A New Job: I'll really be "Intuit"

I got the Job

For those of you who were at coffee when I was home alone, you know what I’m talking about.

For the rest of you, I’ll start at the beginning.

My wife left for the weekend. Hopped on a plane and headed to Vancouver for her brother’s wedding. The day after she left, I got an email from Graham Thompson, Talent Acquisition for Intuit, the makers of Quickbooks, Quicken, Quick Tax and I’m sure a few others. I figured it was a long shot for the job but I want a career in software development and they seemed to be a reasonable fit. C++ is their specialty, and it’s mine too, so we seemed to be a pretty good match.

Sunday came, and I had a 30-minute phone interview with Graham after I spent a few hours going over things I would say, trying to relax and trying to build up my confidence.

I kicked that interview’s ass.

Graham told me, at the end, that I sounded like a reasonable candidate for the position they were hiring for. I figured I’d get a second interview.

That Friday, I did.

When Kim sprained her ankle, I took two days off to take care of her, and that allowed me the opportunity to sneak off for a bit for a face-to-face interview with Jim Whitelaw, the hiring manager. It turned out that he interviewed me with a senior Software Engineer (though that may change soon if Apegga has their way). Partway through the interview, Jim turned to the senior man and said, “Do you have any more questions for him?” He said, “Yeah, but he’ll get them. Do you want me to ask them anyway?” At that point, I was fairly confident that I would get the job. They asked some good problem-solving questions, some programming questions and some about my history of conflict-resolution, predicting how long it would take me to finish a project and things of that nature. I had good answers for all of them. Still, I wasn’t entirely sure. I wasn’t ready to hand in my resignation, anyway.

Yesterday, I found out that they were going to offer me a package. Today I found out what the package was going to be. Either tomorrow or the next day, I’m going to go to Intuit and sign an agreement and I’m going to give my notice at the Big Red (hustling on!). The money is more than I expected out of a junior position and as much as I’m making now. With taking a car off the road, not using the gas, balanced by a bus pass, I’ll be taking home more than I was before and doing what I want to do for a living, not to mention that I’ll be at the bottom of the totem-pole, rather than at the top, so my opportunities for advancement will be more prevalent.

While 2006 started with a fairly nondescript aura, it’s turned out to be a fairly significant year. Thank god for the green years.

According to Intuit.ca:
Perks:

Fitness Incentive and Games Room:
Our Edmonton office has a gymnasium and associated equipment onsite. Our onsite fitness facility is complete with treadmill, weights, exercise bike, showers and towel service. Our games room is equipped with a big-screen TV, VCR, billiards and fooseball! We have nap rooms too - three of them; each with a bed, bedding, nightstand, reading lamp and clock radio. Calgary and remote employees are eligible to receive a fitness incentive to help defray the cost of a gym membership or monthly gym fees.

Tuition Assistance:
Employees who choose to continue their education through an accredited school may qualify for assistance with books and tuition. Intuit reimburses employees up to $2,000 per fiscal year for job- or career-related courses.

Computer Loan Program:
After six months of regular employment, employees can borrow up to $3,000 to purchase a computer. The loan is interest free and is paid back through payroll deductions.

Product Discounts:
Employees enjoy substantial discounts on Intuit products.

Corporate Giving:
Intuit encourages and supports employees' community involvement efforts through the We Care and Give Back Program. It includes two components:

Employee Volunteer Program:
Employees are encouraged to develop and demonstrate leadership skills by organizing team volunteer activities. The program includes financial support and time off to volunteer for corporate approved projects and programs.

Employee Matching Program:
Intuit provides matching funds to charitable organizations that employees personally support, and/or funds raised through an individual's personal efforts for a charitable organization. We match donations made by eligible employees, dollar for dollar, up to $1,200.

Adoption Assistance:
To help offset the cost of adopting a child, Intuit reimburses up to $4,500 (net) per adoption.

On-Site Cafeteria:
The Edmonton location has a cafeteria on site, which includes a sandwich-bar/deli, salad bar, soups, pizza, pastas, roasted turkey, beef or pork, desserts, fruit - just about anything.

Queen of Demons

Well past due, I’ve finally managed to power my way through the second book of David Drake’s Lord of the Isles series. The first book was really good. There were some flaws with the writing but I could get past those because it WAS a good book and a first book. The second book is much worse.

In the first book, they killed off the best character and everyone else fell into their predetermined roles, using no logical deduction but always coming to the right conclusions. The critics talked about how well Drake threaded multiple story-lines together and tied them at the end. Shouldn’t it matter that three of those four story lines didn’t matter? I mean, Garric, who is the main character, and his sister and two friends each have their own story arc but none but Garric’s (at least until the end) has anything to do with the rest of the story.

Granted, the scenes in and of themselves were largely entertaining. Like the one group of humans who were dumped into an alternate dimension and built a fort so that they could fight off a group of bad guys every night. That was kind of amusing. But it didn’t have anything to do with anything else.

It was kind of like reading a Conan book that just wouldn’t end.

But now I’m done it and I’m glad because if I stuck it on my bookshelf unfinished, I’d have to start all over again, again, and now I can put it away, knowing that it’s not in my queue. I hate giving up on things.

Minigoal #5

On to The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman. Next Monday, I expect to have The Subtle Knife finished.

Oh, and by Friday, I’ll have another blog entry up.

Until later,

39 books to go!

Minigoal update or: As the Slacker Turns

I am very far behind in my minigoal of completing Queen of Demons right now. I went camping and got tired and never got back into reading after that. Hopefully, this weekend will settle that. I hope to finish Queen of Demons and The Subtle Knife by the end of the weekend. Not that this is very realistic but it will get me back on track.

How's that sound?

Talk to ya later

Valentine's Day

Well, another Valentine’s Day has come and gone, nobody got hurt and cards were exchanged.

I know that Valentine’s Day is probably the most harangued “holiday” that is celebrated in these parts. (I wonder if they think that Ramadan has become to commercialized in other parts of the world…) If you look at it, though, every celebration in our culture is inundated with advertising, commercialism and the imposed need to buy everything in sight to appease those we love.

It takes some work to fight through the hallmark commercials and the chocolate hearts but I’ve always thought of Valentine’s Day (even when I was single and bitter) as a time for couples to put aside everything else – work, the kids (without committing criminal negligence), friends, hockey games and everything else, and concentrate on the other member of the relationship. Granted, people say it would be nice to be treated like that the rest of the year, and it would. It would be nice to be the sole focus of someone’s life. However, this is not practical and not possible with the need to pay for heating, eating, treating and other things that just don’t rhyme.

It was nice to have an evening alone with my wife. We sat in front of the television and watched a good TV show. We exchanged our cards, re-learned that we are important to each other, and it may have only been an hour out of the evening but was nice nonetheless.

So, for all you Valentine’s Day haters out there:

PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBT!

Oh, but I have to say that despite her cynicism, Krista has the best Valentine's Day card ever.

Winter Camp as seen by a Leader of Beavers

The weekend started with frustration. I was supposed to be leaving work at 3 pm. We had things to do and I’d cleared it with my boss. Unfortunately, 3 came and went and I was still slaving over the latest URGENT URGENT RUSH RUSH GOTTA GET THIS OUT THE DOOR OR THE COMPANY IS DOOOOOOOOOOOMED change that they waited until the very last minute to foist upon me. ‘Sokay, whatever. I was out of here at 3:30. Plenty of time to get the running around I needed done. Except that things kept creeping up. And then I forgot my shirt (which I ended up not *really* needing.) I’m not trying to set a frustrating tone for the entire weekend, I’m just saying that the time until we got to camp was, while not immersed, I’d say lightly dipped in frustration.

The second I stepped into the lodge where we would all be sleeping, all of that frustration was swept away and I was transported back into the heyday of my youth when I would be the one wearing the silly hat (as a Cub OR a Beaver – we had funny hats for both, back then) and I wanted nothing more than to go and play. And play I did. As soon as we were squared away (thanks, Rob, for the hand with the bags), we were off in the trailer, pulled by Akela’s RV. Around a couple corners and into the slightly-snowy tobogganing hill. That’s right, there was snow there. You know, white stuff, little chilly, good for throwing at Cubs… The first bunch of attempts to go down the hill were met with good-natured frustration and failure. Then Rob had the genius idea of turning the krazy karpet over and sliding on the dull side. Face first. I tried it. The bottom of the hill was lined with some shrubs which met my face.

Next it was off to camp opening and then bed for Beavers. I became acquainted with a swede-saw as I had to lop the front corners off a bunch of Kub Kars to turn them into something the Beavers could race the next day. Then I carved my own and it was off to bed.

The next morning started with a breakfast prepared (as I’m sure all of you know by now) by a professional chef. Scrambled eggs are amazing when you mix them with Cream of Mushroom soup. Who knew? Anyway, after that was a long hike down to the lake for a quick game of tag and a return trip to the lodge and mess hall for morning snack.

While the Beavers went off with Rob and Rainbow to make candles, I sanded down the Beaver Kars that I had cut the night before. Splinter + Beaver = tragedy. The cars were painted and the time after lunch was dedicated to Valentine’s craft, which I was once again not a part of, because I was helping to fix the Kub Kar track.

After lunch it was back down to the lake (on the trailer) for some Mega-boggan fun. It was a little disconcerting to hear the ice cracking underneath and I had a couple of Dead Zone moments, but nothing went wrong (aside from the boggan breaking and requiring a little fixey-fixey) and a good time was had by all.

It was during this sojourn that I decided my time of throwing snowballs was done. Three snowballs left my hands and three Cub/Beavers ended up in tears, the results of my missile-projection dripping down their faces. I’m such a jerk. Ah well, I paid for it the next day when one of the cubs walked right up to me and threw a snowball right in my junk – three times. I guess it’s a little more physically demanding than a “Hail Mary” but it gets the point across.

Supper that night was smoked pork loin and spaghetti with the now-infamous salmon sauce. I passed on the salmon and went for the meat sauce. I’ve never been much for fish.

