TTC Fare Hike

The TTC is raising its fare again, and thus far, the only change I’ve spotted is one of its drivers sitting in a little cage. I went to say hello to him, and then wasn’t quite sure how to engage this poor caged animal in conversation. Either a bank teller or a lion, one or the other is driving this bus, but neither was able to talk to me through the pin holes poked in the plastic surrounding his seat. How absurd. Is this what my extra quarter is paying for?

Fishing!

Fun things:
1) I got to run around all day with an Ugly Stick.
2) The Toronto Islands are absolutely deserted at this time of year so you can run around and do just about whatever you want including riding stationary bikes in the middle of a field – seriously.
3) Fillin’ up Fiji water bottles with tap water can trick you into thinking that you’re drinking glacier water even when it’s just plain old Toronto lake water.

Xwrap something purple shiny fun Lure

All we caught was this lovely milkbag, and I dutifully threw it in the trash, and what a fun day it was nonetheless!

I Love Editors

Whether they’re working for a newspaper, a publishing house, a book company, or something as simple a grading a million student-written essays, editors just rock my world. Seeing what someone thought to be their final draft just ripped to shreds with red ink all over the page somehow gloriously makes my day a little brighter. Maybe it’s the fact that no one ever sees them. They hide deep in the caves and dungeons of offices, keeping to themselves, making all the CEOs and writers and public speakers seem smarter, brighter and sharper.

They may live in the armpits of offices, but they’re apparently not a group to go down without a fight. When The Toronto Star announced several cutbacks earlier this week,  one such editor went to work on the memo announcing said changes.

Click through for the larger image.

Written by John Cruickshank, glorified to high Heaven likely by an underpaid editor.

From The Torontoist

My Printer’s Name is Karla

The Konica Minolta I’ve got is actually quite a lovely little printer, and chugs away like a dream. Four point font is as crisp and clean as your eyes will allow, but the ink on the page is definitely clear as day. Every now and again though, the thing decides that it’s got a paper jam in the back of itself, and despite all efforts to clear it nothing, except nothing will fix it. Too many bright lights into the paper try, and streaming out the top of the unit, and contortionist-like moves looking for that damn shred of paper…  and I finally  have to leave the printer alone powered off by itself for two days, and each time,  every time, on power-up… *blink* no error message. Everything is fine. Little green power light: ready to print. No paper jam.

I’ve spent the last 24 hours semi upset wondering why all my appliances seemingly decided to hate me all at the same time. The washing machine has been on the fritz for months, so that’s nothing new, but just this past few days, I put a cup of water into the microwave, and when the minute was up my cup of water was still stone cold. The microwave no longer is working at all. It wouldn’t have been such a great surprise if the toaster’s element hadn’t burned out a few weeks ago. Early Friday afternoon when the printer decided to have an off day and blink orange lights of paper-jam death at me, I was beginning to wonder if my house is in the middle of some sort of EMF that’s causing my appliances to die. Then again, a 14-year-old toaster and a hand-me-down microwave are both doomed to failure at some point.

Stupid Roads

Today on the way to work, I saw a pigeon as it was trying to crawl up on to the curb just a few seconds after it had been hit by a car. I should have called animal control so they could have come to pick it up. But I didn’t and I think that makes me an asshole.

I keep the Toronto Animal Control phone number in my cell phone just in case I need to call it. 416 338 7297.  There’s been so many times that I’ve been out and come across injured squirrels and birds and little guys that need help and today I didn’t even call them to come help the poor pigeon.

My head Hurts.

It has nothing to do with the beer and a half I drank yesterday. It’s more likely related to the fact that I ate about a pound and a half of black cherries from the neighbour’s tree. The raccoons have been fighting over the fruit, and since it’s been raining for the past few days, it’s cherry-picking season, apparently. The guy showed me how he does his exercises before climbing the tree, and told me that he’s been looking for me the past few days because I told his daughter that I’d help pick the cherries sometime in June. Maybe I’ll go help them today.

New Tires!

I finally went out and got new tires for my bicycle, as I’ve been meaning to do for nearly three months now. It’s great! I went for a giant bike ride, but only discovered on the way home, that I live on top of a giant hill, and that I’d apparently been coasting downhill for nearly half and hour before I decided to turn around and head back to my house.

My new tires are wider than my old ones, but the roads in Toronto really are nonsense. Even with the designated bicycle lanes, the streets are so ripped up that it makes staying in the bike lane nearly impossible most of the time, and I was constantly darting around bits and pieces of junk and pot holes. I’ll have to practice more. At one point, I wanted to make a left hand turn at an intersection that was under construction, and was a complete mess — my first instinct was to just pretend that I was a pedestrian and go on the sidewalk around all of the construction mess. Instead, there was another bicyclist who appeared to know what she was doing making the same left-hand turn across the intersection, and so I just followed her as if we were cars, and I sort of pretended like I knew what I was doing there in the middle of the intersection, meanwhile I probably looked like a bewildered squirrel. After we made our turn safely, she just smoked me at about 70 km/h down the street, and I sort of kept moseying along wondering how I didn’t die in the streetcar tracks while turning.

The ride back home didn’t kill me, but in retrospect, it’s not actually that big of an accomplishment passing a little old man who was pushing his rusty 3-speed up the hill when I’m a young kid on a street bike… At the time all I could think was ‘he’s pushing his bike! I’m in better shape than somebody!’

I need more practise. Toronto streets are crazy.

Elite Wrestling Alliance

I’ve always thought theatre was for nerds. Specifically, theatre was for freaks and geeks who wore black and moped about – who thought deep thoughts, and considered their every word. I have a deep respect for Broadway, and for film, but theatre was for crazy people who didn’t have the technical skills to work in television or radio. Now, I’m sure I’m going to piss off a lot of people in saying that, but that’s what I thought. I’ve kept my mouth shut about it, because I know it’s a touchy subject, especially since I hang out with (and am related to) a lot of theatre purists.

I was completely, 100% wrong. I have just been exposed to the WRONG type of theatre. I have been exposed to theatre that doesn’t interest me. Well, holy, fucking, shit. On Saturday I had the chance to go help out with the Elite Wrestling Alliance’s show at The Center of Gravity in Toronto. First off — I have watched a lot of wrestling on television, but I have never been to a live event before. It it ten times better in person. Secondly — if anyone ever tries to tell you that wrestling is fake, do me a favour, and trip him. You can’t fake that kind of camaraderie, and you certainly can’t fake that kind of knock-down, drag-out fighting that I watched on Saturday night. Is it pre-determined? Yes, absolutely. Does that necessarily mean it’s fake? No you dumbass; you try getting dropped on your face, then I’ll ask you if the floor felt like it was fake.

I have yet to decide if this means I am now comfortable with labeling myself as a theatre nerd, but since I have yet to own a stupid beret, and I haven’t had a pair of Converse in a year, I think I’m still safe.

A tag-team match of Cody Deaner and Cody 45 VS the Flatliners (Matt Burns and Asylum). Click through the photo for the entire album.

The Day Is Young, The Store Is Open

As seen on St. Clair

Too Hard to tell What’s Fence and What’s Feet

They were very willing to pose for this lovely glamour shot. They were also willing to eat all the bread some crazy lady was throwing to them.