Iceberglandia

So, I did it.

I am now the owner (I’ve yet to determine if that’s “proud owner”) of an Acer Aspire One Netbook. Since the internet wasn’t of much help, I did somewhat of a field investigation, and finally ended up at Future Shop (not only did they have the greater variety, and better prices, but I was inclined to buy here, since I also counted on a $100 Gift Card).
Still, I spent about 20 seconds in The Source by Circuit City looking at prices that didn’t drop below $450, and I didn’t even stop walking when I went through the selection of netbooks at Staples. They only had 3 models, and all three, also in the $400 and up category.
I walked into Future Shop, and went immediately to the section where I had once seen prices of $249. Alas, they had jacked up their prices, not only on netbooks, but on EVERYTHING. I stared at their models for a while, seeing the Acer Aspire ones in 4 different colors, a couple HPs, and some brand I’m not familiar with (MSi, or something). Further to the right, there were more expensive models. It’s not that I’m cheap, but my current situation begged for not spending a whole lot. In fact, I shouldn’t even be spending on this, but fuck it, I’ll need it.
There was a salesman dealing with some customer, and in the next aisle, 4 more salesmen were dicking around. Yet nobody bothered to come over. My mind was made up, anyway. I was taking the Acer. Finally, 10 minutes later, some chubby sales guy looked over, and I gave him a head signal, indicating I required assistance. Almost begrudgingly, the fucking guy came over. I said “I want this one. In black.”
He started asking all these questions which felt kind of invasive at first, but I guess he meant well. “What are you using this computer for?”, he asked. “Computer stuff”, I replied, as I thought what the fuck does he care?. “What kind of computer stuff?”, He asked again.
“Well fuck, using it, I guess…”, I told him, not knowing how to describe the term computer stuff to better detail. He kind of noticed I was getting upset at this point. “Surfing the web”, was my final statement.
They had four colours on display: black, blue, red and white. Who the fuck buys a red laptop? Anyway, lardass here informs me they are currently out of the black model. “GREAT!”, I think. “I have to choose from red, white and blue!”. I tell him to just give me the blue one.
I’m quite computer-literate, so it didn’t really bother me, but I did note a lack of interest from this guy to explain technical specifications. He basically rang me up and I was on my way. I walked out of there not even knowing if I’d have to charge the battery for a few hours – not that it bothered me, since I was going to plug it in anyway.

I got home, opened the box and started setting it up. Soon after, I installed Messenger and Skype on it, since I’d be needing them in a short while. I also installed my browser of choice, FireFox, and of course, iTunes. I used its built-in WiFi capabilities to hook up to my neighbors’ internet connection. I was one happy lad, I’ll tell you.
Then, bedtime came, and I noticed my first (and so far, only) problem:

My iPhone has been acting weird lately. Somehow, I lost the scrolling bar (to move back and forth within an audio file), so I have to either stay awake for the duration of my podcasts, or listen to them elsewhere. “Ha!”, I thought. “I’ll just listen to my podcast through iTunes on my netbook!”. Well, no dice.
For whatever reason, my netbook won’t access the files on my iPhone. My other iPods work fine, it’s just the stupid iPhone.

I’ve yet to install the rest of the software I need, but I hope my little netbook can handle audio-editing software, Photoshop, and a few other items.
And, I hope I can access the files on my external disks. In fact, I’m going to go check that out right now. But, yeah, I have a cutesy little computer!

The Iceberg.

The internet is wonderful for oh so many reasons. If you want porn, you’re covered. If you want to read forums or threads where everybody acts like a douchebag, you’re all set. Fuck, if you want LOLcats, FAIL images and facebook disasters, they’re only a click away.
You know what the internet isn’t good for? Useful shit. Researching stuff.

See, Suddenly, I found out I was in dire need of a netbook. My laptop went the way of the dodo a while ago, and it’s a technical impossibility to drag along my desktop computer as I shove myself on a Mexico-bound airplane. If you know me as well as you think you do, you’ll find out I’m worthless without a computer. Well, no, but in a way yes. Who isn’t?

My knowledge about netbooks is limited to the time I was fucking around Future Shop and stumbled upon these cute mini-laptop thingies. “They’re so small!”, I thought, and moved my ass over to the DVR section. And the flatscreen TVs.
Funny, how one day you’re promising yourself a flatscreen TV for your birthday, and the next day your whole life changes and you find yourself with, um, other priorities.

Anyway, if I’m going to go and buy a netbook, I might as well do it tomorrow morning, because the next paycheck is being handed over to my sister, to cover my plane ticket, and the last paycheck is whatever I’m taking to Mexico – not much, I know, but it’ll have to do. It was a rough year, economically speaking.

