Iceberglandia

Hey, there! I’ll hand it to you, you were right after all. Sometimes life stops sucking for a while. I’m quite in a hurry right now, but I’ll let you in on what’s happening.

First off, the reason I’m busy is because I’m finally moving out of this hellhole, and I’m moving all my shit to my new place, which ROCKS! if I do say so myself. So, no more whining about these fuckers anymore…

Second, my sister had her baby on tuesday. I haven’t met the little guy yet, but they’re ok.

Third, my favorite soccer team in Mexico recently returned to the first division.

I know there was something else I wanted to mention, but it escapes me for now, so I’ll have to tell you later. I really have to go.

So, this is the last post from hell. This hell, at least.

The Iceberg.

Hey! How go things? Just popping up to comment on a couple of things that don’t warrant an entire post by themselves…

AT WORK
I guess when the highlight of your week is that a bat flew into the building the other night, it’s safe to say it was a week full of more of the same… show up, do your 8 hours, go home… nothing particularly relevant happened this week (except for the bat, if that counts). On the bright side, Monday is a day off.

AT HOME
Well, packing’s almost done, except for the part where I need to figure out when I’ll be moving, exactly, so I know what to leave out.
I know I hate this place, but still, it feels weird to pack and get ready to leave. Not because of the moving part, God knows I’ve done my share of that (5 times in the last three years, alone), but… well, I don’t know. It feels weird.
Some motherfucker had the nerve, just the other day, to steal my can opener. Can you believe that? Stupid me, opening a can of diced tomatoes, and forgetting to hide my can opener. Sure, it was one of those things you buy for 1 dollar at the Dollarama, or whatever, and I won’t have to sell the farm to buy another one, but then again, I shouldn’t need to…
I feel the need for revenge. I feel the need to, as I leave the house, take whatever I want from here. But that would be sinking down to levels I care not to sink to. I’ll just count my blessings, get away from the place, and, I dunno… I just might leave that half pack of ground beef I have left over somewhere where they can’t see it. And then, when it goes bad… too bad I won’t be around to see it. Hee hee.

LIFE OF THE ICEBERG
The other day I walked into the mall with two things in mind. I had seen this Children Of Bodom T-shirt I wanted to buy, and I was in dire need of new running shoes. As luck would have it, I walked out with neither. I had seen the T-Shirt at a store, picture Hot Topic, but being the only good shirt in the store (amongst My Chemical Romance, Billy Talent and fucking Alexisonfire), I decided to look elsewhere for shirts. Besides, the two emo dumbasses in the store wouldn’t even bother to acknowledge my presence, so I decided to take my business elsewhere. Lo and behold, I found a nifty little store downstairs which just so happened to sell not only the same COB shirt, but two others, plus a variety of Slayer, Deicide and Megadeth ones as well (actually, I knew the store existed, but I didn’t know they sold T-shirts).
Having located a store from which to buy a COB shirt, I did the only logical thing: Walk out. I should have bought the damn thing then, but I decided to go looking for my shoes and then come back.
There’s 2 choices at the local mall. There’s Foot Locker, with its dumbasses dressed in NFL referee uniforms and its overpriced crap, and there’s SportsWorld, or Sports something or other. Well, being that I walked by Foot Locker first, I decided to go in. 15 seconds later, I was back out. Into the other store I go.
I don’t know how long this has been going on, but it’s been over 10 years. Why on earth is athletic footwear so damn ugly? It’s like Nike, Adidas, Reebok and the others are trying deliberately to out-ugly one another. For fuck’s sake, Nikes look like those white bags Paris Hilton carries her dumb dog around in, and the rest look like utter crap with random stripes and colours shooting out from everywhere. I had my mind set on a pair of Adidas (three stripes, and that’s it… a simple concept, really), but the only decent pair had GREEN stripes. Who the fuck wears green on their feet? Anyway, long story short, I completely dismissed the shoe department, but made the mistake of walking by the clothing section. 80 quid lighter, I walked out with an Adidas suit.
I noticed the time, and realized it was time to catch my bus. “It’s ok”, I told myself as convincingly as I could. “I can always come back for the shirt tomorrow”.
Well, I had forgotten to purchase cigarettes, as I discovered while waiting for the bus. So, into the ministore I go. Big mistake. Not only did I walk out with my smokes, but with another anecdote. I hope you have a little time left.
See, when I first came to Canada, I was, how to say it, quite in a financial pickle. Broke, so to speak. But, I thought, finding gainful employment in a one-horse town like Fergus was a technical impossibility, so on occasion I invested whatever little I had towards trips to Guelph. After following the two or three leads I had found, I had fuck all to do while in the fair city until my 5:00 bus ride back to Fergus, which inevitably
led to me going to the mall. On occasion, I’d stare at the Zippo display in said ministore, and for some unexplainable reason became enamored with, of all the Zippos in there, a purple one. Well, upon my recent visit, I noticed it was still there, this time accompanied by much nicer looking ones, in black, blue and white. But the goddamned Iceberg wanted the purple one, and now every time he lights up a cigarette he has to do it in a manner that describes, without words, that despite his lighter, he, in fact, is not a homosexual.
So there you have it. I walked in with two things in mind, and walked out with two completely different things. Such is my life.
UPDATE
This morning I walked into a Zellers, and decided to look for shoes. After looking around for a couple of minutes, I walked out with a pair of $20 Spalding shoes (they were on sale, and they look a hell of a lot more decent than those $90 abominations at the mall). As luck would fucking have it, I did not enjoy my first walk in them. Stupid me forgot to remove the little salt envelope, and you can imagine what happened.