The Scouting-Car rally came next and I was allowed to do the announcing. The kids were pretty excited. I made them all name their cars and the tournament was underway. Beavers fell by the wayside until one stood victorious. It was Spider-Car.

Next, the Cubs had their tournament. Again, I was announcing. Finally, Baby-Blue Crew won the Cub tournament.

In the end, it was a grudge match between Beavers and Cubs. This had transcended mere racing. The battle was on between the younger beavers and the Cubs who could throw farther, run faster and do more. None of that matters on the race-track, though, and that was apparent at the finish line where Spider-Car made a mockery of Baby-Blue Crew and there was much celebration among the Beavers at the expense of the Cubs.

Campfire was fun. There was the usual assortment of skits and songs and I even got up in front of everyone to do a rousing round of “Down by the bay” (not to be confused with “Sitting on the dock of the bay” – that wouldn’t have won many Cubs or Beavers over). Big thanks to Nicholas for the first “Did you ever see a” because his was the only hand in the air when I asked for a line. That opened things up and it seemed like everyone had a line. Even with the last one: “Did you ever see a cub… um… doing that thing like this!”

Sunday saw another fantastic breakfast, a trip to the lake, cleanup and the long drive home. There were a few frustrations on Sunday and all of us (Lillian aside – she’s a real champ) felt the effects of a weekend of cramming too much stuff into too little time. Still, I was glad to be a part of it and I’ll definitely get out for Spring camp at Evansburg, which I thought was in Pennsylvania but is apparently in Alberta.

Shaman's Crossing

I always feel a little trepidation when I start to read a new series. Especially when it’s written by an author I’ve previously enjoyed. It’s probably because the probability for disappointment is so high. Regardless, I kept my head and my hopes up when I started Shaman’s Crossing, Book 1 of the Soldier’s Son series by Robin Hobb. I thought that her Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies had some of the best characterization I’ve ever read. I just didn’t want to be disappointed.

Once again, I was treated to a good, solid story with characters I could like, even with their shortcomings -- maybe because of their shortcomings. The characters, even the main character, have their moments of pettiness, of weakness, hesitation where the classic hero-type would save the world without self-doubt, conflict or delay.

Though there’s never any fear of the death of the protagonist – it’s a 1st-person narrative – the bumps and bruises, and worse, make you wince in sympathetic pain for his troubles. And even though you know that the hero will somehow win the day, Hobb does an incredible job of keeping suspense, with failure just within reach at every turn.

The setting was basically at the height of North American colonization and the sympathy that the main character is forced to feel for his enemies can be seen as an indictment of our forefathers and the building of the railroads, or of Brazil’s continued woes with the rain forest, without being heavy-handed or preachy.

I’m really looking forward to the next book in the series, even if this one isn’t as good as Hobb’s previous works.

Minigoal #4

Due to my forgetting The Subtle Knife at my parents’ house during Saturday lunch, my order has changed somewhat, with Queen of Demons moving up and the two final His Dark Materials books moving down. I’m currently 237 pages into the 662-page Queen of Demons which leave me about 6 days worth of reading left. Discounting the weekend, when I’ll be on Beaver Camp, that makes next Wednesday as the day for me to be finished.

Until more later on,

40 books to go!

Anansi Boys

Wow. It’s hard to peg Neil Gaiman’s writing down into a genre. Is it Fantasy? Well, there are fantastical elements in there. Is it Science Fiction? Sometimes, I guess, but not really. I guess it’s more Alternate Reality type stuff. Does that fall under Fantasy?

Anyway, Anansi Boys was more of the same stuff that was in American Gods. One thing that I was disappointed in: It didn’t have the epic feeling that the first one did. I didn’t really care about Fat Charlie or Spider as much as I did Shadow.

Then again, maybe that’s just my love of Viking gods. Or George Guidall. Lenny Henry did a great job, reading the book. After Eragon, I was afraid that Britain was the country where voice actors went if they sucked. Looks like I was wrong.

I’m sure that there was plenty that I missed in Anansi Boys, themes that either went over my head, or I just failed to hear, but it was pretty quick, both because of how short the book was, and because of the pacing of the story. There wasn’t much time for waiting.

The resolution was a little hurried - it tried to be relaxed and I thought it didn't work out well with the rest of the story, but that's just me.

Minigoal Update:

I’m looking pretty good for finishing Shaman’s Crossing by tomorrow. I’ve got around 150 pages left and since Kim’s leaving me for tonight and tomorrow night, there should be more than ample time.

41 books to go!

Three New Books as Stories Unfold

I said before starting Kushiel’s Dart that I would give it a chance. I think that 178 pages is enough of a chance.

Now, I like Fantasy novels, but they’re not supposed to be that sort of … ahem… fantasy.

This series is based on a woman who becomes a spy based on her enjoyment of pain. Apparently, once people hurt her and have their way with her, they’re that much more likely to give away state secrets or something.

You would think that a story based on this could only go so far. You would be wrong.

Jacqueline Carey wrote three books about Phedre, who is blessed with “Kushiel’s Dart”, hence the catchy title. This lands her in the hands of her master, some guy with a weird name.

French names abound in this book that had good characters, a decent amount of intrigue but way too much smut that went too far for this cowboy.

So, the masochist-spy goes by the wayside (all three books worth), being replaced by Shaman’s Crossing by Robin Hobb and Wizard of the Grove by Tanya Huff. Wizard of the Grove is split into two books, Child of the Grove and The Last Wizard.

Tonight, I returned the second and third Kushiel books, without a receipt, and, combined with my Chapter’s card, a 15% discount and 5 dollars, I covered the price of Shaman's Crossing.

The funny thing about this is that the entire Kushiel series cost 5 dollars less than Shaman's Crossing would have been if I could have bought it the night I bought the Kushiel series. So basically, I got a book that I don't want (Kushiel's Avatar) for nothing.

So, the end of this very confusing tale is that, mathematical contradictions aside, my lack of willingness to read crap earned me a half a used book.

On to the minigoal!

Minigoal revision:

Getting rid of the book that I was in the middle of reading kinda hurts. Especially when I was a prodigious 178 pages in. Regardless, I soldier on. With the Soldier’s Son Trilogy. Or the first book of it, anyway.

Shaman's Crossing is 577 pages long, and, keeping with my 80-or-so pages per day, that works out to 7 days to read this book. Since it’s now Sunday, that means that Saturday is still the deadline for the completion of the book.

Two more in the bag:

Eragon

I have to admit that I was more than a little disappointed with Eragon by Christopher Paolini. It was a modestly good book. The characters were okay, though nothing to scream about. The weakest point about the book was its dialogue. Throughout the book, Eragon, who is the “child of destiny” in this book, asks questions and receives answers like it’s a video game.

“Tell me more about .”
“ is ."
It was like this without variation for the first half of the book. The second half was better, if only just a little.

It probably doesn’t help that I listened to the audiobook and Saphira, the blue dragon, was done in a “Me Cookie Monster want cookie” kind of voice. Really, the voice actor did a pretty poor job overall, and I had a hard time gauging the quality of writing.

All that said, the plot is pretty strong for a rehashed old fantasy theme, and I’m looking a little forward to Eldest, as long as it’s not done by the same guy. There are supposed to be more dragons and I’m not sure I can take the story seriously with a dread army of muppets at Eragon’s command.

The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe

I’ve pretty much said all I need to about The Chronicles of Narnia. I continue to be amazed by Nicholas’ listening skills and his comprehension level. He’s excited to learn more about Narnia and Aslan (even if he sometimes mixes up which is which).

My favourite part to read to him was the part after Aslan’s return, his playing with Susan and Lucy at the Stone Table. However, I think his favourite part was when Aslan breathed life back into the statues at the Witch’s castle. Especially the Lion. “Us lions. Did you hear that, everyone? Aslan said Us Lions!” And of course, the noble giant, Rumblebuffin.

Next up, The Horse and His Boy and Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman. Anansi Boys is read by a Brit, too. I can only hope he’s better than the guy that did Eragon.

42 books left to go!

Three years?!

Lost in the haze of goals, work, babies and Beavers, the third anniversary of my meeting Kim came and went with a small celebration.

For the first couple of months that Kim and I went out, we were continually saying, “I can’t believe it’s only been [insert time-period here]!” Honestly, it felt, all the way though, like we’d been together for years. There was very little transition, very little discomfort. We fit.

And now it’s been three years and all I can think is, “I can’t believe it’s only been three years!”

Happy anniversary, Kim.

Memories of Ice

Well, it’s five days past my original minigoal but one day ahead of the revised one. Without staying up way too late on any given day, I’ve finished Memories of Ice by Steven Erikson.

When people ask me to describe this series, my brain freezes up and I just say “It’s cool. Read it.” It’s hard to find the words in a conversation that will encompass the story that I’ve read so far.

But I’ll try:

The Malazan Book of the Fallen is a series that chronicles the expansion of the powerful Malazan Empire. Spanning across continents, the Malazans use brutal military efficiency, powerful magic and the mysterious Claw (assassins) to conquer people and bring peace to the lands.

At the beginning of the series, in Gardens of the Moon, you’re dropped in the middle of the action, and if you’re not willing to be confused for a couple hundred pages, you’re probably not going to enjoy them enough to go on. It’s worth it to struggle through, though, because the story picks up very quickly and there are a whole bunch of very interesting characters on both sides of the fence (and some right in the middle).

Deadhouse Gates is the second book and the best one I’ve read so far. It involves an uprising on one of the continents that the empire has already claimed and a desperate race for the Empire’s newest Fist, Coltaine, and an imperial historian, Duiker. They lead a horde of refugees across the continent, chased by rebels. But this is just one part of the story.

Memories of Ice is a continuation of Gardens of the Moon, with more plot development, new enemies and an actual bad guy! Some of the new characters are absolutely amazing and the development of some of the original characters is even better. Quick Ben and Ganoes Paran, in particular, are the characters I look forward to reading about in the future.

