Calling Rogers is fun!!

So, last monday I got a call from Rogers, regarding my account. Because, well, I hadn’t paid since december. Stupid economy, and all. I told the nice lady I had already entered an agreement since May in which I had until July 26th to pay five hundred and seventy-odd dollars. “Nevermind”, she said, upon realizing I was speaking the truth, and hung up. “I will be paying this thursday”, I mentioned.
She said “Yes, well, you still have until the 26th”, to which I replied “I’d much rather get this out of the way”. We parted rather amicably. In fact, her last words were “if you pay on thursday, we’ll have you reconnected by monday, at the latest”.
Have a good day, and all, too.

So, when I received my vacation pay from work, I could have gone with the heart, said “fuck it”, packed a suitcase and gone back home. Still, I had to think with the brain. “Why don’t you rid yourself of debt, instead?”. And that is exactly what I did. I had already caught up on my rent, my Bell thingies, paid off my Zellers credit card… the last bastion between me and a debt-free life was Rogers.
Last thursday, I kept my promise and visited the nearby Rogers Video store. I waited until monday, as a good little boy. Nothing. Tuesday night, after work, nothing. Today, I decided to give them a piece of my mind.

“Herro”, she answered. Not really, but she did have an asian accent, and I love me my stereotypes. She was a bitch. A cunt. A rude assholish idiot from the credit and billing department. “I paid what I was told to, and my service hasn’t been reconnected”, I explained. “Werr, sir, you have to pay one hundred and eighty four dorrars“. “No”, i explained. “I was promised if I paid what I paid my service would be reconnected”.
Se replied with “Oh, I’m an idiot, let me transfer you to somebody else”. Five minutes of one of Mozart’s sonatas later, some guy picked up.
“Repeat unto me all of your personal info”, he said in my imagination, “because our  automated service, while technologically impressive, can’t keep track of a single file account”. So, I did. “Oops, sorry”, the idiot said. “I’m an imbecile and can do nothing to help you. Sorry, but our princess is in another castle”. So he transfered me back to the credit and billing services department, where I got a hold of this “Ryan” dude.

Ryan tells me I’m fucked, as have all the idiots before him. As I had explained, I had been lied to, and would have no more of this. I wanted to cancel. Ryan, at first, gave the same speech as all the others. “Ha! Ha! You gave us 580 dollars and you’re still fucked!”. He wanted me to pay another 140 dollars, just for the privilege of cancelling my cell phone service (another 400-odd quid). I hung up, pissed. Fuming.

In my rage, I nearly smashed my iPhone against the oven door. Just as I held it over my head, in an effort to gain maximum force, it started vibrating in my hand. “Is it pleading for mercy?”, I thought. Realizing inanimate objects don’t plea for mercy, I realized it was ringing. By the time I tried to answer it, the call had been lost. It apeared to be from a blocked number, but still, it was strange I had even received a call.
30 seconds later, my home phone rings. I answer.
“Hey, buddy!”, the voice says. “This is Ryan, we just talked about your Rogers account”. In his non-chalant, unprofessional demeanor (not that there’s anything wrong with a guy acting “fresh”, mind you – it beats the monotony, at least), he said  ”Listen, um, I was wrong, I just noticed there is a note on your profile saying you had made an agreement in May, and you already paid that”.
“Well, duh”, I thought, but I kept listening.
“You know what? I apologize for not doing my work properly, I messed up. I reconnected your service, just turn your phone off for about a minute, turn it back on, and you should have no problems. Your next bill is due on the 19th, but if you can make your payment by august I don’t see there being any problems. Again, I appreciate your time and I apologize for my mistake”.
Oh, between my first dialogue with Ryan and his announcement that I had service, at least 30 minutes went by. He did apologize for the wait, every ten or so minutes, but at the same time, I developed a fascination with jazz music.

Well, thanks to Ryan, a.k.a. somebody with a fucking brain, I have my cell phone service up and running. I just turned the thing on, and indeed, it shows my 3G icon. Yeah Ryan!

So, if the call had ended with the asian lady, or the other prick, I’d be cancelling my account. But thanks to Ryan, I guess I’ll stick to my Rogers account after all. I hope some Rogers big wig reads this and takes appropriate measures. Give the guy a bonus, at least.

So yey! I got my iPhone running now.