ON MOTIVATION
I’ve never felt the need to seek motivation in books. Particularly, I’m referring to those self-help books. But this one day my brother in law told me about one that was, at least, in nature, alluring.
One of the questions said book ponders (and those of you who see me on MSN have seen this phrase as my text) is: “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”
Suffice to say, said question rang a bell, and I decided to take action upon a certain subject which desperately needs to be tackled. The results? Not so good.
So, having read that “motivation” book, I ended up feeling more afraid than ever. And more unmotivated.

Well, I better shut up now. I could go on and on, but I’ll leave that for another time.

The Iceberg.

You gotta love youtube and people with too much time on their hands… This had me, literally, on the floor, about to piss myself laughing. Well, this, and the fact that my chair is broken, but mostly this.

Enjoy!

THE GOOD
I’m just a couple of weeks away from moving out of this joint. Gone will be the days of flushing other peoples’ feces, showering amidst a clogged up drain and soapy reminders of showers past, having these nitwits not only “borrow” my groceries, but also my kitchenware, and listening to “Cemetery Gates” 150 times in a row against my will.
Oh, yes, I long for the day when I turn in the key to this wasteland.
Also, my sister is about to have her baby. My first Canada-born nephew. I’m sure he’ll grow to think of me the same way as the rest of my family, but if anything, I have hope he’ll see beyond that. Fuck, this being an uncle thing absolutely ruled in Mexico, I’m sure it’ll be the same up here in Coldland.
A very good friend got married two weeks ago. I wasn’t able to make the trip, but I wish him the best nonetheless. So, bro, you now have a noose around your neck… make the most of it!
YouTube has been nothing but sweet to me. Laugh, cry, rock or learn, there’s always something on there.

THE BAD
Uh, regarding flushing other peoples’ feces… I gave the guy shit (pun intended) the other day. He was in the kitchen (which, for fuck’s sake is adjacent to the bathroom), and I walked in to take a piss. When I saw the mess, I walked out and flat out said to him “can I flush your turd, or are you saving it for something?” He just turned red and blamed his being late for work. Fucker.
Last night, I literally ate at work over a dead mouse. See, there was a coolant spill on a machine, and the spill seeped under the vending machine. Unfortunately, a little rodent had decided to set up shop behind said vending machine, and I assume he was feeling thirsty. So, as I finished up my meal and stood up, I noticed the corpse laying in a puddle of coolant. RIP, you four-legged whiskered friend.