It suddenly popped into my mind that before going to Future Shop with a mind set on purchasing from them, I could look through the internet to see if I could find a better deal. Who would win this battle for my cash? I entered, either through google or the name of the company, followed by a .ca, a variety of websites. This here is what I found:

FUTURE SHOP
Pretty much the same deal I had seen live… except, when I bought my Hellion (oops! that’s my external 1TB hard drive), it was advertised at $129, and I paid $149. Fuckers!

STAPLES
While I found decent prices, every single item I was interested in was apparently “out of stock”. So fuck them.

WALMART
It suddenly popped into my head theat Walmart loves to boast about their low prices, so I went and paid their website a visit. Every link I clicked on was an invitation to visit my nearest store to see availability and pricing. WELL THANKS!!! I didn’t need the internet for that, lowlives!

ZELLERS
Oh, this was a treat. Zellers is the Canadian version of Walmart. Of course, their home page didn’t offer any links to what the fuck they sell, except for an opportunity to win shit, and a special offer to buy these ugly red mittens to support the Canadian Olympic team.

THE SOURCE
These fucking assholes… I’ve done business with them. Before visiting their website, I knew… I KNEW their prices would be fucked up. “Yeah, uhh… guys? That netbook you’re selling for $649? The same one is going for $299 at Future Shop!”.

FINALLY, FUCKING GOOGLE
Nothing reeks more of desperation than typing “GUELPH NETBOOKS” on Google. And, of course, the few links I clicked on my search results were all spam crap. One of them even, despite me having searched for FUCKING GUELPH, offered me netbooks for 500… IN FUCKING MONTREAL!

So, um, thanks, internet! I guess I’ll walk tomorrow, in the 90% POP, towards the Future Shop. I fuck as fuck hope their online prices match whatever I find. And “fuck as fuck” wasn’t a typo. I’ll let you know if I made my purchase. See, it’s not just the price. It’s price vs. usability. I can’t remember which one of the assholes I visited offered a netbook with an 8 GB disk drive, for more than what Future Shop offers a 160 GB one.
Also, among the questions I need to ask the salesperson is “so, umm… if I just throw it in my backpack between a 12-pack of beer and 15 thousand other gadgets, will it break?”.

The Iceberg.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m somewhat of a daydreamer. I let my mind wander off to wherever it wants to go. Why not? I’d hate to be one of those boring people that spend the day concentrating on the same shit day in and day out.
I like daydreaming about myself, obviously, and lately my daydreams have become better. But there are instances where my mind just seems to drift off into another set of thoughts. When I’m in line at the supermarket, I’m not thinking about work, or how much time I have left before something important happens – no, I’m more than likely watching what the person in front of me is purchasing, and in my own mind, judging said people for said purchases. Not because I’m judgmental, but because it’ fun.

Today, a short while ago I went out for a smoke, like I usually do a few times a day. I sat down on the single step that separates my entrance from my little sidewalk, and as I was thinking about, of all things, grocery shopping, my mind wandered off somewhere else. I looked up, and saw an airplane.
Now, I see airplanes every day, and the things my mind started thinking are by no means new to me. I’ve thought about these things since I can remember. My grandmother lives right below one of the landing routes at Mexico City’s Benito Juarez Int’l Airport. Between thinking about planes and reading my grandmother’s collection of National Geographic magazines (which as far as I can remember dates back to the ’60s), I kept myself busy while the upstairs TV was occupied by my sisters watching cartoons and the downstairs one was tuned in to whatever my grandmother wanted to watch – and alas, the record player was broken.

Anyway, as I puffed away, I started thinking about the people inside the plane I was looking at. Where are they going? Why are they going there? What is the nature of their trip? Business? Pleasure? A family event? When are they coming back? Is anyone inside that plane afraid to fly? Is the person in seat 6A an asshole, or is he/she cool? Does anyone on that plane care that if they look down at the Earth right now, they can see Guelph? Fuck, is anybody on board actually FROM Guelph?

In just a few weeks, it’ll be me on a plane. I wonder if, as I fly over Memphis, or Louisville, or whatever route my flight decides to take, there’ll be somebody down there stepping out for a smoke, looking up, and wondering where I’m going, the nature of my trip, or if I’m an asshole (I haven’t bought my ticket yet, but I hope I get seat 6A).

The Iceberg.

I finally left the house!

