April 22-27, 2001 — Exams and lethargy

A lot happened this week, but not much of it was really notable in a cause-and-effect sort of way. Nothing really led into anything else, and not much happened that couldn't be left out. That being the case, this week will just be a set of anecdotes that may or may not give you a feel for a week that was sometimes stressful, sometimes burnt out, and generally nonsensical. I had a biology exam on Monday and a calculus exam on Wednesday; I hadn't started studying for either as of Sunday. And this was the rest...

Corky

Remember the television show "Life Goes On"? I sure don't. It turns out that it's an Emmy-nominated sitcom that lasted for four seasons, but I'd never heard of it until imitating Corky became a staple of residence life (and by "residence life," I of course mean, "residence life for myself and the two other people that I talk to") for a day or two. "But Corky, we're married now," and "Dad, where do babies come from?" were crowd favourites. So: is it worse to laugh when you know it's wrong? Or is political correctness not worth the cost of an inside joke?

I'll just comfort myself by pretending that anything that was a joke on television must be equally acceptable between friends, even if the context has changed ever so slightly...

Crack

As a continuation from my trip into manhood that occurred last week with my first skateboard, my first tour of a liquor store, and my first voyage into the realm of shaving cream, I can now say that I am far more complete as a person after having the odour of crack cocaine make its first appearance (of what will undoubtedly be many) in my life.

Jeff and I were going to Pizza Pizza at around 10:00 pm or so, and we came upon a pair of police officers talking with two (alleged) crack users immediately upon stepping outside. Now you may be thinking, "But Greg, who are you to just assume that two people being interrogated by the police while sitting in the bushes in the alley between your residence and another must have been smoking crack? Maybe they were just loitering. Ever think of that? Huh?" Well, I had thought of that, but the woman's jeers of "You's from the Lion King!" directed at Jeff and I as we passed didn't help, and the man's yells of "I don't smoke no crack!" in response to the police officer's questions more or less sealed the deal. Well, that combined with Jeff's comment of, "Boy, does it ever smell like crack out here."

As much as I would like to describe the smell of crack cocaine for you, I spent most of the time after opening the door to leave residence holding my breath, just in case. But because reading antigreg is supposed to be a learning experience, I headed over to askjeeves.com and typed in, "What does crack cocaine smell like?" This caused a server error. So I tried again. And askjeeves.com delivered completely useless results. So I tried google.com and found out that it has "a distinctive chlorine smell."

Don't you feel enriched?

Big saws and video games

While at Pizza Pizza, Jeff and I were able to watch as a massive saw was used to cut up the asphalt on Cumberland Street. It reminded me of the obstacles in the old version of "Prince of Persia" that would cut you in half if you failed to jump through them quite properly.

Voodoo

Speaking of Pizza Pizza, I've decided that telepathy exists and that no less than one person with psychic powers is employed at the Pizza Pizza on Cumberland Street.

I think we've been over this before, but I'll give a bit of a back-story for those just joining us: there is a woman who works at said Pizza Pizza who is a touch odd. She'll look at other customers while talking to you, she'll forget about the slices you order until they've been burnt, and she'll yell at you for asking for things she doesn't like making (anything chicken-related, for example). At first I was willing to accept that she was just a bad employee. All that changed when she started muttering to herself about Manotick, the small town outside of Ottawa where I went to school. It was a bizarre experience, but I guess it could be chalked up to coincidence -- I'm sure she's muttering the names of obscure towns from five hours away all the time. The Manotick incident was enough to earn her the nickname of "Voodoo Priestess," though, and efforts were made to avoid her shifts.

So anyway, while Jeff and I were there for dinner (a day or two before the fun involving asphalt cutting took place), the Voodoo Priestess served us and then proceeded to turn to the quiet Chinese guys who cook the pizzas and to say, "Hey guys! Voodoo!" and to do a little dance punctuated with, "Woo woo woo!"

I feel fear.

Of santa claus and prostitution

Since arriving in Toronto for university, I have had no less than three incidents in which the correct spelling of "whore" when pronounced "ho" has been an issue. At first I was misled into thinking that maybe it was spelt in the same way as the garden tool, but hoe's relationship to the spelling I was looking for proved to be merely homonymic in nature. You can rest easy tonight, though, because the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language was nice enough to provide a second definition of "ho," stating that the plural form is simply "hos," and that, believe it or not, the word's roots lie in the alteration of the word "whore."

Again, here at antigreg, it's all about learning new things.

And anything left over

Other notable events during the week included failing my calculus exam (and possibly the course), getting into a fight with a sealed package of Bits & Bites that ended up exploding into the hall (and that I cleaned up by brushing off to the side with my foot), and watching Monty Python & The Holy Grail.

At some point during the week, I also received my first antigreg-related mail. A girl from Florida sent me $2.00 US along with a request for stickers. It's nice to be able to fit the entirety of antigreg.com's revenue to date in a single image:

Meanwhile, I've returned to not being able to sleep properly, so I've been supplementing my restless hours of sleep with repeated naps. Progress on my making my sleep habits even worse to follow...