THE UGLY
In case somebody from my workplace eventually reads this, I usually tend to not talk shit about my job. But then, there’s times like these. I’m on the night shift. My day off is Saturday. Usually, I end up doing my job, and the job of one of the lazy guys on afternoons. Well, shiver me timbers, of all the glorious things that could have happened to me last night… as I started my overtime shift, my supervisor comes up to me and asks if I can cover this lazy fuck’s shift… AFTERNOON SHIFT, WHEN I’M SUPOSED TO SLEEP, ESPECIALLY ON MY DAY OFF… because apparently, he has a commitment to his girlfriend. So, being the overtime junkie that I am, I said yes. I mean, 4 more overtime hours won’t hurt on pay day, but shit… out of principle I should have told them to fuck off and get this guy to shit or get off the pot.

The Iceberg.

We all have bad days every now and then. At least that’s what I hear. True, I was spared of personal tragedies, nothing happened to anybody I know, and the world didn’t end, so I relly shouldn’t be whining. I guess I’m not really whining, after all, it’s tuesday now and the future seems a lot brighter. This is just a collection of things that pissed me off yesterday.

Since sunday night, I haven’t felt all too well. Although it is far removed from me to be discussing my bodily waste to such a potentially large audience, I’ll limit myself to saying there has been a lot of it. Of all the things I ingested over the weekend, I have a few suspects as to what caused me to fall ill, but I don’t know for sure.
See, on Saturday I went out to dinner with my sisters, and although as far as I can tell the place was clean, and the food was good, you never know if a prep cook dropped a tomato on the floor, and casually picked it back up as if nothing happened.
After dinner, I did partake of quite a few rounds of alcohol, and just to change the pace a bit, I opted not to buy whisky this time, but rum. Lo and behold, I found myself at the liquor store, incapable of seeing the benefits of spending an extra 3 bucks on a bottle of Captain Morgan, so I walked out of there with a 22 dollar bottle of the cheapest stuff. Yes, for all you non-canadians out there, 22 dollars is cheap. God, I miss my 6 dollar liter bottles of rum in Mexico. But I digress.
Sunday morning found me hungry and lazy, so I decided to treat myself to pizza. While ordering, however, I got a little too creative and decided a layer of Tikka whatever sauce would be a perfect touch to a pizza. Don’t get me wrong, I love pizza, and I love Indian food, but as I promptly discovered, the two don’t mix.
And on sunday night, while at work, I bought something off the coffee truck (yes, stupid me left half a pizza at home, along with the rest of my groceries, and spent 5 bucks on more food). About an hour later, I started feeling bad.
Truth is, I still feel bad. At least the fever’s gone, but still… if only I could afford to call in sick.

Then there’s the whole “bad hair day” part. Has this ever happened to you? You are about to get ready for work (or school, or whatever reason you have to leave the house), and you  look in the mirror, and you say “hey, you know what? for reasons that I cannot fully comprehend, my hair has decided to fit itself into quite the ‘do! I really, really look good today”, and later on you discover what a lousy idea it is to trust hair?
Here I am, leaving for work thinking my hair looks awesome, and upon inspecting my head in the bathroom mirror at work, I noticed I did not look good at all, but instead I looked like fucking Beavis.

