Monthly Archive: September 2008

Tapir week

Since I’m so close to race day, this week has been designated as a taper week where I’m supposed to take it easy.

I’m not really sure how this started, but every time I hear about “taper week” I think of a type of animal called a tapir.

Yeah…I’ve got no clue either.

The GMA Preview

Rogers is giving a free preview of a new Filipino channel up in the 600′s up until the 24th. My parents have been watching the channel a great deal in the past few days. I never thought that I’d actually be interested in it, but it’s sort of oddly captivating. All of these F-dramas, news shows and silly game shows are kind of fun, mostly because this is all stuff that I haven’t seen before. It’s still fresh to me, and in a language that I can mostly understand. I mean, I can see similar show types on Fairchild, but hey, I don’t know Mandarin or Cantonese. So, this is a rare chance then to absorb stuff that’s targeted directly to me.

I don’t think my parents are going to order the channel, so when the preview ends that’s it. Thing is, I think later on when I’m in my own place I’ll at least consider getting it for myself. It’s strange. I don’t normally associate myself with being Filipino–first and foremost, I am Canadian. However, perhaps, having such a channel is a good way of linking back to my heritage, know what I mean?

Bad DIY

It absolutely frustrates me whenever my father suddenly gets the urge to do some sort of DIY project inside the house. I hate to say it but the result is often some amateurish job that makes me shake my head in disbelief. Thing is, once he gets that idea, there’s no stopping him. Often all I can do is resign myself to the fact that I’m going to have to put up with ugly for the next while.

A while ago, he mentioned that he wanted to add colour to the lower half of wall in the sitting area with moulding. For the longest time I suggested the idea of colouring a room or a focal wall, but my parents were staunchly against it with the reason that colour would make the room look smaller. All of sudden though, he picked up the idea to do this project so it struck me as odd. I figure he must have seen it in one of his friend’s houses. In theory, the idea has potential to look good. However, I had a feeling that it just wouldn’t look right if he did it himself so I protested heavily. Ultimately he got angry at me saying “why are you stopping me from doing everything I want?” Ooh, that had potential to get uglier than it already was so I just walked away.

This idea was just sitting around for the longest time. Then, one day I came home to see a pencil line about mid-height along the wall with some wood moulding on the floor. OK…I just ignored it. A day or two after, when I came home, I saw the wall along the sitting area painted in what I will call baby poo brown. Ugh. I complained at once, but there was nothing I could do. My father basically said “what am I going to do, it’s already there.” I gave one of my what-the-hell looks to my mother, and she somewhat gave a resigned “well…it’s not thaaaaaat bad.” The paint job was kind of splotchy so I figured that he’d give it another coat before doing anything.

This morning I heard heavy pounding and when I came down I saw the unpainted wood moulding nailed to the wall. On some corners he bothered to at least do a diagonal cut where two ends met, but on one he didn’t bother. There are gaps in the moulding where one piece ends and one starts. You can see the nails in the wood. I asked him if he was planning on painting the moulding and he said, no. He argued that the wood would go well with the white of the wall. The paint was still splotchy, meaning that what I saw before was the final job. I asked him about it and he blamed the splotchy white paint underneath. Sure, you can blame it, but that’s only half the story. Why didn’t he tape the paint for clean lines? Why didn’t he prime it so the wall wouldn’t be so porous?

Man. Seriously, I consider it to be a horrible job and it makes me extremely sad to see it done. I told my father flat out that I thought it’s ugly. He just told me that it’s done and there’s nothing he can do about it. And then he followed up by saying that I never give my opinion on such things. Bullshit. He just has selective memory. I asked him about primer and giving it another coat. He said that he was running out of time. Apparently, we have company coming over tomorrow. I argued that if he didn’t have enough time he shouldn’t have started such a project. I mean, seriously, if you’re going to do something like this, do it right instead of a half-assed rush job. And now? We’re going to have people come over to see this horrible job? UGH. I will be absolutely embarrassed. He seems satisfied with it though. How could he be? I don’t get it.

