I feel so lazy, even though I could blame my lack of blog updates on so many circumstances. Our friends Peter and Lynda have asked us to house-sit their place in Lighthouse Park. You really could not find better waterfront property in Vancouver. However they have no internet access there, and I have been so busy at work, or I have been preparing to be busy, or lookiny like I am busy, but really I am busy.

I also have not been able to use the internet at home, as Telus is living up to its promise in Article 57 of my contract " we cannot guarantee we will provide service". I love that. I would love being able to make promises that I am the best, the swiftest, smartest, whatever superlative promise you can imagine, and then be able to say, well, I cannot guarantee that I will actually do all those things. Whatever happened to either keeping your word or admitting that you screwed up when you don't keep your word?

I am off again to Montreal, for my friend John's wedding. In 1997, John let me use his computer occasionally so that I could learn how to use a computer. I remember when we stole my ex-girlfriend's Window's CDs so that he could upgrade from Windows 3.1. Anyway, in 1997 he was tasked with building a web page for the library. I helped in the capacity of "design consultant". The results were quite ghastly, but remember, this was 1997.

I am so happy he is getting married.

I have had no posts here due to network problems we had at work. No one I spoke to outside of our company had these problems. Why us? We're supposed to be on the bleeding edge.

Friday night we saw JR off to Dallas. He's not leaving until Wednesday, but we thought Friday night was better for a going away gig. The unusually warm Vancouver night allowed us to sit on the patio till the wee hours without having to resort to wool sweaters, fleece or heat lamps.

Same story last night at Raul's, where most of the party remained in his backyard despite the pounding beats inside. I left shortly after midnight, and the way it was going it was likely to be busted by our intolerant police.

Who loves the sun?

The code red virus struck our company on Tuesday, and it is only just now that I have been able to browse the web. What is scary is how much time I had on my hands while I was confined to my desktop applications. I guess there is always Unreal Tournament!

What kind of person aspires to be a middle manager?

I am still full from a meal I ate yesterday. Needing to get out of the city, Anya and I drove south to Washington, looking for a scenic drive called Chuckanut Drive. Crossing the border into the US usually makes me paranoid. Not that I have any reason to be paranoid, but the guns, the pictures of GWB, the thought that some of these guards could throw me into detention without any regard to my civil rights makes me a little anxious. However yesterday I had the shortest conversation with any customs officer I have ever had, and I have crossed the border probably 500 times. It went like this:

me: Hello
Customs man: Got any merchandise?
me: No
Customs man: move along

It was not the brevity of the questions that baffled me, but the choice of question. Why would a Canadian travelling to the US bring merchandise to the US?

Anyway, I wanted to have a greasy breakfast, and I found it in Mt Vernon. It was called "The Home Cook Inn". It had a screen "flap" where the kitchen door should have been, and from the inside came the shouts and sounds of a busy diner on a Sunday morning. A bucket of fry oil held the screen flap in place. Inside we were greeted by a teenage hostess. I ordered corn beef hash 'n' eggs, which turned out to be the largest portion of food I have ever been served. The hash browns were grated, just the way I like them.

So much for teutonic efficiency. Last night I watched One Day in September, a documentary about the terrorist attack on Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. It seems that Germany was so careful in erasing their Nazi past that they forgot why it is sometimes important to have armed police officers around at large international events.

I don't get cable TV, so I am out of touch with television. However, I do have a sitcom broadcast from the desk behind me. It is B-Mac Daddy, broadcasting tales of woe, misery and hangovers. I am glad he has been convinced to spread the word to more than just his immediate coworkers.

We fired some more people recently. After the latest victim was removed from the office, his desk was emptied, and lo and behold there was a Penthouse magazine in one of the drawers. Now everyone knows why his door was always closed.....

Whenever I tell people that I live in Vancouver their initial reaction is "Oh you're so lucky, it so beatiful there!" I had a girlfiend for several years who was what most people would describe as beautiful. When she walked into a room, every head turned to her. She was also vindictive, manipulative, unfaithful and quite dense. Was I lucky? No; I was miserable.

Vancouver is like my ex-girlfriend. It is beautiful, but there is no substance beneath the beauty. We did not create the beauty here; it was formed from glaciers millions of years ago. We have done little besides defile its beauty with strip malls, stucco condos and cheesy tourist sites left over from what must have been a cocaine induced building spree for Expo 86.

So I have had it. I want out.

Normally I don't get snappy with people who cut lines, or push me out of their way so that they can save themselves 5 seconds. I usually assume they are having a rough day and let them stew in their own misery. Then I walk away and fantasize about throwing hot coffee in their face.