this is my dull life. this is my dull life on drugs. this is a haiku.

Friday, July 29, 2005

CTV News goes BDSM

Excerpt from a news report:

Reporter: So you were lying flat on your back -- you were strapped, you were bolted, you were duct taped -- I mean, it's -- does anything get sore after a long time, you know?

Girl: Uhhhh... well you get used to it after awhile. I mean, there are certain parts of your body that definitely start to hurt, but it's
well worth it.

Reporter: Were you ever worried about your safety?

Girl: Uh no, not really...
Sounds dirty, don't it? Well, believe it or not, they're talking about racing in a solar-powered car... go figure. You can check out the news video while it's still up on the Top Stories page as "Canadian solar car in 5th"... if you care, that is. Check out the guy to her right trying to keep a straight face!

Offensive statement of the day

Behind every great man is a balanced and nutritious diet. Behind every balanced and nutritious diet is a great woman. And behind that woman? I don't know -- probably a stove or something...

Rock bottom (Oooohh... a pun, maybe?!)

I really need to go out and get some groceries... I've been stealing that rough one-ply toilet paper from the Science building for like a week.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Gym observations

OK, so now that I've started going to the gym, I've been exposed to all those large and burly men who I had always heard about. I mean -- I'd seen them in cartoons and on TV, but I didn't think that they actually inhabited the gym in such numbers!

On seeing one of the particular massive ones today, my first reaction was "Holy crap he's huge. I bet he eats puppies for breakfast." I had a strange urge to go stick a post-it note on his back, right in the spot which his large, grotesqly steroid-enflamed arms couldn't reach. It would say something like "Kick me", or no wait -- that's dumb. Maybe... "I'm a big fat stupid-head". No? Yeah, too juvenile... OK, how about "My excessive muscles work to accentuate my shrunken penis"?

Well... any which way, it would be funny. I'm not sure what he'd do to get it off though. Would he try reaching for a few minutes -- left arm then right arm, and repeat -- in a comical fashion? Would he rub himself against a wall or a piece of workout equipment? Would he ask one of his kronies to remove it? Or would he simply grasp me by the arm, tear off said limb, and continue to use that appendage to swat the post-it note off of his back? It's hard to say what he would do, but no doubt it would involve blood. My blood. And maybe some of his -- shed from beating on me so much.

Anyway, back to work... Sorry about the lack of contact lately everyone! I've been kind of ignoring my phone and not turning MSN on... And I regret having to miss the last Open Mic last night! Not only is my family visiting, but I had a talk with my boss and realized how much goddamn work I have to do before the summer ends, so it's crunch time. And my brother's plane is coming in tonight! Woop woop! Tomorrow we're heading up to Stephenville for the weekend to see my sister in the theatre festival up there. Well... over and out I'm done.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

It's a Small World or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bus

Talk about coincidences! So my parents are down for the week and earlier tonight I was catching a bus downtown to meet up with them for supper. I got on, saw Dion Pye bringing his laundry to some laundrymat, and talked with him for awhile. But then he got off and, having no one to talk to, I leaned forward and asked the girl in from of me "Sooooooo... How was the shopping?" I knew that this bus had stopped at the mall first, and she had a big plastic bag full of crap, so needless to say, it didn't take much deduction. From there I found out that she was from PEI, and that she'd played basketball against Alisha during high school. When I added that I was moving in with Alisha and her brother in a month, she said that she'd just spoken with Alisha's brother before she'd left for this trip to visit family in Newfoundland. Actually, when she'd told him where she was going, he had said something to the effect of "No way! I'm moving over there in the fall!" And what's more, she was on her way downtown to meet up with her parents to eat at some restaurant too! How weird is that?!

She was dropped off right in front of her restaurant first. After I got off at the next stop and met up with my parents, we walked around trying to figure out where to eat. For some reason my parents wanted to go eat at the same place that she'd gone into. Luckily, I convinced them otherwise, cause I think that if I'd showed up there, it might have come across as... you know... creepy. You know the movie Groundhog Day? Remember how Bill Murray slowly learned everything about this one woman, then one day pretended they liked all the same things and had so much in common? And remember how she flipped out? I could envision something like that happening...

Anyway, back to lab work!

PS - And since me and Bus Girl (aka Suzanne Scott) were talking about random traveling plans, I employed a shameless plug for So Ian, by my calculations if I work on the same systme as banner ads, then you owe me one nickel. Pony up.