Yup! Today (friday), my sister, my brother in law and myself went to the movie theatre with the intention of watching 2012, a movie I had wanted to see for a long, long time. I paid my $9.99, and because the pizza pockets I ate earlier apparently weren’t enough, I got a large order of NY Fries and a large Root Beer. By the time the previews came on, I had put away all my fries. I’m such a glutton, like that.

Now, I know, and by now I expect this kind of movie to end up all cheesy, but fuck the storyline. I wanted me some special effects. I’m a huge sucker for special effects. Also, I’m a huge sucker for world destruction. So, in a way, this movie was made for me.
I guess you could say I’m quite the fan of director Roland Emmerich, not for his ability to bring out a great story, but because he pushes his SFX department to do their best (Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, even 10,000 B.C.).
I was puzzled by the choice of the main character. This is supposed to be an action/disaster movie, not a romantic chick flick nor some 80’s coming-of-age movie, so when I finally saw the trailer and was met with John Cusack, I had my doubts. JOHN FUCKING CUSACK! What were they thinking? Fuck, put Keanu in there! or Keanu, Jr. (whatshisface from the Mac commercials). In any case, having seen the movie, I guess Cusack was alright. It just seemed an odd choice. No hate for the C-man.
Also, the president of the USA is portrayed by Danny Glover (who doesn’t say “I’m too old for this shit” in this movie), which reminded me of some post I saw a while back about how in every movie where there is a black president, everything ends up destroyed. Well, Mr. Obama will still be president in 2012, so we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?
And, my man Woody Harrelson plays the bit of some ham-radio yahoo. As for the rest of the cast, there’s a few “oh, I’ve seen that guy somewhere”, and a whole bunch of unknowns.

The movie, as you probably know by now, is based on the idea that the mayans predicted the world will end on December 21st, 2012. That, in itself, is a bunch of bullshit, but let’s go with it. I could give a lecture about the mayan calendar, but that’s not why we’re here.
So, a gigantic solar flare heats up the inside of the Earth, and the SFX team is working overtime. Everything is exploding, buildings are falling, huge gaping holes appear on the ground, and I’m having the time of my life! At this point, I’m thinking “I want to watch this movie EVERY DAY!”
Then, of course, the USA have come up with a plan to save humanity. Who’d you expect? Peru? And that takes up the second half of the movie. It becomes your standard USA! USA! flick where the military and government are evil, and a bunch of standard action sequences we’ve seen in many a movie before.

I’ll spare you the details, so as to not spoil the movie for you, but I have three awesome things to say about the movie.
First of all, this is a disaster movie that doesn’t take place in New York. What a relief that was!
Second, not to offend any catholics, and believe me, it’s not a spoiler, you can see it in the trailer, I loved watching catholic landmarks destroyed. First, the Cristo de Corcovado (that giant Jesus statue that watches over Rio de Janeiro), and then the Vatican (first, the Sistine Chapel, and then St. Peter’s Basilica crushing the crowd that had gathered to pray – Pope included!).
Third, on a more personal note: I might (or might not) have mentioned ’round here that one of my recurring dreams since I was a kid is of myself flying in an airplane, looking out the window and seeing the whole world destroyed. There were a few scenes like that, and they creeped me the fuck out. In a cool way.

Oh, and before I forget… this might come out as a blooper or a movie mistake down the road, but I saw it as I watched the movie. In one of the news broadcasts, they mention the 2012 London Olympics have been canceled. This is supposed to be December. The 2012 Olympics would have already taken place, in the summer. Duh!

So, all in all, was it a good movie? It depends. I’m assuming starting tomorrow the internet will launch a campaign saying it sucks (the internet also thought Napoleon Dynamite was good, so there’s your mob mentality). If you’re into special effects, world destruction, John Cusack, or are just looking to kill a good two and a half hours (!), go for it. If you’re into watching landmarks be destroyed in “creative” ways (I loved the battleship crushing the White House – also in the trailer!), go for it. If you want good acting, a beautiful plot and a gorgeous Mediterranean scenery, I’d suggest Vicky Cristina Barcelona.
In any case, as always, here’s the trailer, for however long YouTube lets me link to it:

The Iceberg.

I have a confession to make. I am a spelling nazi, as well as a grammar nazi. However, depending on the circumstances, I can be either “quite forgiving”, or a full blown “Josef Mengele”. I mean, we all make typos every now and then. We all encounter people for whom English (or Spanish) is not their first language. I talk to my nephew and nieces on Messenger. I can’t expect 100% proper spelling and grammar in these situations.

But at work? Coming from a canadian?

