Category: Daily life

pH = 7

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

A thoroughly uneventful day. Not particularly busy at work, home at a decent hour, nothing startling in the news (unless you’re a Democrat), exceedingly gray weather…pretty vanilla day, all in all. I went for a run this morning…the wrist felt fine, and I could have done more than 1.5 miles but I want to ease back into it. I’ll go again tomorrow and aim for 2. Got some info about our mortgage closing (which is a week from today), got the latest episode of Entourage, picked up my outdoor speakers and had some late (and unexpected) birthday cake. That’s about as harmless as a day can be, I guess.

.:.

I’ve picked up the pace with Zip lately. If we do decide to cancel our account I want to watch the best movies possible first. I’ve been using up my bonus points to get certain movies sent to me. Right now that The Road To Guantanamo, Notes On A Scandal and Junebug. They’ve also sent Kicking And Screaming. Next up: probably Full Nelson and Inside Man.

.:.

Geek note: if you read my blog the old-fashioned way (on a web browser) the links in the sidebar (consumption & MP3s) should be fixed now.

[tags]democrats, wiretaps, entourage, zip.ca, road to guantanamo, notes on a scandal, junebug, full nelson, inside man[/tags]

There's not enough sunscreen in the world

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

This afternoon I decided to brave the crazy heat and head over to Ward’s Island. I figured it would be nice to get some pictures of the skyline (including our condo) from there and of the Leslie Street spit from the other side. I took the TTC to the ferry terminal and waited for my ride. The Centre Island ferry came and went and I waited with the remaining crowd for the Ward’s Island ferry. I noticed as I waited that I was pretty much the only straight guy waiting. Tons and tons of gay men, mainly couples, but I was definitely in the breeder minority. Strange, I thought, but maybe the gay guys just like Ward’s Island. Whatever.

So the ferry showed up and I climbed aboard. It was hotter than the hubs of hell outside, and standing on the ferry’s deck there was neither shade nor breeze so I waited inside the little cabin and read until we left. The horn sounded and we pulled away from the dock; I checked my watch…leaving a little early. Sweet. Then, around the time that my brain registered that something may be amiss, we made a sharp right turn just out of the dock. I realized my mistake: I had accidentally gotten on the Hanlan’s Point ferry. This was a pain, as I was heading to precisely the other end of the islands than where I was trying to get to. However, it did solve the gay-man-abundance mystery: they were all headed to the clothing optional beach.

Well, there was nothing for it…I decided to walk the 4km to Centre Island. The buff men and their towels went right; I went left, dodging from tree to tree and trying to stay cool. It wasn’t working; the trees are too sparse to provide much shade as you walk, and there was no breeze coming off the water, even as I got around to the southern edge. By the time I made it to the water taxi (I didn’t relish the thought of getting onto the ferry full of hundreds of stroller-wielding families, especially since I was wearing my “I Hate Your Kids” shirt) I was sweating like a pig. I got back to the city, ran to catch a streetcar, caught the subway and on the walk home grabbed a gigantic chocolate/ice concoction at Timothy’s. MUCH better.

Sigh…I guess Ward’s Island will have to wait for another day. Not tomorrow either; it’s supposed to be even warmer.

[tags]toronto islands, ward’s island, centre island, hanlan’s point, nude beach[/tags]

11.25 lbs

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

As of 5:45 this morning (according to my mother; I don’t recall the exact time) I am 32 years old. I have grown by 1900% since then. That’s right…I was 11 pounds, 4oz. Thanks again mom!

.:.

I took today off, and am taking the next couple of days off as well. My plan is to do as little as possible for those three days while still keeping my sanity (I have to do something or I’ll utterly lose my mind). A newspaper, an almond croissant, one of my favourite movies (Last Of The Mohicans), a veggie burger, a leisurely crawl through my feeds, a documentary (The Devil’s Miner*), some gadget-y playtime (I managed to make my Zen act as a USB host and pull pictures off my camera by, uh, plugging it in) and some quality time with the cats…not a bad day so far. It’s only gonna get better too: having dinner tonight with CBGB.

I can’t imagine I’ll be able to keep up the sloth thing for two more days. If the weather’s nice I think I’ll head over to the islands tomorrow…maybe see if I can figure out our new wide-angle lens.

*I feel particularly good about having watched this…it’s a Zip movie that’s been sitting on my shelf since March 12. It’s the only substantial thing I plan to accomplish today.

[tags]birthday, last of the mohicans, the devil’s miner, sloth[/tags]

I want off

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

I left work about 90 minutes ago. I ran down to Volo to meet Nellie and a friend, but the service was so slow I had to cancel my food order. I got plain M&Ms, the first thing I’d eaten since a croissant at 9:30. Now we’re waiting for the Simpson’s movie to start.

I’m not having fun.

[tags]simpsons movie[/tags]

Break. Break.

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

Earlier tonight a muscle in my forearm cramped, under the splint/wrap. I tore the whole rig off and tried to massage it out. It hurt like bejeezus. I can’t wait for that to happen when I have the hard cast on.

.:.

I have three days of vacation coming up next week.  Even though I’ll be in this cast and tied to my blackberry, I can’t fucking wait. I really cannot.

[tags]broken bone, vacation[/tags]

How ironic…the one time I want to punch somebody…

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

I am not a happy man. Nor am I fully functional. While playing basketball tonight, some fuckwit, some asshat we don’t even know or like or want to play with, he does his signature move: he runs into me at full tilt, shoulder first. I go flying (230 pound guys do not fly readily, so you can imagine how hard this smacktard hit me) and land awkwardly on my wrist. I get up and swear at him a bit but keep playing, thinking I just jammed it. After a few seconds, though, I can tell this isn’t just a jam. I can’t dribble the ball. It’s hurt. I get the ball and I’m open so I take the shot. It goes in, but my wrist goes from numbness to searing pain. It’s hurt bad.

I can’t bear the thought of losing or letting this twat think he knocked me out of the game, so I finish, playing with one hand. Playing badly. To make this guy just a little bit more of a shitbag, he won’t play defense…he just cherry picks. So I hang back on offense to guard against that, and make sure to bump him a few times whenever possible. My team picks it up and we win the game. I get my bag and leave. My wrist is swollen as hell. I can’t even open my bottle to pour some cold water on it. Frosty kindly gives me a ride to a major intersection where I can catch a cab. Even getting myself and my gym bag into a taxi using only my left hand is a chore.

Now, as I (very, very slowly) type this with my left hand, my right hand is stuck at a 30 degree angle, pointing toward the floor. Moving a finger hurts. I can’t even pick up my Blackberry, let alone hold it. It’s probably not broken, but it’s clearly not functional. Obviously this is not my summer. I need to find a cave.

The worst part is that I wanted to tell this fuck not to play. We all did. None of us wanted him there, but we were all too nice to say it. If I’d said it my wrist would be fine. So let that be a lesson to you, kids. Never be afraid to tell an asshole that he’s an asshole.

.:.

On a sunnier note, my feeds tonight produced excellent examples of irony, balls, wit and whimsy.

And now, back to the pain. ‘Night, everybody.

[tags]wrist injury, basketball, polyps, darjeeling limited[/tags]

The sweetest beep that ever there was

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

Well, the gas leak saga seems to be nearly over. Today some people from the building came by with a new dude. This new dude had an actual piece of gas-detecting equipment…how novel. Anyway, he climbs up on the stepladder and sticks the device into the wall panel…nothing. The other three get smug looks of satisfaction, and comment on how there’s no smell so there’s clearly no leak. But then the new dude turns on the gas (the shutoff valve has been closed), puts the device back in the wall and…oh, what’s that, a beep? A FUCKING BEEP? Yeah, a beep. Within seconds this thing went off. Then the guy did the “soap test”, where you spray a little soapy water on the pipe to see if it bubbles. This is the test the building guys have been doing for the last few weeks, swearing up and down that there’s no leak. The new dude does it once and five seconds later has bubbles. The other guy gives it a try…nothing. The new dude explains that it’s because he just emptied half a bottle of water onto it and temporarily sealed it up. Twenty seconds later…beeeeeeep. Hooray for technology.

It was all I could do not to go put on a track suit and do a Will Farrell style cheer. For the last month these people have ignored us, talked down to us, bitched at us, told us we’re wrong and, let’s face it, put us in danger. Seriously, I couldn’t even look at them; I wouldn’t have been able to refrain from just giving them the finger at close range. But I didn’t want to be that guy. I figured I’d just blog about their snotty incompetence instead.