My Life

When I was walking home from work this morning at 6:30 in the morning, I came across a big pile of someone's household junk along the side of the road.

"Sweet! Free stuff!" I thought to myself.

This was better than that time when I'd found those two perfectly good ties on the side of the road a few weeks ago! Since both had still been tied in Windsor knots, there hadn't even been the need to find anyone to tie them for me!

So anyway, as I was digging through the waist-high pile, I suddenly stood up and looked around. As I scanned my surroundings in the early morning light -- a moldering mattress to my right, a soggy Monopoly board to my immediate left, and countless other articles filling the in-betweens -- I asked myself, "What am I doing with my life?"

And then I saw this really sweet shelf which was in perfect condition, at least if you ignored the missing glass doors and the sparse scattering of melted candies.

Early morning or late night?

It's 6:48 am. I just got home from work.

Y'see... I was participating in a round-table discussion on UN reform yesterday morning from 8 to 12, so I missed work in the morning (as always). I'm not sure why I was involved in this round-table thing, cause I knew only what I'd read up on the subject the day before. Anyway, there were only 25 people and a news crew, and I can't help but think that if I'd actually read a few books on UN reform a week or so in advance, I could have easily been one of the two or three selected to go to Ottawa for the national round-table. Double drats! Oh well, I picked up a few books yesterday afternoon after the conference thing -- You know... just for enlightenment. And so if I'm ever invited to an identical round-table, I shall kick some ass political science style, yo!

So anyway, then I did the gym thing, a single hour of work, and finally I came home and conformed my body to the shape of the couch for awhile. By 9pm I found myself back at work. Having anticipated the drowsiness that would accompany two of the clock in the morning, I brought with me a caffeinated beverage. Lacking instantized coffee or spare change to buy a redbull, I brought a Molson Kick. It actually did the trick! Hmmmm... Guarana extract... I drank beer and ate a sandwich at 2:30am in the lab, which was an experience I could have done without.

Actually, I figured out that there was a cute little mouse running around the lab, so I salvaged some cheese out of my sandwich and left it on the floor. Sounds nice, don't it? Well... I forgot to mention that I'd dipped the aforementioned dairy delight in arsenomolybdate (ie. an arsenic solution) beforehand. Take that, you small woodsy creature! Teach YOU to take on a man of science! Betcha didn't expect me to jam up your electron transport chain at cytochrome c, didja? Where's your proton motive force now, bitch?? HUH? Try to cellular respirate after that, cheese... face? Wow. That was weak...

Anyway, I'm getting behind in the photo stories! I've still go to do that SalmonFest one, and I've got a few pictures from this weekend at Julia's camp with her, Coleman, and Gill. Fun times all around!

Well, look at the clock! Seems like the opportune time for my deprived body to collapse quivering into the fetal position...

Saturday, July 23, 2005

That walk to work

So I'm at work right now. Yeah yeah yeah, I know... It's Saturday, but when shits gotsta be done, it's gotsta be done. I was working on it last night, but then I was lured away to drink. Actually, there was a chemistry mixer going on in the next building, so I went over and drank while my culture tubes were incubating, came back to vortex them after an hour, then went back to the mixer for another hour. By the time I got back to the lab again, I was in no state to work. Upon coming to this conclusion, I went to a house party. And then I went to another. And then I went downtown. Ok, yeah -- there's a story to be told in there, but I don't feel like telling it. This is a short post, not a bejeezin long one!

And so now I'm at work, sober as a monk... though with considerably less anal bleeding. Actually, I guess I've got a semi-entertaining story about the walk to work today. You know when you've get an itch in the upper extremes of the inner thigh? Like not quite in a "male itch" location, but just on the verge of it? OK well, I had one of those while strolling to work, and -- not thinking much of it -- I went to give the region a quick scratch. Nothing extraordinary there; we all do it! But anyway, just as I was in mid-reach, I glanced to my right up ahead and caught this dude in a parked car staring straight at me. I mean -- It was probably just one of those situations where he'd looked in my direction just a split second before I looked up (not like he was gawking), but it still threw me out of my scratching groove. Not sure what happened, but I think I just second-thoughted the scratch cause someone was looking right at me.