So, the other day I walked into the Receiving office at work. Somebody had decided to make some changes to our receiving procedure, one of which was to not use the laminated sheets directly. Nobody told me this, I found out by reading the notice they left on the receiving form container:

My head nearly exploded. I had never before in my life seen the word wright used to describe the action of applying pen to paper. In fact, other than the brothers Orville and Wilbur’s last name, and a few instances related to apprenticeships (Become a millwright!), I had never seen that word. It looked so out of context, I had to do something.
But what to do? The perpetrator of said error had already gone home for the day, so slapping someone silly was out of the question.
I settled for the next best thing. I left a little note for them to see the next day:

Surely, more than one person would notice, and thus the culprit would be shamed. Alas, I wouldn’t be able to witness the events.
When I came in the next day, nobody said anything. My little note was gone. And to this day, the original sign stands.
In any case, it makes me laugh that it takes a mexican to point out spelling errors to native canadians.

The Iceberg.

You thought BUD LIME was a cool innovation in the beer world? Ha! Have I got a treat for you! I know I should have posted this in the summer, back when it was warm. But I didn’t, sorry!

Anyhoo, this is a pretty common drink in Mexico, but I know people elsewhere are going to freak out as they read along. Just for them, I’ll share an anecdote at the end. Because if there’s something I like more than micheladas, it’s freaking people out. Shall we meet the gang?

From left to right: a lime, Maggi seasoning, Worcestershire (Woostashah!) sauce, Grace’s Hot Pepper Sauce, Tajín, a pint glass; bottom: a plate.
In the real world, you can substitute Grace’s Sauce for Tabasco, and Tajín for regular salt. Tajín is basically salt and chili powder seasoning.

So, the first thing we’re gonna do is pour some Tajín (or regular salt) into the plate. That’ll end both of their participations in our little “experiment”.

Now, rub one of the lime halves along the top of the pint glass until it’s wet, dip the rim of the glass into the plate (a process known commonly as “frosting” the glass), and squeeze the lime (feel free to use more than one, if like me, you end up with really shitty limes).

Now begins the matter of personal taste. Add splashes, to taste, of the other three ingredients. In my case, I add a lot of Worcestershire, and of course a lot of Hot sauce. The result looks, in a way, evil. But worry not. The best is yet to come.

Now,  every time I do the “meet the gang” photo up top, I end up forgetting an ingredient or two. This time, however, the main ingredient missed the photo because it was chilling in the freezer. Oh, who am I kidding, I could have taken it out, taken the picture, and placed it back. I forgot. There, happy?
In any case, top the glass with your favorite beer (or the one you buy because it’s cheap, as I do), and enjoy.

THE ANECDOTE
If this “michelada” thing grossed you out, stop reading immediately. You have been warned.
One time, I went to a bar back home where the special is a michelada filled with either shrimp or oysters. I ordered shrimp because oysters are disgusting, and it actually tasted great! So, if you feel extra daring, go grab a handful of dried shrimp and throw’em in!

The Iceberg

So, what’s the latest between me and my favorite phone company in the whole wide world?

Last I told you about was a few months ago, when they cut my service – both the phone and the internet – on the very same day I had told them I would pay, and did. Then, there was the whole deal with having them reconnect my service (having to call from a pay phone, even). Eventually, they did. You must be thinking since I haven’t talked about them in a while, it’s all peaches and cream, right?

Well, you’d be wrong.

On my next bill after that one, I was being charged a hundred bucks for my cancellation – $65 for cancelling my service, and $35 for returning my modem. Total charges for that month were 250 quid, more or less.
I said “huh”?, and I tried calling them. I never got through to them. I did what I thought would get their attention: stop paying, until THEY called ME.
Well, eventually someone did call. I explained my situation, she said she’d transfer me to another department, and my call was dropped. THAT’S HER FUCKING JOB, and she can’t even do that right. Not that I’m surprised, but oh well. I tried calling back. I wasn’t going to waste 5 minutes of my life on “on hold” music. Since I didn’t want to lose my service, I went to the bank and threw them $100.

My next bill arrives, this time for $300. So, they never got around to realizing I still have my modem, and my service has been in fact reconnected. Furthermore, I never cancelled my service, all that happened was that they had suspended it. A bullshit charge – someone capable of tying their own shoelaces would have noticed by now.
I repeat my strategy: I wait for them to call. Eventually, someone does. I explain my situation. This fucko doesn’t even offer to transfer me to the correct department – he just goes on to explain that the ONE HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS, including my modem returning fee, are all part of how, since I didn’t pay on time a couple of months ago, THEY decided to cancel my service. In fact, his words were “you have to pay the cancellation fee because your service was cancelled”.
So, Einstein here can’t tell the difference between a $100 cancellation/modem returning fee, and a $25 reconnection fee, which is what I’m threatened by on my bill every month, if I don’t pay on time. I wonder if all he wants for christmas is a Dora The Explorer coloring book and a box of crayons. I hang up on him.

