the big screen I found myself totally engrossed, again. Its portrayal of a parent searching for her lost child in a surreal town which periodically slips into hell gave me hope director Christopher Gans (The Brotherhood of the Wolf) had somehow grasped the underlying sense of despair in the game and transposed it onto film. Memories of the dread I had felt before began to resurface. I wanted to see it, I wanted to feel disturbed…yeah, we humans are a strange bunch. When the movie was released, I could not find anyone to go with. Women I asked were afraid of the movie or simply not interested in the movie. Friends were put off because it was based on a video game, which historically translates into an incoherent jumble and thus a waste of the viewer’s life. Movies like Mario Bros., Street Fighter, Wing Commander, The Resident Evil series and the recent theatrical bomb called Doom come to mind, each an atrocity on celluloid in their own right. As I could not find anyone to go see it, I did the only thing I could think off, I downloaded it off the net and watched it for free on my laptop. Yes, you heard me. You overpriced movie theatres can all go to hell! You hear me? HELL! What did I think? Director Christopher Gans created a visually perfect adaptation of a world first portrayed by a bunch of mentally deranged game designers. Bravo! Quite a spectacle to behold and if a feast to the eyes is your thing, you could do much worse. Too bad the same cannot be said about the script, which in true video-game-turned-into-film fashion is a mess. Something about witches, a little girl’s soul desire for vengeance and the fate of the surviving town folk. The plot gets so convoluted at times that I was not sure what was going on-screen. The screenplay also fails by committing the cardinal sin of having characters act stupidly in order to move the plot along. Or worse, subject us to painfully obvious statements over and over. At one point (55:55min), after the town is enveloped by a never receding fog, has been cut off the rest of the world by a bottomless chasm that appeared out of nowhere and a zombie attack, two main characters chat: -‘They used to say this place was haunted.’ -‘I think they were right…’ Duh. Someone please kill that first character off. Luckily, someone eventually does. Thank you. The problem is video game plots have yet to be able to carry the weight and length of a movie. Since a gamer is generally too busy playing the game to be concerned with secondary things like plot. As a result, during the script writing process writers are forced to fill in gaps normally filled in by the player. So far with mostly life sucking side effects to the audience. Sadly, Silent Hill is no exception. This is the course of the video game movie. I really wanted to like this movie. Visually is one of the better movies I have seen this year, watch for the scenes where the town is absorbed into the nightmarish and rusting ‘Otherworld.’ A Dante’s Inferno inspired vision that is almost worth the price of admission. The musical score, from soft piano pieces to industrial clatter is a big factor and right on and adds to the perversely bizarre pictures on the screen. The plot and dialogue cannot match the rest of the film and are a let-down. The movie was so close to breaking the video game course that it could almost taste it. Alas, that coveted title will not go to Silent Hill. But compared to the pile t came before it, we can at least take solace in knowing it could have been much, much worse. Now, if I could only get another zap to lend me their Xbox.

Letter To My MPP: SmartMeters? What The $^&*$@%!# Are You Thinking?

2006-05-14T14:46:00.000-04:00

This was a letter sent to Mr. Smitherman, my MPP regarding Toronto's new Smart-meters that if without opposition could start infiltrating Toronto homes as early as this summer. Although a good idea in concept, the way they are going at it is as boneheaded as only politicians have the gift to make it. This is Mr. McGuinty's plan to have Torontonians save electricity by doing their laundry at 'off peak' hours. Like, let's say 3:00am in the morning. If you rent than this affects you! Write your MPP, make them earn their lunch money. Good day Mr. Smitherman, I am taking this opportunity --my first in fact – to write to you about an issue, which has gravely alerted my attention. Mr. McGuinty’s proposed use of ‘smart meters’ in the city of Toronto, although a good plan at heart, needs to be rethought before it can ever come upon real-world implementation. Mr. Smitherman, this plan does not take into consideration a landlord’s responsibility to upgrade a tenant’s unit or appliances to the latest most energy efficient models. I would also wager that most would be unable to financially fulfil this task. Further still, once they are no longer footing the hydro bill, it is easy to see their desire to replace them waver even more. Especially if McGuinty allows landlords to mandate their own generic discount on a tenant’s rent. After all, a building does not have to be environmentally friendly or efficient to pass code. Under these circumstances, if a landlord cannot\refuses to upgrade appliances, don’t you think passing the expense of hydro over to tenants is not only unfair but an obvious lack of environmental concern by Mr. McGuinty and Queen’s Park? It sounds more like a misguided attempt to save a quick buck rather than avoiding an ‘energy crisis.’ So what if this plan comes into fruition? I can only imagine the logistical nightmare of keeping track of the new hardware and the billing system that will surely come with it. Instead of having one bill, now you are going to deliver over 320 to my building alone? How many trees are going to be cut down every billing cycle in order to keep Toronto’s mostly circa ‘80s appliances running? How about the new staff that will need to be hired? To quote Mr. McGuinty from his April 19nth, 2004 Legislative assembly speech, it is easy for him or anyone to say “That old, inefficient beer fridge in the basement may seem like your best friend at playoff time -- but every time you open the door it's “pay-up time,” because that fridge can be costing you about $150 a year in extra electricity -- electricity we can't afford to waste.” Well, what about when that ‘inefficient fridge’ takes the form of your inefficient heater, or your stove, or your kitchen fridge? These things happen and they are not being addressed, could someone explain why tenants should pay for something they have no control over? On a different note Mr. Smitherman, why no one ever touches on the fact that we do not need the CIBC tower on the Northwest corner of Yonge and Bloor lit up like a Christmas tree every night? Or what about the Manulife Centre? Or the Eaton Center Tower? Or most of the downtown core for that matter? How many lights does an evening cleaning crew need? Ultimately the key of this enterprise is not to save a buck but to save power, and hopefully save a buck or two meanwhile we are at it. I doubt that my own apartment building at 40 Gerrard Street East could ever compete with the power usage of the Royal Bank plaza at Bay and Front streets, as they have the advantage of their thousands of computers but only a soul or two per floor after 9:00pm. If we are trying to save electricity why not legislate for landlords, particularly of large buildings and the private sector to implement solar power panels on their roofs for example? Generally, most roofs have gravel and a few pipes, they have the space and it will benefit them in the long term. What about lower income families? Those very families who happen to live in less than perfect conditions; do you think Mr. Smitherman their landlord would have the funds to fix their drafty windows, bad heating and replace their energy wasting appliances? When that does not happen, whom do you think will be left in the cold when they are not able to afford to live even in those less than perfect conditions? I am not saying that smart-meters are bad idea Mr. Smitherman, but the way Mr. McGuinty it is going about it definitely proves his $100,000+ a year salary has segregated him and is now out of touch from the average Toronto citizen and father still from someone who is an actual tenant. Where is ‘our’ voice being represented in all of this? I am expecting a response to see what will be done about this matter. Oh, and if I may, could you be kind enough to email me a response. No fancy paper on regular mail, please. Thank you for your time, You can find some other thoughts on the matter if you click to this quick exchange on this forum.

Children? Me? No. I Am Good, Really.

2006-05-02T23:58:00.000-04:00

Ah, the opportunity to write a few words on the beauty of not having children. 'Sure,' some of you may be think ‘as you get older, you’ll change your mind.' Well, I would not be too sure about that. As I get older –29 in July- I have been invited to a few parties in the last couple of years where my girlfriend and I have been the only ones without small children. Wow, after only a couple of hours I could not wait to rush home, flop on the couch, kick my legs up and enjoy…silence, complete and utterly uninhibited silence. Inventors: be aware, if you could can silence, mass-produce it and then sell it, you would be the MVP of Nobel laureates. It is amazing the squealing that can come out of a two year old, sparing no eardrums in its wave of destruction and early deafness. Now imagine a whole horde of them! Running up and down, left and right, hardly ever running into each other, as if able to hear their shrieks bouncing off furniture and everything else. Paradoxically, I like children, just not the ones I can’t give back. I enjoy playing with them and I mean with them, and not some sort of twisted mind game of my own Machiavellian design. No who can borrow Daddy’s wallet without him realizing it competitions or my own favourite version of hide and seek, were they hide and I go seek another glass of wine. In fact, I think I would be a great father and nurturer. Just in patience points alone I have managed a good karma trust fund that could be easily used to raise a child. I have just made the decision not to have any. However, you know what I would like to do? I would like to turn this sucker and point the spotlight at you for a moment and ask you the question: ‘why would you like to have children?’ A lot of people say ‘well, to have a family, of course.’ Now, what the hell does that really mean? You were once one (partner excluded) and now you have to be many? Concerned the gene pool is getting a little impure and adding a few of your own drops will chlorine it into a grandiose Olympic pool? Nah, no one really thinks like that. Or do you have a need to pass the family flag down the next generation? Or do you want a mini-me version of yourself, doing the same things you did or worse, the things you didn’t get to do. Play the piano, sports, be a pop star or any other lost dream? Millions of parents live precariously through their children every day. It’s a human species pass-time. This scares me the most. That and the rare type of people who use children as bargaining chips, heck one of my best friends had the catch 22 fortune of being born in a family of good stature were her mother’s main intention was to get pregnant to keep her husband from leaving. Yes, good stature, bad marriage. Now, I am not saying that people should not have children. That is not only outlandish but also outright stupid. No, I would not say that. However it is fair to say people should not assume having children is the end all of all relationships. That is just what is expected of us in our society, nothing more. At the very least, everyone owes it to themselves including the ‘must have one or two’ in the crowd, regardless of how sure you believe you are, to question the why to the need. It could be that you might want children for completely different reasons than you thought and that is dangerous. At least if I am making a wrong decision I am not dragging a new life down with me, just my girlfriend or whomever I am dating, but she can always leave. Tell that to a five year old: ‘Scram Pete! I changed my mind. Go become feral or something.’ By the way, since the topic of children is what is known as a ‘deal breaker’ in relationship lingo, make sure it gets discussed as soon as it is suitably possible. You don’t want to fall in love only to find you are incompatible in the breeding department. The more I think of it, the more I am done with children. Perhaps selfishness is the reason guiding us all. Some have the dream of the 2.3 children (Canadian median), the white picket fence, the minivan, and some don’t and I love it. Would a woman change my mind? It’s hard to say, I love my lifestyle. By the way, I am not a would-be playboy, thinking I will have an endless string of women in my pad forever. Nope my name is not Hugh. Quite the opposite, I would like to settle down just not with kids. There are women who would agree with me out there. Even if most of society and family will continue to remind us that our natural clocks are ticking away, particularly to the ladies. For the most part we have been relegated to outcasts, but notice that we are a growing demographic, so outcast for not much longer. So, hang there, and enjoy a nice quiet weekend brunch. Personally I am a fan of poached eggs and a good cup of coffee\tea, served on a nice outdoor patio. Ah, life is good. I think the last time my sister; mother of two got the chance to do Brunch was…well, I am not even sure, it has been that long. I would say at least 9 months before my niece was born. Coincidence? Perhaps. Before I go, I wanted to add this last thing my friend told me happened to him last year, which reflects society’s awkwardness towards us non-breeders. I remember a short conversation that occurred at their lunchroom between Dwayne, married with two children and Brad, married with none. They are both in their mid-forties with decent paychecks to boot. One drives a minivan and is so busy on weekends that he, as a salesman actually gets more physical rest at work than at home. This is a real story. ‘Do you ever regret not having children?’ ‘Me? Why?’ ‘Most people have a few kids by now.’ ‘You know Dwayne, now that you ask…yeah, I have been thinking about that…’ Voice getting quieter now. ‘…You know, I would easily trade the two houses we rent-out, the four times a year me and Lydia go on vacation, our two convertibles and the freedom of waking up whenever we want just to have the single opportunity to have a few kids.’ Dwayne’s voice quiets down to meet his. ‘…Uh, really?’ ‘HELL NO! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I LOVE MY LIFE!’