The Iceberg.

This made me laugh.

I don’t know if it’s just me overcompensating for my depression by finding everything funny and entertaining myself, or if this is actually one of the funniest images I’ve seen in a long time. And believe me, I click on “funny image” sites every morning.

All I know is I want to do it at work.

The Iceberg.

Cheer Up! #1

Hey, everyone! Sorry I got a little “whiny” the other day. My brain does that sometimes. But I feel better now, in case you care.

Anyway, here’s another gallery for the guys. I still haven’t forgotten I promised one for the girls, I’m working on it but you have to understand that as a guy I can’t be bothered with looking up pictures of dudes. Would you settle for a gallery of puppies and kittens instead? Please? Ha, ha.

Speaking strictly as a guy, though, I have this sudden wish that I were a wall, for some reason. Oh, never mind, here’s the pictures.

Well, that’s it for now. But here’s a hint: See that “#1” up there in the title? That means there’s more to come!

The Iceberg

Acquiescence

Don’t even read this. It’ll be too long and boring. I’m just venting.

You’ve been warned.

“The shit has hit the fan”, people say when things have catastrophically spiralled out of hand. Such is the case in my life right now. My depression is increasing, my little world is collapsing and the best I can do is just sit there and take it in. Like Johnny from “Johnny Got His Gun” (the subject of Metallica’s “One”, in case you didn’t know), I am aware of things, yet I’m unable to do anything about them.

Self-Awareness 1: Canada
I’ve complained, always, that I don’t have that many friends (or much of a social life). Yet, I’ve managed to live with that. But the realization and the self-awareness are sinking deeper into me. Am I really that intolerable?
Sure, I’m introverted, and socially retarded, but I can’t be all bad, no? There must be something people can find interesting, if not likeable, about me. But no, people avoid me like I’m covered in shit and throwing handfuls of bees at them.

Self-Awareness 2: Mexico
When I left Mexico in 2005, I left behind a consderable number of friends (which is weird in itself, considering I haven’t cemented a single friendship in the almost four years I’ve been up here). Even on my trips back home, I keep meeting new people, many of whom I’ve befriended. I even met my girlfriend that way.
Yet something’s happened. Many of my original friends – and I’m not talking acquaintances here, I’m talking friends since way back – have all but disappeared. What is it about me that makes people say “good, he’s gone. Let’s move on”?
Sure, I still have a handful of friends that are fucking amazing. They even take the time to talk to me almost every day. For them, I am grateful. But then there’s the “hellos” and the “what’s up!s” that sit there, piling into eachother, unreplied to, in other friends’ conversation boxes on my Messenger.
Am I some kind of “social leper”?

SINCE ”EMBEDDING IS DISABLED BY REQUEST”, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, HERE’S THE LYRICS TO FAITH NO MORE’S “FALLING TO PIECES”

Back and forth, I sway with the wind
Resolution slips away again
Right through my fingers, back into my heart
Where it’s out of reach and it’s in the dark
Sometimes I think I’m blind
Or I may be just paralyzed
Because the plot thickens every day
And the pieces of my puzzle keep crumblin’ away
But I know, there’s a picture beneath
Indecision clouds my vision
No one listens…
Because I’m somewhere in between
My love and my agony
You see, I’m somewhere in between
My life is falling to pieces
Somebody put me together
Layin’ face down on the ground
My fingers in my ears to block the sound
My eyes shut tight to avoid the sight
Anticipating the end, losing the will to fight
Droplets of “yes” and “no”
In an ocean of “maybe”
From the bottom, it looks like a steep incline
From the top, another downhill slope of mine
But I know, the equilibrium’s there
Indecision clouds my vision
No one listens
Because I’m somewhere in between
My love and my agony
You see, I’m somewhere in between
My life is falling to pieces
Somebody put me together
 

 Self-Awareness 3: The Internet.
Ah, here’s where it all blends together. Messenger, Facebook, the blogs… People from Mexico and Canada, and hell, all over the world have access to me. Again, I might not be the most social guy in the world, but at least I’m fortunate enough to live in times like these, when we have the internet.
Yet, despite proving to be relatively intelligent, culturally relevant, well-spoken (most of the time), courteous in my conversation (for the most part, I at least take the time to listen and reply accordingly – as opposed to just typing LOL – and I have the decency to end my conversations by not just disappearing) and in some instances helpful, funny or at the very least sincere, it would seem people disregard all that and prefer befriending the cliché-ridden types of people I always end up mocking.
Perhaps the most haunting aspect of the whole internet thing doesn’t even have to do with other people, but with myself. There’s times when I’ll wake up at 6:30 in the morning, terrified because I can’t remember what I wrote as a “status” and if I shouldn’t have, or people will take it the wrong way, or if a certain conversation went the wrong way, or if something I said upset someone. For example, even though “I hate myself and want to die” is a song by Nirvana, and to an extent describes my mood, I’ll find myself regretting writing it as my Facebook status. And, sure enough, some friend will find it in his heart to comment that I come off as a 14 year old emo girl.

Family Life
About a month ago, I decided to create a new email account. A more “personal” one, if you will. Fucking hotmail and its spam, its notifications from Facebook, and the like. The one at canada.com, well, let’s say 500 people a day want to sell me herbal viagra, cheap watches, and hook me up with teenage girls, so fuck that. I have another one at gmail.com, which I intended to use with my blogs. But I needed another, more personal one. So, I went with my whole name at gmail.com.
The first thing I did was send a mail to every member of my family whose email address I had. Yes, we’ve been distant for the most part, but I wanted to take a step towards keeping in touch. Stupid me. You know how many of those assholes bothered with a response? ZERO. When I asked for email contacts for the rest of my family, only one of my sisters was nice enough to respond.
Then, there’s the immediate family. Other than a short call on Father’s Day, I haven’t spoken to my dad since February. It’s kind of hard talking to him, lately. And my sisters, well, I can’t really blame them for anything. They’re still around, just we’re all too busy doing our thing.
And then, of course, my daughter. I’ve only spoken to her twice this year. Apparently, that’s all I’m allowed to.

Moneytalks
It’s been a hell of a year, so far. It’s hard enough to live on a two-day work week. It’s been stressful at times to struggle to come up with enough money for, say, rent. Or food. But I’ve managed. The thing that depresses me the most about this is that even though all this global crisis thing isn’t my fault, I still consider it a personal defeat that I wasn’t able to go home for the summer. The worst part is, if I had been able to, I’d be there right now.

AND WELL, ANOTHER ONE I CAN’T SEEM TO POST. THERE GOES THEIR PROMOTION. HERE’S THE LYRICS TO SOUL ASYLUM’S “RUNAWAY TRAIN”.

Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning

So tired that I couldn’t even sleep
So many secrets I couldn’t keep
I promised myself I wouldn’t weep
One more promise I couldn’t keep

It seems no one can help me now,
I’m in too deep; there’s no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there

Can you help me remember how to smile?
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded?
Life’s mystery seems so faded

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just a-drownin’ in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train

And everything seems cut and dried,
Day and night, earth and sky,
Somehow I just don’t believe it

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughing at the rain
A little out of touch, a little insane
It’s just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I’m neither here nor there

Runaway train, never coming back
Runaway train, tearing up the track
Runaway train, burning in my veins
I run away but it always seems the same

Home Life
I really, really hate myself for this. In all this time off, I’ve yet to get off my ass and tend to my home. Or my things. I had promised myself to leave the house spotless, for one. I haven’t even bothered to find out where my girlfriend left the mop, almost two months ago. Sure, I’ll do the basics, like washing dishes, doing laundry and disposing of garbage properly, but I never did get around to most of my to-do list.
Speaking of laundry, the loads I washed on sunday are still sitting there in the bag I put them in after I pulled them out of the drier.

Love Life
Perhaps the  most cataclysmic event in my whole depression bout, as of monday night, is the fact that I may, or may not, have broken up with my girlfriend.
There’s two levels for this. Before I explain, let me say I love her a lot. She’s a wonderful, awesome person and I’m an idiot for doing what I did. She’s proven time and time again she loves me, and not only me, but everything about me and my surroundings. She stood up to her family when they didn’t agree that she’d come to Canada without getting married first. She loves my sisters, my nieces and nephews, and she gets along great with my daughter. She’s funny, she’s tolerant of my “bad” habits, and there are so many amazing things about her that I only feel like more of an idiot as I type this.
Level 1 would be, of course, her darker side. She doesn’t trust me; she always believes the worst case scenario no matter what; she conducts her own little “investigations” about me, and no matter what I do, it’s just never enough. I give up an inch, she wants the whole mile. I don’t give up an inch, I’m an asshole. I’m tired of her making me feel inadequate, no matter what I do.
Level 2 goes beyond that. It’s kinda simple, actually. She requires a legally binding piece of paper stating that I love her. A wedding, so to speak. And, she wants offspring. I don’t. It’s not in my plans, at least for now, to offer her documentation as to what I feel for her, nor is it my dream come true to bring more people into the world. Selfish, perhaps, but only on the surface. A really selfish person would say “hey, deal with it”. Myself, I love her so much that if I can’t give her what she needs, I want her to find it. Even if it’s not with me. As I said, she really is special, and she deserves happiness. She deserves more than me. Yet, being without her is killing me.

Well, if you made it this far, I appreciate the interest. I know I sound emo, but believe me, eyeliner and hair over my eye and My Chemical Romance aren’t going to fix me. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time. Watch the videos (or read the lyrics to the videos I couldn’t post – Thanks, Music Industry, you geniuses, you!). The lyrics are great.

The Iceberg

This video is brought to you by the number 666

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Maybe I’m just silly, maybe it’s the barley soda I’ve been drinking, or maybe this really is hilarious.

Some people have too much time on their hands. Which is good.

The Iceberg.

Foodstuffs #1: A Sandwich.

The art of placing food between pieces of bread is said to have originated when the Earl of Sandwich instructed one of his servants to place a piece of meat between two slices of bread so he could eat with one hand, while playing cards with the other. Hence, the name.
I can’t vouch for the veracity of said anecdote, but nonetheless, sandwiches have been a part of everyday life, at the very least, since I remember. Burgers and hotdogs are variations of the sandwich, as well as mexican “tortas”. There are as many variations as there are ingredients – from the american classic peanut butter and jelly, to the british cucumber sandwich, to the ever-popular post-christmas “now what are we going to do with all this leftover turkey” sandwich.

We laughed when Dagwood made his three-foot high ones, we took them to school every day, and we say certain celebrities could use one when discusing their thinness. Sandwiches are everywhere. Hell, fast food joints like Subway and Quiznos have capitalized on our fascination.

If I may go off on a tangent, here, let me mention something. Canadians, for whatever reason, love their food bland. Among other little “stereotypes” I’ve found out about canadians (and I don’t mean saying eh! – in fact, at one point I considered creating a blog called Stuff Canadians Like), this is one of the most noticeable. And I don’t mean guys at work cowering from my habanero peppers. That could be understood. I mean, in general. Like, you go to the Indian restaurant, and order the Vindaloo, and they gasp in horror as they explain it’s very spicy. Then they bring it to you, and it’s sweet, for fuck’s sake. Or, what canadians like to call “suicide wings”, which consist of your typical wings bathed in some Frank’s Red Hot sauce, with a splash of Tabasco. Ooooh! 

One of these bland Canadian food items I’ve noticed from a lot of people is what I like to describe as “the canadian sandwich”. How they handle the Italian Sub at Subway, is beyond me.
They love to spread mayo on a slice of bread, add one slice of ham, a slice of cheese, and spread mustard on the other slice. That’s it. That’s their “sandwich”. Along with poutine, and Dill Pickle chips, this is typical canadian food.

The “Canadian Sandwich”

I’m lacking a few ingredients, but since I was too lazy to actually cook something, I settled on eating a sandwich. Hey, a meal and a blog topic, all in one. Here’s my idea of a sandwich.

First of all, sliced bread has one purpose, and one purpose only: to be served as toast. So fuck sliced bread, I’m going with a bun.

You slice it in half, hollow it out somewhat, and spread margarine on both slices. You spread spaghetti sauce on the bottom half, and mayonnaise and mustard on the top half. If I had bought Philadelphia Cream Cheese, that would’ve gone under the spaghetti sauce.

You place a couple of leaves of lettuce (I used “Iceberg” lettuce, because hey… but feel free to use romaine), and thinly diced tomato and onion. Well, I used onion “circles” for illustrative purposes. Nothing sucks more than taking a bite and pulling out a whole tomato slice. So chop the fucker up, I say.

