In case you haven't noticed, the G.S.T. has been at 6% since July 1st. That's right, down one whole percent. Thank you very much Canadian government. You have made the mental math much harder on me, or at the very least you are forcing me to learn a new way of calculating the tax.
Can't teach an old ButtugMcOystey new tricks.
Look at that, it's time for a sidenote. Why can't venders put the ACTUAL price on the item, after tax and all? That would make my life easier. Let my brain think about more important things, like things to say to my new cubicle mate all the way from the United Kingdom.
Yeah, jolly good fellow is he. He'll be around for a week (or two if I'm lucky and charming enough). And hopefully now I'll have interesting work related stories to post up here.
Where was I. Right, the tax cut.
Of course, I appreciate any free money that comes my way in any shape or form. But whereas my Tim Horton's medium double double coffee came out to an even $1.25 before the tax reduction, it comes out to a more-awkward-than-my-social-abilities $1.24.
So after one hundred and twenty five coffee's, I will finally feel the effect of the tax being lowered and have a double double on the government.
That is, if I can only quit throwing my pennies at little kids that have suddenly invided my place of work and into my cubicle garbage can when I'm really bored.
Tomorrow, the cup of coffee is on an Intern friend, who bestowed upon me a One-Dollar gift certificate to Tim Horton's, bless her good heart.
And you thought I couldn't make real friends.
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Posting will re-commence soon. I still have lots to say, but no time to scrutinze over every detail. Once I find that, and Waldo, it'll be clear sailing.
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And STILL says, "Put on your slippers. My floors aren't clean".
But mother, I KNOW they're clean, or at the very least, cleaner than 311 apartment 9, my place of residence for the past two school years. And you know HOW I happen to know them floors are relatively clean?
Well for one, my feet/socks don't come up black at the end of the night.
For two, I'M THE ONE THAT'S DOING THE CLEANING OF THE FLOORS AT HOME. That's right. You heard me. I vacuum, I sweep, I mop, and one of these days I'm going to take a toothbrush to this floor. I do take a certain pride in keeping my floors clean enough SO I CAN WALK AROUND BARE-FOOT IN MY OWN HOME. Comfortability. Hence, the saying, "the comfort of my own home".
For three, Ray Allen, all the way from downtown Seattle. His stroke is impeccable.
And another thing, you know the feeling when your throat is a little dry? And it feels like something's kind of stuck down there, that little bit of that guck that old people love to spit out into those cute, yet so nasty, handkerchiefs and (women don't know this) into urinals?
My mother, while brewing supposed cleansing herbal drinks in the kitchen, would yell "Don't eat anything that will irritate your throat, now put down that over-salted peanut" and "Here, I poured you another glass of water (the fifteenth one in the last half hour), please take a break from your computer and come drink it".
Well, my mother is currently family-reunioning in Calgary (while the rest of her real family is stuck in Toronto, YEAH I SAId IT, I'M HER REAL FAMILY). And today, my throat got to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore. So you know what I did?
I went and bought myself a bag of Original Baked Lays potato chips, and ATE EVERY SINGLE LAST BIT. I even did the ever so popular tilt-your-head-back-and-pour-all-the-chip-bits-into-your-mouth at the end to ensure that only the oil was left smeared on the inside of the bag. And if I had a pair of scissors, well, let's just say, that the oil would've transfered from the inside of the bag to the outside of my face.
And the best part was, my throat instantly cleared up. The oil must've greased the airway because everything felt fresher and clearer after that.
I really do miss my mother, because without her I feel like my regular eating of food will take a hit. Allow me to explore a random sampling of "things I have eaten these last three days" (she's only been gone three, but it seems like four-ever): a banana, a banana nutella sandwich, a pogo stick, a ham sandwich with cream cheese and mustard BLEGH (those two go together as good as Snoop Dogg would sound with Broken Social Scene), a Tim Horton's donut, and some frozen food mommy cooked up before leaving on that jet plane.
And I'm going to paragraph break here for emphasis.
A POGO STICK.
If you feel the need to send food to me, please do. In fact, I expect to see chicken's crossing the road to my house any second now.
Mr. Isaac Newton? Hi, Buttug here. I have a quick question for you, and require your expertise. It'll only take a moment. Thank you.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
"Chickens at rest tend to stay at rest; chickens in motion tend to cross roads."
And with that, I roll along. What a classy note to go out of this post on.
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Received: Today when I got into work
"For those of you who maintain an external presence on blogs, FaceBook, LiveJournal, MySpace, etc please take a minute and review the type of information you are posting for the world to see. Is it the sort of information you'd want your manager / co-workers / future employer to see? Have you posted revealing photos or comments that could be considered inappropriate?
The internet has a way of creating linkages that aren't obvious or expected. If you've had an active party life at school, documented on FaceBook or LiveJournal, and then happily announce that you've got a great job at I**, you've created an implicit link between the two. This profile can be searched by people you currently work with, or your next employer. Recruiters are starting to review these sites to learn more about potential recruits... are you turning them away by your choice of material? Please consider taking a minute to go over your online profiles and clean things up to represent a more professional appearance online."