Here's my creative guess as to what happened: Since it was my right hand, maybe my logical left-brain hemisphere (in charge of that side) decided that he was too good for scratching. After all, he was for math and shit, and therefore much to pompous to be caught doing something like scratching the sub-genital region of my leg. So in protest, good ol' left-brain told the good ol' right-hand to pull a Ghandi and go for the passive resistence approach. In other word: It told my hand to just stop. As in, right on my mommy-daddy spot. In effect, I ended up just grabbing myself.

So all this dude saw was this guy walking towards him, who then all the sudden looked up -- making direct eye contact, I might add -- and simultaneously grabbed himself. Good thing I don't live in the Bronx, cause I'm pretty sure that this would have been a show of disrespect resulting in a hail of gunfire.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Random thought

I bet it would have been an irritating job to be a chemist working on the formula for that stuff they put on fly paper -- what with all those flies always contaminting their work by diving into the beakers and vials and stuff...

Fun with science

Ok, this is one of those ideas that will probably never be implemented (at least not by me), but if you happen to have a beef with vegetarians for some strange reason, then go for it.

OK, so first thing you have to do is find a vegetarian convention. I personally suggest The Vegetarian Summerfest, but I guess you'll have to wait till next year, since it just happened in early July.

So anyway, the normal pH range of urine is between 4 and 8, depending on the individual diet of each person. (If you'll stick with me for awhile, you'll see where this is going...) The pH range of vegetarians however, is on the higher alkaline/basic end of the scale (presumably above the normal range) due to their diet rich in citrus fruits, legumes, and vegetables. You can take advantage of this little fact to freak out a few vegetarians. Here's how:

A pH indicator, as you science kids know, is a chemical (a buffer actually) that changes colors when in solutions of different pH. They are specific colors above and below defined pH values. One useful indicator is known as phenolphtalene red. It goes from colorless to red over the pH range of 8 to 10. Basically what this means is that if it starts out as colorless at lower pH's (for example a pH of 7 in toilet water), then it turns bright red at higher, more basic, pH's (such as when basic urine raises the pH above 8).

So all you've got to do is find a vegetarian convention, add a few drops phenolphtalene red to all the toilet bowls in the women's bathrooms, then stand around and watch a bunch of distressed vegetarians wonder what has gone wrong with their oh-so-healthy lifestyle.

*NOTE for those who might not have picked up on the trick:
They'll think that they've peed blood. Yeesh... slow on the uptake or what?

This'll also work on most any pesky vegetarian in your life, but since urine pH balance varies between different people, it may not work for all.

Don't worry! I'm just kidding! I love vegetarians! Really.
My sister's one.

And on a side-note, it's way too late for me to be uploading pictures and doing a ridiculously long post, but I'll get to the Salmon Fest recap later on in the week :)
Over and out I'm done.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Salmon Fest is OVER! :(

So Salmon Fest was this past weekend. It was unreal. Thinking back, it's as if someone went skimming through the rough draft that is my life, then all of a sudden took out a big red Sharpie, circled two whole days worth of manuscript, and left the comment, "Too complicated. Cut this out and insert drinking and music." I literally did nothing else, especially in the way of normal daily tasks. Here's the disgusting part of the whole camping/concert ordeal: Didn't change clothes, didn't shower, didn't shave, didn't brush teeth, didn't really eat, didn't take out contacts, didn't sleep on anything resembling a conventional bed surface, and for that matter didn't really sleep at all. I can't even recall using the bathroom, except to expel the contents of my bladder before promptly refilling it. Oh dear...

Pictures and post to follow... after I recuperate.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

"That apartment smelled like Asian people."

Coleman and Julia and I were checking out an apartment for the fall, and while driving away, we had a conversation about this:

You know how the homes of people of different cultures smell certain ways? I mean -- you can tell whether a random home is Oriental or Indian just by walking in and smelling it, right? (Keep in mind, I do not advise doing this. You might creep out the tenants.) Nothing racist here, it's just the odour of the particular foods of their culture.

Well, we had been looking at a place where some Japanese international students were currently staying, and we all pretty much agreed that we wouldn't be able to bear living there if the smell didn't come out. I know this sounds horrible, but I just found the smell SOOO overwhelming! It was like someone declared a sensory WWII on my olfactory glands, only without the Germans.

Well we were just wondering, if a group of Canadians (or of any Western nation, for that matter) had lived in -- say -- China, would there be a smell when they left? Do we leave behind a cultural smell? Julia thought our characteristic might be a lack of smell, but I figure there'd have to be something. Like when the next would-be tenants came to look at that place, would they sniff the air and whisper to one another, "This place smells like fucking white people!" while attempting to suppress giggles? Keep in mind: We did NOT do this! I'm just being dramatic!