Then, a slice of american cheese (feel free to experiment, but 24 slices: 3 dollars. A pack of gouda: 14 dollars. Fuck that.). Then, two slices of ham, two slices of salami and two slices of pepperoni. And one half of an avocado.

Then, go wild with flavorings. You could use ranch sauce, or whatever. I used this “El Yucateco” brand Kutbil-Ik habanero sauce, because it kicks ass. And a couple splashes of Grace hot pepper sauce. Salt, pepper, and italian seasoning.

Place the other half of the bun (the one with the mayo and mustard) on top, and don’t forget to press down. I can’t stress this enough. Press down on the fucker.

Microwave for 45 seconds, just so the margarine and the cheese get warm and soft. Anything over a minute, and the lettuce and tomato will burn your mouth (them being 90% liquid, and all). Proceed to enjoy.

Even the gods would be proud. What a masterpiece!

If I’d had my way, I would have added cream cheese, olives,  some stronger/saltier cheese, and perhaps bacon. In any case, I ate both the “canadian sandwich” and my creation. Guess which one tasted better.

The Iceberg.

Canada Day

Whoever said drinking was an unproductive activity? “Bollocks!”, I say. If it weren’t for my habitual shopping at The Beer Store, I would have ended up reading something else while on the crapper, and hence there’d be no post today. At least, no Canada-themed post today.

It’s Canada Day! 142 years ago, Canada became a nation. Sure, americans can say their country is older, but we get fireworks today and you have to wait until saturday. neener-neener.

Anyhoo, while at The Beer Store the other day, I picked up their current issue of “chill”. It had Megan Fox on the cover, so why not. Being a free issue with the same kind of content as Maxim (sans the chicks), it’s perfect company to my bowel movements. Or what? Did you think I shack up in there with the New England Journal Of Medicine?
This particular issue featured as a big highlight the whole Canada Day thing. One of its articles was, in fact, titled “142 facts about Canada and Canadians”. It was written by Randy Ray and Mark Kearney. Don’t say I don’t quote my sources. I’d like to share with you my 39 favorite “facts”. I’d share a case of beer, too, but for fuck’s sake, the Beer Store is closed today. Oh well.
They appear as numbered on the magazine.

2. The red and white found on Canada’s national flag were designated as Canada’s official colours in 1921 by King George V.

4. The first drive-in movie theatre was established in Stoney Creek, Ontario.

5. The Montral Canadiens’ nickname, the “Habs”, refers to early French settlers called habitants.

7. Methodists in Upper Canada (now Ontario) once banned the use of violins when playing religious music because of the instrument’s association with dancing and merriment.

27. The Royal William, a Canadian Vessel, became the first ship to cross the Atlantic using steam in 1833. It later became the first steam ship to fire a gun.

32. The Calgary Stampeders are the only CFL team to go undefeated during the regular season. They went 12-0 in 1948.

36. Craig Ramsay of the Buffalo Sabres is the last NHL player to play a full season without drawing a single penalty. He did so in 1973-1974.

38. Dr. James Gosling, who grew up near Calgary, developed Java, a universal computer programming language.

40. Dr. Ron Taylor, former team physician for the Toronto Blue Jays, has four World Series Rings: two awarded to him when the Jays won the Series in 1992 and 1993 and two from his previous career as a major league relief pitcher with the 1964 St. Louis Cardinals and 1969 New York Mets.

47. O Canada was composed in 1880. In 1908, Robert Stanley Weir wrote the translation on which the present English lyric is based. O Canada was proclaimed the national anthem on July 1st, 1980.

50. Canada occupies half of North America and nearly seven percent of the total surface of the Earth.

52. When WWII was declared in 1939, Canada was completely unready. While the government placed orders for uniforms and rifles, volunteers trained in their “civvies”, sometimes carrying broomsticks.

57. Sir Sandford Fleming designed Canada’s first adhesive postage stamp and proposed the present system of standard time, by which the world is divided into 24 equal time zones. 

60. In 1970, Canadian skier Betsy Clifford was the youngest skier to win a gold medal at the World Championships in Val Gardena, Italy. She was 16 at the time.

68. Of the top 10 flying aces in World War I, four of them were Canadian – Billy Bishop, Ray Collinshaw, Don McLaren and William Barker.

69. Ottawa journalist Sandy Gardiner is credited by some with coining the phrase “Beatlemania” to describe the frenzy created by the 1960s rock group.

