Inside Darren

Larissa says that when I come home from work these days, I smell like “the inside of a spring roll”.

We just finished watching the movie Crash, which I’ve owned on DVD for at least 4 months, but which neither Larissa nor I had got around to watching until tonight. Excellent movie. I think its main point was “there are no easy answers to the racism problem”, but it did a great job of stretching that thought over 122 minutes.

I recently talked Bell Canada out of charging us a $100 termination fee when we decided to cancel our DSL internet service. Larissa told me that she was amazingly proud to have me for a husband after I hung up the phone. I’m actually considering starting a business talking to call centers on behalf of other people who are afraid to ask for their money back. I think the market for a service like that is pretty huge.

I had the chance to see an advanced screening of Superman Returns yesterday, but I didn’t. Larissa was feeling sick, and I decided to stay home with her. She told me I didn’t have to, but she was really happy that I did. That, my unmarried friends, is what you call making the right decision.

We are faced with the trouble of having to throw out 3/4 of an entire watermelon, because the task of slicing up and eating it all was too daunting. But then, the act of throwing out that much food makes me feel like a wasteful, gluttonous, North American pig, who is single-handedly responsible for African famine. I can’t leave it rotting in the fridge, and I feel like a jerk hauling it to the garbage bin. It’s lose-lose. The lesson here? Don’t buy watermelon.

You know that your blog is gaining a measure of notoriety when you find yourself dealing with comment spam on a regular basis. For the past 2 weeks, I have found at least one instance of comment spam on this blog every day, which, while annoying to deal with, is a good sign that people are actually reading the thing. If anyone here is interested in purchasing viagra or phentermine, let me know, and maybe I’ll let some of the spam sneak through.

Despite having specifically mentioned in this post that I would be more regular in posting, a quick look at the past few post-dates will reveal that I have not stuck to my commitment. I think it’s time that you, my readers, discovered the reason why:

Skies of Arcadia

Yes, I decided to give this video game a try, and it has monopolized my free time for the better part of the past month. To give you an idea of what it’s about, this game is an RPG that was released many years ago for the Sega Dreamcast, and which takes approx. 50 hours to complete. The graphics are pretty, the characters are lovable, and the storyline is genuinely intriguing. I’m very close to finishing the game, so hopefully normal posting will resume soon. At least until the wedding and honeymoon take place (a week from Friday).

Larissa has had a killer time (and I mean this in the bad way) trying to get our phone service up and running at the new apartment. Bell Canada (the default local phone service provider) keeps telling her “It’ll be working sometime in the next 24-48 hours”. Yeah - that was a week ago. In the meantime, she has to drive 60 km to my apartment just to call her sister or check her email (oh yeah, no internet service yet either). Today they had her in tears, and tomorrow we’re going to call them together and make sure things get taken care of. I think I may start the conversation with something along the lines of “Listen, if you really are in the phone business, how about giving us a phone line? Because so far I’m convinced that you’re actually in the annoy the living crap out of people business.

And finally, I lost the tag to my bag of milk which tells you what the expiry date is, so now I’m drinking milk without a safety net. I could wake up one morning, eager to consume a bowl of Maple Nut Oatmeal Crisp, and discover that I’m pouring cottage cheese out of the milk bag instead of wholesome dairy goodness. It would be wasteful to throw out a whole bag of milk in anticipation of its going sour, so I’ve resigned myself to sniffing the milk through the hole in the bag each morning before breakfast.

This is life on the edge, my friends.