Anyway, seriously -- I would really like to know what we smell like! I don't think of us as having a distinct odour, but that doesn't mean much. I figure it's the same as how I don't think of myself as having an accent, while a British dude will tell me that I definitely do.

If anyone knows the answer to this, please enlighten me.

A brief word from you friendly neighborhood bus

OK, I've discovered something else which I hate: Signs on buses that tell you what route number they are -- when they're on the back side of the bus. It's completely unnecessary, except to rub it in your face.

It's as if it were saying,
"Hello. I am a bus. In fact, I'm more than that; I am your bus. And I am pulling away. Tra-la-la. I'd just like to confirm that -- no -- you have not mistaken me for the previous bus, but I am in fact the very same bus that you should be on right now.
Keep pumping those legs, bitch. I'm not stopping. Goodbye."
Ok, maybe that was an unfair personification. I'm sure buses are very pleasant vehicles, if you just get to know them. I'm just bitter.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Check it out, yo

Hurrah! Now my Haloscan comment template matches my site! Slow day or what...

SITE: Your guess is as good as mine... Apparently they dislike the moon?

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

The daily post

Well... not much to say today aside from the mundane, but I figure that a day without a real post is like a remix without a large black man yelling "WOOOOO!", and we all know how rare those are.

So yeah, bike's gone. I've calmed down a bit. Actually, while walking back last night (sans bike), I found a bike lock on the side of the road that wasn't mine, and it was also hacked through. I suspect that there was a string of bike thefts yesternight. Rent collection day in the ghetto perchance (ie. the Goulds)?

"Can I pay in bicycles?" asks the motherfucker who stole my bike.

Tis a sad day. Bicycles is gone forever. That's was his name: Bicycles. It was pronounced like "Hercules". OK, I named him just now, but had I known he was going to be stolen, I probably would have named him sooner.

So yeah, got up today, went to the gym for the first time, went to work, went home to eat, and now back at work. And oh yeah! I got two -- count em: TWO! -- parcels today! It turned out to be my DAT-studying books from and the battery charge that I'd left at home a few weeks ago. Yep... it was much more exciting before I openned them. The possiblities were endless at that point. I mean -- It could have been a squirrel call or even a copy of the page-turner How to Good-Bye Depression: If You Constrict Anus 100 Times Everyday. Malarkey? or Effective Way? by some Japanese dude who neglected to hire a proficient translator.

Hmmm... I think I'm gonna sleep on the front lawn tonight...

NOTE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SALLY!!! I should be calling, but it's waaaaaay too late at night :D

Patrick plays the victim

Somebody stole my freakin' bike last night! This is my angry face.

I was lying in bed last night thinking about how much I'd like to punch the thief in the face if I ever found out where he lived, then it occured to me that violence wouldn't solve anything. Arson would.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Loss for words on a delayed topic

OK, I sort of figured I could glaze over it. I mean, I was just thinking, "Let's leave the real world to talk about the real world. I'll just sit here in my little fantasy box and type about the regular nonsense. Like flies and diarrhea." But I can't.

I'm not naive enough to think that I have anything new to add to the monologues and dialogues that have been running their courses throughout the web. There seem to be a slew of intelligent ideas being expressed, and since I don't feel I can match them with any combination of words I put onto this screen, I figure the least I can do is offer my sympathy and acknowledgement in a form such as this.

My thoughts with all those affected in London and throughout the world. I hope this all works out...

And that's my say.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

3 fun things to do with flies of the flying variety

Most of you guys probably know about the fly-kite trick. You just catch a big fly by cupping it in your hands, then whip it at a wall and stun it. Then you can tie a piece of thread from your clothes around one of its legs or its body so that when it wakes up, you've got a little fly on a string. If you haven't tried this, I highly recommend doing so. You shall be thoroughly amused.

Another variation of this technique involves catching two large bumble-bees in separate glass jars. You've got to work quickly for this. You shake each jar just enough to stun them, then tie each to opposite ends of a piece of thread. Then you run away. From a safe distance, watch the two bees try to deal with flying while tied together. I haven't tried this one yet, but I like to think that they'll fight to the death, or something awesome like that.