70. Canada’s first Olympic gold medal was won by a man competing for the United States. George Orton of Strathroy, Ontario took first place in the steeplechase at the 1900 olympics in Paris, but because Canada didn’t have an official team he entered as part of the American team.

71. The robbery phrase “hands up” originated in British Columbia. Bill Miner, known as “the Gentleman Bandit”, is said to first have used the phrase while robbing a CPR train in Mission Junction in 1904.

73. Jack Graney of St. Thomas, Ontario, was the first baseball player to get a hit off Babe Ruth in the major leagues. Ruth started his career as a pitcher.

76. The last Dominion of Canada four-dollar notes were issued in 1911. They were replaced in 1912 by Dominion of Canada five-dollar notes.

80. Students from McGill University introduced the game of rugby, with its oblong ball, to their Harvard counterparts in 1874, who up to that time played only with a round ball. The americans were so taken by the the game thay adopted it and it eventually evolved into the football now played throughout the country.

83. Among the names considered for Canada before it officially became a country in 1867 were Cabotia, Ursalia, Laurentia and Columbia.

84. Canadian Roy Ward Dickson gets credit for inventing the game show. His radio program “Professor Dick and his Question Box” debuted in Toronto on May 15, 1935.

89. Canada has two patron saints, Joseph, the spouse of the virgin Mary, and Anne, who was Mary’s mother.

90. The first downtown mall in North America, Wellington Square, was built in London, Ontario in 1960.

92. George S. Lyon of Canada won the gold medal in golf at the olympics in St. Louis in 1904. It’s the only time golf has been played in the Olympic Games.

93. Superman was co-created by Toronto-born Joe Schuster, who created the Man of Steel in the 1930s with his friend Jerry Siegal.

98. In the 1760s, some people in Great Britain wanted to trade their colony in Canada to the French for their West Indian island of Guadeloupe. They argued that the island’s coffee and sugar crops would be better economically than the fur trade.

102. If you have the torn half of a $20 dollar bill, it’s still worth $10 because ripped bills still have value, according to the Bank of Canada. Bills that have three fifths or more of their otiginal size remaining are worth their full value while those sheared in half are worth half their amount.

103. Winnie the Pooh is named for Winnipeg, Manitoba. A real bear cub from White River, Ontario, was taken to the London Zoo by Harry Colebourn, who named it Winnipeg, or Winnie for short. A.A. Milne (Pooh’s creator) was a frequent visitor to the zoo.

105. Louis B. Mayer, the film producer who grew up in New Brunswick, is responsible for creating the Academy Awards.

106. Henry Woodward and Matthew Evans of Toronto produced the first light bulb a good six years before Thomas Edison. The famed american inventor actually bought the right to the Torontonians’ patent.

109. In the late 1960s, rumours about Paul McCartney of the Beatles being dead were partially fueled by a badge he was wearing on his shoulder on the Sgt. Pepper album. Fans thought the badge said OPD for “officially pronounced dead”, but in fact it was an Ontario Provincial Police badge he picked up while performing in Canada.

110. Newfoundland was originally set to enter Confederation on April 1, 1949, but Premier Joey Smallwood got the date pushed back a day to March 31 to avoid any possible jokes about joining Canada on April Fool’s Day.

113. When John Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincoln, was killed during a manhunt, officials found a Bill of Exchange from the Ontario Bank of Montreal on his body. Booth had spent time in Montreal plotting with Confederate soldiers and had opened an account there.

114. Not only did Canadian James Naismith invent basketball in Springfield, Mass. in 1981, but five of the 18 players  in that first game (there were nine a side back then) were Canadian.

115. If Canada was divided equally  among Canadians, each person would receive a piece of land roughly the size of 27 baseball fields, or about 365,000 square meters.

132. When officials were debating in the 1860s what to name this country, one suggestion was Efisga. That derives from the first letters of England, France, Ireland, Scotland, Germany and Aboriginal lands.

140. At the 1920 Olympics in Antwerp, Belgium, the Canadian team, for undetermined reasons, had no flag for the opening ceremonies. Flag bearer Archie McDiarmid marched into the stadium carrying a bare flag pole.

Phew! I thought I’d never end. Anyway, I hope you find these facts about Canada interesting. I was going to comment on them, but the post is long enough as it is.

