I miss my blog, and because of my relatively good mood (despite this SHIT weather,) a few funny pics are in order, no?













Stay classy...

_Dark

Amazing how a wonderful night can simply be a precursor to a gong-show of a morning.

At the end of last season, our hero was nearing the peak of his young life; a dream job, a perfect girlfriend, a new life in the city of his birth...

Remember that old adage "if something is too good to be true, it probably is"? I was slapped with a handful of reality. I don't work for Porsche any longer...in fact I haven't for several months now. 5 beautiful weeks into the job I was "let go" by my supervisor. Yes, the same supervisor who would sing my praises daily suddenly turned on me like a domesticated jungle cat. See, part of my job as a parts manager was to recieve incoming product, sort it, etc. This occasionally included glassware like windshields and lightbulbs. One particularly bullshitty morning, our ever-chipper UPS driver stopped by with a large pallet of goods including several bumper covers and windshields. I scribbled my John Hancock and sent him on his way, preparing myself for the hours ahead. As I came back around I was met with my supervisors harsh glare and a very demanding question that still haunts me to this day:

"What did you forget to do?"

I knew what he was referring to. I didn't check the windshields for damage before UPS took off. It's all about liability, you know. He calmly walked over to the stack of product and, without taking his eyes off the pile he said simply, "I'm gonna have to let you go. You're going to end up costing me money." I was stunned. I mean, at first I thought he was joking until I realized how long he had been gazing at that shipment. I opened my mouth to reason with him (I'd never lost broken or stolen a damn thing since I started,) but he insisted that I pack my things and leave. That was that. I had been terminated like a rowdy fast food employee. Since I started that job I had collected a mental stockpile of historical facts about my supervisor to satisfy my curiosity. So let me tell you something about Mr. Rush..

He's worked for almost every auto maker in the city from Jeep to Harley Davidson to Honda. Over the last year, he's had 4 different people work the job I had. He knows nothing about Porsche other than what he picked up from this job - and I mean nothing. He has no passion for the cars...I imagine this is "just another dealership" as far as he's concerned. The guy is just a revolving door of jobs and employees and unfortunately I didn't know that going into it. Maybe he only wanted to keep me on until the work was caught up. Maybe he wanted to get rid of me before the probation period was up. Who knows? Either way, I'll never forgive him for ruining my once-in-a-lifetime shot.

So now I'm working at Pottery Barn for a fraction of what I was making at Porsche. In other words, this is the job I was expecting to land in today's economy. Fun fun.

In more recent goings-on, me and my lobster have moved (or rather "forced to vacate due to unforseen living conditions"). Now this is recent as moving day was this past Thursday. Let me begin by saying that we loved the old place dearly....the neighbourhood, the location, the bathroom (man I'll miss that bathroom...) but the place was nothing more than a sweet candy coating concealing a wad of garbage.

Our landlord/get-rich-quicker buys houses, executes mild modifications to split the upper and lower levels into seperate units, and furnishes the innards with lots of Ikea and Home Depot sale items effectively creating rental places for students or low-income families. Not a bad plan, been done plenty of times by plenty of people. The problem with cutting corners during renovations isn't in the quality of paint, it's in the quality of building materials. Just because it holds up long enough to earn a tenant, doesn't make it a showhome. We've dealt with a leaky dishwasher, an ant infestation, a lack of closet doors what-so-ever, the noisy tenants upstairs, even a pipe that burst in the 2nd bedroom...but the last good rainfall sealed the decision to get the fuck out of dodge.

Because our dirt backyard was built on false promises instead of...well, BUILT, the back and side of the house flooded with a good 6 inches of standing water pooled along the walls. During the storm, the water was quite literally running down the walls in the cellar...it was coming in around pipes that ran through the concrete into the earth behind. Why? Simply because Mr. Fixit used insulating foam to seal it. And clearly he missed the memo about watertight seals around anything exposed to the outdoors. (My brilliant girlfriend snapped a few pics of the carnage...I'd love to post those online soon...)

So now here we are, loads of stress, money and 2am packing sessions later, living out of boxes in our new condo. I do love this new place, though. I love it more everytime I come home...its the 3rd story of 3, back corner so the sun never hits the windows till the evening keeping the place cool all day. The walls are concrete which I can't speak of highly enough. My gawd once you shut the front door you're in a cone of silence! The only audible noise is your own breathing - it's great! There are the odd quirks as with any place and of course the shady landlord speeches (though nothing here will be even remotely as devastating as water damage...I'm talking about "big deals" like a rickety towel rack or a possibly non-existant bathroom fan.) The creme de la creme: our entire lives fit into the living room of this place...there's THAT much space to sprawl out in there! The final frontier of b.s. left in this moving fiasco will be the cleaning and subsequent repairing of our old abode...the damage deposit will be the cheese at the end of that maze, and as we speak the gf is over there dealing with the aftermath...bless her soul.

This past weekend wasnt all doom and gloom, though. It was finally time to honor the date printed on 2 little tickets...it was time to go see Gaga herself.
(I've just decided you'll be able to read all about that spiritual experience in the next entry...)

Lastly, and only because it's a major stress factor, is the baby-mama drama. Ohhh the sleepless nights and the drunken therapy this has brought about. Ever since she showed up at my door in Ontario with a folder full of court papers....the stories I could tell you, dear reader...the escapades and the plot twists that have ensued because of a simple stack of bleached paper. I am now incredibly well versed in the proper order of legal proceedings, though! I could tell you who has to stamp what and when it has to be there. The mind games and sheer ignorance that this situation has become wrapped around would make your head spin. Through all of it, right from day 1, my woman has been there. Without her help I can honestly say I wouldn't have come this far. Hell, the fact she didn't turn tale at the start of this clusterfuck just astounds me. Babe, I love you. Thanks for everything.

So in closing, a personal light at the end of the tunnel - I hooked up the router last night and the internet (an even higher tier than before,) is working flawlessly. When does that EVER happen after a move?? You know what this means? I can hookup my ultimate PC! You know, the one that's only seen a few months of use since it's conception? Fuck sakes I'm tired of having to use my rickety old laptop :p

Editor's note: this entire entry has actually been brought to you courtesy of my Nokia E71 - quite possibly the best business phone on the planet. Seriously. Ranked. The shortcuts and software alone make this phone incredible let alone the easiest sync capabilities you have ever seen. It literally installed its own PC software just by plugging in the USB cable for the first time. Amazing. I can't praise this phone enough.

Good to be back, internet.

_Dark.

Ok, so I officially have had what is sure to be the most expensive hour of my LIFE.

Quick breakdown of the story as I just got back from seeing Iron Man 2 with the spouse. (Very fun movie, by the way...thanks again Robert Downey!)

6 months ago my lawyer booked an appointment with a fracture specialist; one with whom he surely must be golfing, given the insistence to see this particular specialist and only him. I'm living in Calgary now, folks - I'm sure you can see how this was a problem.

Now try to follow along and plug in whatever financial figures you'd like along the way:

I booked a flight with Westjet to leave at 7am to allow for the time change difference when I would land in Ontario. (My appointment was at 3pm.) I took a cab to the airport, (each cab ride from here on in is $65, btw,) flew in to Ontario and landed nice and safely. Oh shit! The doc's office is just outside of town! Ok, another cab ride, this time from the airport to the doc. I have a nice chat with him, and prepare for a physical exam that never happened. I was in and out of there in less than an hour. Now I have to bust ass to get back to the airport in time for my 6:30 flight. Cab again, back to the landing strip. Catch the plane, land back in Alberta for 9pm and hop in to my girlfriends fly whip (that's a 'car', for the layman,) to save myself another cab ride.

I flew across the country for one day. For a one hour session.

What did you do yesterday?

So funny story...

I started blogging again.

Funnier story...

I got a job as parts manager at a Porsche dealership here in Calgary.
Within 6 days of landing here.

Sadly, my efforts to cure cancer haven't been as successful.

I have to go through the story one more time, if anything for my adoring and oh-so-loyal fans..

After a day or two of mundane job applications, I decided I was no longer afraid of rejection. So I tracked down the closest Porsche dealership via my favorite internet tool; the...well, the internet. I picked a managerial looking chap from the 'contact us' roster and shot him an email outlining my willingness to do anything and everything they could offer me. (What can I say - I was just looking to be a part of the Porsche experience without fishing out $130,000 ;)

You know what the reply was? Well of course you don't silly! The reply was as such: they were looking for a parts manager. You know my job title at Whaletail was? Parts manager. Plus my Porsche experience having owned a car AND taken 2 million of em apart...I mean, if you don't believe in fate, you should now. This was just 6 fucking days after landing in Calgary. 6 days!!

Long story short, I got the job no problem. Been working there for 2 1/2 weeks (does that excuse my lack of updates?) and I'm absolutely loving it. Surrounded by my favorite cars all day everyday. Rockin' a Porsche uniform when I head out the door in the mornings...hell, the salary ain't even half bad, either...

So I did it. I updated my blog after many unnecessary moons of waiting. I'm so gawddamn happy with the direction of things...needless to say, I'm basking in the perfection of my relationship with Bam Bam, just having laughs and spurring the economy with frivolous spending habits awwww yeahhhhh

I bid thee adu, dear reader. Now that I'm all adult and responsible, I need to mind my bedtime ;)

_Dark.