I usually walk to work, and in the course of my walk I always pass a cemetery. It has never bothered me, and it has no reason to. I find it hard to believe that zombies exist beyond the realms of cheesy horror movies, and am a firm believer in the saying they have in Mexico, “don’t fear the dead, beware the living”. On this particular occasion, though, for some reason I started thinking it would be an interesting turn of events if I suddenly looked inside the cemetery and saw the dead rising up from their graves. Remember, at this time not only did I feel fine, but also felt I looked smashingly handsome in my self-created hairstyle, so I was cheerful enough to be thinking up random shit (like, you know, zombies).
Well, had the effects of whatever bacteria I ingested ocurred sooner than they did, I would have walked back home covered in feces.
See, here I was, thinking about dead people walking around the cemetery, when all of a fucking sudden I see a shadow on the moonlit sidewalk right in front of me, and a human voice saying “Excuse me”. I must have turned really, really white, and the fact that my already weak heart didn’t just collapse (like those cats on the cartoon “2 Stupid Dogs”) is nothing short of a miracle. I mean, it was just a jogger passing by, but talk about bad timing.

You know those days when you’re at work and the clock doesn’t seem to move all that fast? I could have sworn the Earth stood still. It literally felt like a 48 hour shift, and to top it all off, I was sick and burning with fever. Fortunately, when I finally walked out, a co-worker was kind enough to offer me a ride home.

Oh, and the icing on the cake was my pathetic attempt at sleeping. Being that I sleep during the day, it’s hard to get any actual rest, what with the sunlight, the everyday noises and shit… but in this instance, the landlord was rebuilding the room next to mine, so there was a lot of hammering, sawing, drilling and shouting in Hindu.

Anyway, like I said, it’s tuesday now, and if nothing else, we’re closer to the weekend than yesterday. And that always makes me smile.

The Iceberg.

Well, this is starting to look more like a blog, wouldn’t you say? Here’s what’s up.

At Home
Well, ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves, ’cause the news is, for once, good.
I’m moving out.
Officially. Come the first of June, I will be happily living far, far away from these pricks. And well, things are looking bright at the moment, with the whole putting things in boxes and shit. It’s more symbolic than practical to start packing right away, but I just can’t wait. I’m leaving out only the essentials.
Ideally, my new apartment will be vacant come the Victoria Day weekend, so I can use those days to move the fuck out, and settle in. I just can’t wait.

At Work
To say I’ve been drinking too much coffee lately would be like saying Keith Richards has a mild drug problem: a huge understatement. Fuck, it’s almost 7 cups a night.
“Oh, look, he’s driving in a zig-zag motion. He must be trying to impress somebody”, more than one co-worker must think. And no, I have no intention of impressing anyone, and the reason I do that sometimes (when I’m driving at high speeds) is because the mast of the forklift blocks part of my view, and it is usually a good idea to be aware of your surroundings while operating a 5-ton vehicle. Especially with so many idiots around that just walk out into the aisles without looking. I mean, apart from driving like a tard and sounding my horn off like a madman, there’s not much else I can do to save idiots’ lives.
But, on a lighter note, I’m used to the night shift now, so it doesn’t bother me one bit. Of course, now there’s talk of moving me to another shift. Oh, well, as long as there are no more “pay cuts”…

On The Internet
Well, damn. First of all, I’m not gay, ok? But I’ve been laughing my ass off at those cat pictures with captions like “Invisible Bike”.

In my Discman
Ha, ha… discman. I’m old-school. For now. Well, I’m still listening to my Pigface mix-cd, but at least now I carry another cd with me… just full of random mp3s I like.

Flashbacks
Remember last time I mentioned Wikipedia opened up on MELANIE CHISHOLM, of all people? Well, I have a theory on how that happened.
See, last weekend I found myself missing my daughter more than usual. It gets heavy after a while, and it’s been 4 months… Anyway, one thing led to another, and I found myself, with drinks handy, watching the video for that Bryan Adams/Mel C song, “When You’re Gone”. I guess (and judging by my drinking I can only hazard a guess) that’s where I got the “inspiration” to look up Mel C. on Wikipedia. Why? I’ve yet to figure that one out.

Random Thought
Funny, the earth’s rotation. Not too long ago, it was dark at 5 PM. Now I’m waking up at 8.30 PM and it’s still light out.

 The Iceberg.