Newsbriefs Part V: Hudson Bay Company to Rewrite Own History

2006-04-18T00:36:00.001-04:00

Founded in 1670, back when Canada was pronounced ‘Kanata,’ the beaver was the King of the predators and the British and French mocked each other with slurs like: “Aha, you have a funny accent!’ A small HBC rose to become what it has been for more than three centuries: a Canadian beacon, a symbol of national pride, and as of late a company who sold out to an American dandy with a few billions burning a hole in his pant pocket.

When the world is your oyster,’ said new HBC owner Jerry Zucker after the $1.5 billion purchase, ‘you can get bored of oyster juice pretty quickly.’ When asked what the fuck he meant Zucker replied, ‘I decided to start buying history! I am a genius!’ When pressed to stop smoking marijuana on interviews, Mr. Zucker further explained, ‘Now that I own the HBC group, I am officially changing its place in history, and I am writing myself in it.’

After asking Mr. Zucker for a few tokes of what was obviously good cannabis; he continued, ‘they spread insatiably far and wide and without mercy; they were the Starbucks of your early nation. But its history is a sleeper; there are no car chases and nothing ever blows up good. I am going to change all that.’ After a few minutes, it all started making sense. ‘That’s some good shit, Sir,’ said this reporter.

Throughout its history, HBC represented Canada as a mosaic of overpriced wet, smelly furs to just overpriced clothing today. ‘That’s great and good, but I thought for example, what if HBC employees travelled through Canada in helicopters as early as the 1700’s? That makes sense to me, I always wanted to be live in the 1700’s and I AM a certified pilot. I have tons of changes in mind, like why didn’t fur traders use machine guns? They are awesome! If they had used them they would have fought competition off more easily. If that had been the case, then maybe I would not have been able to buy HBC now. Woah, chicken and the egg man, chicken and the egg...’

Watch for HBC’s revised history to hit HBC’s books section as early as this summer.

--This and all Newsbriefs have been published at the University of Toronto's satirical newspaper The Toike Okie, and/or the even more twisted BruckNews e-zine.--

Google Calendar: The Blue or Red pill?

2006-04-17T01:59:00.000-04:00

It is simply amazing! Okay, taking the fact I have become an insomiac is not in question, or amazing. No, not really. But just how much technology is heading in the direction to make sure each single one of us is as interconnected with pretty much everything else. It is 10:00pm, do you know where your friend's are? You can now, simply check with Google Calendar! We are Masters of our own lives but we are lending the keys to them to Google? We can trust them, right? On a related note, just today, I was able to see a live shot of the Santorini islands in Greece. No, they were not rehashed pics from earlier in the year. Oh no, that would not have been techie enough. They were pictures taken only 30 seconds before. The catch is it is nightime in Santorini Greece and all you can see aside a few white dots in the distance is darkness. Probably just some people smoking tabacco, or not, but saying to themselves 'Ah, life is simple here...and good.' Perhaps completely unaware that I have the power to completely spy on them --assuming it was daylight-- from half a world away. Why? Because someone thought it cool to put a webcam there re-freshing every 60 seconds. Sure this has existed for quite sometime, but webcam shots of utterly pitch blackness? Which brings me to the whole connectivity thing. I mean, Google sent me an invitation to their new Calendar (Beta) project. Sure it is like any other on-line calendar, but it is also incorporated into my email and...ARE YOU READY for this? I can pretty much email my calendar to every single friend I have. How cool is that? 'Hey guys! There is a party in my Calendar and everyone is invited!' Now EVERYONE could just with a few clicks know whether I was with my wife, at my yearly prostate check, or at which time I am going to drop by my mistress. Oh, the joy. Alright, I am NOT married or have a mistress, the point is, aren't we with our geeky fantasies of being interconnected at breakneck speeds loosing our sense of self along the way? Not only are we loosing our right to privacy --which is happening daily under many pretences-- some may call it 'security,' but it seems we are mostly doing it to either satisfy a need to be heard or simple, unadulterated vanity. I believe we are loosing focus of the simplest things in life. Of course, the irony has not been lost in the fact you are reading these pretty words of mine from a BLOG. However the truth is there. The Medium is the message, eh? An sometimes she\he is a bitch: "You don't know how to use a computer? You looser!" Albeit we are generally too happy to comply. Since we keep thinking is the next step in human evolution. I mean, with the craziness of blogs, photoblogs, apps like MSN's My Space and an army of other tools like Messengers and LinkIn (Meetup.com anyone?), very soon we are going to have choose to either live in the real world where is sunny and be left for technologically dead dinosaurs or jack ourselves in and be part of our society's early version of a Matrix, yes, like the movie. What a cliched and weird methaphor. How sad. So, I as sat earlier today, setting up my new GOOGLE calendar, I got a kick of sharing it (free\busy times only) to a few friends. Why just the free\busy times? Well, I do not want everyone to peek fully into my life, or at least that is what I am telling myself. Albeit not from Google Inc, who I am sure are keeping an ever watchful eye, you know, for BETA research purposes. It just reminds me of that scene from the movie: 'Neo, do you choose the blue pill or the red pill.' If it was up to me, I would say, 'Uh, which one is the cool one?' But until then, I have to admit I am getting hooked to this Gmail calendar, I mean, the thing is bloody useful. Then again, I know that since I work in IT, I am more likely to fall prey to this things than others. Hopefully I will snap out of it soon and go read a good book instead. But in the mid-time use me as an example and save yourselves!

When will Mr. Harper crack?

2006-04-02T17:14:00.001-04:00

Months have gone by since Steven Harper was sworn in and yet, in typical Canadian fashion no coup d'état has been plotted and no demonstrators have swarmed upon Ottawa. Heck, am I to wager most Canadians have already forgotten the minutiae of being an election year already? Impressive. Could it be part of Mr. Harper’s insidious masterminding to keep his agenda so well hidden in some dark fissure within his conscious where even light cannot escape? Or is it another one of Tim Horton’s “Roll-the-Rim-to-Win” campaigns in full swing again and thus distracting the populous from the happenings within Parliament Hill? How could a country proud in our gay and abortion enlightened laws; laissez-faire attitude towards marijuana and hippy oriented diversity elect a leader who on multiple occasions has opposed our status quo? Let me start by saying I have my suspicions, but have no factual idea, so I will not start any second-guessing. Okay, now that’s in the open, let’s continue… I still remember election day as if it was yesterday, bushy tailed ready to fulfill my civil duty and aid the due process to elect a new fearless leader. Did I really think the Liberals would win? No, not by a long shot, but I sure as hell was not going to allow some fanatic –including rightwing extremists— from getting a majority government. Imagine my surprise when I found there was a voting station in the lobby in my very own building. Oh, the political squirm I would have released if I remotely followed or cared about politics on a day-to-day capacity. However, it was great having the knowledge of not traveling far to give my two cents; and if you are part of the immediate-gratification generation like I am, you know that’s about as good as it gets. Imagine my surprise when I found the lobby almost deserted. It was as if most people really didn’t care. Then I remembered how many times is had been repeated by both newsrooms and friends alike, ‘this will be the closest election in years!’ But I was there by my lonesome self, in the eve of election day, all alone. Except for two sad looking voting officials but I wasn’t counting them. I was shocked! That would be the third time for any of those counting. Where were my fellow voters? I certainly recall being the election day geek, calling friends with a friendly reminder. ‘But of course, I am going to vote,’ they told me. “It is one of the closest elections in years,” said another when pushed. It seemed like the call to action had been raised way before I had decided to part-time as the pestering friend we all loathe to have. Back at the voting station, a few people had showed up...finally. It was only 8 pm, ‘why not wait a little longer? You know, build some suspense.’ I thought. They were all from my building, which stands to reason, if you cannot be coerced to vote when the polling station is only meters beneath you then nothing will. Except for maybe free food, personally I would recommend booze –preferably wine if I had a say on it— perhaps we could vote on it? Unfortunately last time I checked such behaviour is considered highly uncouth, oh, and completely illegal. But heck, I say why not make a party of it? After all if most people don’t make it a priority to vote, would it matter if they did it while utterly smashed? George W. Bush used to do it during his younger years and look how far he got. Sure not the best plan but no one would deny the possible advantages. Which surely would multiply exponentially if people where allowed to hang around before actually voting. It would be the first time in history where people would look forward to waiting in line. Mmm, we might be onto something…Elections Canada, take note. Albeit for the time being, we are stuck with Mr. Harper for the next few years…yet everything is still okay. No previous laws have been modified; the great lakes have not turned to blood and no sex before marriage bills have been proposed. No new taxes have been implemented –except for Mr. McGuinty’s tax\premium buffoonery— and no waves of endless locusts or in our case mosquitoes have eaten our collective skin or our crops. The future does seem friendly, which of course I take as the calm before the storm. Call it a prophetic itch but I just know one day Mr. Harper’s eyebrow will suddenly twitch and he will decide its time to “crack this bitch up.” I fear for that day. I just know it will come. When are we going to find out you drink your own blood Mr. Harper? Canadians deserve to know.