Editor's Note: as I was just telling my lovely lover, I totally watched a CARRERA GT roll into work today!! OMGGG just a heads up, this car is a $440, 000 fucking ride. Not enough for you? How about the fact that only 1,270 of these cars exist total?! WOW MAN this job is ballin....perks baby perks...

Ahh the positive energies of God and the universe at work..

2 weeks ago I had not a penny to my name. Now I have substantial government cheques coming in and a steady job to look forward to...that whole 'if you can dream, you can achieve it' thing? I'm beginning to believe there's more merit to that than ever. 3 weeks - just 3 short weeks till I'm getting on a plane and heading back to Calgary to do things right and enjoy a bright and happy future with my darling lover! Three weeks! That's 21 days! 504 hours! Just 30,240 minutes! Only 1,814,400 seconds to go!!

Naturally, there have to be complications. Not with the plan necessarily, but with the details. What furniture is worth bringing and what am I better off re-buying on arrival? A special notice to any readers who are considering moving across the country:

Shipping/freight costs are fucking outrageous. You're better off to put that money into teleportation research so one day we'll eliminate this problem altogether!

Since most of my furniture stems from iKea's lifestyle obsession, I know I can just grab the same shit over again, if I feel so inclined. I still haven't quite worked out how I'm going to bring all my irreplaceables...damn. I've been so dedicated to making some cash, I've kind of neglected the rest of the mission. You wait here, I'm going to find my thinking cap. At this rate I'll be sleeping with it on!

The home stretch, friends!! WHOOO I eat, sleep, think, play and dream about the end of these next 3 weeks...let's do this!!

I'm going to switch gears here. Something a little more...positive is in order. The last few weeks haven't been a shining time for me. It's just seemed like one disappointment after another. As hard as it may be for some of you to believe, I'm actually a pretty positive 'benefit of the doubt' kinda guy. But even positive guys get down-trodden. I reached my breaking point, and I broke. Hope became fleeting and just something to break up the lull that had cast a shadow over all my days. I stopped seeing myself as someone who solved problems and rather I became a victim of problems...there was a lot of self-pity involved. That little voice in the back of my head who always lifted me back up, was gone. Where? I don't know. I felt like half a man. Half of what I was or what I was used to being.

That sucked. That sucked hard. I can't even remember the last time I ever felt like that...hell, I don't know if I've ever felt like that; without my little 'umph' being there after the suffering was over..

I can think of one person who would take the utmost delight in seeing me now. I can't even describe the satisfaction they would get from this.

Nothing seems too complicated anymore, though. Lately things have been picking up and coming together. I still have periods where I doubt myself, but they're dismissable. I'm finding myself driving myself again...and oh how I've missed it. If there is any truth in the 'power of attraction', it's being revealed now. Thinking and hoping and praying for something is never a waste of time....that much I know. Never losing sight of your goal is crucial, and most of all..most of all, never lose hope.

Never ever ever!

Life is picking up for me and for you, dear reader, I promise that it will pick up for you too. I promise you that. You can hold me accountable if it doesn't! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will pick up. Don't let yourself be caught up in despair or negative thinking...find what you love to do and fucking do it! Remember that impatience is a hindrance to any journey, but hope is the cure. Like a courageous wolf once told me...ah those wolves...so wise, so majestic...

I feel untouchable. I feel strong. I feel ready to get on a fucking plane and topple the Calgary Tower with my bare fucking hands. Wait - fuck the plane I'll fly there under my own power. Your thoughts have the power to shape the world, so make it your world!!

I never thought I'd see the day I'd be waiting around for the government to send me cheques. It feels so...dirty? I mean, I don't want to offend any third parties that may be unfortunate enough to depend on government cheques, but I'm willing to bet if you need handouts to survive, you probably can't afford to read this luxurious blog.

For the sake of clarity and to preserve my pristine public image, no I'm not waiting on welfare. I am waiting on a tax return and a series of insurance payouts. My long-term readers know all about that awesome car wreck I was involved in and now, a year and half later, I like to think I'm entitled to some benefits. (I hate how they use the term 'accident benefits'...I feel like it's implying an accident will improve your life. Trust me - this hasn't improved my life.) It's just...one way the men in suits can keep you working as long as possible to line their own pockets. A grim view? Perhaps. But let's remember who's blog we're reading, and why we can't afford to be naive about how and why they do what they do! (I almost feel like I should take this off course and just rant about the government but hey I have unlimited online space so why rush it?)

This won't be the insurance cheque. Hell, I don't plan on seeing a closed file for at least a few more years. No, this cheque (or series of cheques,) will be covering the wages I lost while being unable to work the job I had at the time. I'm still not clear on exactly how much they'll be covering as I don't know the formula they use, etc. I can only guesstimate. From what I understand, it'll be either weekly or monthly cheques until the total sum (a year's wages or whatever,) is paid out. Sounds sweet, right? I'm not holding my breath...you can always assume they'll whittle away at that amount to pay out as little as possible. That, or find an excuse to cut me off half-way through. It'll be great while it lasts, though. I'll just have to work hard to pickle my liver before it runs out...(that's a joke, btw. Drinking is almost non-existent for me!)

With the tax return and the hours I'll be able to work (under the table, of course) for my old bossman, the next couple of weeks are shaping up to look pretty good financially. And what all know what good finances mean for Matt, right?! *Hears an airplane soar by overhead* Holy shit I can not wait. There are a few little kinks to work out (as always,) such as the transportation and lodging of little Chinchillas that might scamper on board with me, and/or other affairs that go hand in hand with never coming back to the place you keep your shit.

If I was leaving at night, we're living in the evening...

Nothing deep-seeded I need to vent tonight, just a generic 'what the hell?' sort of issue.

Beer commercials.

Now, I'm not old by any means...and I don't really remember what beer commercials of the 90's were like, but I do know that seeing yet another ridiculous ad a few minutes ago was enough to prompt me to blog. OooOoo taking his anger to the net! lol

What irks me is that all these major beer companies seem to share the same fucking marketing team. Honestly. Every commercial attempts to sell an idea of masculinity a helluva lot more than it does a quality beer. (Note that Rickards ale will be excused for this rant. Those ads are classy, clean and just memorable.) These bloody beer companies are hell bent on convincing me that their beer is the number one choice because they 'get' what it means to be a man. They heavily imply that there are unspoken rules among men...a 'code of conduct' when it comes to relationships, friends, drinking..ANYTHING. What's far worse is they imply that they're somehow knowledgeable about these rules and that drinking their beer is a part of the 'manly' process.

Give me a fucking break.

That's no different than those "moon shoes" kids ads from years ago implying that plastic housings and rubber bands will somehow lift you 15 feet into the air with every jump. Fuck off, Molson. Your beer is bitter and foamy. It does not increase comradery among men, it does not grant the power to command a bar full of people and it's mere existence sure as hell doesn't mean there are actual numbered 'rules' that guys follow. Rule #99: lower the price of your shitty brew.

Oh and stop implying that every barmaid is a hot porn star happy to serve you frosty beer in a show-home clean environment. Has your marketing team ever seen the inside of a bar?!

A little ventilation:

I posted a few items on Kijiji the other day: a guitar, a glass drinking boot ("das boot",) and a game I never played since new. Just shit I don't use much that takes up valuable space around here. I got a reply for the drinking boot today. Of all the items listed, of course the least likely to sell is the one that gets a hit. Go figure.

The guy shows up within a few hours of the initial call, and carefully examines the piece. After a few moments he says 'I've never seen one of these with the seam down the middle. All the ones I've seen have a ring around the center of the boot where it was cast together. It's for my nephew...sorry, not what I'm looking for.' I stood there dumbfounded. I gave the glass boot a knock and pleaded 'this is built pretty solid, ya know.' But the fat bastard said nothing. Just squeezed into his Volkswagen and puttered off. I couldn't believe what had just happened.

I stormed back inside the house and proceeded to use all manner of curse words and profanities. I must've cursed that asshole for years to come. I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Let's kick the logistics here:

The odds that someone is going to see that item listed and want to buy it are small. It's a pretty odd thing to buy. The odds that someone was actually looking for a glass drinking boot are even smaller. Smaller still, are the odds that he wouldn't have bought one new for close to my sale price. But the deal was set in motion and that was fine with me. The piss-off is that he turned it down like there were 10 million of these things at the corner store! WTF MAN.

What the fuck...

If you're reading this you waste of time and definitely space, know that you're pathetic. My boot should've gone up your ass you fat fucker! If you can get them so cheap WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THAT MONTHS AGO!?? FACK!!

/fin.

I gotta throw some spice into the day to day. After yesterdays restless waking hours, I've had enough lol. *YAWN*

Walking is losing it's flavor...I'm always looking for the next big thing, it seems. Wait - not the next big thing, just the next distraction. Things are reaching the apex though as I wait for a lovely chunk of government change and all sorts of insurance goodies. The first order of business? Hopping on a plane.

I mean, what'd you think it would be? Theres a certain woman who's patiently waiting for me across the country ;)

Despite a less-than-stellar sleep last night, I'm determined to get a workout in today. The idea is to improve lol *flexes a perfectly sculpted bicep* ahhhh yeahhhh

I'm heading back to the spice rack..hm..oregano? Paprika? Who am I kidding, I'm terrible in the kitchen!