Life Is A Game

Weird being in a classroom again (for Danish lessons). Some guy's cellphone kept ringing, driving the teacher nuts. One dude actually took a cellphone call... what a shit disturber. I shook my head in disgust and gave him the hairy eyeball.

Took about 2.5 hours before my first "in class" reprimand. I commented to the Australian dude on the left of me, "silent letters, sure, but these guys have silent words", when I heard a big "shhhhhhh" from the teacher. The guy who had taken the phone call looked at me and winked. Then, I remembered - for some, classrooms are just a place to jerk around. It all flooded back to me, long-lost feelings of anarchy and mischief. It felt good.

The Indian guy sitting on my right kept putting his bag of groceries in front of me, so I kicked the fucking thing over. During a break he started chatting to me and kept asking super personal questions which I deflected like Felix Potvin pre 1993. He was telling me he's been dating a girl for 14 years, since he was 12, and that they've only kissed once and it was just a peck. He comes from a traditional family and blah, blah, blah, the guy had a LOT of energy.

No Comprende

First intensive Danish lesson tonight. Four hours in a classroom, twice a week. Twelve hours of homework a week. Exams. I'm looking forward to this like having dinner with Mike Tyson on a coke binge. I'd just stopped having that nightmare where I haven't done my homework, or studied for the exam, or remembered where the exam hall is, or taken any notes all year.

So, why do it, right?

I'm getting sick and tired of not knowing what the fuck people are saying around me. And yes, I'm quite aware that there will be a time, should I learn the language, that I'll crave not having a clue what these bastards are mumbling on about. I might need to get in a time machine to the time before I spoke this marble-mouthed tongue.

Gamelle. Thanks.

French bistro and host of many sublime evenings, Gamelle, on College, has closed its doors. The food and service were inconsistent at best, but when this place was "on" few could hold a candle to it. The fois gras never missed, but the duck was fickle yet worth the risk. The sauces so dark, the wine so fragrant, the lighting was always low and the room seemed to twinkle like a far away star or a small fire in a glass of honey.

Jean-Francois played the French owner to perfection and gave a personal touch and warmth to a chamber that at capacity seated no more than forty. Some great meals there, but even finer times. With it's closing, we've lost a "hub" of the finer moments of our lives.

These Days

What a terrible day. Won't go into the details, but let's just say this is one of those...

How totally lost we get in the minutia of our lives sometimes that we forget to appreciate every Goddamn second we have on this planet and in this life. That's what must suck about prison - the time wasted, we have so little of it to begin with.

I know Seneca said, "life's long enough if you know what to do with it," but really? If we all lived 3000 years, I wouldn't complain. Think of all the stupid shit you could do.

Love the line in the song below, "please do not confront me with my failures, I have not forgotten them." So true. God, I love a good song. This world can be so... beautiful.

Nationalism

The other day I was buying something at a store and the young girl behind the counter said, "jiorovlvnweijolvfhn vjnjn kvjcnfkjvnknj sdafvlskjn" which I figured (slowly) meant, "thirty kroner". So, I said, out loud, "oh. Thirty. Right." I paid and walked away with my good in hand, only to hear her say loudly to me as I walked away, "NIEH (no), iorovlvnweijolvfhn vjnjn kvjcnfkjvnknj sdafvlskjn (thirty kroner)."

The point is, she was upset that I corrected her Danish for my English - the same way we would be if some French asshole visiting Toronto did the same thing in French. The lesson here, is that even people that live in the smallest, shittiest places have national pride. Think about it - even people in the Ukraine get all pumped up when it comes to their miserable little armpit of a country. Probably.

So next time, when you hear someone tell you that a particular place in the world is particularly proud of their heritage, tell them to shut the fuck up. Everywhere in the world is nationalistic. Fucking everywhere. Even the stupid bitch behind the cash in the middle of nowhere, Denmark.

Fifty Eggs

Everybody's talking about this helicopter robbery in Sweden and how these guys basically stole a whole bunch of dough. So much, the authorities won't even say. Over here, you get the sense the mystery robbers are approaching hero status quite quickly. They love a good thief in these parts, which made me think... didn't we (North Americans) used to like thieves too? Didn't we used to place on a pedestal inventive thieves like Bonny and Clyde, or Al Capone or whoever the fuck it was that stole that truck with two million Twoonies in it (have they spent it yet?).

Why don't we anymore? When was the last time in North America a thief or a crook or a robber got some good press?

Bombastic Mendacity

Think I figured out why divorce is so prevalent.

On the plane back to the other side of the pond, I was sitting beside a Mother and her 13 month old infant Ethan. The thing was in a crib in front of us and was trying to crawl out constantly so that it would fall and crack its head open and I would look like an asshole. After three hours of baby watching I fell asleep, exhausted. Long story short, I got a tourists view on how, YES, life does completely change when you have a child. It's a complete loss of freedom.

Now, if you're married with children, if you want to get back half of your free time, just get a divorce. You end up splitting the parenting duties and getting some actual fucking time to yourself. Is it that simple?

I'm surprised the divorce rate isn't 99%.

Monkeys

Feeling like turds today, so I'll just post this video and be on my way.

Vodka Time

Why doesn't one of you Canadian dudes talk to the guy that makes Iceberg Vodka and set up a similar shop, selling at a slighting higher price point with a slightly nicer (high design) bottle? Could make a bunch a dough, east coast style.

Ye Lord

Got a bit of a cold bug, so down for a few days. Being ill typically makes me either a zombie or hyper introspective - i'll let you guess which one this is.

Could you imagine if there actually was a God? What would that mean? Someone or something is watching me type this stupid blog? Some holy entity is reading imissthisguy.com... wow. Awesome. An old holy thing in the clouds just thought about commenting below.

If God actually existed, why would he/she/it send such confusing messages to the humans below? Why mess with our heads like this? If there's a God, he/she/it's not the friendly fucker we've made him out to be, cuz he's definitely screwing with us something fierce. He's got some assholes bowing on the ground in one specific direction, while he's got others wearing funny hats and some even dipping babies in water and doing strange hand gestures in the shape of a cross on their chest. If there's a God, I'd like to see he/she/it direct a movie, cuz it clearly has one fucked up sense of humor.

The Sun

Looks like it's gonna be the last sunny weekend here for a while. The "six month cloud" thing is inching closer and everyone is treating the last bit of sun like it's made out of gold. I don't think anybody even went into work today, they just spread pork fat on their face, crawled down to the waterfront and funneled Tuborg until the sun went down.

The Past

Upon reflection, it was a pretty good trip back. Some obvious high and low-lights, but one of the softer moments was when I was having breakfast with my Dad at Bagel World on Wilson. I asked the 78 year old figurehead if he felt that marrying my Mom (a non-jew) was the reason his business in the Jewish community went south in his later years. Without hesitation, he said no - things don't work that way.

It was a nice moment between Father and son, even if that's exactly the way things work and even if he was lying through his teeth.

A Good Comeback

Was hanging out with some people I'd just met, when one big oafish looking guy named Scott asked me, "has anybody ever said you look like Jay Leno?" Ha. Really? Jay Leno? Heard that in high school when my chin was a mile long, but kinda figured those days were behind me. I looked at this fucker like I could kill him and spat, calling him by the wrong name on purpose (take that!), "thanks Stuart. Anyone ever say you look like Rick Moranis in Spaceballs?"

You guys can borrow that if you want.

Hot Heads

Was a great weekend for hotheads. Kanye West jumped on stage at the MTV awards and grabbed the mic out of some teenagers hand to say who he thought should have won the award. How much coke do you have to be on to give that much of a shit about an MTV award?

Just as Kanye was flipping his lid, the inappropriately named Serena Williams was threatening the life of an attention grabbing Asian line judge causing her to lose the match.

To top it off, as Kanye and Serena were making their apologies, Toronto's own Norman Levine stood up during the question and answer period of Toronto Short Program 3 and declared the entire thing, "shit" and "a piece of crap". Not the US Open or MTV Awards, but for a 78 year old to be so intolerant of horseshit gives us all hope that one day we might actually say what we're thinking.

090909

So it's the ninth day of the ninth month of the ninth year of the millennium. A big deal for those of us with supernatural powers. Tonight I plan to make 20 vodka soda's magically disappear.

Toronbone

Sorry 'bout the dee-lay. Been hanging in the wild getting my drink on. In Toronto now and feel right at home with these muff diving sock wearing mustaches.

Bar

The guys at my office are trying to teach me a Danish word every day. Today the word is for "desk", which in Danish is "bord". Of course, they don't pronounce their "d's" here, so it really sounds like "bor". But, don't forget their "o" sound is sharper than ours (they have 9 vowels, all of which sound like our "o" sound), so it's more like "bar". In other words, I've been sitting at a bar all day (and I'm not even drunk).

Gary Part 2

Word has filtered in by way of Kenyan boy-messenger, Chinese junk and Pony Express that "Gary the Hangover" has gone missing from work for two days. He is unreachable and top secret, high-level orders have been given for him to be fired by a man named Serge, should he resurface.

If you recall in a recent post, Gary's hard drinking and terrible workday appearance coined the term "to be feeling Gary" as in "I'm feeling too Gary to get any work done" or "I'm feeling pretty Gary right now - I need to throw up."

With Gary's recent vanishing act, the mystery thickens. Where did Gary go? Is he in a saloon or a bar? What is he drinking as he contemplates his downward spiral? And, metaphorically and existentially speaking, does he know that he's feeling Gary?