Hopefully, House of Chains will be as good as the rest of the series has been so far, but that’s to be read some time in the future.

Minigoal #3

For now, it’s on to Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey. If it’s as good as I’ve heard, I should be able to whip right through it. However, since it’s over 800 pages as well, I’ll try to keep it realistic and say 10 days, which is 80 pages per day (which I believe is realistic). So, I will hope to have Kushiel’s Dart finished on February 4.

Also, there is just a sliver (maybe five pages) left in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, which I hope will get finished on Friday, if not before.

Finally, I’m about three-quarters of the way done Eragon. If I can finish these two by the end of January (which I feel is very possible), I’m looking at having finished eight books in January, projecting out at 96 books this year.

I don’t believe I’ll be able to keep that up. Things happen and I know how it goes. Still, 8 books in a month is nothing to sneeze at.

Until next time.

Welcome to "The Fold"

Given my ability to find such books, I have decided to incorporate Eragon by Christopher Paolini and Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman into the January-April portion of my Annual Goal.

I've started Eragon and, while I'll definitely finish it, there are some things that I'm not enjoying. More on this later.

Minigoal Update:

Well, the weekend has come and gone and, while I’m a little closer to the end of Memories of Ice, there’s still a long way to go.

I’m heartened, however, by the fact that I’ve only got a little more than a quarter of the book to go, I’ve finished five books already this year, this is the longest book remaining before the end of April, and as of right now, I’m only 3 days past my original minigoal.

Given these things, I will officially revise my minigoal to Thursday, January 26 (happy birthday, dad). I think this is reasonable, even generous, and I will have 6 books done by the end of January, which is two ahead of schedule. (I believe I can finish Eragon and The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by then as well, which would actually make it 8 books, but whatever).

I’m trying to decide about the nature of my posts. Should I keep plot-points out to avoid ruining the books for people who haven’t yet read them or should I just state that I’m going to put the plot points in and have a section for them at the end of the post?

What do you think, bloggers?

If nothing comes up in the mean-time or in-between time, I’ll blog atcha on Thursday.

So, yeah, the car

Sung to the tune of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Picture yourself in a car on the highway
A dark green Corolla, as cars pass you by.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly
“Thank you, yes, this car is mine.”

No need for taxis or buses or rides
No need for samaritaaaans
Under the hood’s an engine that will take you there.

Mom gave me her car yesterdaaaay
Mom gave me her car yesterdaaay
Mom gave me her car yesterdaaaay
Ooooooooooooh


And my imagination is gone. So yeah, my mom transferred ownership of the Corolla to me yesterday. Quite the New Year’s present. So I guess I’ll wash it, then.

I’d put up a picture but I don’t have one and the car’s too dirty right now for me to want to take a picture of it.

The Dark Tower

I just finished Book 7 of The Dark Tower, called The Dark Tower, by Stephen King. It’s been a long time since I’ve been as blown away by a book as I was by this one. I’m still trying to process it. I enjoyed the rest of the series. It’s really good, it’s really well-written. This one was miles above those. There are some who would say that the ending is a little schlocky, probably that they saw it coming, that it’s a cheesy cop-out.

I didn’t see it coming. It’s appropriate given Roland’s character. It’s appropriately miserable for the tone that King sets throughout the series. It’s heart-breaking and yet I was left with a tiny spark of hope for Roland. Hope that brighter days are ahead.

I’m writing this as vague as I can because, while I don’t claim to have a very large readership, and those that I know read In The Now either have read the series or don’t plan on it anytime soon, I know that I’ve given the URL to my brother and he’s very much intent on finishing the series without having it spoiled prematurely.

I think that the series is worth reading. It’s one of the few that I’ve actually finished (given how few of the series that I read are done being written) and I’d put the end of this series above most of them. I’d say it’s equivalent in quality to the ending of the Narnia Chronicles and it makes me very hungry and impatient for the end of The Wheel of Time series, A Song of Ice and Fire and The Sword of Truth series (although I sort of dread the end of that one with the direction the series has taken lately).

There are all kinds of holes that people could pick at in The Dark Tower – just as there are in every book – plot moves too slow for some, inconsistencies, I’m sure, that I haven’t picked up, too many coincidences… I don’t care. I don’t read a story to find the holes (unless they’re big and get in the way of the story – see The Sword of Truth) and what I got out of The Dark Tower surpasses any quibbling I might do about the fine points.

I can definitely see why it took Stephen King so long to write the series. He’s distracted himself throughout, by writing other books, making a name for himself (Richard Bachman, to be exact). Despite the disparity between publishing, productivity, quality of writing, all that kind of thing, I’ve struggled in the same way to get a story out of my head. It’s nothing on the level of The Dark Tower – it’s not fit to wipe Roland’s ass. Regardless, I can’t help but feel kindred to Stephen King. And I’ll guarantee that I’m not the only one. I just hope that I don’t have to nearly get killed and write myself into the story as an apology to the readers in order to get my own story out.

45 books to go!

Minigoal update: Life happens, and it laughs at the goals, mini or otherwise, of mortal men and women. I’ve broken the 400-page barrier on Memories of Ice but I’m still not at the halfway point in the 892-page behemoth. It’s a great story – everything’s coming together in Capustan and all Hell’s about to break loose – but between rediscovering my long-term non-sexual yet time-consuming love for John Madden, coupled with a bad week for Kim, a bad night or two for Nick, and the always-hard-on-reading work, I believe I will have to revise my minigoal yet again. I don’t mind this, since I’m looking at being done 8 books by the end of January, if all goes according to plan, which is way ahead of schedule, and I knew that I would need to factor in real life when I started this thing. Depending on how far I am by the end of the weekend, I will either post a new minigoal or revise my current one of Memories of Ice finished by the end of the weekend.

Blog atcha then!

Stupid Sprite!

Last night, Kim and I went to Millbourne Mall (I know, I know, why Millbourne?!) to hang out. Well, they have a used-book store and some other things of interest.

We went to the bookstore and made some purchases (The Prydain Chronicles, including The Black Cauldron; The Running Man by Stephen King; and Clash of the Titans, the novelization as well as a couple of movies for Nicholas). Hell of all Hells, I left a partially open bottle of sprite in the same bag as the books. I thought the Sprite was closed. Alas, the books were lost as were the movies. It put a bit of a damper on the rest of the evening. Very little pisses me off more than throwing away books (or wasting money). Of course, I could point the finger at myself for not closing the bottle properly but I blame the Sprite. If it hadn’t been so enticing, I would not have bought it. And if its openness had not been so easily concealed, the books would have been okay.

Stupid Sprite.

Minigoal #2

Well, having finished minigoal #1 (A Feast for Crows) in time, I am going to set another goal, keeping in mind that I don’t want to be up until 2am every time one of these things comes due.

The book I’m currently reading is Memories of Ice by Steven Erickson. Given that it is 892 pages, I will give myself 9 days to finish it. That’s January 20. I feel that this is a realistic goal that will also give me time with my family.

I’m pleased with my progress, so far, with Song for Susannah finished and creeping up on halfway through The Dark Tower. If I finish this soon, well, I’ve found Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman and Eragon by Christopher Paolini. I’ve been intrigued by Eragon for some time and I look forward to reading it – listening to it.

It could be that I will get through quite a few more books with Nicholas than just The Magician’s Nephew and The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.

So, by next Friday, I will hopefully be done Memories of Ice, (which is a sequel to Deadhouse Gates) and I will move on to the Kushiel series. I don’t know how much I’m going to like it but I’ll give it a fair shot.

Until next time.

A Feast for Crows

Well, I squeezed it in, just under the wire. Even if it took me until 2 in the morning.

I finished A Feast for Crows last night and I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.

The story was fantastic. The characters just keep improving. I think that adding the points of view that he did really added richness to the story. Everybody has a motivation and, right or wrong, you can see how they came to it.

My disappointment comes from the fact that it took Martin this long between A Storm of Swords and A Feast for Crows and even if he finishes A Dance with Dragons within the next two years, it’s likely going to be four years after that before the next one comes out. I think that some of my favourite storylines won’t be continued for six years.

Nothing that happened in this story surprised me. I didn’t see any of it coming but I never do. On the other hand, I’ve come to understand Martin’s writing style a little more and there were no shocks.

There wasn’t a real ending to this book. I mean, in A Game of Thrones, you had Ned, A Storm of Swords had the Red Wedding and Tywin Lannister on the crapper. (I don’t really remember A Clash of Kings and its ending very well but I think there was something with Jon Snow beyond the Wall). That said, what I’ve read has made me want to read A Dance with Dragons, very much.

Now.

46 to go!

The Magician's Nephew

I don’t always know how much Nicholas is paying attention. He’s always preferred books that had pictures in them, whether they were comic books or just chapter-type books that had pictures every few pages, like The B.F.G., which I read to him a couple of months ago.

Nicholas and I were part of the way through The Magician’s Nephew, the first of the Narnia books. (First in author-preference and chronological order, sixth or seventh in publishing date) I couldn’t guarantee that he was paying attention to what I was reading but I was enjoying reading it anyway. He floored me this evening, however, when I was reading a scene at the end where it described a wondrous smell and how it smelled like greenery and life, Nicholas said, “That must be the garden.” Now, I knew there was a garden but I can’t say that I expected him to remember, if he’d known at the beginning. I guess his excitement over the Narnia books is more than just passing the time.

I wonder how much he really is picking up. It’s exciting.

The story is pretty much exactly the way I remember it. I read it once when I was a kid and once two years ago. I hope Nicholas got a lot out of this one because if he did, I have a feeling he’s really going to enjoy the next one… and the one after that, and the one after that, and the one after that…

47 to go!

Yesterday, I learned that one of my co-workers was fired because he showed a lack of respect to a co-worker.

On the face of it, that doesn’t really seem to be too good a reason to be let go. However, I have come to learn what happened.