Happy Canada Day!

The Iceberg

 

 

Creative Advertising

My fascination with advertising and graphic design in general dates back to who knows when. Nowadays, pretty much everyone and their mother fancies themselves a graphic designer, myself included. But installing Photoshop and editing your Facebook pictures or adding “funny” text to a picture of a cat does not make you a good graphic designer.
And when it comes to the world of advertising, well, you have two options. Create stuff that anybody could do (almost everybody), or be a creative genius. Here are some examples of creative advertising I managed to find on the web.

My personal favorites in this particular gallery, judging on creativity alone, are the Koleston billboard, the Folgers manhole cover (although I doubt the smell helps), the Mr. Clean one and the dental insurance one.

Oh! And this is only Part One. There’ll be more coming.

The Iceberg.

The earliest evidence of an “Iceberglandia”, to date

Going through a recently-discovered batch of “really” old files, I stumbled upon one in particular. It was eye-opening, to say the least.

It’s dated Monday, November 5th, 2001, in case you can’t read the little image here.

If anything, I guess it explains why I was reluctant to celebrate three years of WordPress not going out of business. The whole concept of “Iceberglandia” has existed since, at least, then. Or even before.

What’s even weirder is the text itself, which to an extent still reflects my writing. Look:

Day one. I’m going to start this site off by describing myself a little. I am, or at least I think I am, in one word, intense. That means, among other things, that when I love, I love. When I hate, I hate. When I eat, I eat (that explains the huge gut you’ll be seeing in my pictures). When I drink, I drink. When I shit, well, you get the point. I’m not your average guy. This is actually version 109 of this site. The other 108 were done in the same fashion, but in Spanish. Then I thought, the only people who read this already speak english, so why not do it in a language where I can come in contact with other people? So, here it is. Another one in the already long and boring list of “personal” sites. I hear they call them E/N sites now. But anyway, let’s ramble on with the introductions. So, I’m a fat metal fan living in a tiny hellhole just south of the Texas border. Ciudad Victoria, Tamaulipas, Mexico. I’m married, but in case I have at least one female fan, if you stalk me long enough, I’m yours. See, I’m also funny. But hey, so are 70’s clothes, and people still wear them, so I just might get lucky. I have a daughter, she’s one year old and she’s a great kid. So far, at least. Let’s see how well she does with me as a father. Anyway, let’s continue. I like, among other things, metal music (LOUD), soccer, baseball, hockey, fast food, slow food, anything edible, alcohol, tobacco, beautiful women (no porn, I hate seeing what I’d rather be doing), cars, movies, TV, designing, complaining, the internet and my MP3 collection. I hate stupid people, dealing with stupid people, putting up with crap, waking up, getting hit by stupid furniture, and trying to get my computer to work properly. In a nutshell, that’s me. As time does it’s thing, you’ll get to know me a bit better. Hopefully, so will I. Now, a little bit about this site.
It all started when my wife was expecting my daughter, and I started sending a bunch of e-mails to the people I knew, including friends, relatives, in-laws, etc. Then, the right side of my brain took over and I decided to create a site “instead” of sending mails. The mails never ceased to be sent, though. Then, after my daughter was born, I had nothing to inform anyone anymore, and my number of “constant readers” (as Stephen King calls us) started to decrease. So, I started to do something different. I started to rant about everything, until everyone who read my crap was sick and tired of me, and it started to show. The site took another twist when, instead of just ranting about everything, I started to talk just about anything. Well, in almost a year, I had 40 hits. over 3/4 of those were me, clicking into my site. Not very good numbers, I know. So I started to reconsider having a website. After all, what I had to say, no one gave a shit about, and starting to make a “Yankees Website”, or a “Heavy Metal Site” was about as unappealing and unfulfilling as posting pictures of my ass. After all, what can I say about the Yankees that you don’t know already, if you’re a Yankees fan? And, if you’re not a Yankees fan, you wouldn’t be visiting my site, right? So, I was just about to call it quits, when I said to myself, “Myself, why don’t you just go on with what you want to do, and stop caring if your “friends” visit your website?” At the same time, I came across a couple of websites that seemed to be exactly what I had always wanted to do. You’ll soon find out who I’m talking about. Besides, my mind has always been outside of this craphole I live in, and way up north, so starting to write in English was a natural move for me.
OK, well, this has taken on forever, so I’ll stop for now. I hope if someone reads this, they’ll be interested enough to keep coming back. More to come tomorrow.
Oh, and I’ll be including pictures and links in my posts. And, before I start getting into trouble, thanks to BigDarkCloud for the inspiration, and to a certain extent, for the layout. I’m not copying, it’s just what I’ve always wanted to do. You rule.

