Monday, February 27, 2006

I Have to Ask Myself

Were my parents on drugs? Why else would they choose a tree that looks like this monstrosity? I remember the day we got this tree very well. I scratched my head then, and I scratch it now. It makes no sense. I know it wasn't the last tree on the lot. Why they didn't prune the bastard, I have no idea.

I'd like to know if there is some sort of rate-my-Christmas tree website, 'cause this would surely win in the ugly category.

I have decided that I either have to stop looking at old photos, or come to terms with the fact that my family is full of weirdos.

By the way, the cage at the upper left was home to the two dead budgies.

I'll pass on the opportunity to comment on the interior decorating.

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Thursday, February 23, 2006

I am not an Artist, but I Pretend to be one in the Blogosphere

Yeah, I painted that.

(By the way, I did post another painting last year)

In other news, I am thinking about changing my template again. I am kinda tired of this one and far too many other people are using it. I may go for all black. Too bad I am too lazy to make my own.

I did another one of those tests, and now I know I am going to die at age 84. Fortunately, that's a very long way away. My grandmother is 86 and still very much alive, so I am holding out hope that I will live past 84. I have a lot to do, like gain advanced degrees in astrophysics and neurology, write a novel, and go into space.

I am going to die at 84. When are you? Click here to find out!

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Wednesday, February 22, 2006

I'm a Nerd, sort of, and a Dream

I am nerdier than 48% of all people. Are you nerdier? Click here to find out!

I suppose it could have been worse.

In other news, I had a dream about Doris, the blogger behind Diary of a Pissed-Off Asian Woman. I have never met her. In fact, there are only two bloggers on my Blogroll that I know in "real life." In my dream, she showed up at my place of work and gave a speech. The funny thing is that she was neither Asian nor pissed-off. In fact, I would have described her as a Happy Irish Woman.

So, I dashed off to the Dream Moods, an interesting dream interpretation site I learned about from Super Happy Jen. I discovered this:
To hear a speech in your dream, suggests that your inner feelings are being made conscious to those around you. Consider what is said in the speech. If you hear a politician give a speech, then it represents egotism and deceit.
Hmm, I am not so sure. I can't remember what was said in the speech. I tried other dream concepts with no luck, except for:
To see a group of women talking in your dream, refers to some gossip.
There was only one woman talking in my dream, but I have to say that this seems sexist to me. And, finally:
To see a chalkboard, represents the classroom and the difficulties you may have experienced in school. There is a lesson to be learned from this dream. You may feel that you are being put to the test. Consider what is being written on the chalkboard. Alternatively, it signifies your debts.
There was nothing written on the chalkboard. The good news is that I can now interpret that dream in which I was smoking a cigar.
To see or dream that you are smoking a cigar, represents luxury and a relaxed state of mind. You are in control of your own emotions and passions. According to Freud, a cigar is a phallic symbol and is representative of masculinity and raw energy. This dream symbol may also serve as a symbol for someone you know who smokes cigars.
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Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Winter Olympics & Gender, etc.

Did you know that there are two winter Olympics events that women cannot compete in? They are ski jumping and Nordic combined (ski jumping and x-country skiing). What's up with that? This seems very unfair to me. And, here's another thing that's unfair. I think that there ought to be same sex couples in pairs and ice dancing. That would be fascinating.

There are signs that I have been spending too much time watching the Winter Olympics:

1) I think Jeffrey Buttle's parents made a big mistake when they named him: I kept hearing Jeff Rebuttal

2) I think that part of the scoring for figure skating should be based on the costume. If this were instituted, Stephane Lambiel would never have won the silver medal. He would have placed last for his costume offenses

3) Points should be awarded for truly spectacular falls in figure skating. If you slide head first in to the boards, break a limb, or draw blood, you should get some benefit in the technical components

4) Some summer events should be modified for the winter games. For example, I'd like to see the 100 metre dash run on ice, winter triathlon, and maybe soccer in the snow.

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Thursday, February 16, 2006

And the Answer is...

Running42K just sent me an email and guilted me into getting back to my blog, which I have been ignoring. I have no good excuses, really.

OK, I confess: I really don't know when that picture of me was taken, beyond it being December of some year when I was a child. So, everyone who guessed December sometime in the 1970s, you win! Good going. Too bad for you that the prize was only useless points. But, if I ever win the lottery, I'll convert that to dollars (Canadian ones).