My former co-worker, a male engineer (who nobody really liked, because of a lack of social skills or restraint – the guy just tried way too hard) asked a female engineer out. This woman keeps her personal life very far from her work. She’s nice in a very quiet way but most people she works with realize that she is here to work, not for a social life. Not that she’s a recluse – she’ll socialize within the work environment but aside form that, she keeps to herself.

The male engineer pressed his case on her until, one night, after hours, she was working and he buzzed at the door, unable to enter. She went to the door and let him in and he stood in her office afterward, harassing her about why she wouldn’t go out with him. There were other situations as well but none explains the situation as well as this one.

Gossip is all well and good but beyond being a story to tell people for the sake of itself, this situation leaves me to think about some things.

It was pretty easy to tell, a few seconds into meeting the male engineer, that his social skills were lacking and his arrogance would not let him believe he had some to learn about fitting into a team environment like we have. He would try to force his way into people’s lives with big words and faux-concern in the form of questions, the answers to which he did not know.

Several people at work were willing to write him off a couple days into his work term. He rubbed so many people the wrong way, myself included. I was willing to give him a chance, however, telling my co-workers, “He’ll learn. He’ll have to or he won’t last.” I’m not happy that I was right. I would much rather that he’d learned his lesson without having to lose his job but I can understand that he couldn’t continue to work here, given what happened.

Another co-worker told me that the fired engineer had said of his firing: “I was stupid.” I don’t know exactly what that means but I can’t say he’s wrong. The way it seemed that he said it, (using my best powers of hearsay) it didn’t sound like he’d learned anything from the experience. Granted, it will probably be some time before he gets over the fact that he was fired and takes anything from it but given his apparent self-image, I find it hard to believe he’ll get anything but bitterness from what happened.

Does this make me a cynic? Sure. I've never denied that, though.

Good bye, Engineer-boy. I hope you figure it out.

Song of Susannah

Well, the day after I set the goal, I finished one of the books on my list.

I didn’t realize how far I was into Song of Susannah by Stephen King until the end.

This installment, while not quite as good as Wizard and Glass or Drawing of the Three, is still impressive. Its cliffhanger, while not as intense as The Waste Lands, is subtle and compelling.

I don’t know if I’m the only person with this experience but I’m going through this series, only understanding half of what I’m being told. Granted, King does go back and explain most things but I always feel as if my head is just below the water during the story and I spend half the time trying to understand what's going on and the other half telling myself that it's okay, that all will come clear in time.

I hope that The Dark Tower has the answers I need. What the Hell does the turtle do? What the Hell is in the Dark Tower? Do Cuthbert and Alain come back into the story at some point?

These aren’t the only questions but they’re the most pressing.

Oh, and 48 more books to go!

Annual Goal

At the beginning of the year, it has been my tradition to set goals for myself. Finishing a writing project, programming something I need, losing weight, learning to skate, all kinds of personal development and accomplishments.

2004 was an overly hectic year, with the wedding, the new house and big adjustments.

2005 was no less hectic, with massive bouts of overtime, not enough sleep and, not least, a new baby.

2006 is the year I’ll be returning to my old ways, in somewhat the same way that I entered 2003.

The goal I have will be a dynamic goal, though. This way, I’ll hopefully keep things realistic. Each goal will have a mini-goal. If that mini-goal is reached, I’ll create a new mini-goal, and so on, until all of my mini-goals have been accomplished and the goal is, as well.

So, without much further ado, my goal for 2006 is to … read 50 books.

I know, I know, I already had that goal once. But I didn’t achieve it. And I think that’s because of a couple of factors and now, with a more stable life and lifestyle, I think that if I keep my mini-goals, and keep them realistic, I can make it through the year, 50 books behind me.

So, my first goal is the following books by the end of April.


A Feast For Crows – George R. R. Martin
Memories of Ice – Steven Erickson
Kushiel’s Dart – Jacqueline Carey
Kushiel’s Chosen – Jacqueline Carey
Kushiel’s Avatar – Jacqueline Carey
The Subtle Knife – Philip Pullman
The Amber Spyglass – Philip Pullman
The Magician’s Nephew – C. S. Lewis
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C. S. Lewis
Queen of Demons – David Drake
Prentice Alvin – Orson Scott Card
Song of Susannah – Steven King
The Dark Tower – Steven King
Jackal of Nar – John Marco
The Grand Design – John Marco
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe – Douglas Adams


I have already finished one book, Bloody Sunday by Mike Freeman, and this list will see me at 17, 1/3 of the way through the year. (and as we all know, 17 * 3 = 51, so I can take it easy on one of those 1/3s, reading only 16)

Now we come to the tricky part. Keeping a mini-goal realistic while still staying on pace. Also, finding the hours in the day to actually read all these books. Keeping to the scheduling, 16 books over 16 weeks and 5 days is going to require almost a book a week! I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not going to read all of these books on paper. I have audiobook versions of Song of Susannah and The Dark Tower and I plan on using that medium for those two books (as well as any others I can get my greedy hands on). And I will be reading the Chronicles of Narnia to Nicholas at bedtime and to pass time whenever. We’re already most of the way through The Magician’s Nephew, so we might even get into the third book by the time the end of April comes along. So, there are four books that I should easily meet without sacrificing family time. That leaves 12 books for lunch-hours, early mornings and evenings after Nicholas has gone to bed. Think I can do it? I don’t know either. Here’s the first mini-goal: A Feast for Crows by January 11. I know, I know, a lot of you out there could, and probably will have (or have) polished this book off in a couple of nights but I don’t work that way.

I will establish a new mini-goal once this one is reached. If I fail to read it by the 11th, it’ll probably be because I don’t care or can’t find the time, either one showing me that it’s not a priority. So we’ll see.

Yeah.

Goals are good.

GOAAAAALLLLLL!

Not exactly on the Christmas list, but...

For some of Kim's holisticky friends, the Winter Solstice is a time to get together and do some celebrating. Obviously, I wouldn't have mentioned this if we weren't part of this year's celebrations.

Dinah, a friend of Kim's, hosted a Solstice party (and incidentally had some kittens free, to good home). Short story even shorter, we got a cat. It was my early Christmas present.

It's amazing what people will do to be polite. I named the cat fingers, and person after person has paused in the dilemma of 'That's a really stupid name but do I hurt the guy's feelings?' and decided against it by saying, "Umm, yeah, that's a real cool... name?"

So, without further ado, here is Fingers (despite what Nicholas decides to call her):

Lillian's Baptism

For those of you who were not there (and who were not aware), Lillian had her baptism today. I have to say, she handled it like a champion. The only part where she cried was during the pictures - and when three flashes go off in quick succession, I want to cry too.

A big thank-you to all those who showed up. It was nice to see you all and it meant a lot to have you out. I hope everyone had a good time afterward.














This is not a picture from the baptism but she was wearing this outfit for part of the day. There will be pictures of the big day sometime fairly soon, though I imagine they'll be on Kim's site as this here place doesn't get many pictures (or updated very often, as I constantly hear)

Despite being non-Church-types, I have to say I am very proud of the Leduc-Johnstoneses for coming out and taking part. Especially Meghan who stood up and agreed to be a Godmother to Lillian. She kinda freaked me out when she said "If you guys die, I'm taking her." You know, Meghan, that comes with Nick, too, and I'm holding you to that.

My thoughts on baptism: I didn't know, before today, that baptism was a ceremonial death and rebirth. I guess it makes sense. In the end, it doesn't hurt Lillian because if she grows up to believe in the Catholic church, it will be good for her, because it's her express-ticket to heaven and if she doesn't believe in it, then it's just a trickle of water over her head - although that would make it two baths in one day.

Another oldie

This is something I started around the same time as the last one I posted. I like the opening. I've discovered that in the time since I wrote it, I've come to like the rest of it, too. There are pretty obvious areas where it could be improved but that just means that it's a work in progress.
Some day, I'll finish the story, maybe. We'll see.