The one time I wasn’t able to contain myself was when the new dude told them the leak was on the trac pipe adapter to the supply line. I said, “Oh really? Cool. ‘Cause that’s exactly what it says right here on this notice from Enbridge. You know, the big red one labeled ‘WARNING’ that’s been stuck to the wall by the access panel? That’s dated June 18th? That says, ‘MSA POS AT TRAC PIPE FITTING ADAPTER ON SUPPLY LINE’? Yeah, that one.”

One of the ladies from customer service, who’s been pretty bipolar about this whole thing (one minute she seems helpful, the next she seems annoyed) couldn’t even stay after new dude discovered the leak. She just left. Who knows, maybe she had somewhere to be, but I think she just couldn’t handle being that stupendously wrong. I hope she went downstairs and told the rest of them how colossally they’ve fucked up for the last month. I hope they’re all scared for their jobs. Not because we’re the kind of people who would try to have them fired, but because it might convince them to actually give a shit the next time someone complains about a problem with their unit. Especially a gas leak.

Anyway, the guy came up and fixed it. Took him less than half an hour. He probably spent more time in here spraying it with Palmolive for the last month than he did actually fixing it, but it’s done. He got the new dude to test it again, and it seemed fine.

To celebrate, we barbecued. And every bite tasted like triumphant morsels of fuck you.

.:.

Other good news: my computer’s almost back up to speed. Still no sound card, but the USB is 2.0 again and the internet connection’s back. I used said connection to download two new albums tonight: Spoon‘s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and Stars‘ In Our Bedroom After the War.

.:.

Also, after the disaster that was last week, it’s felt good to do three things today: 1) go for a run; 2) get home by 6:30; 3) not do a scrap of work or school tonight. None…on a weeknight! Truant! Truant!

[tags]spire condominium, gas leak, enbridge, spoon, stars[/tags]

Man, did I ever need that

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

Here’s how the last 22.5 hours have gone for me:

  • 8:15 PM: leave work. Assaulted by awful reggae band and throngs of Harry Potter nerds outside the Indigo on Bay Street. What those two have in common is beyond me; maybe if I read the books I’d understand.
  • 8:30 PM: arrive at Fieramosca to meet Nellie, CBGB and two other friends. See M2H2 eating dinner there as well.
  • 8:35 PM: finish first glass of wine. Did I mention it’s been a long week?
  • 12:30 AM: finish spectacular meal and close down restaurant.
  • 1:00 AM: arrive home for sleep. Glorious, glorious sleep.
  • 9:00 AM: wake up, read half of the newspaper, answer some emails.
  • 10:00 AM: go back to bed. Wrestle sleeping cats & wife for some space and a pillow.
  • 2:00 PM: get out of bed. Literally cannot remember the last time I slept this late. Eat, shower, try to summon energy.
  • 3:30 PM: get haircut. My head feels like someone pulled a prickly towel off of it.
  • 4:00 PM: stop by the office to get my laptop. Run into PC and his son on the way out. Pick up cat food.
  • 5:00 PM: grab treat from Starbucks, come home, plant ass on chair, get caught up on world happenings.
  • 6:45 PM: write this blog post.

I suppose I should have taken it easy last night, gotten up early today and done some work, but I think this approach will pay off in the long run. I needed a night off, and taking a day off feels pretty goddamn good as well.

[tags]day off[/tags]

Nailed it

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

Someone at work just commented that I seem like a zombie today. I was going to protest or make a witty rejoinder but I had no energy, so I just moaned and shuffled away instead.

I may well tear off somebody’s arm before the day is out too.

[tags]zombies[/tags]

"And chew…and chew…8 more…7 more…"

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

If you’re a Battlestar Galactica fan and you’re reading this article over on the TV show blog, you might be thinking to yourself, “Who knew Katee Sackhoff was such a girly-girl? And where did THOSE come from?!!!?!” *

.:.

I managed to run about 1.5 miles this morning and then just barely made it work on time. I have an 8AM meeting tomorrow, so clearly there will be no early morning run. I think my only workout of the day will be PowerEating at Fieramosca.

.:.

 

[Brilliance from Indexed, by Jessica Hagy]

.:.

I think that if I were to somehow narrow down my all-time favourite songs, “NYC” by Interpol would be on there.

.:.

* You would probably only think this if you’re a guy. Or my wife, who has a girlcrush on Starbuck.

[tags]battlestar galactica, katee sackhoff, indexed, jessica hagy, interpol[/tags]