In other news, I am distressed to say that I have to cycle past Fonzie's cheesy grin every day on my way to work. It is in a TTC bus shelter on Wellesley Street. You may remember that I met the Fonz once, when I thought the concept of The Fonz was cool.

In later years, I have come to realize that the idea of The Fonz in idiotic. How did Happy Days get away with it for so long? I don't like Fonzie. Fonzie sucks.

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Monday, February 13, 2006

This is Me

At last, I am posting an undistorted picture of me. All of the others have been seriously manipulated or generally out-of-focus. Those days are gone. I am ushering in a new period of openness and sharing.

The only thing missing is my real name. Oh, and when this was taken. But, I will entertain guesses. Let's see, I'll award 100 points to the person who gets the year right, 30 points for the correct decade, and a measly 10 points if you can guess the month.

Don't I look happy? Oh, I am the one receiving the gift, not the fat guy with the beard.

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Friday, February 10, 2006

I'm a Twit!

So says Miriam-the-Librarian in this post. She objected to my post about the recent Canadian election. I always knew I was a twit, but I am happy to have the confirmation.

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Thursday, February 09, 2006

A Late Apology (and a Thank You) to my High School Librarian

Dear Specky (aka Radar Bob, Sonar Bob),

I am sorry that I made fun of you behind your back in high school. Yes, we called you Specky, because of your geek glasses, and Radar Bob, after the library installed security gates. The truth is, I now realize that you were so cool. You wore those heavy plastic geeky glasses long before anyone had ever heard the names Drew Carey or Cory Doctorow. And your short pants, hovering above the ankles, allowed everyone to see your stylish brown leather shoes. They were so worn in, they must have been very comfortable. I also liked your plastic pocket protector. Ink would have ruined those expensive white shirts with those long tails puffing out of the back of your pants.

Was that really Brylcreem in your hair? I thought the wet head was dead, but you said otherwise. Ah, defiance rules.

Thanks for teaching my how to search for articles in magazines and journals. I am still amazed when I encounter 4th years students who do not understand the difference between a peer-reviewed journal and a web page. Hell, they can't even distinguish a book from an article. You may have looked funny but I think you knew what you were doing.

I always wonder why you decided to become a librarian. In High School, I thought that Librarianship was one of those professions of last resort, like the lunch lady and the custodian. I have changed my mind. I need some new clothes. I think I'll head off to the Salvation Army Thrift Store for some pants that are too short, a pair of well worn shoes, and then to the closest drug store for some wet hair product.

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Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Self Portrait #5
(Self Portrait #4)

I survived the Conference. It was good and bad. You know, I really hate it when the abstract in the programme is completely at odds with the content that is presented. These people should be banned from ever presenting again. It's false advertising and a huge waste of my time.

I am sitting down today to write a book proposal. It's only a proposal, so this might not happen. I am giving myself until the end of August next year to have it done, providing that the idea is accepted. I work better under deadlines.

First, though, I have to clear off my desk. If my office is messy, I can accomplish nothing. That means I have to move: a napkin (clean) from the last time I got some Thai food, some paper clips, a receipt or two, Michael Stephens' Who Are the Blog People? survey card (by the way, I am in this picture, but good luck trying to find me - no, I am not the dorky looking guy in the suit), about 1000 Midwest books slips, chopsticks (still wrapped in paper), a pen knife (mostly for opening oranges), old newspapers, an issue of Choice, two draft articles I am working on, publishers' catalogues, a piece of paper with RD533.5 .M35 2002 written on it, a plastic spoon, a cell phone battery, a Palm Pilot, MasterCard bill, about two pounds of paper, a print out from Scotland's People that tells me that my grandfather was illegitimate, coupons for HMV, and a bunch of other junk.

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Wednesday, February 01, 2006


I will be attending the Ontario Library Association's Annual Super Conference in Toronto for the next three days. I have no idea why they call it a Super Conference. It's not like they host a Terrible Conference during a different part of the year. The conference is good, but I am not so sure that I have ever had a super time listening to sessions on metadata or strategic planning. No, I will not be presenting this year.

I think there's something weird about going to a conference where you live. My preferred conference experience is sleeping in hotels, going out to dinner, seeing new places, and skipping sessions to go shopping in new stores. The Metro Toronto Convention Centre is located in a touristy area, and so it is all over-priced restaurants and stupid stores. Of course, it is a step up from my experience in Houston, where I felt like I was in some sort of prison. We were miles away from anything and, without a car, we had no where to go. It was hell on earth. Boston, on the other hand, rocked. Now that is a cool city.

This is what I wrote about the conference last year.

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