---

We were at coffee. While this comment, coming from one in my social circle, may seem commonplace, and indeed it is normal for our group to spend many hours at restaurants, annoying the clientele, and residing on the fringe of regulars, peering into the abyss of permanent banishment, this was not a regular meeting of the minds of Sam's so-called revolution. Granted, coffee has been known to slip into the morning hours where the sun has put in an appearance, sometimes for the second time, but to start coffee at this ungodly hour? Completely unheard of. Cliff and I had associated at this time of day, merely because he was my ride to my own personal hell for a time.
Another time that some of us had met early in the morning was when Alana's uncle needed ultra-cheap labour to help in moving his father-in-law to another house. To say he needed us is likely a gross exaggeration. Al Lawrence, all 300 pounds of him, could likely have, with the aid of his big brother, picked the house up and moved it with the furniture still in it. The house was, however, to remain in place, so it became a matter of repetition rather than brutish strength, hence the aid of his niece's mensch-like friends. At that event, Kelly, Cliff and I slaved over couches, work benches, and the like from the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. Hilarity ensued from the lack of sleep in any of us. This coffee was nothing like that.
Kelly, the same Kelly who giggled over Tibor and his beads on that fateful moving day, sat hunched over his coffee, looking at everyone as if they would steal his beverage, the very thing which, in its porcelain vessel, seemed to be his only tenuous link to sanity, lucidity, or whatever it is that prevents a person from grabbing the nearest chainsaw and making messy with people's intestines.
Cliff looked like I remembered him in the morning. He was more together than Kelly, but still, the grogginess had not yet worn off. It usually didn't until around noon. He mumbled a response to a question from the server, who asked him to repeat what he had just said. He grunted, and that seemed to be answer enough for her. His coffee, doctored with many packets of sugar, and a creamer, still seemed to displease him, though whether the displeasure came from the bitterness of the drink, or of the man at having to drink it, left me at a loss.
James, at least, seemed to be a little aware. He had been a truck driver, and used to having no sleep. He drank his coffee with a near-determination. As if he knew what he had to do, and the coffee was merely a tool to get where he needed to be. James didn't dislike coffee, but in this instance, it wasn't the taste he needed, it was the caffeine. He delivered his request for food to the waitress with a laugh, which seemed to delight the young lady to no end. With Cliff and Kelly playing the part of the death-warmed-over squad, it was a relief to see James treating her like a human being.
Monique proved to be the non-morning-person she'd claimed to be a few weeks ago. She drifted from half-asleep to wide awake to fading fast with almost seamless transition. She clung to her tea desperately, believing it to be her salvation in a time of need. And indeed this was a time of need. She looked around the table, and started, seeing Kelly for what seemed to be the first time. He must have really taken her aback, because she was completely distracted by him as she ordered her breakfast.
I'm not a morning person at the best of times, but my bouts of insomnia mean the same thing to me as James' job meant to him. Well, except for the whole "making a living" thing. I am thankfully able to deal with being up any time of the day for as long as I need to be. My coffee was a beverage, nothing more, as I waited for whatever it was we were waiting for. I declined to order anything when the waitress turned to me. I may have been a little brisk with her, but hey, I said I wasn't a morning person. Food in the morning gives me a stomach ache that doesn't leave until halfway through the day. Mentally, I took roll-call. I wanted to know who wasn't here, so I might dispense my wrath upon those who were too important to make it today.
Sam, whose dilligent work lent itself to our being chosen for this. He would be missed, but there was an unavoidable reason for his not being here.
Dave, who was with Sam, would not be missed as much, simply because his devious nature was so far beneath that of Sam.
Janine was supposed to be there, and there was no explanation for her absence. At last contact, she had told me that she would be there. My irritation picked up at her absence.
It was probably better that Atti wasn't there. Granted, his company was great, but his brashness was ill-suited for what was to transpire. Cliff wasn't a whole ton better, but he at least knew when to keep the comments to a minimum.
Jake was the one that flabbergasted me the most. He came in from BC with the sole purpose of this meeting, and yet he was a no-show. While it is true that Jake cannot be counted upon in the best of circumstances, this was one time when he would be sorely missed.
Aside from those mentioned, everyone had shown up. As I sipped my coffee, I pondered what was about to happen, and how it would change things between us. Mainly, however, I thought about how we came to be in this situation.
The hard work I praised Sam for earlier was the advertising he'd done to promote Two Sleuths Inc., the latest private investigating firm to come up in Edmonton. He'd done such a good job of promoting us as a top-notch firm that nobody would touch us. My guess is that potential clients saw the advertisements, and figured that we were too high-class for them. I can still taste the irony on my tongue. Especially considering the humble origins from which Two Sleuths arose.

SIX MONTHS AGO

I sat at the computer, staring intently at the screen, occasionally moving the mouse across its pad, and clicking, double-clicking, or whatever the situation demanded. Finding a job on the internet was a lot less leg-work than actually leaving the home, but unfortunately, it yielded the same results. It wasn't that people weren't hiring, it was just that I had recently graduated university, and I wanted to find something in my field. The distinguished field of computer science. And they WERE hiring in that field, but whatever it was with me, they just didn't want anything to do with me. So, I continued to apply, looking high and low, but there was still nothing.
I am not ashamed to admit that at this point, I was still living with my parents. Unfortunately, they saw it as something that should be a point of shame to me. Especially since I wasn't working. It came to pass, that fateful day which found me searching on the internet, that my father came into my room to find me looking.
"So, boy, you don't have a job, and you're playing on the computer." To my dad, anything that doesn't involve back-breaking labour isn't really work. Thus, my looking for a job on the internet wasn't really looking for a job, it was playing. "We need to have a talk. Come to the kitchen." My blood froze. The last time anyone needed to have a talk in the kitchen was when dad's credit card was charged to the max with phone sex bills. Only his threatening to fight the charges in court had gotten them taken off. It was still unknown how those charges got there, but that was a matter for another day. Still, my dad had gotten in all of our faces that day, and nobody was left with a dry eye. Granted, I was ten, but he ground my brother, sister and I into dust, and blew us away. Now he wanted to talk to me in the kitchen again. Needless to say, I took myself into the kitchen with more than an ounce of reluctance.
"Yeah, dad?" I asked, my most innocent look on my face.
"We're waiting for the rest of the family." was all he said. Sure enough, within the very minute, my brother, sister, and mother entered the room, the feeling of dread being shared on another level between my siblings and I.
"We need to talk about where your lives are heading," my dad began. "It's not as if we haven't been generous with our home. We made it your home. Still, the only one of you to even make an effort on your own was Liam. And he made a piss-poor effort of it indeed." as he continued to speak, I could tell what was happening. And it was the Johnstone mass-exodus of 4401 that saw me with a small savings, and nowhere to go. As always, in times of domestic distress, I found myself at Cliff's house.
Cliff, through some weird coincidence, had found himself on the end of a rather rough tongue-lashing from his parents, as well. He hadn't been kicked out, but it seemed that his days in the house that backed onto Notre Dame Elementary School were as numbered as mine were at Casa De Bob. As we pondered what we would do, the thought came to Cliff first.
"When I was working at Paladin Security, they brought up the idea of becoming a PI. They said that there was this really cheap school where they teach you everything you need to know. All we have to do is go through the training, open up an office, and we're set." Glossing over the particulars is a big favourite of Cliff's, and with the simplicity of his plan, I was drawn in. We discovered the location of the school, and enrolled. We also rented out some office space in Edmonton. This would serve as our home while we went to school, at least until we could afford our own homes.
When we graduated from the school, mere weeks before the gathering at coffee, Sam became obsessed. He was sure he could turn our little firm into a booming business. "It's all in the advertising," he would continually tell us as he begged us to let him in on the action. We finally relented, as it became clear that clients were not simply going to fall out of trees, and money was getting awfully lean. He agreed to take a small cut from what we made, telling us that it was only fair for his pay cheque to rely upon his efficiency as an ad man. So, he went to work, and we did too. The first week we were open, Cliff and I got some fairly standard cases, wives cheating on their husbands, a little surveillance... nothing too great, but money was finally coming in. And then, Sam's advertisements hit.
The great thing about Sam is that he is incredibly enthusiastic. The not-so-great thing about Sam is that he believes everything should be targeted to the rich. His reasoning is that the rich have more money to spend, so they're more likely to buy whatever it is that he is advertising. This has cost him more than one job, and it certainly didn't to a lot to boost our client list. Until the Thursday before our fateful meeting.
That morning, the phone rang. Cliff answered, expecting the usual phone call from the power company, the water company, or some other creditor, looking to shut us down. But it wasn't.
"Two Sleuths," Cliff always answered the phone briskly, believing some nagging collection agency would just go away if they realized just how impatient he was.
Only hearing Cliff's end of this particular conversation, while frustrating, was quite an event.
"Yes, we would." His voice rose an octave.
"Yes, we could." His face brightened.
"Really? Of course, we will. You can be sure."
"Discreet?" He looked at me. Always the moral majority of our firm, I nodded.
"Of course we're discreet." He sounded wounded at any thought to the contrary. He grabbed a pen and a pad of paper, and began to write.
"Yes, I have the address. When is good for you? Next Monday? Yes. Definitely. Thank you, too. Okay. Bye." And he hung up the phone.
"Without going into detail, what's the word?"
"Man with job for us."
"More than that, Cliff. More than that."
"Sandy Traverse, from..." he looked at his pad, "Data Information Technologies wants us to meet him on Monday. He said some things that lead me to believe that this has something to do with corporate espionage."
"Ooh, reads like some kinda spy book." Despite my sarcasm, I was interested.
"Yeah, Tom Clancy meets Sam Spade. The Maltese Briefcase or some such." Always one to reach another level, that Cliff. "And we get paid."
"Any idea how much?"
"He mentioned Sam's ad, and it was in a positive light, so hopefully we'll get some kind of payday."
"Well, I hope we get SOME kind of payday. We're gonna be working afterall." Such a wit, I should have been a comic.


And now we found ourselves in the Denny's restaurant, prepared to both share the good news of our job, and to ask the help of those who would give it.
"So why the fuck are we here?" asked Monique.
James was quick to point to her and nod, his mouth full of "Moons over my Hammy".
Cliff turned to me. I figured I should say something, since I was the one who decided we should ask them for help.
"We had a meeting with Sandy Traverse at Data Information Technologies. Apparently, they received a manuscript in the mail. They tried replying to the person who wrote it, and there was no response. That was six months ago. Now they want us to try and find this... Gillian Tait. The reason Cliff and I are here is because we found Ms. Tait's home, but it was abandoned. We would like to ask your help in locating her." I could see I had attracted every eye at the table. Even Kelly perked up a bit for the story.
"What do you need us for?" James asked.
"That's a good question, James." Cliff replied. "We need you guys for different things. Kelly, we need you go scour the internet and find out everything you can about everything on this list." Cliff handed Kelly a folder. "We were going to get Janine to use her connections at CSIS to try and track Ms. Tait down. Monique, we need you to man the phones in the office. We've been leaving regular messages at Ms. Tait's home and place of work. If she gets the messages, we're going to want to be there to talk to her. If we can't, we want you there. Jake was supposed to help you there." Cliff turned to James. "Why are you here, James?" He paused, turning to me. I nodded. "We want you with us."
"What's in it for us?" Kelly asked. "It's not like this stuff is going to be easy." He shook the folder menacingly."
"You'll all share in our profits. From all that Sandy said, there's going to be quite a bit of money coming in from this." At this, they all nodded, and went back to their breakfasts. I sat back with a sigh, and finished my coffee.