Let’s comment on this.

“The Iceberglandia Times”? Yeah, that made me laugh too. Yet at the time I went so far as to create a logo using one of those deutsch gothic fonts real newspapers use.

I’m still “intense”, whatever I meant by that. The “fat gut” I was referencing is now gone, blessed be, but I still indulge in the loving and the hating and the eating and the drinking and yes, the shitting.

The numbers “108″ and “109″ are an exaggeration, obviously, but a clear indication that the whole “Iceberglandia” concept dates back to maybe the Cretacean Period.

Funny I thought at the time that only english-speaking people were interested in my shit, since nowadays my spanish blog gets at least twice the hits this one gets. Often, three times the hits.

“E/N sites”? That’s 2001-speak, right there. I guess the word “blog” hadn’t entered the lexicon.

I’m not married anymore, but the idea remains: If you stalk me long enough, I’m yours. (This would pertain only to female stalkers, of course)

My daughter’s 8, going on 9 now. And since 2003, things could have been better worded as “let’s see how well she does without me as a father”. I had no idea at the time I’d lose her.

I still like the same shit, hate the same things, and sometimes still get hit by furniture. The “pinky toe on the foot of the table” thing never gets old.

BigDarkCloud was a “E/N site” I used to visit a lot back in the day. I still follow the guy, athough he’s now going under the blog “RobotMustDestroy”. It’s one of my everyday visits I’ve talked about when discussing my morning routine. The other ones might have been SomethingAwful, WeAin’tCool ( I still follow Jacky as well, on findingi.com) and a bunch of others. I-Mockery, X-Entertainment, RetroCrush, CockEyed.com and the long departed whatever-dude.com, seanbaby.com, and poprocksandcoke.com.
Those were some of my early influences. There, I said it.

While I expressed on my spanish blog how things change, it’s surprising to have to say here that I haven’t changed that much. Well, I have, but this text I wrote 8 years ago just kicked me in the head.

It would be cheap of me to phrase that “the more things change the more they stay the same” thing. Instead, I’ll limit myself to 3 letters and a question mark.

WTF?

The Iceberg

Coffee, at last!

Yesterday I bought a new coffee maker, since the other one died on me last weekend. I was just too lazy to get it out of the box. “Ah”, I said as I scratched my nether regions in a display of laziness. “I’ll set it up tomorrow”. Big mistake.

This morning I awoke, smiling. Yes, really. When I remembered I now had a coffee machine, I smiled. I managed to crawl out of bed, take a piss, and as I stared at the Black & Decker box on my kitchen counter, I thought I’d be sipping on some fresh-brewed coffee in no time.
Nope. My brain was still half asleep, my eyes were still rolling back into my head. I had a hard enough time pulling the cardboard flap in order to open the box. Inside, plastic. Lots and lots of plastic. Plastic bags, plastic holders, plastic tape… even the  ”plug into the wall” thingie had a plastic protector.
I finally managed to set the damn thing on the counter, rid of all its plastic shell. “Now, let’s look at the manual”, the part of me that was awake thought. I know how to operate these things, I just wanted to find out if I had to remove any plastic from within the machine.
Apparently not.

Then, of all things, the carafe had a stupid piece of paper that read, in three different languages, this: Wash me with sudsy warm water before using me”. Two things crossed my mind. First, “Great, the one thing I want to do even more than drink coffee, since I just woke up, is to WASH FUCKING DISHES”. And second, this is an appliance that (hopefully) adults will use. Why is an inanimate object referring to itself in the first person? I mean, if I had bought a “Tickle Me Elmo” I’d understand, but sheesh!

Finally, I put some water in, “brewed” it as per the instructions, and then proceeded to actually make myself my joe.

Quite tasty, it was. Being a new machine, it had no artificial flavorings (as in buildup from the tap water I use). And there was peace in the land, for The Iceberg was happy with his purchase.

The Iceberg