random thoughts

I spent a while trying to think of how to unify all these thoughts, but it wasn't possible and, more importantly, I wasn't being productive. Productivity has become my main focus these days. It's been beaten into me at work. Be productive. Be productive. Be productive. We actually tally every single task we do each day, and with each task being given a specific time-amount value, our daily productivity is measured on a spreadsheet. What's more, our final tally is divided by our productive time -- meaning time spent working, and not on lunch or pissing or shitting or training -- and we are given a production-per-hour number.

This is not healthy for me. I'm a competitive person by nature. I can't help but try to get the high score. I've been conditioned since childhood. I blame it on an overload of video games and professional sports viewing as a kid. I find I'm completely out of it at the end of the day, having neglected using the washroom each time I have to go or taking a glass of water here and there, as I push myself to best my previous days' score.

I'll let you know how this goes in a couple weeks.

Anyways, onto the random thoughts:

In honour of the Olympics, I will give you my podium finish for the strangest things I've seen in Montreal over the past 48 hours:

4th place: Walking to a friend's birthday dinner in the Plateau after work Monday from my office downtown, I passed a Starbucks where a guy was interviewing a girl for what looked to be a position at the restaurant. What was strange about this was the fact that for a solid two minutes, some dude was pressed against the window watching everything a little too intently. I thought for a few seconds that he was a manager, overlooking the interview process, seeing that he wasn't too shabbily dressed. But then I thought, why the hell would anyone supervise an interview through a pane of glass. And then I found it strange that the two people didn't notice the guy. Until finally, the girl discovered him -- and the guy followed -- and then the dude just walked away talking to himself. They continued their interview like nothing had happened.

Bronze Medal: Getting off the train today, I watched a guy walk at full pace into the turnstile at the Berri-UQAM stop. In his own daze, he had forgotten to take out his Metro swipe pass. He literally doubled over on the metal bar. He then swore, took a step back, pulled out his pass, swiped it and walked through. Like nothing had happened.

Silver Medal: I started taking a new route to work. Well not exactly work, but to the Metro station I walk to every day. I found a really neat breakfast spot that I'm going to have to try out, but I feel like I want to wait for summer because it just seems like it would be better in the summer. Anyways, above the breakfast spot, there are maybe three vacant apartments. I'm thinking they are vacant because the windows are open and every few seconds, a pigeon flies out, picks something off the street and then returns into the apartment. It's like they own the places. It's awesome, but surreal. I really hope for the sake of humanity that no one lives in these apartment.

Gold Medal: On my way to work Monday morning, I sat aghast while a granny-aged Hispanic-looking Asian lady picked and plucked her eyebrows with these sharp-ass tweezers while the train herky-jerked downtown. I mean, people were bumping into each other with each abrupt stop or start, and this lady is going about her business with a sharp metal object pointed directly at her eyeball. It gave me the fucking heebie jeebies big time. I guess that woman has been doing her brows long enough to feel comfortable in those kinds of conditions. But it was too much for me, so I moved to the far end of the train, in case that thing went through her eye and sprayed some of that vitrious fluid all over the place.

So she takes the gold medal in the strange things in Montreal event, which by the way, is probably a bigger accomplishment than you'd think. People here are generally 86 per cent crazier than anywhere I've ever been. Like I've said many-a-time, I think one thing that qualifies someone as being Quebecois is the ability to feel completely at ease about talking to yourself in public.

I've heard some strange things as well these past couple days. Someone I met told me that they had been given a ticket on the Metro because the hockey skates they were carrying didn't have skateguards on them. Also, I recently found out my roommate did the voice for the Sixth Sense kid in the Quebec-French version of the movie. He did it before he was visited by the Pube Fairy, of course. Also, his old man is the Quebec voice for Brad Pitt and a couple other big actors. Pretty wild.