ZEN and Other Teachings

2006-03-23T03:35:00.000-05:00

1.) What is the sound of your head smashing into the ground? 2-) What is the name of the erotic screams you hear from outside your girlfriend’s apartment when surprise her by taking the afternoon off. 3-) A falling skyscraper is not best tool to be used as a sundial, especially if you are inside it. 4-) If a computer is suicidal, does it reboot itself? 5-) Love: Is like a gorgeous and rare flower, it dies 6-) If a jackhammer falls out of the sky, hits you in the head and knocks you into a coma does that mean God doesn’t like you? 7-) Suffering a stroke and a massive coronary failure simultaneously during orgasm blows. 8- He who runs into incoming fire could be called courageous, I prefer 'bullet sponge.' 9-) Healthy living is alive in Mexico where running for the US border is an Olympic sport. 10-) Enlarged brain tumour due to over use of cell phone verifies that brain size means nothing. 11-) Art is dying! Don't believe me? See Yoko Ono's show, and cry. 12-) "Royalty" is a romantic word for "Inbreeding."

New statistical report reveals: Valentine's in not what is all cracked up to be!

2006-03-23T03:32:00.000-05:00

True Valentine Horror Stories: Now that Hallmark’s holiday has come and gone is time to call it what it is: To put it nicely –as this is quality, respectful publication— Valentine’s Day is far too glamorized. Not everything is roses and chocolates out there. Sometimes it’s a war zone where your heart is no man’s land. Don’t believe it? Then you are deluded and probably on some cheap meds. As such, if you are lucky to have survived with your ego intact then maybe you won’t get suckered into Valentine’s next year. Still don’t believe? Then here are the experiences of some poor celebrity souls who are scarred for life: Mark Hamill: ‘I finally worked the nerve to ask this lady I had been eyeing since ’96. The date was going great, until I couldn’t help to murmur to myself: ‘The force is strong with you tonight, Luke…’ Suddenly, she twitched in horror and said, ‘Oh, you are THAT guy.’ She then excused herself to the ladies room never to be heard from again. I should really stop reliving the past.’ Tom Cruise: ‘Scientology does not have room for trivial beliefs like Valentine’s day. But if I did then I would make sweaty and disgusting sexual acts with Carlos, I mean Kate. Kate, you know Kate, my wife? The one carrying the son I made with my own sperm?’ Paul Martin: ‘I lost my cushy ass job; my gerbil and Melinda turned NDP and Harper is now wearing my old jammies. How would you feel?’ Paris Hilton: ‘I like told my boyfriend of the week we could get a room and make a sex tape. He got upset. I don’t get it.’ Eddie Murphy: ‘Actually, I am happily married, but my agent can’t get me any auditions so I had to settle for you people. I am starving here. How come no one told me I can’t sing for shit?’ Britney Spears: ’I asked Kevin to surprise me on Valentine’s Day. He got up really early for like once, then went out and got a job at a Jack in the Box but got fired the same day for slacking. I wasn’t surprised, but somehow I got knocked up, again.’ Bill Gates: “I was wondering when you would show up…’ Kate Moss: ‘So he opened this baggie, I thought it was baby talc, I swear!’ Colin Ferell: ‘Why am I on this list?’ Angelina Jolie: ‘I am with Colin. Who are you fucking people?

Newsbriefs: Part IV

2006-03-23T03:30:00.000-05:00

Rogers Expands Rogers on Demand TORONTO- Rogers Communications ever-growing lust to build an imperious monopoly over Canadians announced today details about their upcoming second-generation Rogers On Demand service. ‘It funny how it came to us,’ said an unapologetic Ted Rogers, ‘(The board and) I sat in my arboretum, just beneath my own small ten foot gold statue of myself wondering just how to expand the service beyond just movies. Then it hit us. Not everyone likes to just watch movies.’ According to their news release, Rogers On Demand will now include services from drugs, gambling and prostitution. ‘We simply could not believe we had neglected such an obvious market before. It might be a low denominator clientele, but we are talking hundreds of millions here.’ added Andrew Corripio head of Rogers’s global marketing. ‘You will find our prices to be very competitive. Not only that, there is also the extra advantage of bundling Rogers On Demand with any of our other telephony or cable services, trust me, you will definitely see some real savings on your monthly bill. We are very excited about our prospects.’ After being asked about the fact this initiative might be considered illegal by both local and federal authorities, Mr. Rogers added: ‘I have never given a fuck about what they thought in the past, I see no reason why to I should care now.’

Newsbriefs: Part III

2006-03-23T03:24:00.000-05:00

Harper Uncanadian: He ‘Dislikes’ Hockey Reuters- A barrage of civil unrest has ran amok in Harper’s old riding of Calgary West after it was discovered that Harper ‘dislikes’ Hockey. The verbal travesty was presumably heard by Harper’s cousin’s best friend’s girlfriend at the annual Harper Kegger party held at Stephen’s hometown of Toronto. According to reports, an anonymous party member channel-surfed the TV to a hockey game; Harper was then heard to have shouted ‘I dislike that!’ ‘Even though I was drunk and Harper’s wasn’t facing the TV, and some of the guys were trying to funnel some whiskey down his mouth, I am sure he heard Don Cherry’s play by play. He knew what was going on.’ Said Harper’s cousin’s best friend’s girlfriend, who asked to remain anonymous due to possible retaliation, ‘I am afraid for my tax return, I have a feeling I am not going to get any money back this year.’ In Calgary West the public outcry has been more severe, with dozens of party members looking angry, rumbling among themselves but doing nothing about it. ‘Sure he is the new Prime Minister and had grounds to be ecstatic and I heard that he had to be wasted after having all those body shots. I mean, had he said that something about Lacrosse, maybe even curling, we would understand, but Hockey? That un-Canadian! I just do not know who he is anymore, except maybe a Liberal hippie. Next he will say gay marriage is okay, for Christ’s sake!’ said a disgruntled Chris Strovinsky, now an ex-Harper supporter.

Newsbriefs: Part II

2006-03-23T03:18:00.000-05:00

How to be an Internet Playa! It was only a matter of time before technology and the human mating dance met face to face, went out for a few drinks and ended up in a Super 8. The result? A cyber-jungle of IM services plus a volley of single, dating and discrete encounters sites. A scene not much different than the de-humanizing meat-markets found in any half lit nightclub, it seemed like things were just going to be business as usual. BUT WAIT! With the invention of that great equalizer known as the Internet, it is finally irrelevant if you are shy or if your friends call you a Picasso come to life! THERE IS MORE! Now not only the ludicrously hot (not you) and extroverted can enjoy the sinful pleasures of straying into the fancy of multiple partners, whether you like it or not! BUT WAIT! ‘How does this remarkable system, undoubtedly created by a sage in the arts of seduction works,’ you ask? Simple, I made it a personal quest to travel the world, hopping from frisky Jamaica, to romantic Paris and to the more laissez-faire city of Amsterdam to collect research. The rest of Europe, Asia, and Africa were also on the itinerary—somewhere— but unfortunately, I got as far as mythical London, Ontario before running out of funds and forced to use a Money-Mart to buy the bus trip home. Either way, after ten minutes of Googling, I was able to extract the elixir to create this revolutionary system. WOW, I AM GETTING A LITTLE EXCITED! Yes, and you should be. TELL ME MORE! As part of your guide into history, you will receive my smouldering ‘How to be an Internet Player’ guide, smack full of essays and ‘how-to’ nuggets. Such as: Chapter I: Don’t offer to buy her a drink, you stupid. Chapter III: Typos as the lubricant of Internet love. Chapter VI (a): Stretching the truth is just another way of saying ‘I like you.’ Chapter VI (b): Instant Messengers are crude forms of communication, so what if you said you are 6’3’? Chapter VI (c): Having a six pack means different things to different people. How to just go with it. Chapter IIX: Ask her which Hollywood star she thinks is hot; then tell her you just happen to be his look-alike! If you have any qualms with this, refer to Chapter II. Chapter X: How come the women on the Lavalife dating website don’t look anything like the ones in the commercials? The mystery explained! Chapter XIII: How to type with only your left hand. Chapter XX: So, she ended up being a man? How to just go with it. THIS IS PURE GOLD… I AM SALIVATING! Yes, but there is more! Aside this soon to-be New York best seller, you will also get my 24\7 email support in case you have any questions. Yes, I will personally read and analyze your concerns and will advise in a true mentor like fashion. Send me your questions and orders to: Sendmeyourmoney@techemail.com IS THERE A CATCH? Are diamonds ever free? Most women have to get married just to get one. But don’t worry; you don’t have to marry me. I will settle for only five easy payments of $19.95! Yes! Benefit from my lack of pride! You will be enjoying the benefits of this brilliant system in no time, whether you like it or not!

Newsbrief: Part I

2006-03-23T03:08:00.001-05:00

Avian Flu Claims First A-List Victim Los Angeles - With the recent outbreak of the avian flu, it was only a matter of time before even the echelon of Hollywood’s A-list would start succumbing to its ill effects. ‘Sure it has been spreading, but no one cared when it was just any feathered chicken or fowl. Don’t we breed them by the millions? Just like rabbits for God’s Sake! But there is only one Big Bird.’ Said a Disney’s spokesperson when referring to the avian’s flu latest victim. ‘Big Bird is currently in our intensive care unit right here at the Disneyland Health Complex, right next to the chamber where we keep Walt’s cryogenically frozen head.’ It seems the famous Sesame Street veteran contracted the virus after experimenting with some Indonesian chickens that might or might have not been infected with the deadly flu-like-virus. ‘We warned him,’ said his publicist Peter Buevo ‘It was no secret he had his fallacies, we all do, but his philandering was just out of control! I mean…Indonesian chickens? Someone had to draw a line, but you just don’t go toe to toe with a seven-foot-nine bird who simply hates being wrong. I recall Cookie Monster being a pretty bright guy until BB got through mashing his head in with Oscar the Grouch’s garbage can. Everyone knows you don’t cross the Big Bird on anything unless you have some serious backup or packing heat.’ Doctors at the DHC say he might pull through but his chances are still pretty flighty. Disney has full ownership of Sesame Street, its employees along with Waltz’s head.

3 in 1: Just coming back... Happy New Year! Goowy... an online desktop for those on go!

2006-01-22T23:58:00.000-05:00

Ah, how time flies when you have a blog. I have been away for quite sometime. New Year’s was great. Went to Niagara Falls and had a blast. Won’t go into the details but it was one of the better New Year’s in the last couple of years. Besides, I really dislike doing the club thing. Not my cup of tea. Too much of a meat market ideology, everybody trying to pick everybody, besides, one pays upwards of $80 to enter a club that normally would cost $10 and for what? A few snacks and a cheap glass of bubbly at midnight? Come on… and throw in the fact that you are mostly surrounded by strangers? Really, there are better ways of ringing in the New Year. Okay on another note, I work for a bank and as such they like to block as much Internet access as possible. I am sure most other workplaces are the same or pretty similar. Also, they are not very keen on us installing any software on their machines. Okay, I sort of respect that, they are a business and they do not want their employees messing up their machines. However, did I mention that I am an Email admin? Well, they like to block all of us. Particularly tech people, since we are the sneaky ones who might try to get something by the system. So, that is what I am doing. Sure, I am not installing anything on my machine, as a lot of companies out there are pretty vigilant and that would be wrong **cough**—they keep a record of what we install—**cough** However, I have found this app that gives you the power to have an “Online” desktop that you can pretty much carry everywhere you go. That way, you can access it from any machine that has Internet access. You got email (inbox is 2Gigs!), a calendar, RSS feeds, weather, and pretty much anything else you can imagine. Sure Yahoo and others do the same but a lot of companies block such obvious solutions. Also it would be a crime not to use it, particularly since it is free! So here give it a try, Google the name ‘Goowy’ read a review and enjoy the newest fad. Desktop on the go! Oh, or if you are the impatient type, then just click here, and create and account and be one of the cool-geek kids! This is dedicated to those tech (Read: Geek) friends of mine who say I never share anything good and cutting edge when I find it.

A Bruck-Zen Moment II

2005-12-22T07:04:00.000-05:00

Stage: College subway station about a block from my place, catching up with a friend while she waited for a Streetcar. I had not seen in her for a few months but I had just given her my still valid TTC day pass. ‘…And that’s what the note said in the book I went to pick up today... I thought it peculiar.’ (Read: 'A bishop, a belcher and Stevie' in the December archives) She looked blankly at me for a few seconds. ‘You know, you are weird.’ 'Huh? What did you say?’ ‘You are weird Mauricio.’ ‘…Because I told you about what happened to me with the book?’ She then proceeded to tap me lightly on my chest. ‘Thank you for not dating me.’ ‘Huh?’ (She had a thing for me at the beginning of '05) Some awkward silence followed. Weird? Like weird?’ I said holding my tongue, although I was starting to warm it up in case she maelstrom-ed on me. Then the streetcar came. ‘Okay bye,’ she said as she tapped my shoulder. ‘Thanks for the day pass.’ Yes, I got I annoyed. So I said it like it is: 'I see, this coming from a woman who married a Dominican after knowing him for less than two weeks at one-week intervals throughout the summer and is now trying to bring him to Canada under the pretence that he will love you forever? In case you are wondering, I am not the one importing a husband. So be careful who you call weird. Measure your words.'

She gave me a look that reeked to disdain as she left for her street car. Mmm, I doubt she will be calling anytime soon.

A Bruck-Zen Moment I

2005-12-22T00:11:00.000-05:00

Stage: Octopus Lounge ‘So, you an owner?’ ‘Yes, and I hate people too.’ Curiously, that was the last thing I thought an owner of a busy little Italy Lounge would say. But we live and learn. Later, I would learn that he was the brother of one of the 3 owners of that establishment.

From the Archives II

2005-12-21T23:52:00.000-05:00

(Notes at bottom). The Date The sweat on the small of his back gave it all away The fulfilment from the date was surprising for a first As it is hard to resist love on the first day of May And a Spring which makes people for seduction lust and thirst Regardless of age, from time to time one needs to do wild, crazy things For unfulfilled passion can easily bore both, and the status quo Thus one should eat to eat, drink-to-drink and sing-to-sing Or risk becoming a restive fool, as your soul doesn’t know where else to grow Her closed eyes and simper Was a delight for him to watch! As time no longer ruled his office Surprisingly, he had hired his very match The picture on his desk was neatly facing down No need to execute the feeling For morality was really, the last thing on their minds As this night would not be forgotten Come lovers! Break the chains and bind For reality would have eventually caught you …And as for the children? Their parents will soon take the stand For his heavy gold wedding band Given to prove to the Lord her undying love Was nowhere near his hand But on an inside jacket pocket on the floor (Someone once asked me to write about one of the topics that I hate to think about. Well, the idea of cheating has always bothered me, because like anyone, I would never want to be on the receiving end, so I wrote this as an exercise, I think it came out okay).

Update: Rogers does it again!

2005-12-21T23:16:00.000-05:00

After the media got a hold of it. The Mighty Ted Rogers realizing the client would not go away into that gentle goodnight and pay $12,000 -- sorry, it was up to $14,000 acrued to the interest charges while the matter got resolved-- AND allowed a mockery to be made of his cellular business has publicly announced the fee will be waived. *Poof,* just like that, like a magician would a quarter. Oh, no. Ted now in full safe-face mode went a step further and asked her for tea and maybe a few crumpets, you know, to round it all off. TEA? After the fact that Rogers was about had denied all responsability and state that they would sue her? Under the grounds that she was responsible because someone broke into her home and stole her cell phone while on a trip abroad? Thank you Rogers for your samaritan bout of common sense. To bad it had to be preluded by the possibilty of loosing countless thousands in bad PR. Bruck. On the same note, I would like to see, once the true story is out, for Bush to have some hot mocha with the thousand of Iraq people that had their homes bombed back to the stone age. Since he can't have a drink with the thousands who died in his little feud for cheaper oil, but which true numbers have yet to be revealed to the American people. Oh well, guess that will go on my wish list.

Ah, Toronto.com...the memories.

2005-12-19T16:25:00.000-05:00

Finding the notebook with all those poems (Read: 'From the Archives') made me remember that I used to do a lot of writing when I was younger. For example, when I was nineteen I used to work as a freelance writer for www.Toronto.com. On a hunch I decided to see if there was anything left, after all I must have written dozens of reviews from book stores to restaurants. So I started doing a quick google search and voila! I found one. Bruck. Actually two, but the link for the review for the World's Biggest book store was dead. I could not believe my luck though since I wrote these little reviews almost a decade ago. I don't even remember writing this particular one, but I do remember the chance to work from home and going by my own schedule. Quite a different job structure than now. Life was good. Here is THE one left: http://toronto.citysite.sl.ca/profile/146916/

Rogers does it again!

2005-12-19T12:17:00.000-05:00

I really dislike Rogers. I am one of the many who has had a history of bad experiences with their services. Also, I have found some of their procedures to be sneaky and underhanded.

For example, I got a Nokia 6190 through Rogers three years ago due to a corporate deal I was illegible through my place of work. When I got it, I was advised by the salesman in the corporate store that I had fifteen (15) days to try the phone and if I did not like it – either phone or service or both— that I could return it for a full refund. ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘that’s fair.’ Case in point, Fido used to have a thirty-day return policy, but since Rogers bought them they have fallen into line with their parent company and reduced it to fifteen days as well.

Luckily I made my mind of whether to keep the phone or not after a really quick call to my then new voice mail system. Imagine my surprise when I called Rogers to cancel. ‘Have you used it?’ Was the CSR’s first question, ‘Yes, I did.’ ’Then most likely you cannot return the phone.’ ‘Why?’ ‘If you use the phone for more then fifteen (15) minutes then you void your option to cancel the contract. Unless you pay the ‘contract cancellation fee.’ ‘How much is that?’ I asked as I went through the phone’s call timer. ‘Twenty dollars for every outstanding month, to a limit of $200.’ ‘The man at the corporate store forgot to mentioned that small fact.’ ‘Fifteen minutes is pretty short, with Fido you can use the phone for as long as you want for 30 days. How is anyone supposed to figure how good their phone is if they can only use it for fifteen minutes?’ ‘That’s what is in the contract, Sir.’

Wait, so Rogers has a policy stating that you may return a phone within fifteen days only if used for less than fifteen minutes? What kind of insane clause is that? Had the salesman mentioned this fact when I bought the phone my perception of my options would have been quite different. I felt such ‘oversight’ on the part of the salesman highly underhanded. As I did ask about the exceptions and limitations regarding their return policy.

’Eight minutes,’ I said to the CSR. ‘I have only used the phone for only eight minutes!’ ‘Can’t be, because we have been talking for more than 15 minutes.’ ‘I am using my landline.’ You are not getting me that easily I thought. ‘Okay, what I would recommend then is just drop by the store you bought it and ask for a refund. I would also recommend that you do not use the phone.’ ‘Gee, thanks.’

I got a full refund the next day. But I could not help to wonder how many times this happens out there. Less then a year and a half ago, Peter one of my friends was stuck having to pay the $200 dollars because he made the mistake of expending his allocated 15 minutes on hold to speak to a CSR to cancel his service before the deadline. ‘You can’t cancel Sir, you have exceeded the fifteen minutes usage clause.’ ‘But I have used them to call your Help line to CANCEL the line.’ Sorry Sir, the limitation is fifteen minutes so in your case to cancel is no longer an option.’

In Peter’s case he was forced to pay the $200 as he was advised that his account would otherwise be sent to accounts receivable and promptly forwarded to a collection agency, which would stain his credit rating.

Marcus, colleague of mine, who works with me but used to work for Rogers as a CSR told me that he was regularly reminded by management that if they found errors in people’s accounts that they should not bring it up unless a customer brought it up first. Since according to management the system would auto correct itself anyway. He never believed it though.

Which brings me to another of my stories of woe. I must have been on some cheap drugs but I somehow brought myself to giving Rogers another try, mostly due to a very attractive offer my job was once again promoting. I bought a Motorola T720 and whether it was the abysmal reception (I lived in a condo 3 minutes away from their downtown headquarters which is littered with reception towers!) or the fact that every single bill for the four months I was with them had errors. I ended paying the $200 to get the bloody hell out of Rogers. Luckily I was able to sell the phone so I managed to cover most of the expense. You can imagine my annoyance since my Fido account has never had a SINGLE billing error, and I had by then been with them for over 6 years! Too bad Rogers bought Fido last year, and they now share the same billing system. Damn you Rogers.

Heck, there is even a guy who got so fed up after being screwed by Rogers that he created a website in which people could voice their rants. He seems to have relaxed a bit, but the rants are still an excellent and more often than not hilarious read: http://www.ihaterogers.ca/index.htm

On more recent news, you may like to read the following story that just ran in the Globe and Mail during the weekend, because if you are with Rogers then this could happen to you. A law professor was in total shock when she received a $12,237.60 bill from Rogers. It seems her phone was stole from her home while away and over three hundred long distance calls were charged to her account, including calls to foreign countries such as Pakistan, Libya, Syria, India and Russia. Quite a change from someone whose average bill is $75. What it is even more shocking is Rogers’s propensity to just look the other way, even though they have admited to possessing the technology to track fraud-in-process, alarm the client and freeze the account. After all, the true colours of how a corporation treats its clients are most obvious in the efficiency it resolves your concerns and not by just seating back and collecting your monthly payments. Good one Rogers, very smooth. Click here for the article.

From the Archives I

2005-12-17T16:38:00.000-05:00

I while ago, I had to do a little bit of rearranging in my place. As fate would have it, I ended up finding some really old notes inside one of the dressers, particularly a notebook that I had not seen in a number of years. Now, I am not a big fan of poetry, but it seems like I used to since somehow I managed to scrape forty odd poems out of my head. So I though it interesting if I shared a few of them with you. (The strange spacing on the second and fifth verse may seem odd but the sentences was to long for this blog, but the flow seemed to get all messed up if I made them into different sentences so I just left them alone).

Sirens There is nothing to hide within Our eyes. For they are as a looking glass Alluring. A reverie, far away from sin But gaze too near and you will miss our tide Otherwise, a ramping tempest or a venturesome kiss of delirious spring In your new course you’ll come to utterly comprehend. Voyager, draw closer to our den. Bless from our humility standing tall. Let us your shell mend and amend For in our isle, we’ll boast a drink in your heart Urging in canorous song, to find in thy sextant what it is that you thirst for And for winds and waves to come in wreath and succor Thus, benefiting thy endeavour… to this we promise our Lord. Our choir’s serenade travels the sequestered realms In your mind…Tie not your thoughts to a sinking ship Flee! Escape from your wooden maelstrom of subsistence Release thyself on the tantalizing bloom of the daughters of Hecate It is thy will to allow our liaison to flourish. To embrace and opiate in our shapes and gifts Breathe in our skin, with levity spoken for by Gods For it is bestowed upon us the pietant recourse to sift, through the brave and the lost Navigate thy swelling head and heel to the red coral of providence Let us be your compass of your recourse As your blood and flesh inveigle us Do not protest! Do not deny! Do not let your ears be dour! Unite in our Arcady of souls Plunge your quest underneath ours cotton crests Your vessel will share its wealth, as you will share ours Our deep treasure, hidden from all others in the blanket of the sea Follow, Voyager, follow the tail of our song Like a summer’s sunset, your odium will not linger or be long, Near the rocks you shall peacefully rest, from your weary journey Follow, you who are so fond, fall for the calling of our tongue Voyager, voyagers follow the tails of our song

A bishop, a belcher and Stevie

2005-12-16T16:15:00.000-05:00

I love reading. The seed was sowed –whether I had liked it or not– when I was a wee lad, no older than four I think. I was curious about the colour of the sky, so I went to my father, the fountain of all my knowledge back then and asked why it was blue. His answer still resonates loudly even today: ‘We have a library, go look it up.’ Damn. Whether he was too busy with whatever dads do when their kids ask them strange questions or he was teaching me a life lesson about the innate power of books has escaped the grasp of my memory and now, I will never know for certain. But after his passing, the seed he had so subtlety planted had matured not only into an adult but also into a very avid reader. Now, let’s fast forward to two and half months ago. I was enjoying myself at a bar on the Queen Street strip called the Bishop and the Belcher, catching up with a few friends and discussing photography. A few pints had tagged along as well. We were there until pretty late and whether it was alcohol, forgetfulness, tiredness or just my propensity for mixing all of the aforementioned options, I ended up leaving a book on the booth we had been at. Realizing it the moment I got home I phoned the bar. ‘Yeah, it’s here. Drop by anytime to pick it up. I’ll leave it behind the bar’s register.’ Said the man on the other line. ‘Phew.’ I felt much better as I was well one third into it and was curious to see it through. What’s the name of the book, you ask? It’s ‘Stephen King On Writing,’ by, well…duh. But first allow me to tell you just how much I normally dislike Stephen’s main body of work. In the books of his that I have dwelled in, I always come out with the same conclusion: 'overly populist,' and by that I mean too mainstream. So, what if he has millions of fans and doesn’t need to work another day in his life? No, that’s not it. I simply can’t relate to horror novels in general, and partly because I cannot relate to the general subjects he picks, particularly his later work. Yes, I am unfairly shooting a horror genre messenger here, I know. That’s like saying that I hate the colour white because I dislike zebras. Yet I would never dare say the man lacks talent. In fact, I have yet to read another writer alive who has honed the craft to such capacity where his words seem to so effortlessly flow from page to page like a mountain stream pouring down towards the sea. He is that good. That is why I bought the book in the first place. In it he describes not only his take on writing, thankfully avoiding his usual clichés like poltergeists, socially awkward youth with startling mental powers and viruses wiping out 99.9% of the human race and talks candidly about his childhood and how he got into the craft. Imagine my surprise to discover he begun writing due to his frail heal which kept him indoors for a good chunk of his early years. This book is simply full of surprises. It is really one of his best works and I cannot recommend it enough, especially for any would-be writer. Like they say, ‘if you love to write, you’ve got to love to read.’ Okay, back to the present, my apartment and the issue of the lost Stevie. I thought of dropping by on that weekend and pick it up. ‘No worries,’ I thought. I mean, they found the book, is not like it was going to go anywhere, or so I thought. I ended dropping by the following Monday night. Looking forward to finishing those two thirds left. Just as if I was continuing a dish that I had saved in the fridge for when I was really hungry. ‘Sorry. Can’t find it.’ ‘Excuse me? The guy I talked to last Thursday said that it would be in the bar.’ 'Sorry. Checked already. It’s not here. Maybe it got moved to the office. I don’t have keys for the back. You are gonna have to come during the day when a manager is in, but call first.’ With that he resumed pouring a draft. Damn. So I called a few days later. ‘Yes, its here,’ said the manager. ‘When would be a good time for you to pick it up?’ I was a little annoyed, but figured the weekend seemed like a good bet. I said I would be there on Saturday morning to pick it up. ‘Sure, ask the bartender, it will be at the bar.’ Okay, no big deal, the book is there, is not like someone took it, this sort of thing happens I told myself. ‘Sorry. Can’t find it.’ ‘Wha? I spoke to your manager on Tuesday. I was told it would at the bar.’ ’Sorry. Can’t find it.’ ‘The manager said it would be at the bar.’ ‘Who did you speak to?’ ‘Didn’t ask. How many managers do you have on a Tuesday?’ ‘Two’ Damn. ‘Well, the woman.’ ‘They are both women.’ Double-damn. ‘You are gonna have to call back and speak with whomever you spoke about it.’ ‘But if I don’t have their name how am I going to know unless I call until next Tuesday?’ ‘Then you are going to have to wait. Look, I am really busy and I looked. I am busy and it’s not here. I can’t help you.’ And with that she turned and ignored me away. Bitch. So, I wait until next Tuesday and I speak to Jennifer, the manager. ‘We can’t find it Mauricio.’ How could that be? She told me she had it only a few days before. I felt like someone was playing me for a fool. ‘I saw it, but we are in the process of moving. Maybe it got packed into one of the boxes by one of the owners.’ I sighed. ‘Alright, when are you moving?’ ‘Two weeks.’ ‘…!’ ‘Hello?’ ‘Sorry,’ I said as I bit the %$^##R$#@ hell out of my tongue. ‘I am just thinking what my options are here.’ ‘You could try calling after we move.’ ‘…!!’ ‘Hello?” ‘That’s fine, I’ll call in two weeks.’ ‘Sorry.’ She said as she gave me the new address near Bloor and Church streets. ‘Thank you anyways, Jennifer.’ Alright, I bought the book on sale. I did not even pay full price for it. The book went for $37 Canadian when it originally came out –yeah, for real— I paid $6 at a used bookstore. I could just get another copy, and get it over with. But no, I liked my copy. I liked the way I folded the pages to keep track of where I was. No, no cheap cop-out, I was going to get my book back. If anything I was going to do it for the principle of it. But, if they ultimately lost it, is not like the world was going to crash and burn. Right? Right. To be honest, I forgot about the entire affair after the first week. I mean, it was just one book and if anything it was probably in one of Toronto’s landfills by now. Ready to be enjoyed by a flock of seagulls as either nesting filler or toilet paper. So the weeks went by. Sometimes I would remember and call but kept getting the same message, the phone did not exist. Strange since Jennifer told me they would keep the same number. Another week or two flew by. The week after that one I tried again. Bingo! Someone picked up and apologized, it seems Bell Canada had messed up the line transfer and had finally gotten around to correct it. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I left a book at your old location...’ As was getting ready to fill her in, ‘You mean, the Stephen King book?’ She interrupted. Great! She knew about it, which would save me a good ten minutes of my life I would otherwise not get back. ‘We lost it.’ You had got to be kidding me! How could they loose it? I mean, come on! ‘It was packed on the move. I saw it here, but I can’t find it anymore. Maybe someone trashed it.' ‘Why would they do that?’ I asked in surprise. ‘Well, it had been here for over a month, maybe the individual figured you would not be back for it.’ Sadly, she did have a point and I think she could hear my disappointment. ‘How about if you call in a week, maybe it will turn up.’ ‘Yeah, sure,’ I said. Yup, seagull-toilet-paper, for sure. ‘I will call. Thanks either way.’ A week went by and I did not call. I was in the process of doing some packing of my own as the entire floor in my apartment was going to get redone and had to move everything from my living room and into the bedroom and move out for a few days. Besides, I had lost hope in the book. It was gone. Out of my head. Finito, Adios! Or so I kept telling myself. But from time to time the thought had a way of cropping up through the proverbial “what if…” scenario. It bothered me and I hated it. I am one of those who have trouble biting the bullet when it comes to this things –okay— maybe I am a little stubborn, so after another week I found myself making the time to get off at Yonge and Bloor subway station. I hadn’t called the new and improved Bishop and the Belcher but it was only a few minutes away from the subway and at least this way I would know for sure. The new place is located at the bottom of an office building and has a somewhat sombre feel to it. Guess some of that ‘office building vibe’ managed to ooze its way into it. It had a quirk-ness about it before when it was on Queen Street, but now it looked like a strange green-carpeted-Firkin bar. If you know what I mean by the word 'Firkin,' then you know it is no great compliment. I got there in middle of the afternoon, way after the beehive lunch hour and the establishment was deserted. ‘Hi,’ I said to the pretty brunette near the bar. ‘I know this is going to sound strange, but I left a book here a long…’ ‘The Stephen King book?’ ‘Uh, ummm…Yeah. It got packed. Jennifer told me it might have been boxed in the move and that I should drop by…’ She went to the back, behind the bar. ‘I guess you found it?' You got to be kidding me. She came back wearing a very cheerful smile. Here. It’s Mauricio, right? ‘Umm, yeah, thank you.’ ‘No problem,’ and with that, just like that she turned back and disappeared into the kitchen. Ok, that was anti-climatic and a half. On my way home on the subway, it suddenly hit me, this book had been out there for quite a long time, months even, how did it get lost? Had it been misplaced in some drawer along with some steak and chicken condiments? Used as a doorstop? A paperweight? Where had it been? I felt like I aught to be angry or pissed off. Well, wherever it had been, now that I had it back, I sure wasn’t going to let it out of my sight. Yes, I might have gone a bit overboard, but we are talking about a good book here. One that had picked my curiosity out of countless other books, one I wanted to get to read to its last page: It was MY ‘Stephen King on Writing.’ Albeit I felt a little silly for feeling so interested, even a little too passionate –or bloody stubborn, some would say— about it. In the middle of all of this, I noticed a small bulge within the hardcover; it was a piece of paper; a neatly folded white piece of paper, right in the middle of the book, and this is what it said: ‘To the owner of this book, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for taking your book home. It sat in the back for a few days and the book had pigeon(ed) my interest, so I figured I would take it, read it, and bring it back. I meant no harm and I am sorry. Enjoy it Sir, for it is rightfully yours to enjoy. From, The Book Thief’ I had to smile. How could I not? I couldn’t be upset. After all, the individual brought it back. Besides the curiosity of a good book, a good read, is what kept me going back and not just for Stephen’s tome, but to every single book I have ever picked up after the day I was old enough to question the colour of the sky. I could honestly relate with this person and I was not about to get pissed off at the fact that he was also an avid reader just like me. If anything, I felt an odd camaraderie with this stranger…amazing the power of books, isn’t? It left me thinking and remembering for a moment, ‘Thanks for the great lesson dad,’ I thought to myself. I smiled again as I folded the piece of paper into my pocket. Whomever the Book Thief is: Apology accepted.