-courtesy of the friendly folks at EYE BEE MMM
I have incredible, no, ridiculous, still not there yet, judiculous, there we are, 20-20 30-30 foresight. What incredible timing. I live for these moments when I can come back onto my blog and gloat at anyone who thought I was overly paranoid.
See. I was only A LITTLE PARANOID. And a whole lot right.
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And not just your conventional Friday-Monday Easter-typed long weekend. I'm talking Saturday, Sunday, I-Hate-Monday, and Tuesday. Because the company is special like that.
Allow me to touch on a sidenote here for a second, because as you may have noticed from not skimming the introductory paragraph of this post, I referred to my place of work as "the company". Before I go there, if you're skimming the first paragraph, you're skimming the wrong paragraph, now go take your skimming and apply it to your milk.
I usually have a killer first paragraph, that may or may not have anything to do with the rest of the post, but in theory, I have a good opening to make you read the rest of the crap that is for sure to come in the mid-section, or the gut, of the post.
But that's neither here nor there.
My place of work will no longer be mentioned here, in one of my first steps towards establishing anonymity here on the Internet. And yes, I know I'm fighting an impossible fight, and getting my butt whooped while attempting.
But remember, only you can prevent forest fires.
Especially in this day and age, any employer can quickly Google my name in conjunction with the company's name to hopefully get some dirt on me. Like my opinion on how uncomfortably disgusting it is to see my manager pick his nose while talking to me, yet me being helpless to say anything because, let's face it, hooting and hollering at the elusive fourth dollar digit (---->xxxx.xx) that magically appears in my bank account every two weeks is high up on the list of reasons why I have yet to kick a dog for my frustrations at work.
And I wonder if they have established the google name search as a screening process before even considering interviewees. I doubt it, but if I ever got high enough on the corporate ladder to have the power to hire, I'd implement this policy. Personally, I don't know how many times I've labelled myself a lazy no good using-the-company-for-their-free-pens-and-notebooks-while-taking-their-money-ha employee. I'd only correctly assume that others will show sides not seen in a job interview on their blog.
Again, neither here nor there.
Step two towards anonymity, when googling "Insert My Name Here", this blog no longer shows up as the number one hit. I recently addressed this problem by simply changing the registered name, and now the first real website that shows up is some anime geek that would probably be good friends with my brother because they both love Pop music in foreign languages.
Simplicity combined with effectiveness is a powerful combination. N! choose P is some confusing combinatorics.
Note the "Insert My Name Here" used above, I will never again post up my full name, and will continue to use the weirder, and so-random nicknames that have been bestowed upon me over the years. And I'll try to keep the third person perspectives to a minimum. But that's just how Buttug does it.
I will also personally edit any comments that contain my full name in there, not because I really think it matters, but because I can, and I will.
One more step I will consider taking is that anyone currently linking to me using my full name will be given a cease-and-desist punch in the neck. Although, this step may be under consideration for a while longer because it'd be very hypocritical of me not to remove those full names I have attached to the links over there on the left, and some linkers are not a punch-distance away.
The long road towards being the the ultimate faceless blogger. Fading into the black that is the background color of this blog.
Let me wrap up by pointing out how I have blogged three out of the four days during my long weekend. A weekend well spent.
I think I hear my television and couch calling.
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As advertised, a few of the musically inclined youth led the singing portion of the worship service at my local home church, the NY. CBC.
It's always interesting to watch younger generations start to take ownership of leadership positions you held in the past.
For example, you wonder if a couple years ago, you could sing those songs in those keys.
Those songs were as high as one needs to be while watching your beloved Colorado Avalanche stand idle while other teams stockpile quality players, at the same time having their own stars picked out from under their noses, and STILL think they are going to win the cup.
For example.
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I just witnessed two guys get out of their cars and physically beat each other because of a close encounter in traffic. The initiator (at least the guy who jumped out of his car first) was driving a jeep with a Brazil flag on the window.
The Brazilian soccer team had just been ousted in the 2006 World Cup, where they were considered one of the favorites. By the French no less. Yeah, the same French that refused to support George in his conquest of Iraq. Yes, the very same French as our fries.
So I'll cut him some slack. But this is Canada Day. Where I should not be seeing physical fireworks on a busy road, but fireworks exploding in a clear night sky. Where everyone should be celebrating the diversity Canada offers us. Everyone needs to be sharing in the moment, I think I see a baby that needs to be hugged.
And in light of hugging, I owe my blog a hug, because it has been sorely neglected this last week. I'll man up and appologize, I was too busy for it. Come September, when people have filtered back to their respective Universities, I'm sure there will be long lonely nights spent with this blog, posting bitter, bitter posts.
Don't get me wrong, I'll still visit this blog once in a while, Obsessively check the statistics, think over every event that happens in my life to see if it is blog-worthy and post accordingly.
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