Onto the Olympics. Man. I kind of felt in a funk because the entire time I was finishing my studies (yeah right) in Calgary, and I was working in Yellowknife, I had sort of seen myself living in Vancouver as the Olympics were going on. It was this weird goal I had. Anyways, I'm not. And although I really haven't been excited about the games or anything, I think it would be fun as hell to be in that city right now. Also, I do get sucked into watching the games every time they're on and unfortunately, my roommate forgot to pay our cable/internet bill, so I can't even keep up with what is going on. I didn't even see the footage of the luge guy until Monday. I'm disconnected, mon.

Saw a bit of the opening ceremonies. I felt bad for all those native people that had to dance generically while all the athletes walked out. I hope they have good agents. Also, I want to cop some Azerbaijan pants.

I love those things.

Anyhow, last night we managed to hook up this mini-TV into our cable in the living room and get a crappy Olympic feed that only played the Men's Figure Skating event. And you know what? I watched it for two hours and got sucked right in.

I couldn't help but think that a lot of those guys are like stunted developmentally. Not from a physical standpoint, but maybe mentally. I mean, there was this one guy from Belgium decked out in a skeleton outfit.

A skeleton costume? For real?

I mean, I understand that it's all about skating a routine and becoming a character and everything, but this is probably the biggest moment of your life, your entire family and all your friends and their families and their friends are all watching you, and this is the culmination of your life's work and the most serious and important moment of your life... and you're going to wear a skeleton suit?

Pal, you're never going to have a bigger platform in all of your life and you go and decide to wear pajamas?

It's really the behaviour of a six-year-old. Does this guy need his food cut up for him in small pieces before he eats? Does he have a nightlight and need someone to check under the bed for him before he can go to sleep? Does he say 'lellow' instead of 'yellow'? I honestly wouldn't doubt it.

Also, I want to know how more people aren't getting hurt or killed in the biathlon. Really. You are giving people guns at the beginning of a race.

Think about that.

I'm sure if I ever took up that sport, I'd be tempted big time to pick off a couple of competitors ahead of me as I made my way toward the finish line. Now I'm not saying I would, but I won't lie and tell you it wouldn't cross my mind. And judging by some of the unstable cases competing in the Olympics (see Skeleton boy above) I'm surprised we haven't seen someone go Charles Whitman in a biathlon race. I'm just sayin.

And it's not like I think biathlon is uninteresting, but here's an idea to make it a little more exciting: give each competitor a revolver with one bullet in it, spin the cylinder Russian Roulette-style, and then set them off. The racers can use the bullet at any time, although they'll never know if their shot will count. Don't tell me you wouldn't watch this.

If you're not down with that idea, then what about turning the race into a paintball hybrid and the racer has to play dead for a minute or two when they get shot. That could still be entertaining.

And before I end this thing, I'm going to dust off the people I irrationally hate file and add another name...

Apollo Anton Ohno.

Oh man is this guy a douche. I can't even remember all the reasons I hate him so much, because it has been four years since I've had to tolerate his presence. But I'll give it a try...

First of all, that name! Apollo Anton Ohno. That screams someone who is desperate for attention and lacks personality (see the Basis of Personality post.)

Second, he was NBC's most marketed athlete in 2006 (or was it 2002) because he appears to have an edge. He was jammed down our throat and I remember him whining like a little bitch when he lost or something (definitely could not be true, but this is an irrational hatred thread.)

(I actually looked up what happened in 2002 and he made a big deal about this one guy passing him... yep, I am vindicated.)

Third, he was on Dancing with the Stars.

Fourth, he looks like a slightly healthier version of Michael Jackson. Just look.

Fifth, he's an American athlete and they are always fun to irrationally hate during the Olympics.

Sixth, there is this...

Definitely deserving of some irrational hatred, don't you think...

One more random thought: 70-year-old men should be barred from wearing suits and owning Blackberrys. People this age should care more about their grandchildren than lining their already fat savings accounts. In a nutshell, that's why our world sucks so much right now. It's all these self-interested, grey, old fucks who are making important decisions about our world, based on the brief timeframes of their lives, because they have nothing else at stake personally in the world. Financially wealthy, personally bankrupt.

Well Sheeeeeeeeeetttt... doesn't it feel good to get all that trivial detritus and irrational hate out of me.

Until next time, kiddos.