An 'Enlightened Heart,' for men.

2005-12-12T04:51:00.000-05:00

In one of my many adventures as an organizer of a social group I found myself at Insomnia, a trendy lounge in downtown Toronto a few weeks ago next to someone who was wearing a shirt that read: “Remember my name, because you will be screaming it later.” Never having even heard that comment before, I could not restrain myself from commenting on it: “Very funny,” I said with a hint of friendly sarcasm in my voice. Then asked if it ever worked. “It worked while I was in Vancouver” he responded. He was funny and he didn’t strike me as the shy type. Actually he seemed like the type who would benefit from a little shyness. We quickly got into conversation. The usual thing you would talk to a stranger at a bar. He had just moved to Toronto from aforementioned Vancouver –hated the weather, by the way—and he had just gotten a new job at a computer firm. My job as a computer analyst gave us more than a few things in common but being a Friday, we non-verbally agreed not to speak about our jobs. ‘So what else do you do?’ Ah…here is where things got interesting. “A have a side business…” he said before continuing. “I am just starting it.” I could tell he was hesitating. It was understandable, I was a complete stranger and we had talked for less than five minutes. He reached in his jeans and pulled a business card and handed over to me. The main caption read ‘Enlightened Heart.’ Printed in calligraphy not much different than what you would find on a turn of the 1800’s cover of a Harlequin novel. His name was below this. Wha? ‘I teach shy people how to get women.’ ‘Really?’ I said without disguising the doubt in my voice. ‘Yes.’ ‘What are your credentials?’ ‘My life.’ ‘Huh?.’ ‘Yeah.’ Then I read the back of the card, it read ‘Personal life and relationship mentor,’ and an uplifting quote regarding being able to get what you want out of life. I asked if he was any good with the ladies. No answer, just a sheepish smile. ‘If so, why come out to my social group?’ I asked. ‘Field research.’ Bruck. At least he was honest. ‘You know,’ I said, ‘ I give a lot of free advise. Doing it for over a decade now. Heck, you could say that I am giving away the business for free.’ ‘The world is not short of misguided people.’ He said. God, did I know that to be right. He made me think: What if I have gotten five dollars for every time I helped someone hook up with their crush? Ten for every time I set someone up? And, what if I charged by the hour for the long nights spent over the phone telling a friend who had just been dumped that he\she would be fine until four o’clock in the morning? Holy mother lode! Perhaps this guy was onto something. From then on we jumped head first into many theories regarding dating and the mating dance. I have to admit, he had some good points regarding how to approach a woman: the avoiding of pickup lines at all costs, the importance of attitude over looks and other general things. Even though we came from different sides of the fence, which is understandable since points of views a based on experience. It was still interesting to see the similarities and not so similar takes on the opposite sex. Either way, “the scene” is biased towards the shy and the timid. By the way, did I mention that there was a lady sitting practically between ‘Dale’ and me? Listening to everything we had said and I have to admit she did not seem very impressed with either of us. Not that we were being lewd, but I think she did not appreciate two guys trying to suck the romanticism out of romanticism by making it sound like some sort of hard science. By the way, Dale, if you ever read this, I am giving you free advertising, so don’t come complaining. On a related note, haven’t seen it yet, but ‘Hitch,’ a recent summer movie starting Will Smith touches on the same subject. Men helping other men meet women, for a price... Generally, when Hollywood zeroes in on a subject, it is already at least six months too late to be on the edge of anything controversial. However, it is fascinating how ‘the scene’ has changed in the last decade. As roles and expectations evolve due to economics, social standards and with feminism inching forward, men may find themselves at a loss. Let’s not forget to add services and venues such as the internet and speeding dating just to mention a few which push the mainstream envelope on how people meet people, its is no surprise a few of us may turn to some sort of guidance to navigate the urban jungle. A few hours later, Dale said he had another party to attend to but that he was glad that the dropped by. I knew he was in fact networking for his business but told him he was welcome to drop by anytime. After all I am the organizer of a social group. ’So is this what he really does?’ A girl in my group asked me at the end of the night after studying his business card. ‘So it seems,” I said. ‘Strange, he seemed kinda quiet.’

Jazz at The Pilot

2005-12-06T18:46:00.000-05:00

Busy a Sunday it has been. For the most part pleasurable. Went out with the social group again. I have to, in order to organize it into a lean, mean social machine. Still a few people short from all those who RSVP’ed – read my entry on Insomnia to get what I am talking about.

This time, for some live Jazz at The Pilot which in case you may not know, it’s located in Yorkville, but sans the posturing and attitude. As a hole in the wall, is classified as a tavern, you would think it to have a lot of everybody-knows-your-name regulars. Which in fact it does, some going back at least 20 years. Although I don’t think the regulars go around advertising it, as it lacks the glamour of other life achieving benchmarks.

Either way the music hit the spot. Sure there were a few holiday songs which I know I’ll get sick of hearing throughout the season. However if this is going to happen either way, then we might as well start off with a welcoming Jazz arrangement of them, as if to wash our auditory palate clean –a musical wasabi if you will— before the regular renditions hit full force.

The main singer, Laila Biali is very talented and the place was very intimate in size. We got lucky getting a table near the band, the acoustics were all right like most places in Toronto but it was free –aside food and drink— which would have been asking too much.

I am happy to report that as time goes, more and more familiar faces are starting to show. An excellent sign that people are starting to get connect, which as the organizer, I am starting to feel like I am making a positive difference.

Update: Martini’s at Insomnia (I am back)

2005-12-03T02:42:00.000-05:00

It was fun. But getting right to the point, how many showed up? Physically about 12. But the funny thing is that our reservation got moved, so there is chance people might have showed up, gone right to the back of the place (where our location was supposed to be but was not), and then left. For example there were these two girl that came and sat on the bar, chilled for about two hours and finally approached us and ask: Are you part of the social group? Well, yes. so they joined us. The fact is that I am still wondering how many people might have showed up. Mmm, the mind wonders. Well, I guess I will find out soon enough whe people start emailing me. But as I said before, I surprised the manager since twenty people did not show. Ah, being an organizer can be such a variable. -M.

The night Gentleman-hood might have lost a Believer.

2005-12-02T18:27:00.000-05:00

‘She tried to make you feel guilty?’ I asked my friend Alex. He nodded. ‘Wow, how do you feel about it?’ I could tell it was bothering him. ‘I assume that you’re not talking anymore?’ He nodded again. It was peculiar –I had to admit it— but funny. In a horrible sort of way funny.