The compound for Data Information Technologies lay sprawled out about the River Valley like an ant colony. Offshoots climbing the side of the hill, disappearing into it, only to reappear somewhere else.
As James, Cliff and I descended into the valley for our appointment with Mr. Traverse, I could see that my allusion was not entirely inaccurate. Through several windows could be seen flurries of activity, almost in chorus. Broadway dance numbers flitted through my head, but none of them had the hectic fervor required for this act.
Cliff pulled us into the visitor's parking lot, and the three of us made our way, excitement in our hearts, to the building that served as the brain centre for Edmonton's largest and most compelling example of capitalism in action.
Entering the building, we were instantly accosted by the Viking warrior, poorly disguised as a receptionist. Looking to the name on her desk, expecting to see Broomhilde, I was somewhat shocked, though greatly relieved to note her name was Ann.
Her disguise was better than I thought was the realization as she asked us without accent, in a voice that dripped helium to state our business.
Cliff, using his best Joe Friday "Just the facts, ma'am," stated our purpose, while James overtly avoided looking her in the eye, or even looking in her direction, for that matter. Maybe he went to a catholic school.
Directing us to the anteroom where we were to wait, Ann the Viking warrior receptionist pressed some buttons, seemed satisfied, and looked up at us in cold dismissal.
Fighting the urge not to run, I calmly turned from the reception desk, and walked to the anteroom, my cohorts in tow.

Fifteen minutes found us in Sandy Traverse's office. In one bold stroke, all of my high-corporate fantasies were dashed. In a word, Traverse's office could be described as stark. In a compound word, near-empty. The walls stood bare of any adornment, lacking even the usual concession to ego that was the University degree. The surreal effect continued as I realized that his desk, while holding a computer, phone and lamp, had nothing else. No paper, no pens, no pictures of the kids... nothing. I found myself looking forward to a time when I would once again be among people who made messes, had interests, and lived lives.
Traverse himself was as I remembered him. A slim man of average height, the man moved about in a manner that would put shame to a hummingbird. However, rather than seem panicky, or nervous, his movements had an efficiency about them, as if not a motion was wasted.
"Hi again. I won't waste any of your time. We have a dossier of Ms. Tait's information. What we were able to gather. The personal information is encoded with red tabs, professional with blue. Her curriculum vitae is in orange, though that doesn't really matter, since it's all at the back. You can pick up the dossier from Ann when we're finished. Do you have any questions?"
I could think of several thousand questions, none of which pertained to the case, and all of which would likely alienate Traverse toward us to the extend of terminating our contract. I kept my mouth shut.
"Without going over the dossier, there's nothing to discuss at this moment. We wouldn't want to waste your time with questions you may already have answered in the dossier." James seemed to understand the way this guy's mind worked.
"I like the cut of your jib, son." and with that, and without hurrying, Sandy Traverse herded us out of his office, promising to answer any questions we might have in the future.
"A cup of coffee." I said, once we'd had our showdown with Ann, coming away unscathed, richer by one dossier.
"What's that, Liam?" Cliff asked.
"That's what Traverse reminds me of. The human equivalent to a cup of coffee."
They stared at me in uncomprehending disdain for awhile. I never claimed to be insightful. It was just an observation, anyway.

Blast from the Past

Okay, I was rummaging through my old floppy discs yesterday, trying to find one that I could use to transport a file from one computer to another computer (the very reason floppies exists to this day, I suppose), and I found this very angry piece of writing. If any of you saw therevolution.net/liam, the place where I stored my writings, you might have come across this. If not, then you might remember the stuffed-narwhal-toting woman who was my five-year first-love. Well, this is about the end of that whole thing. Keep in mind, this was written almost seven years ago (good GOD what happened to the time?).

End of an Era

1
Rage fills the core of everything that I am. I walk the streets of Edmonton, and all I can think is, 'That BITCH! I can't believe I let her do it to me again!' Crossing the street, I think of ways that I can avoid seeing her forever. It's obvious that I'll have to quit my job. What is equally obvious is that she fucking did it to me again. Walking is about the only physical activity I can emotionally endure at this time. Keeping my breath at a normal rate is a labour. I still find myself wheezing as I fume. I've been walking for an hour, and I still can't calm down. I hope that by the time I get to my car, I've calmed down enough to drive. While I expected to feel hurt, all I can feel is shock and rage. Here comes the high-level bridge. Can't be much more than a twenty minute walk to my car. Time to start thinking of other things. But I can't. The only thing I can think of is the way that that bitch turned around. Last night was the greatest night of my life. Unfortunately, every night turns into morning. All nights have to end, but for normal people, with the day comes clarity. An epiphany. Maybe this is for the best, but all I can think of right now is, I can't figure how she let herself get that close AGAIN! I know, you're all thinking, 'again?' Well, I won't go into that now. What I will go into, however, is the 'this time'.

Ignorance and night are bliss

The bar wasn't exactly bustling, but neither was it dead. Most of the pool tables were open as Nicky and I entered. I've never been one to pass up pool, and hey, the chance to play pool with a girl that I thought I might be falling in love with all over again tempted me beyond all normal reason. Things had been culminating to this point for awhile. It sounds cheezy to me, thinking of it right now, but that night, there was something in the air. While I can't explain it entirely, there was an expectation, like there was going to be a big change in my life. Nicky was still beautiful, the semi-mischevious twinkle in her eye far from diminished. I had seen that twinkle extinguished for a time, and at that time, it spoke of such a deep suffering that, in its absence, those eyes caused me pain. Still, that night, she laughed, her eyes shining majestically. Her laugh was my reason for hearing, her smile my reason for sight. With the right look, she could make my heart skip a beat, and this night, she was free with her glances. And I had her to myself. Too many nights, the two of us would only be part of the triad sitting at a table with the man I considered to be my rival. Matt had known Nicky's love, and, I was sure he screwed it up. And still he was a welcome addition to the group. Not tonight. We laughed, we shot pool, and we talked. A friend of Nicky's was at another pool table. He looked at me as a challenger to his territory. He must have felt that he lost the challenge, because he left. What he left behind were another friend of Nicky's, and that friend's boyfriend. They were a sight, the boyfriend draped all over the girl. Things from that point got a little hectic. We played pool with the leftovers, and agreed to meet them at Rosie's for karaoke. An evil thing, Karaoke, conducive, certainly, to madness. Merely the mention of singing in a bar left Nicky quite strange. The mention also saw the last of the leftovers. At least at this bar. We were alone. And she was talking. There was no laughing. She leaned in close and started talking about her dead fiance. The man who had killed himself. My pulse actually quickened. I could feel my face start to sweat. She started talking about how nobody could ever replace her John. With Nicky, I had become accustomed to making no assumptions as to where her conversation was headed. She brought up marriage, asking if I ever thought about it. I said I had no trust. (this was the truth) She said that not all girls were game players. I think now that she must have been talking about other girls. Especially given our history. I wonder also if it is the girls who say that not all girls are game players who are the game players... else why would they get so defensive about it... or maybe all girls ARE game players. But she said that the idea of marriage was becoming more attractive to her all the time. Get this, I was so programmed not to assume anything that I failed even to see this blatant hint. I can laugh about it now. Eventually, we finished that pool game, my aim being somewhat off, with the weight of Nicky's soliloquy throwing my mechanics off. Considering what Nicky had just said to me, you probably already guessed that she had been drinking. So, I took the reins of her Volvo. On the way to Karaoke,(also known as "the killer of all that is good... or not") Nicky turned to me. Since we were stopped at a red light, I felt safe enough in turning to face her. "You know I want you to ask me, right?" was all she said. I considered playing dumb, but I couldn't find the will. Her eyes were twinkling, afterall, and she was smiling. Granted, it was a nervous smile, but the very reason I was given eyes, nervous or not, was not a thing to be trifled with. "Y'know, Nicky," I began, my breath catching as I did, "I kinda made a promise to myself before I started hanging out with you again." She just sat there, so I took it as my cue to continue. "I promised that I wouldn't ask you out again. Still, when I made the promise, I knew I'd break it." The nervous smile became one of genuine pleasure. "But," again, the nervousness found its way to the surface. This did not make me happy. " if this doesn't work out, I promise YOU that I'm not going to ask you out again." This finally provoked a response. "I don't think that's fair. Just because I..." Somehow, my voice managed to cut her off. "Nicky, you have to understand, I've asked you out what, five times?" A shocked look crossed her face, sending the smile to oblivion. "You never asked me out. I was wondering what was going on... you must never have been an asker." An asker... what a strange title. "Don't say that. Please don't say that." and I proceeded to list the occasions on which I asked her out. That's right, I asked her out five... six times. The sixth time, she said yes. And she smiled, and she laughed, and her eyes twinkled with merriment. All was right with the world. My heart swelled with the potential of our relationship. Was there anything we couldn't do? Was there any chance that this night could get better? I didn't think so. We arrived at Karaoke, and the leftovers became the main course. Songs were sung. Of the notables, My Sharona, Everybody Must Get Stoned, and Blowin' in the Wind were sung by members of our table of four. One song that will not go away is Never Ever by the All Saints. It played as we left, and for that, it will stick in my mind forever. We did leave, though now I wish that night had lasted forever. And we did get to Nicky's apartment, where, unfortunately, there was no couch. I can't stop wondering what would have been different if there had been a couch. Still, she insisted that if I behaved, I could sleep in the bed with her. I agreed, and we slept together for the first time. And I did behave. Though it kept me up all night, I behaved. I think I have have slept a total of a half-hour that night. At one point in the night, I put my arm around Nicky, just to convince myself that it was real. Then I felt foolish twice over. Once for what I was doing, so I moved it again. And then again when she called me on it. So, I lay there, with her back to me, feeling no tenderness. It was like my salvation lie on the other side of that person, and there was no way I was going to get to it. I still wonder what might have happened differently if I had kissed her, if I had made love to her. Would we still be together? Would we be married? Would my parents approve? Would that matter? I can answer that one... no it wouldn't. But I was faced with her back, and it felt like I was trying to ram my head through a wall that didn't even exist. Is it that I want closeness too badly, or is it that I fear it? If I didn't fear it, I would have held her or something. But that night in the bed quite accurately caricatures the entire relationship. I tried half-assed and more than half-scared to get close to her, and she kept turning her back. Whether she was turning her back in fear or in disdain, I don't think I'll ever know, but the itching in the back of my head which isn't new hair growing in tells me that it was fear. The very fact that she had a fiance die on her tells me that Nicky is afraid of losing the one she loves if she ever vocalizes that love. And maybe that's where I get my particular hang-ups. I want to say that it doesn't matter, but it obviously does, because I'm walking through Edmonton, swearing in my head at the woman I'm in love with. But that night was wonderful compared to the morning.

