Waterfront Marathon: Diary

                                                                         "Wahhh!"

Well, Internet, I dunno if you knew, but notwithstanding the local schooling' trials and tribulations over the last little while, ole' JJ did find time to run himself a marathon a couple of weeks ago.  

Random Thoughts!

1. Is Beyonce still African American? Because...yikes...  Michael Jackson would have some opinion on it.  Because he kinda turned his skin white.

2. My neighbor is outside playing street hockey with his kids at this time.  I wonder if I should report him?  It's illegal to play street hockey in Toronto.  Can you believe that?  It is illegal to play street hockey in a city in Canada.  What is more freaking Canadian than being out on the street with your buds midway through January, getting smoked in the thigh with a frozen orange street hockey ball, hoping that the fact that your jeans have absorbed so much melted snow that has refrozen into a sort of armour will be enough to protect you, then feeling that awful, awful sting? Travesty of a sham... Travesty.  Of. A. Sham.

3. The Edge has spent a career enhancing and altering the sounds that different musical instruments make.  I can't help but wonder if he, in recent years, has been onstage and looked to his left, pondered how the fullest and most incredible sound created by any of the instruments played by the band has degraded to a reedy rasp,  and not itched to get his technological hands on what now emanates from Bono's voicebox?  I don't want to be harsh here.  No shame in it, we all get older, things start degrading.  In fact, it hurts me a little to say.  But JJ calls it like he sees it (Straight shooter!).  Or maybe its just me.

4. As I pointed out in this post, I have now inherited a bidet.  I was sitting on the toilet the other day and wondering why my bathroom has no toilet paper holder.  And thinking to myself "WTF!...did these people not use toilet paper?!?!?.....OMG! Did these people really NOT use toilet paper!?!??...And looking horrified at my new bidet.  May be time to re-disinfect....

That is all!

The Climax!?

Before I start on latest developments in the Gabriel Saga....Tangent!  I was on a website today about whether its possible to make a living blogging.  I know...what a coincidence!  I start blogging, then somehow find myself on a website talking about how to make a living from blogging.  Truth is stranger than fiction, I guess.


Anyways, the absolute best part of this guy's advice: "you should be able to write something.  You can hire someone to do it for you, but that can get expensive."


Like: "hmmmm....I really want to start a blog...only problem is that I can't write for shit....hmmmm....maybe I can hire someone to do the writing for me....and I will do the other 1%". 


Fucking brilliant.  (As everyone reading this is saying to themselves...JJ...consider hiring a writer....)

Fun with the TDSB!

Seriously,how great are you, Internet?  You really have a plethora of images!  I could not have thought this one up!

Anyhoo, as I said in my last post, this year has not begun well.  Massive anxiety, lots of meltdowns.  Believe it or not, a group formed among the parents in Gabriel's class determined to make the principal aware of "their concerns".  Through completely random serendipity, they came across a woman who specializes in child advocacy before they could take up their pitchforks and torches and head on over. She helped them draft a letter that was actually sympathetic towards our son, and encouraged that he be accommodated appropriately.  Then we spoke with her. She was incredibly nice and incredibly supportive.  And she suggested we write a letter too.  So. We. Did.  Ok, it was an email.  But we wrote it.  And we sent it.  So, I guess I thought I would post it.  And the response.  And the response's response.  Enjoy!  Or don't!  Up to you!

The Angel Gabriel

Note: Not sure I am up to this post.  Easier to try and be funny than talk "serious".  But pretty topical these days 'round these parts, so, internet, I ask for your forbearance regarding the poor writing.  As a band-aid solution, I have placed a MIDI version of "My Hometown" by Bruce Springsteen after the jump.  You may wish to press play as you read this post to let The Boss's tune paper over my lack of skill.

Death Post

Hey, Internet, what's up?  You mind if I call you "Inty"?  That's cool, right?  You're cool with that, no?  All, right then.

Colleague's father just passed away, go me thinking and rethinking thoughts on death.

My sister passed away from something called "non-hogkins lymphoma" in 2002.  She was 36.  Left behind a husband and a three year old son.  My sister was was not a health nut, but ate healthy (when she was pregnant, she didn't eat potatoes because of something she had read indicating that could hurt her baby. Potatoes!).  Never smoked.  Drank moderately.  So it was very sad.

I remember telling a colleague about it at the time.   Older guy.  Fatherly type, super nice.  But not a big biller so not worthy of any respect. (Maaaaan, that's one thing I don't miss about that place.  Every month an email went around showing billable hours.  The whole culture was "you are a big biller or you are persona non grata".  Makes for a cold workplace.  BUT, lots of people thrive (thrive?) in such a system so who the fuck am I to say such nonsense?)

Anyhoo, I tell this guy about my sister's death in a way that is like "this is definitely the saddest thing that has ever happened in the history of the world."

And he says "yeah, that's pretty sad."

And I am like "yeah, the saddest story in the world!"

Him: "Yeah, pretty sad."

What was he really saying?  "Get over yourself .  It's all fucking sad."  I get it now.  None of it makes any fucking sense and its all equally sad.  It's not a contest.  And if it is a contest, you will lose, because you can always dig up a situation that's sadder.  Same things when my parents passed away in 2008 (dad) and 2009 (mom).  I had my parents until I was almost 40.  I should consider myself lucky.

BUT!

Even with that realization, when I hear that someone I know, who still has both parent's are still alive's grandparent died at 93 or something, my "blink" reaction is, I am sorry to admit, "what?!? are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck are you so broken up about!?  You should be dancing a fucking jig that they were around that long you lucky asshole! By the time I was 17 I had no grandparents at all, and by the time I was 40 I was missing 3/5ths of my immediate family!"  Then I ask them if they are ok and if there is anything I can do to help.  Because that's the way I roll.

Why ain't JJ posting!?!?

AIIEE!!!

My greatest fear!  That I would start this stupid thing and immedately fall off doing it.  But it's not entirely my fault.  I signed on to be the treasurer of my son's playschool.  And by treasurer, apparently I mean bookkeeper.  Paying employees? Me.  Submitting source deductions? Me. Tracking the Fees?  Me.

You know what it's getting me looking like?

I am talking about the worm. Although I do have a big nose....

I do kinda have zealot eyes though, no doubt.  I gotta watch it in pictures.  Tone it down.  If I don't chill I look like wormy.

See! Look at those eyes!

The only thing missing is a bear and a rabbit.

I tried to find a picture of a zealot online but all I got was this:

Dead ringer! Last time I played Starcraft I assure you the Zealots looked nothing like this.  And I loaded the game on a tape drive. But I did love the Archons.  An Archon frying a Zerg....exquisite.

I have asked other people about how my eyes look in pictures.  But they all say that they look fine.  And then sign all their assets over to me.  And join me in my compund. 

And calling myself my old yahoo email signature of "hossadog"  but calling the blog "Operation JJ".  This might have been a n error in judgment.  But I am not giving up the blog title.  I love it.  Sounds like a heist movie.  "Could be a heist!" (Bill Needle!)

But do I change my "handle" to JJ?  I mean just two letters?  Too short, right?  It's a poser.  A real poser. Gotta cogitate on this one.

Me: