Month: January 2005

Ripped off by the government. Marlo got a tax return of several hundred dollars last year, but recently she got a letter from the government saying there was a mistake, and she owes them $400. My story is weak by comparison, but it still riles me.

I bought a pair of converse on ebay. I got them for $15.75 US plus postage for a total of about 21 American bucks. Cons go for about $60 Canadian in stores, so after you convert US$21 to Cdn$25, that’s a pretty good deal. But the other day I got a note from the post office saying there was a package with $17.60 due on it. I knew it was the shoes. I went to the post office to find out what the deal was. The guy who sent it wrote $15 for the value on the customs declaration form, but his one looks like a seven, so they charged me $12.60 in tax on what they thought was an item valued at $75 US ($90 Canadian) plus the standard $5 “handling fee.” Naturally the lady at the 7-11 postal outlet can’t do anything, but she told me about all the bureaucratic hoops I have to jump through to get my $17 back (and the handling fee is probably exempt). So I filled out the form, included a copy of the invoice from ebay, and even scanned in the package and printed out the scan so they could see buddy boy’s writing. I know it’s only $17 bucks, but it kind of defeats the purpose of searching for a good deal, plus I hate what it was “spent” on. Spending $17 on a friend or myself – great. Giving it to a government that already charges me for services that I rarely or cannot use – crap.

Tip of the week: if you find yourself typing “too funny not to pass around” it’s probably not.

Who can recommend a karoako place in town that isn’t the Dufferin?

Stewie set up a birthday party/hang around thing for Taylor at a strip club called Number Five Orange last Friday. Marlo had never been to a strip club before. I had been to a few. One of them I even went to without having to go on stage. As the kind of guy who likes women with short hair, no makeup, and natural boobs, strip clubs aren’t usually my bag of tea. Also going to strip clubs are an exercise in people-watching, as there were quite a few interesting characters there, including Santa Clause.

There was one stripper – Penny Lane – who managed to keep my attention. She had nice hair (for a long-hair) and was naturally pretty. She didn’t give Taylor a lap dance though because some schmuck just prior to the appointment did something not so nice and she went home for the night. That’s my understanding, anyway. The best part was four of my co-workers showing up and one of them getting drunk and telling me how sexy Marlo is and how lucky I am (I know, and I know). Marlo asked if I would go see strippers again and I said ‘sure,’ but I would like to try a different place next time.

Great Old Ones is finally in the Chaosium catalog.

I think the deal with Pink Floyd and Wizard of Oz has gotten to the point that it would probably be a good marketing deal if they packaged them together at Virgin Megastore.

I am truly amazed at how bad my feet smell after a day at work. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

My lunch at work usually consists of: a banana (which I eat at first break); two hard boiled eggs; an apple; raisins; sunflower seeds; sometimes a bag of chips or a candy bar from the machines in the lunch room. During the holidays add 2 mandarin oranges. Last Wednesday I opened my bag to find that there were no eggs. I had a memory of boiling the eggs that morning, but since they weren’t in my bag, I wondered if I had left them at home. Worse yet, I wondered if I left them in the pot, boiling. At first break (I technically start work at 8:30 and first break is 10:30) I decided I had to wake up Stewie to check to see if the kitchen was on fire. I called him and just asked him to check the kitchen. When I got home, he told me there were no eggs at all – not in a pot nor on the counter. So that was fine. Clearly I had a false memory.

Today, as I was leaving work, I saw a Sunshine Market bag on the filing cabinet that is in the locker room at work. It’s where I put my bag when I pull out my music tapes ‘n’ stuff. Inside were my two eggs. They smelled a bit (being 6 days at room temperature) but I so desperately wanted to eat them. Wasted food is one of my pet peeves. Or, if not a peeve, I just think it’s tragic, because food is so yummy. Anyway Taylor talked me out of it, so when we got outside I hucked one onto the road for kicks. That was satisfying, but not as satisfying as rolling the other out onto Marine Drive and waiting for a car to run over it. Ho ho! It was just about a foot out of the rut that the tires go, but eventually a bus nicked it. Then a sports car changing lanes and oh the mess it made! Fun for the whole family.