And lastly, an idea for another variation that just came to me. Knock out a large fly as before, but this time have a small spider ready. It's got to be small so that it can't kill the fly by biting it, and also so that the fly can support it's weight. So you leave the little spider on the fly, or maybe in a very confined space with it. Hopefully, the spider will start to wrap up the fly or at least crawl onto it. Now when the fly wakes up, he'll start doing his thing -- ie. flying -- and you'll have a nifty little para-sailing spider behind him! Go you.

PROGRAM: If you haven't seen this, Google Earth is freakin' amazing. It's like Google Maps on speed and cocaine, and in roller-coaster form. And the roller-coaster glows in the dark.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Backward logic

The main reasons for which people claim not to drink are due to their health or their faith, or so that they don't fuck up their future. Anyone else find it funny that some of the most common cheersing topics are to health, spiritual well-being, and prosperity? You're toasting to something, then following that up with a dose of a substance that takes you further from the goal... Yeesh.

My life is boring now, so you know what that means:

Since I don't have any good recent stories (though I did just buy a Fender accoustic guitar!), I've decided to fall back on the ever-trusty OLD story. Some of you may have heard it already, but fuck you. Here goes anyway.

When there's something that I want to remember, I've got this little trick. I put something in a weird place. Kind of like a variation on the string-around-the-finger thing. Like -- say --- I'd tie toilet paper around a doorknob, or leave a trophy on top of the toilet seat. (Ok, I lied. I have no trophies. But you get the idea.) One night after coming back from catering, I was getting ready for bed in the bathroom when I remembered that there was something that I had to do the next morning. We have these little vanity lights running along the top of the mirror in my bathroom downstairs at home so, deciding to use my patented technique, I shut off the lights and threw the tie that I'd been wearing over one of the lights. That way, when the tie was blocking the mirror in the morning, I'd recall whatever it was that I was supposed to recall.

So the next morning I stumbled groggily and barefooted into the bathroom to put on my contacts, half blind since I had left my glasses at my bedside. I walked in, saw the tie, remembered what I was supposed to do, then pulled it off the lightbulb.

Now let me tell you something about ties and the clothing industry in general. A long time ago when the loom was all the rage, there were factories just brimming with low-paid workers whose job it was to make cloth. For the most part, they used all-natural fibres derived from sheep's wool. Sheep were raised for months, then farmers sheared them, then the wool was cleaned and sent to the aforementioned factories. This was all very expensive, so somewhere along the line, synthetic fibres were intoduced as a cheaper alternative. Synthetic fibres are basically made of plastic. Plastic melts. Lightbulbs are hot. Is this all coming together for you?

Back to my story. Since I'd flicked off the light just before I threw my cheap synthetic Wal-Mart tie over top of it, the tie had fused to the hot lightbulb overnight. Now, being morning, this newly created and cooled lightbulb-tie hybrid did not want to be separated. So when I unknowingly tried to pull the tie off, the motherfucking lightbulb-tie hybrid decided to explode into little pieces. These little pieces landed all over every surface in the bathroom.

So there I was -- tired, stunned, half-blind, barefooted and surrounded by tiny fragments of jagged glass. The only way this could have been worse was if there had only been one bulb, so that I would have also now been in the dark... but I guess either way, I still couldn't see, so it wouldn't have made that much difference.

At this point, I had to somehow make it out of the bathroom to get my glasses and clean this shit up. But how, you ask? You see -- drastic situations call for drastic measures... so I gathered my wits. I had to be hard core. I drew in a breath and tensed my hopping muscles. And then I pulled a John McClane (à la Die Hard), leaping across the floor and through the glass in my bare feet. Needless to say, my feet bled.

Speaking of Die Hard, did you know that Bruce Willis wasn't the first in line for the John McClane role? Guess who was? Actaully there were a few ahead of him. It was offered to (in order) Arnold Schwarzenegger, then Sylvester Stallone, then Burt Reynolds, and then -- Get this! -- Richard Gere! Richard "I was in Pretty Women and Runaway Bride" Gere!!! I mean -- What!?! If you don't believe me, look it up; it's in the trivia at This guy is known for for lines such as "If I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know, in my heart, you're the only one for me." Can you really picture Richard freaking Gere yelling out "Take *this* under advisement, jerkweed", or "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker"? I think not.
Props to Bert for finding that little tid-bit. If you wonder why he's so good at trivia, this is what he does: reads it from IMDB for fun.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

A lesson in dilatoriness

OK, this next post might move me down a notch on the Top 10 Classiest Blogs list, but this all needs to be said. Or maybe I just want to say it.

Once upon a time, I used to believe that I had the perfect excuse. It was a fantastic alibi that no one dared challenge, and it was my most prized way of getting out of situations which I didn't want to be in. Such as Sunday School. I guess there's no use in a build-up, cause the picture doesn't really leave much to the imagination. Yes -- the magical word is "diarrhea".

Let me tell you -- If you want to get out of a test, or if you need some time off work, or if you need a reason for missing an important appointment, then the clear answer is diarrhea. The best part about diarrhea is that you can just GET it. There's no supplementary story-telling neccessary, unlike other fakes such as the twisted ankle or the venereal diseases. You don't have to explain how you were injured in a toilet-related incident, or how you were recklessly pooping with someone else all night long without protection. You don't even have to try to look or sound sick... though it can't hurt to attempt to exude a general feeling of discomfort at being more than 3 yards from toilet.

So like I said, I USED to believe that this was the best excuse ever. Until I tried to use it when I didn't feel like golfing in the summer after grade 9. I made the mistake of telling a certain Ram Vadi that I couldn't go, and for some reason I tried to use "the excuse". You see, until then I'd only used it on teachers and my parents, so (being naive) I expected the same decency and respect for my privacy from one of my peers.

Nope. No way. I'm an idiot.

Ram told everyone on the golf course... well, at least all the juniors. The thing was I didn't really know that he had told everyone till a few months later. It was at this point that many of the curious comments that had been made (mostly by people I didn't know), started to make sense.

Anyway, I learned my lesson. Now I'm much less liberal in whipping out the old diarrhea card. I've only even thought about using it for a midterm that I thought I was going to fail (Woop 28%!).

So there you go kids. Use this newfound knowledge wisely.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Look at me! Pay attention to what I made!

Hey! Look what I made instead of going out to get groceries today! It's a cartoon of Bert that I made from a real picture that I had on my compy... That was just a test, so I'm gonna do one of me next...
All this is in an effort to revamp my blog by making my own template with pictures and stuff, but who knows if I'll ever get motivated enough to do enough buttons and titles for a whole site. I can't think of a good name though... "The Toaster Testing-Ground" maybe?

SITE: And this is a hilarious link from It's just a bunch of pictures of Japanese people getting caught having sex in their cars! Don't worry, family friendly... as long as your family has nothing against male nipples and Asians.

**UPDATE #2**
Just in case you don't know him, here's a picture featuring Bert that was posted earlier. Just for comparison's sake... and so that you can see how awesome my cartoon is. Or not.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Canada Day

So it's Canada Day (Happy Birthday, BROTHER!). Everything's closed. Except Stockwood's Convenience Store. Being a holiday, the majority of St. John's would like to get their drunk on tonight, and since Stockwood's sells beer, it's PACKED.

Bert just got back from there, for which he had ventured to exercise his god-given right as a college-aged consumer to purchase booze. At first, that was pretty much the only reason he found himself standing in line for the 25 minutes, but you see -- conveince stores are set up in a funny way. There seems to be an implulse-puchase-gradient that runs from the far end of the store to the counter. You've got your uninteresting cake-decorating supplies and electrical socket covers at one end, and then you've got your delicious sweets and shiny-packaged objects at the counter end. Bert, being the simple fellow that he is, fell prey to this clever ploy.

As he was making his way to the front where he would ask for his beer from behind the counter, the dazzling fonts and glittery aluminum foils of various products caught his eye. So there he was, ever-so-slowly moving to the front of the store, all the while becoming caught up in a mounting wave of consumeristic momentum as he was swept down the impulse-purchase-gradient. He grabbed the batteries and the gum, among other things, and as he reached the counter the whole series of events was preparing to climax at the moment in which he would make it known that he, Robert Boyd of Lewisport Newfoundland, would like to purchase a case of cool and refreshing beer for his personal consumption on this fine Canada Day. And then a funny thing happened. He set his chewing-gum, his AAA batteries, his pasta, and his frozen chicken nuggets on the counter, and when the cashier asked (as cashiers tend to do) "Will that be everything, sir?"... he said "Yes."

Go Bert.


It has edge. It's gritty. It's oh so entertaining. It's my brother's blog! If you will kindly direct your attention to the far right side of the screen, you will note a link to his site for future needs. Thank you.