2

The high-level bridge moves underneath me as I mull the events of the day so far. It's obvious that the bridge must be moving underneath me, because the recollection numbs me and dumbs me past the conscious ability to walk. I throw change over the edge of the bridge, hoping it will land on someone rowing. Rowing... another area to which Nicky pertains. Can I not escape that bitch? What the fuck went wrong?

Night and day, and the big one-eight-zero

The half-hour I slept was obviously the last part of the night. I wake up, feeling partly frustrated, partly relieved. The one thing I want in my life is happening, if in a way that I felt it not happening over three years. The barrier (her back) was so frustrating, but she finally accepted me. She was finally accepting the fact that she loved me. If she could only tell me. But right now, just the fact that she accepted it was enough. Pteri was awake too, beginning to squawk. Nicky stirred. My heart beat faster. I remember spending all those nights on her couch before, hoping she would wake up, so I could spend more time with her, but loving her too much to wake her up. As she rose, I rolled over and lay on the middle of the bed. I stretched. She watched. That obvious interest made me self-conscious. I wasn't wearing a shirt. And she accepted me. I got up and followed her to the kitchen, where we talked about nothing while she brewed some tea. Maybe my self-consciousness was getting to me, but I felt the need to call my mom. Damn, Freud would have a field day with me on his couch, but I'd just tell him to kiss my ass. I felt bad because my mom didn't know I wasn't coming home that night, that wonderful night. And I think I wanted everyone to know what was going on. Mom just seemed like a rational choice. To everyone in the room but Nicky. I hung up. Nicky turned on me. "You had to call your mom?" "I just thought it would be polite. I mean, I told her I'd be home last night, I just didn't want her to worry." I got defensive, Nicky got offensive. "I didn't know you still had to answer to your mom." "I think the tea's ready." Non-confrontational me. We drank tea. She started to make lunch. "Can I help," I asked. "Sure." She didn't tell me what to do when I got to the kitchen, and I retreated to the sanctity of the living room. Time came to get more tea. Her patience was short. Pteri wouldn't shut up. "SQUAWK!" "Where's your cup?" "I'm not" "SQUAWK!" "Entirely sure. I think it's in your" "SQUAWK!" "room. I'll-" She was off like a shot to her room to retrieve the cup. Her patience continued to shorten. I began to realize something was "SQUAWK!" wrong. Or maybe it was "SQUAWK!" everything was wrong. Why didn't Pteri "SQUAWK!" just shut up? I couldn't think straight. Dinner was ready and I ate. Nicky watched me eat from the kitchen. "Are you done?" she asked, Pteri's SQUAWK piercing my drum. "Yes. What's wrong? It just feels like-" "Well, it's one day into the relationship and I feel like I need space already." "Well, if that's the way you feel" my world came crashing down as I admitted "maybe it's not going to work at all." "Maybe you're right." I cleaned off my plate into her chicken by accident. "That's the stuff I was going to eat." I smacked myself in the head. Why wouldn't Pteri shut up? If that fucking bird woulda shut up, I could have figured something out, some way to salvage something, but I was getting a head ache, and I had only had about a half-hour of sleep, and I really couldn't think. I cleaned my bones out of her chicken, and threw them in the garbage. By then, I knew everything was wrong. Nothing would ever be right with Nicky again. I got mad. "Maybe I should go." I said, anger bubbling inside me. All I was thinking was 'hold it in. Hold it in. Just a couple of minutes.' "Can't you wait until I've eaten?" She was happy to be put out by the big bald guy who wanted a ride to his car. I didn't give her the satisfaction. "Maybe I'd better walk." "Are you sure?" again with the honeyed tongue. The twinkles came back. I didn't give a fuck. All I wanted was to be gone. I wanted no more games. I wanted to release the volcano, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing the effect she had had on me. "Yes. I think it would be a good idea." She backed up two steps. I grabbed my jacket and walked out.

3

I didn't think it would happen, but I'm starting to calm down. Which is good, because there's the sunbird now. I'm still pissed off, and in shock, but now I've got a game plan. It's obvious I can't go on working at the University. I've got to get out of there. Nicky still works there, and since I won't ever see her again, I can't work there. So, I'll need another job. So, I'm a young immature guy, am I? A real mama's boy? I'll show her, I'll .. I dunno, but I'll do something. And I'll move out. I need some release. If I don't like, pump weights or something, I'm going to go nuts. THAT'S nuts. I haven't lifted weights since high school. The closest thing I've done to that is the bleach factory. FUCK! That's IT! The bleach factory. A job, and a release. I guess I should probably apply at Miller's too, but FloPak is what I need right now. Into the car, and off to Nisku to apply.

Emails, a personal visit and closure, sweet closure

I wasn't home ten minutes when the phone rang. It was Wayne. "You understand, of course, that you'll be at the end of main line." he started right away when he discovered that it was me. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Another wonderful new beginning. The conversation ended, and I found some more loose ends to tie up. Nicky still had my UofL back pack, and the University extensions center still had my CDs. Oh, and I had to quit. The trip to the University seemed to last three seconds. A fast three seconds. Maybe two-and-a-half. Still, before I knew what was happening, I was at the International Institute for Qualitative Methodology. Up the stairs (I usually used the elevator, but I was light on my feet on this day), and I was in my old office, collecting my CDs. At this time, the director of the good ol' institute was in my office, a concerned look on her face. "Is it Mubina?"(my immediate boss) I had already terminated my employment before coming in to tie up the loose ends. "Nope. I don't want to go into it." "If it's Mubina, you can tell me. It doesn't have to end like this." "It isn't Mubina, you can trust me on that one. If it WAS Mubina, I would let you know, to be sure. but it isn't." "That what is it?" She was getting upset. "Well, I really don't want to go into it." "Please tell me." "It's Nicky." And she went away, somehow still convinced it was Mubina. I was continuing my way through the institute, collecting stray CDs I had used on the many computers I operated. Mubina confronted me. "If you had a problem with me, I thought you would at least have come to ME with it." "If the problem I had with you was such that it would cause me to quit, I would have come to you well before it reached that." "If I'm the reason you're quitting-" "You're not. I promise." "Well tell that to Jan." (the director and mother of Nicky) "I did. I promised, just like I promised you." She had been crying. "Well, tell her again." She always had to be tough around me. I couldn't figure it out, but I didn't have to. I was done. "I'll tell her again, but I already told her once." "Why are you quitting?" she got past herself, (something I gave her great credit for, honestly) and looked at my situation. "I don't want to go into it." I guess we both always had to be tough around one-another. She accepted that. I crossed the hall, and there was Nicky, working at her desk. Was it her that told everyone that Mubina was the reason I was quitting? Could she not see? "I thought you said it wouldn't come to this, Liam." She said. "Well, it did." "You said quitting wasn't an option." "I was wrong. Where's my bag?" "Oh, it's right here." Honey voice once more. Didn't work a bit. I took my bag, with a promise to Mubina (which I gave a half-hearted effort to complete, but never did), and no intention of ever returning.(a promise to myself and I have heretofore kept unbroken) I still had to tie up loose ends. My life has always seemed to be about tying up loose ends that most people are content to leave loose. Still, it was about closure for myself, and I needed to let Nicky know what happened, and how it affected me, and where I was going from there. In a three page long email, I let Nicky know that the way things had happened at her place, that Friday, had made me lose all faith in her, and in any possibility of a relationship. I told her that what transpired was the reason for my quitting, not any friction with Mubina, half-hoping that she would fulfill my promise. I told her about the night and the day, and how they both made me feel, and I told her good bye, and that I would not see her again. And I felt like a piece of crap. But that wasn't the way things ended. In a response that I never expected to receive, Nicky torched everything about me. She went some places I didn't even believe were there. Aside from calling me irresponsible, immature, and other such things, she told me I didn't know how to take care of her bird. That message, fortunately, struck no chords. I found it so utterly absurd that it gave me the boost I needed to start the healing process.

END

Boys, We’ve Hit the Jackpot

I discovered, this morning, that my creamer does not have an expiry date. This made me think.

Things to think about a creamer that has no expiry date:

1) I could really cash in on this! Sit the creamer on the counter for a couple of weeks, drink it down, and in the ensuing stomach ailment, bring Lucerne to its KNEES with a lawsuit that will see me into a bigger house and early retirement.
2) What if the spoilage of the creamer is linked causally to the expiry date… I could really cash in on this! I could market my own “never-spoilz” creamer that would last forever, and bring Lucerne to its KNEES by providing a product they never realized that they had all along.
3) I am really too easily amused.



In other news, I’ve been programming work-related things (a fix for the fix that fixes the problem with the papersize) and stuff for an online programming contest. Currently, I am ranked 20406th out of 63502 (although, really only 34976 people have submitted answers). So, I have my work cut out for me but I’m working on it. So far, I’ve done a mathematical formula string, a robotic arm program and a bin-packing problem. Who knew that after university, I would actually get to program?





















My little piece of programming history. Look for the pink link 24843


Turns out, Houston sucks. From what I hear, the Texans might be planning on tanking the rest of their games so that they can have a crack at the top spot in the draft. I’d hoped that after their inaugural season, I would not have to see them pick #1 overall again. Looks like I was wrong. But what happens when they play the nearly-as-crappy San Francisco 49ers? And how do you convince your players to roll over for the other team? What does the Coach or GM say?

“You know, fellas, we have a crack at a running back who is a lot better than Domanick or a quarterback who is a lot better than David. I want you guys to go out there and make it look convincing. Hey, you can even hold a lead for awhile, as long as you don’t have it when the clock reads three zeroes. Can you get behind me on this? There’ll be a little extra something in your pay envelopes if San Francisco beats us.” Pathetic.

