I was away for eight days and no one even noticed. You guys suck!
Having just recently flown Air Canada, I can honestly say I understand
completely why they're having bankruptcy problems. First off, they tell
us two show up two hours early for a 6:30 AM flight, but neglect to mention
that they don't start until 5:00. Their flight attendants were surly, the
plane cramped and with screaming babies strategically placed to annoy the
maximum amount of passengers, and the in-flight movies were cheap, Canadian
Tele-film, French-Canadian dubbed-in-English reels of trash.
We had an hour and a half layover in Vancouver on the return flight, and
finished off the trip on a Dash 8. I think they call it a Dash 8 because
when they dash it into the side of a mountain it's big enough to leave
at least eight good-sized pieces of wreckage. It's not as impressive as
the Shatter 12, however, but it beats the Smudge 1 all to hell. They served
us one of those pigmy Mars bars on takeoff, which was a vast improvement
over the Jabba-the-Hutt looking omelet they force-fed us on the AirBus
A21. (And just how luxurious can you expect your flight to be when the
plane is called an Airbus. AirLimmo? AirLexxus? Maybe.)
And don't talk to me about airport security. I really wonder if hiring
all Middle East security personnel is a wise move, considering they're
the ones we're worried about in the first place. And they confiscated a
pair of Pen's nail clippers--cause it could be used as a weapon, don't
ya know. Never mind that they left me with a pen, shoe laces, belt, paper
clips, and credit cards, or gave us a plastic knife with a serrated edge,
a set of earphones, and soft drinks in aluminum cans, all of which I can
kill you with quite handily, thank-you-very-much. Maybe they were worried
that Pen would neatly manicure them to death.
Oh, and in case anyone is paying attention, this just in:
SCI FI will be producing
Files, a two-hour backdoor pilot film based on the Jim Butcher novels
and co-executive produced by Nicolas Cage.
Jim is a former OWW member, who's stuff is similar to my Darkside.
Nice to see one of us is doing well with the concept.
It's nice to be back in sunny Victoria, BC. It's nice and warm, the flowers
are blooming, the birds are chirping...Of course, being BC, the birds are
probably stoned out of their gourds, because let's face it, flowers aren't
the only things blooming here. I think BC coined the phrase, "Medicinal
Marijuana." At least it keeps the birds from crapping on you--they're too
busy trying to score Doritos and Cheetos.
Karma check: still nobody.
I read in the news today that Zanzibar is passing a law to outlaw homosexuality.
If convicted, a man can get up to 25 years in prison. Hmmm...sending a
man to prison for being homosexual--isn't that kind of counter productive?
They say you can tell what God thinks of money by the people he gives it
to. Right now I wouldn't mind if God thought a little less of me. Apparently
he doesn't think much of fame, either.
Okay, here's proof that once they graduate Recruit School, they don't get
any brighter: A couple of my former recruits walked in on me in the gym
the other day when I was working out on the heavy bag. The conversation
went as follows.
Recruit 1: "Hey, Master
Corporal. How's it going?"
punch, spinning wheel kick) "Heavy bag 2. Master Corporal O. And call me
Recruit 2: (Eying me
suspiciously.) "Is this a trick?"
Me: "No trick." (Double
Recruit 1 to Recruit
2: "I still say he looks like Chip Hazard from Small Soldiers."
Recruit 2: "Nah, more
like Jet Li in Romeo Must Die."
Recruit 1: "Is that
the one with DMX in it?"
Recruit 2: "No, the
one with that singer, Aliyah."
Recruit 1: "Which one
Me: (Jab, ridgehand,
reverse ridgehand.) "She played the big fat guy."
Recruit 1: "Damn, she's
Thank God they're both
in the Navy.
Different crap; same day.
My life is like the movie Groundhog's Day. It's like the same day keeps
repeating itself over and over, except with different crappy things happening.
Oh, and here's a neat military SNAFU. I currently work for BRT, but BRT
is officially closed at the end of April, to be taken over by PLQ. (I could
tell you what the letters stood for but then I'd have to write you a threatening
letter--Canadian Military, eh?)
But I don't work for PLQ, so as of the 30th of April I'm technically a
free agent. So if there's anyone out there looking for an Avionics Tech/Teacher/Recruit
Instructor/Covert Operative/Security Consultant/Martial Arts Instructor/Musician/Writer
and all-around-nice-guy, call me and we'll negotiate.
Pen took me out to dinner at Japanese Village last night for my birthday.
Of course it's not really an entire village, just a restaurant, but let's
face it, Japanese Restaurant just doesn't have the same zing. And
I love Asian food, but it always gives me writer's cramp.
Anyway, it's one of those places where the chef slices, dices and julian
fries right there in front of you. I think our chef, Ronko (not his real
name, but you figure it out) was new, because he seemed a little unsure
of himself, which made me a tad nervous because I was sitting right next
to him. All I kept thinking was, "If that bastard cuts me, I'm cutting
Still, it was a fun night. The only thing missing from the experience was
if they had let us pick our own cow out of the herd and slaughtered and
butchered it ourself. Hey, I bet the Japanese Village in Texas would let
All in all Pen ensured it was a great birthday, even though her boss called
her in to work at the last minute and we couldn't catch a matinee like
we'd planned. And then I got a rejection letter for a short story telling
me all numerous things they liked about it, even though, unfortunately,
they couldn't use it. Still, the feedback was nice. I should take the editor
out to Japanese Village to show my appreciation. I'll just sit him beside
a blindfolded Ronko.
I was chatting with Marsha the other night, because I haven't been writing
lately, so why should she, and we came up with some Young Adult fiction
for the real world. So, without further ado, here they are:
1. Mommy and
Daddy are Getting a Divorce and It's All Your Fault
2. No, Spot
isn't in Heaven. He's Buried in the Backyard
Are Not Your Friends (And neither are clowns)
4. The Church
and Father Badtouch
5. Frank is
Not Your Uncle, He's Just Doing Mommy