I dunno. I’ve been watching some home decor shows on TV so I can sort of recognize horrible jobs. Say, if Colin and Justin were over and saw this baby poo brown and wood kindling they’d be shrieking. There’s a lot of potential with this space, but it’s all gone to waste. I want to complain and raise bloody hell, but ultimately it’s not my house. It’s not my place. You know what? That drives me nuts.

ETA: Well, my mother thinks it’s OK. She likes the colour and to her the job doesn’t look too bad. She told me that I should be more supportive of my dad’s projects because he puts a lot of effort into them. I suppose that’s true: I’m usually too critical. Still…I’m not sold on this one in particular. I think once everything is put back it might be something that will grow on me. However, I’m really not sure.

Yarrr!

So it’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day. I would have let this go but work involved a lot of ARRRR’ing. I found a plugin that transforms posts into different writing styles. On ITLaPD it filters the whole blog into Pirate-speak. So, for the remainder of today you can have fun reading some of my old posts in Pirate. Also, this post will be permanently Pirated. That goes for comments as well. Give it a try.

Tastes like gnat’s piss

Back in university when it came to beer I used to like Keith’s Pale Ale. It was light and felt alright going down. After a long period since graduation, I recently had a warm bottle of Keith’s. My first thought was:

Since when did that beer taste like gnat’s piss?

Ugh. Yeah…not drinking that again for a long while.

ETA: OK, so warm beer is never a good idea. Still…realizing that there’s better stuff out there.

Filling in the gaps

Ooh, I’ve been having trouble finding something to write about. There’s a lot I want to vent on, but it wouldn’t be right to do so here. In an ideal world I wouldn’t have to self-censor, and I would be able to write whatever I want with impunity. However, the world simply doesn’t work that way.

This blog is public; you never know who’s actually reading this thing. So while I do aim to make this blog honest where I can and a good reflection of what’s going on in my mind, reality dictates that I can’t just lay it all out, as much as I want to do so. This is especially true with whatever I write regarding my professional sphere.

Though I can’t say that I’ve been perfectly clean in terms of not doing much that will damage my reputation in my professional life, I don’t think I’ve written much that might have dire consequences. Though…perhaps I just have a bad memory. Anyway, see, I think this is interesting in that even though I may be holding some things back, I still consider all of this to be very genuine to who I am. It’s in seeing these other pieces of me that the reader can build a profile of who I am. From that profile, it’s pretty easy to fill in the gaps, yes?

Parking neurosis

In the parking lot at the station, I found a spot but it was a little bit tight. As I turned in, I was really cautious because I kind of felt like I was driving a little too close to this low red car on the right side of the space. I didn’t hear any metal-on-metal scraping, so I knew that all was well. That’s one of the things I remembered from a random episode of Canada’s Worst Driver: if you ever hear metal-on-metal scraping, STOP!

When I got out, I just wanted to take a look at the red car to satisfy my mind. I knew I didn’t hit it, but part of me was just screaming out “what if, yo?” So I ventured over to the front expecting to see nothing, but holy shit, there was this big scrape along the front bumper. I froze and cursed a bit. After a mild bit of panic, I smartened up and took a look at my car to see if I caused the scrape. I looked closely and saw nothing. I walked to the other side and didn’t see any reason for alarm either. I went back around to the front of the other car knowing full well that it wasn’t me. However, I had to check around my car just one more time. After one more round I was satisfied and started walking to the station. After about 20 steps though I stopped and turned back around to head back.

Oh man. Such neurosis. I ended up driving to the other side of the lot to find a new spot. I didn’t want to take any chance that I would somehow be associated with that scrape. Who knows if the owner of that car was aware of the scrape at all?

Yeesh. I need to find better ways to channel my obsessive quirks.

Sorry it had to come to this

Really, I am sorry. However, this whole passive aggressiveness is not working for me. You know, it *is* possible for two people of the opposite sex to be friends and not have either party interested in something more. I was just trying to be a nice guy, and you indirectly insult my intentions?

Yeeeah…no more of that. Done.

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