Stupid Texans are making my season hell. Ah well, at least they cut Crash Riley.

Well, it's official

There is now, officially, no way that the Houston Texans can match their record from last year.

Not that I was terribly excited to see another 7-9 season but I was hoping that the Texans would at least be competitive.

Yesterday's game was very competitive. It shouldn't have been. 24-3 at the end of the half. 27-17 with 29 seconds left. How can it get any worse than that? Houston is inventing ways to lose.

Ah well, at least they're creative.

The positives:
-7 sacks by the Houston defense
-2 sacks allowed by the Houston O-line
-293 passing yards, 3 touchdowns and only 1 interception against
-Big game for Andre Johnson

The negatives:
-Rookie 3rd-string quarterback throws for 300+, 3 touchdowns and only 1 interception
-110 yards rushing, 1 TD for Steven Jackson
-Fumbled our only interception
-10 points against in the last 30 seconds
-yet another loss.

Obviously, the season has been over for awhile but it's frustrating to see that they just CAN'T win a game.

Ah well, on to Baltimore.

If God were a typist

He would, in His infinite wisdom, use this keyboard. The Microsoft Natural Ergonomic Keyboard 4000 is the single-greatest keyboard I have ever used. It has a split keyboard (all wavy-like to be comfortable on your wrists). It also has shortcut buttons for homepage, email, search, volume control, play/pause, calculator and 5 “favourites”, as well as a back and a forward button (probably for internet navigation).

The real kicker is the zoom slider which zooms in and out of documents at the nudge of a finger.

Yes, maybe God is a typist and that’s why we have this now.

Lest We Forget

Remembrance Day has always been a very emotional time for me. My grandfather fought in World War II and, especially after having read some entries from his journal, the horror, the end of innocence for so many and the torture of those who were at home, waiting for their loved ones really hit home. So many of those who went over came back changed. You can't shoot someone dead and expect not to change, whether you buy into the us-versus-them mentality or not. Alcoholism, post-traumatic stress disorder, physical disfigurement. These are things that real people took home with them as a price for stopping a madman. I, for one, am thankful that they paid that price. It's hard to know what we would not have, never having to do without it, but the thought of not being able to live my life as I choose scares me.

As part of Beavers, Nicholas and I walked to the Butterdome at the University of Alberta, yesterday, and marched around the track to the applause of the multitudes of onlookers. I felt like a bit of a dork because I didn't yet have my Beaver Leader uniform, but everyone seemed to take that in stride. What really got to me was how Nicholas behaved. Not in a bad way. A lot of the kids, whether they were Cubs, Beavers, Scouts or even the Cadets that were seated in front of us, were jumping up out of their seats, talking and laughing, even during the two-minute silence that happened at 11:00. Nicholas sat quietly in his seat when we were sitting, he stood quietly when we were standing, he took his hat off when he should and he was patient, interested and well-behaved. Last night, I told him how proud I was of him, and I explained why Remembrance Day was what it was.

He laughed a little bit when I told him about crazy Adolph Hitler, until I explained that he wasn't like a TV bad guy, that he was hurting and killing people and that a bunch of people went over the sea to stop him. When he understood what I was saying, and he understood why it was important to remember and honour the people who fought in the war, I was proud of him. I was proud of myself, too, because I could make him understand why it was important to me.

When they had the veterans in the wheelchairs, being pushed by current members of the Armed Forces, it felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. To think of what they had been through, the life-changing events that brought them to where they are now, I imagine it must have been a real honour for the younger men and women to escort them around the track.

I don't usually make any grand claims to patriotism. I realise that we're a country, and we make mistakes. We're not better or worse than anybody else, but when we were called upon to help out, we went, we sacrificed, and we succeeded.

For that, I am thankful.

Hank Ilesic

This particular bit of dementia came from a piece of news that Sean sent me. Hank Ilesic had been a punter in the CFL for many years. Recently, he tried out for the Ottawa Renegades when one of their kickers (or do they just have the one) went down with an injury. The interesting part of this newspiece was that Hank Ilesic punts recreationally.

What does that mean, you ask? Well, a normal person would just assume that Hank was lying, padding his resume. Something like:

“So, Hank, you keeping in shape?”

“Sure, (coach) Joe (Paopao)! I … um… punt recreationally!”

This reminds me of a time, just about ten years ago, when I was living in the city with Jake. Atti and I applied for jobs as security guards and Atti decided to sweeten the pot by adding “3 years martial arts training” to his application form.

That’s what a “normal” person would assume. Between Sean and I, however, we managed to twist Hank Ilesic into some mythological figure whose lot (and only joy) in life is to tote along a bag full of J-5-Vs (the old football standard of the CFL), punting. This would have been enough, so we had to continue.

I believe the big turn came when Hank didn’t make the Renegades. See, between Sean and I, we reasoned that Hank didn’t make the team because he hit Paopao’s kid with a ball. Upon being escorted from the practice facility, Hank could be heard screaming “I got one in here for you too, Paopao!” [punt](the [punt] being the sound of Hank punting a ball AT Paopao.

From there, Hank became a twisted, bitter man. His only joy, punting, had been transformed into a malicious, havoc-wreaking passion. “F#ck that! F#ck you! F#ck everyone!” [punt]

After causing some damage, Hank was forced into community service as a Big Brother. Bobby, a little orphan boy, came to love Hank, but Hank’s heart of stone would not turn.

“I love you, Hank.”
“F#ck. Whatever.” [punt]

His indifference has not changed Bobby’s heart. And Bobby’s continued devotion has turned Hank malicious.

“Do you love me, Hank?”
“Yes, Bobby.”
“REALLY?!”
“No. Haw haw.”

Of course, you’ve learned by now that we cannot leave anything where it is. We decided to add a science-fiction twist to Hank’s adventures.

As we did with Dorian Boose (which is the subject for a future posting), we inserted Hank into a part in Flash Gordon. Unlike Boose, though, we made Hank the jealous Prince Barin.

Lines such as “We certainly welcome you all to stay,” became “I welcome you to f#ck off!”

Hank also saw time in place of Kurt Russell in Big Trouble in Little China:

"Six Demon Bag? F#ck your six-demon bag. I got a bag of J-5-f#cking-Vs here." [punt]

"No horse-sh!t, Jack?"
"F#ck you, Wang." [punt]

"You know what Jack Burton always says."
"Who?"
"F#ck you, Lo-Pan." [punt]

Most recently came Hallowe’en , when Hank took Bobby trick-or-treating as part of his community service.

“Gimme that candy.”
“You gonna check it for poisum, Hank?”
“F#ck that. I’m gonna eat it.”
“You MUST love me. You’re keeping me from eating candy that would be bad for me. Thank you, Hank!”
“What? F#ck. Whatever.”

If this seems stupid to you, well, you’re probably not alone, but it’s kept me amused this long, and it will probably continue to, well into… um… December?

Hank will always have a place in my heart, even if he is a cold, unfeeling bastard who is only happy when he’s punting recreationally.

Required Cognates

Before I start on the next few things I have planned for In The Now, there are some things you need to know. I guess you could call them precognates, if you were designing a scholastic program, so here they are:

- I know I have no life. I have a baby. Fortunately, I have Microsoft Word.
- Hank Ilesic is a former CFL Punter
- Dorian Boose played for the New York Jets at the same time that Brad, Sean and I enjoyed our three-player franchise in John Madden 2000.
- I am a fanatical Flash Gordon enthusiast. That is not to say that I would go to a Flash Gordon movie dressed in appropriate regalia. But I do love the movie. I believe that this was caused by a combination of things, including, but not limited to:
- My dad took me to see Flash Gordon when I was very young and impressionable.
- Queen did a very good job on the soundtrack, the memory of which haunted me through my youth. “FLASH!”
- When Rob and I finally chased a copy of Flash Gordon down, it was on a night when his mom gave us FREE PIZZA.
-I have found support and camaraderie in my devotion.

- The cast of Flash Gordon includes, but is not limited to:
- Flash: Our hero. Does nothing wrong. His motives are always pure – mostly.
- Emperor Ming: Tyrannical ruler of Mongo. He sows mistrust among his princes “Outside his own kingdom, the hunter becomes the hunted” is Ming’s Law.
- Prince Barin: “Official” heir to Ming’s throne. Also, “Official” boyfriend to Princess Aura. I say “Official” because these things are subject to change without notice.
- Princess Aura: Seductress – she aims at her target and hits whatever she aims at. She aims at Flash and that makes Barin mad.

I’m sure there are other things you’ll probably need time to catch up to, but Bloggers are fairly intelligent people for the most part, and I’m pretty sure you’ll figure it out.


Or just get disgusted and not read this.

Nicholas Johnstone: Game Designer

One evening, the family was sitting down to supper when Nicholas came up with the following:

“Blast-on Blaster Sunshines”

I know where he came up with the thought to make a game of his own. We had played around with RPG Maker a little bit and he’d had fun with it, but his imagination took some ball and ran with it. What follows is what I was able to write down (and remember) from this conversation:

“You start off walking, then you find a rocket and blast off and you shoot the thing and it explodes and there’s a giant monster inside, and he’s bigger than Pluto, bigger than ANYTHING (which is obvious since it’s bigger than Pluto).

“Then you get a gun and-“

Kim interjected at that point, “Does it just stun him?”

“No, it’ kills him. And then you go to the next level.”

I added, “Next level? That sounds like a whole game by itself!”

“Nope. There’s a MILLION levels.”

I asked, “Who has the time to finish a million levels?” then answered my own question. “Anyone who plays Everquest.”

Kim added, “Boys.”

“Daryl.”

Nick changed his mind. “Um, actually, there’s only 2.”

Then he went on, talking about Super Mario Sunshine for awhile, imagining that he was creating it, and ended with: “And then the monster blows up.”

My son, the creative genius.