I receive one of those “threatening” letters in the mail the same day I toss them another $100. It is signed by a C. Warburton, who claims to be the vice-president of credit services, or something to that effect.
I consider writing him, since along with hi signature I can see his email address, but hey… I realize vice-presidents of credit services, especially in Bell Canada, don’t have the time or the skill to write a letter. They spend most of their time pinching “ears” on balls of play-doh, and exclaiming “look! I made a bear!”.

I’m already thinking of cancelling anyway, but I know what’s going to happen. As soon as they hear I want to cancel, they’re going to want to charge me again. In any case, I checked my messages 10 minutes ago, and apparently they called me (on a phone I apparently cancelled 3 or 4 months ago, no less!) telling me they need to speak to me urgently about my billing situation.

Really!?? Really, Bell?? What are you going to tell me? That I owe 350 bucks now? Despite having thrown you another hundred on friday?
No, Bell, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let YOU call me again. I’m not willing to be put on hold while you finish watching your Hannah Montana DVD. When you call me, we’ll talk. More than likely, we’ll end up discussing my cancellation. For good.

Have a good day!

The Iceberg.

When it comes to potato chips, I’m not that huge of a fan. I mean, I like chips as much as the next guy, but I’m more of a “roasted peanuts” kind of guy when it comes to snacking. I buy maybe 5 to 10 bags of chips a year, at home. At work, I can usually be seen chomping down on whatever I can find at the vending machine, which has a rather poor selection of bland products.
See, when it comes to potato chips, I have learned the following: The big brands (Lay’s, Doritos, Pringles, Sabritas and Barcel in Mexico, etc.) are usually mediocre. They’re typically not bad, per se, but I’m always complaining about their lack of flavoring. But when it comes to smaller brands, there’s two kinds: Some are bad, and some are awesome. Why, the other day I bought a bag of Herr’s Ketchup flavoured chips for 99 cents, and it kicked ass. So much flavouring. While for 2.99 I could have bought a bag of bland flavourless Ruffles.

That brings us to my birthday, a little over a week ago. My sister comes over, and hands me a bag of chips: Uncle Ray’s Hot (Piquante, because EVERYTHING has to be in French as well) Potato Chips. She tells me she’s tried them before, and that they’re really good. A week later, I see the bag and decide it’s time to give them a try.
The first thing I notice is the simplicity in the product’s name. “Hot Potato Chips”. I decide I prefer simplicity over finding bullshitty adjectives all over the packaging, such as SIZZLIN’!, FIERY!, or INFERNAL!. There’s no pictures of chili peppers, either. Hey! no clichés! Oh wait – there’s flames surrounding the word “HOT”. Damn.

Not my actual bag. It's easier to Google than to scan a bag of chips.

I stop contemplating the bag, and proceed to get my fingers dirty, so to speak. I open the bag, and take a sample of the aroma. “Hmmm…”, I say. “This doesn’t smell too bad at all!”.
I take one chip, and place it in my mouth. I press the chip between my tongue and my palate, and suck the flavour out. I repeat the process a few more times, convincing myself more and more each time that these could very well be the best damn chips I’ve had in a while.
I start taking small handfuls at a time, trying to increase the taste experience. It works. And then, when the chips were done, it was time for my favorite potato chip eating ritual: Moistening the tip of my index finger and running it all across the bottom of the bag, gathering all the little specks of flavouring that lie there. And man, did I enjoy doing that!
I placed the bag aside, and continued whatever it was that I was doing. A while later, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed this on the top corner of the bag: CHAPTER 30 – STORY ON BACK. I said “huh?”, and took a look.

“Uncle Ray” has a fucking blog on the back of his potato chips! Is that awesome, or what? In this case, he tells us about the time he jumped a fence to steal some peaches, and later regretted it. He starts telling morals about controlling impulses and whatnot, and basically gets all PREACHY (get it? because the title of this chapter is JUST PEACHY? HA! HA!).

I don’t have a rating system, because I don’t believe in them, but overall I’d say Uncle Ray’s Hot Potato Chips are awesome, and you’d be better off buying these, instead of your typical chips. As for them actually being, um, you know, HOT, I’ll leave that up to you. I’m quite tolerant of spicy flavours, but you might find them SIZZLIN’, FIERY, or even INFERNAL.

The Iceberg.