Okay, so here is what happened:

My friend goes to a birthday party of an old female friend at this place on Queen St. West called…well, let’s keep the actual name out, as you never know who might one day be reading this.

The birthday party was going well as pints, martinis, cigarettes and pictures were getting drunk, smoked and taken. Everyone was smiling and communal. It sounded like a pretty good party to me. Soon, after a few drinks everyone was everyone’s good old friend and it is normally then when some men, after having just a bit of ‘liquid-courage’ will approach the one girl in the party that might have caught their eye.

‘So, how do you know Suzanne?’ was his opening question to the cute blonde who was smiling with a welcoming smile reserved for only close friends or those who we instinctually find sexually appealing. There was obviously some attraction happening there. ‘And then what happened?’

They talked, laughed and flirted themselves from the rest of the pack and into a quiet corner of the lounge. He found out about her job, aspirations and even about her pet dog Mildred. It sounded promising.

Alex although not shy with women in the least, barely ever shares any info about his private life, even to me and I have known the guy forever. This girl, let’s call her Lisa, had really made an impression on him.

So it was no surprise when the party finally died down and everybody was outside wondering what to do with the rest of the night. They both agreed to take their leave together.

‘I was going east and so was she, so I thought me and Lisa could walk until we went our separate ways.’ That’s nice, walk with her and get to know her better I thought. We have all been there, you meet someone you get along so well you find yourself wishing for the night not to end. ‘It felt really good. At one point she said her hands were cold and put her right hand in my coat pocket along with mine. We were holding hands and hoping it no one would notice our connection. We said good-bye to the few smokers who were still deciding where to go and started walking.’

This was getting more interesting by the minute. ‘Aha, go on…and then?’

After walking for about twenty minutes, she decided that it was time to let me know she was married and her husband was waiting at home.

‘Just like that?!’ ‘Just like that…’ ‘Like that?’ ‘Aha.’ ‘Oh. That sucks. What did you do? ‘Aside feeling foolish and weird, well, nothing…I wasn’t sure what to do.’ ‘So what did you do?’ ‘We kept on walking.’ ‘Ah. Not much talking then, eh?’ ‘No.’ ‘Unless you are into that sort of thing…’ ‘Shut up.’

So kept on walking they did until the proverbial fork on the road came. Knowing Alex, I am sure he was happy when that happened –I mean— who wouldn’t? But the night wasn’t quite over yet. Lisa then asked since it was so late if he could be kind enough to walk her home, eight blocks away.

Which leads us back to what was bothering Alex. He felt bad for leaving a woman in the middle of the city at 3:00am even if she was married. I mean, technically that didn’t change the fact that he was leaving her in a deserted street. But what would happen if he walked her with her husband at home? Can you imagine it? Ouch!

What did he do? You ask? He refused. He declined and told her that he would only walk her if she needed to, but that she could now easily take a taxi. She wasn’t to far from home and it would avoid the possible serious consequences of the mixture of two men and a very flirtatious wife. She in turn was said a cold ‘Fine!” and walked in separate directions.

But that wasn’t the end of it. A few days later…Alex told he had spoken with Suzanne and confirmed that Lisa was in fact married. He also told me he spoken with Lisa, as it turns out she had given him her business card too. In their short conversation she called him as being less than a gentleman and a looser for leaving her. I begged Alex to tell me if he reminded Lisa she had kept the fact that she was married until the very end. That would have been what I would call a counter-check, but no, our boy failed to do so. She also said that she was going to tell all her friends –Suzanne included— of his ‘fake’ behaviour towards women and then hanged up. Ah, the drama of today’s battle of the sexes.

Do I believe this whole story? Hey, why not? It sounds too good to be made up. All the facts came from the horse’s mouth, but of course for the sake off all involved I did change the names as in the end it takes nothing from it all. Also I did ask for permission to post this, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t ask first?

In the end, what could I do but to tell my Alex that everything will work out? Will this change his ways? Well, I sure hope he doesn’t again to him or anyone for that matter. Since to all who reads this will know the underlying themes that were going on the minds of these two at least for some of the time. Do I agree with their actions? I have my opinions, but hey, I am just the messenger. Don’ shoot me.

Update: Martini’s at Insomnia

2005-12-02T18:07:00.000-05:00

You know, the one thing that ticks me off about being the organizer of 300+ people social group? http://newlysingle.meetup.com/450/ ...Is that you never know for sure how many will end up dropping by. Don’t get me wrong, I love the gig and meet new people constantly and so far everyone who I have met has been polite, friendly and willing to increase their circle of friends. In other words, I am glad to have met them.

In this world there are two type of people, those who organizer and those who attend. I prefer the former. It’s far easier than just trying to work out something last minute with your friends and for some reason, people don’t like to make decisions, I guess no one wants to be the fall guy.

I am the blessing and the nightmare of restaurants and bars managers. Do I book a table of ten and then thirty people show up or visa versa? Uh? Let me flip for it! Why not make the stakes higher? Fifty people say that will or might drop by at my party. Should I only book for twenty? Sounds safe, no? Well, what the hell. I make the reservation.

That party is in two hours. I will let you know.

Adventure in a Spanish speaking group.

2005-12-01T12:15:00.000-05:00

This is a short editorial piece I wrote, which can be found on their website here. In this day and age of the Internet, finding individuals who you share common interests with is as easy as doing a simple Google search. It does not, however, take away the uncertainties of finding yourself face-to-face with an individual or a room full of complete strangers. To some that is a concern they would hope to not have to face. But that is what I did when I decided to find someone with whom I could practice my fleeting Spanish. True, I am and was raised in a Spanish speaking country, but after more than 16 years expatriating without as much as uttering a seldom sentence, I found Darwin’s maxim: “If you don’t use it you loose it,” ringing more true everyday. Sure, rumours abound of Internet horror stories – and we all heard of a few – and some did cross my mind, but I decided to give it a try anyway. You reap what you sow is how the saying goes. So eventually my google searching lead me to a downtown bar on Prince Arthur Street on a Monday night: The Bedford Academy to be exact. Walked in, not knowing where to go, but after asking the friendly bartender, I was directed to go to “round table near the front window” of the bar. This seemed to be the groups ‘signature table.’ Since then the actual table now changes from time to time as it seems that as more people find out about the group, the meetings get ushered to the bigger tables at the back. Which is far from being a bad thing. It was then when I met ”Mafalda” the organizer and the rest of the gang. Her real name is Liane, but nicknamed after Quino’s famous Argentinean comic strip character of the same name. Known for her strong opinions yet never loosing the innocence that normally comes while acquiring them. Also having a slight physical resemblance does not hurt to further the point. Eventually you will get to meet Darwin and Joel, the two founding members of the ‘Spanish Group Matadores,’ both quite willing to tell the history behind the group which goes back to December 2003. However, I will let them tell you the story. The meetings are amazing. The rules of the club, aside the cordialities of civilized society are pretty much open. One is free to pick a topic, and if one happens to be shy about starting a conversation, not to worry someone is bound to make feel at en su casa soon enough. The welcoming disposition hangs in the air creating a friendly English free zone, where Spanish is the only language spoken. In minutes you are part of the group and totally up to you to join in the conversations or simply watch and listen them go by like real-time collages, but without the subtitles. It is hard to believe learning a different language would be so easy as attending bi-weekly meetings and having a drink or two. Sure one can take classes, and in no way I would dare negate their benefits. Yet there is something to be said about hearing a language being spoken natively without taking notes and the overbearing anxiety of upcoming tests. Besides, once you come to a few nights, you will quickly discover that you are not only learning a new language you might find yourself also building new friendships. I don’t know about you, but that worth more than the price of admission. Did I mention the admission is free? You can be part of this great group by clicking in the following link: http://speak-spanish-club.mexican.ca/index.htm

Mauricio’s Mercenary Report:

2005-11-29T20:56:00.000-05:00

“Why do I care so much about getting your money? Because I am a multi-billion dollar bank owner!” Many of you may have seen – whether you like it or not – WestJet’s new “Why do we care so much? Because we are also WestJet owners” advertising campaign. Has anyone given some real thought at this mockery of the art of advertising? In one ad a lady in her early 20’s brings what could be one of her equally aged lovers to meet her parents for the first time. Right in the middle of dinner, the father noticeably concerned in the future dowry and financial well being of his offspring cuts right to the chase and asks point blank range: “What do you do?” The daughter, slightly embarrassed utters a restrained and hushed “Dadddddy?’ Does our hero –the one possible lover of many— shy away from this patriotically empowered figure? Oh no, he first gives his girl a ‘later…you and I are gonna get it on, but for now, watch suave at work,’ look and then directs his stare right at the father’s eyes and innocently states: ‘I am an owner of West Jet!’ At which point the father, obviously impressed goes saying a few great things about WestJet before gazing at what we all now know will be his new son-in law. Then he approvingly declares: ‘I like the cut of your gib, son!’ Wow, how many times could have impressed the parents of all my dates with lines like that? But why stop there? I would have said something along the lines of: ‘Why sir, I am an owner of a multi-national, multi-billion dollar financial company! Heck, if it wasn’t for me, that 125 year institution would be crumbling apart and would not even be half the company it is today if it weren’t for my personal tutelage.’ BOOM! How is that for impressing a girlfriend’s parents? Can you imagine? After dinner, he would be like: ‘Okay Sir, bring her back in one piece if ravage her you must, but if you decide to marry her right away, please remember that I am fond of the idea of owning a yatch some day.’ Okay, so I made that last part up, but the point it is not lost. There is nothing especial about opting to buy shares in a company. Even less so if you happen to work for said company and most likely get a discount when buying said shares. As such, one can consider the whole ad campaign a moot campaign. If it were not, then this humble scribe would also happen an owner of multiple world-renowned companies such as Sony, Imax and even Nortel. Gosh, I hope it was not my ongoing philanthropy, constant parties and the purchasing of luxuries such as mouthwash which lead to Nortel’s 500%+ share value plunge, after all, it used to trade at over $165+ and at the time of this writing it closed at $3.24 per share. Oh, MY GOD? WHAT HAVE I DONE? Oh, woe is my power, which I have used for evil! Talk about misrepresentation of advertising. Keep in mind 4% of West Jet employees cannot claim what their commercial states, as they are not West Jet owners. They must be like the black sheep of the company. I fear for these particular employees since probably the other 86% may have outcast them. Just don’t expect any of them to go looking for you two days after your flight to give your cell phone back and get you $50 over asking price, oh no. They might just keep it for themselves. Those thieves. Let me tell you about the company I happen to be an owner right now. What if I were to tell you that we rip our clients off by giving them chickpeas for interest in exchange to safeguard their hard earned money so we can use it for own investing? Heck, we might as well give you thumbs tacks for interest, at least at the end of the year you could try melting them to sell the aluminium they are made of. As it stands, there are better financial institutions, one with an orange logo comes to mind, at least they are willing to keep your money from loosing too much to the most basic of all economic detractors: inflation. Which at present it stands at 2.96% percent. Am I making this up? Do you think what I say is slanderous? Should I perhaps get sued for libel? Well, I could be if I wasn’t right. Hey, why believe me? Lets see what the Bank of Canada’s inflation calculator says, try here: http://www.bankofcanada.ca/en/rates/inflation_calc.html Check how much $100 of your hard earned dollars has lost in worth since last year in comparison to today. Oh, and there is that little thing called ‘service fees,’ that as we all know goes directly into my pocket because after all, I care because I am an owner. Does this sound like we put our clients first? Which of course brings me back to advertising. Do not get me wrong. I am foremost a capitalist. But as time moves forward, good ideas in the world of advertising have transformed from the once art of salesmanship and persuasion to just being hit with a message over and over and over again, regardless of whether is wrong or right. It almost like a Road Runner cartoon, except that we are the coyote and the anvil that hits us on the head has the words ‘I am lovin’ it’ written all over it. The medium is the message? Sure, the problem is that before you could turn it off. Try walking anywhere in a city without having to stare to a bloody medium…Mr. McLuhan would be not pleased. There was a time when an advertising campaign was so unique, honest, so inspired and dare I say it, brilliant that just seeing it once, just once was enough to make you think and maybe, just maybe give the brand a chance. Yes, these are very strong words indeed. David Ogilvy, considered by many as being one of the most instrumental fathers in the world of advertising would be appalled to the level at which the advertising has taken the world as it tries to sell repetition over fact. One of my favourite quotes of his – if perhaps a bit dated – is “The consumer isn't a moron; she is your wife.” He was referring of course that an educated consumer would choose a brand for what it factually claims it can do over the image it portrays it can do. Another example, do you think wearing Juicy pants will make you slim and hip only because it is endorsed by a another by-product of our advertising crazy society: the celebrities? Not if your hips are size 18. But hey that’s not a problem anymore. Why tell kids –particularly little girls- to eat healthy when is cheaper to hire larger sized celebrities to endorse your products? The only difference is that is has been done slowly over a long period of time, but if you really pay attention you will catch it. See the difference in between now and lets say five years ago and you will know what I mean. Or why not even up the ante? Why just not resize the size of clothing altogether to adjust to fatter people? You used to fit on a size 4? Well, not since 2004, now you are a size 0! Just like that. The same thing has been done to the fellas. Yes, just like that. I feel magic in the air! But why believe me? When you can read it for yourself on this article from the New York Times: Here. But hey, there is always hope, so what if you we are getting our brains Laundromat-ed (at our own expense, of course) by advertising? Just go buy some shares in some global company and not just hear about the Owners Club. Be a member, be an owner and feel the power! Just don’t expect to be treated like one.

The Night I Lost My One Eyed Cat

2005-11-28T23:08:00.000-05:00

First of all, bear with me while I get to it: For quite a while now, I had been thinking of getting a new cat. Have moved from place to place throughout the years yet it never seemed like the ‘right’ time. At first I blamed it on the location: No cats allowed, place too small, too big…not big enough! No real logic, I was simply putting it off. Eventually coming to the conclusion that I had yet to find the ‘right’ cat.

I use to have one long ago. From the time he was a kitten until after one of my many moves. You see my old dear tabby took a starting role in a horrible clawing incident. He gave up on his $15 scratching post and vetoed to make some coats and most of my shoes into his new scratching toys. As such he found itself getting a one way ticket to a far better place… namely my sister’ house in the suburbs. First of all she has a bigger house and secondly she has more shoes than I do. Either way, he was out the picture and my new wardrobe would be safe from any future maulings.

However bad and costly that accident may have been, I still had my heart set on getting a pet. Another pet to be exact, for you see. I am currently babysitting a rat. Yes a ‘rat.’ Name is Cordelia and she is an escapee from a research lab. Yes, let the truth be known, she was a victim of a scientific concentration camp were experiments were performed in the name of science but has since then been liberated. The only one of her group thanks to an insider –whose name shall go unmentioned— who could not see harm come to this cute “hooded-rat” (also known as the Cadillac of rats). Otherwise she would have been terminated at the study’s end. I know, I know what some of you may say: ‘Eeewww, but Mauricio, it is a rat! Have you seen the monstrosities that run around in the subway tracks in downtown Toronto?” Does this look like the face of a killer?

So what if there are some ‘mild’ rumours about rats and the black plague of 1347 and six other pandemics in the next four centuries including the great plague of Vienna in 1679? So what if it wiped out an estimated 36 million people? I say let bygones be bygones For example, I have friends that owe me money, but you don’t see me getting all nervous about it and marking their doors with black paint. Besides the true culprits were the fleas some rats just happen to carry at the time.

The silly rodents are in fact pretty clean. For example, when I brought Cordelia home, in an attempt to make her feel welcome I petted her for a bit. You know, the human way of saying ‘Hi’ to an animal whose IQ is vast inferior to mine. What did the bugger do? The moment she thought I wasn’t looking the fuzz ball started desperately licking and cleaning itself. As if saying, “Hey, I don’t know where you have been buddy and I keep hearing about this plague thing and I am not going to take any chances with you.’

I was a little insulted to say the least. Don’t believe me? Check what the Toronto Humane Society says about how clean they can be: http://www.torontohumanesociety.com/caringforPet/ratsmice.html

Once again, I have friends with questionable hygiene habits, but never have I thought would of getting the bubonic plague off them. Besides now that I have had my own hygienic practices questioned by a rodent, well, I don’t feel too concerned of the cute little fuzz ball anymore.

Okay, so finally… this brings us back to how I lost my one eyed cat. Well, a few days ago one of my best friends emails me out of the blue and says:

‘You want a cat? I have two. A playful three-month-old brother and sister, I should mention, due to an infection that although now treated, left the boy with only one eye. But you have never met a friendlier cat, I promise you.”

A five-minute taxi ride and I was there. I took a long look at this one eyed cat; now officially named Siegfried and after thanking my friend I was on my way home with my new pet. Oh, and what about depth perception? Not a problem.

This cat was one cool kat. Friendly, playful, full of life, he was a nice gray and white coat, a picture perfect cat. That is of course until he met Cordelia, I would say the meeting, or rather staring contest lasted about 1.3 seconds before Cordy ran for dear life into the house I had made in her cage out of used Vector cereal boxes. I do not know if you have ever seen a rodent petrified with fear. It was not a pretty sight. For the next 24 hours, she would not sleep, eat, drink, or move for that matter. The cat you ask? He was at Club Med for kittens. Had you walked into my place you would have thought that Siegfried had lived there for years. He slept in the same bed, was quiet, made no messes, was playful and could not have cared less for any of my shoes and ironically payed little if no attention to Cordy.

I will admit that I had made some research before hand and knew there was a very high possibility that Cordy and Sieg would not get along, but Toronto has already enough homeless animals and I was trying to do my part.

But sadly after talking to a few friends, the consensus was simply that I could not have one great pet at the expense of the misery of another. It was really sad. But I had to act fast, Cordy would not eat and had noticeably lost some weight. So in the long – I mean, short – run, my Siegfried only lasted a day and a half with me before my friend, drove over at 1:00am last week to pick him up. It was unfortunate. At least I am sure my friend will find a great home for him and someone out there is going to be very lucky cat owner.

Cordy is back to her inquisitive healthy “I am the rat of the castle,” mode and I am happy for her but it was heartbreaking when I opened my refrigerator this morning and noticed a half-eaten can of ‘Fancy Feast.’ I threw it away.

If you are interested in getting a pet, whether is a cat, dog or even a rat – for real, they are like little dogs...Just check this link here for the Toronto Humane Society: http://www.torontohumanesociety.com/viewanimals.html

Become the Organizer of a Social Group

2005-11-23T16:51:00.000-05:00

Hello Everyone, Yes, among my many interests, I have to say that being a 'Good Samaritan' is more like a part-time job. Do it sometimes, but like most people out there, our day jobs take a good chunk of our possible time doing our Samaritarian calling. However, not that long ago I found this website while doing some research regarding taking some Spanish classes. The name of it is: http://www.meetup.com/ Now, for those who know such social sites like Craigslist.org, you will feel right at home. Basically you can create groups in which you can seek, meet, share ideas, heck even date with people you might share common interests with. And that means anything... Whether that is sports, sci-fi fans, avid readers, sewing or if you are looking to find people with whom you can practice a new language. As you can imagine, that is where I came in the picture. Of course, nothing this good is ever for free. It is free for all members except organizers who have to pay about $20 a month for the right to be organizers. Although Craigslist.org IS FREE, that site's more anonymous nature might scare a lot of people away. Details like posting your own pictures, name, interests, a bit if a self-description and a message board in Meetup.com make most users more credible and trusting than other sites where users are only referred as 'User #113337526.' The current surge of sites like www.lavalife.com easily attest to this. The more details you write about yourself, the more people you meet. So, taking into consideration that I had not done my good deed of the month, I decided to become an organizer. The name of my group? "The 23-35 Social Group." The name really implies to what the main point is. Now I could write about in detail here, but if you live in Toronto, or would like to take a look at how a group in www.meetup.com is normally run, then drop by and do visit. Even better yet, join. So far, the group has been there for about a year now we are about 315 members and growing! http://newlysingle.meetup.com/450/ Oh, and in case you are wondering about what happened with my Spanish class search, well, you can easily find me in the "Toronto Spanish Speaking Group." Just look under "Mauricio." Cheers!