The way you do the things you do.

Often times things come along in life that make you adapt. The computer made people everywhere change how they do things. The car did as well. Other times, it is the person that changes and their habits follow them but their way of doing things will change. In my case, I didn't change (much) and the whole world didn't change, but instead my location changed. With this in mind, I want to tell you about some of the things that I do differently now that I live in beautiful Montreal.


- Recycling is different here. You have to sort things. Which for normal people means sort. But for me (since this is kinda one of my chores) this means either

1. We get money for it so put it in the bag:

See that nice little bag on the table filled with stuff you bring back to the store and get money back? All on the table and nice. But with every nice bag, there is an evil-step-sister to its yang. Or yin. Whatever.

2. We don't get money for it so throw it in with the pile of shit that started in the bin and now is on the floor because Bebo's lazy ass won't bring it downstairs. This can be viewed here.

Yeah I should get on that.

-News. This isn't too different, but it's worth noting. I stay very informed on issues with my school, so the only newspapers I read now are about Concordia.

Not really cool or anything but I really like reading these.

-French. Basically everything I use here has English and French on it. And it's amazing at how quickly you get used to it and how much you scan over it. Our toothpaste for example:

Not just Extra Whitening but also Extra Blanchissant. Our phones aren't just cordless, they're cordless/ sans fil. This is the biggest change but also the one I most like. I am proud that I live in a place where there are so many different types of people and there are two predominant languages. And the one thing I've learned about Quebec is that the people don't give a fuck about what the rest of Canada or America thinks of them. The French are proud of their heritage and the English are proud of the diversity.


- Milk. Lait. It is something I consume everyday inside of my cereal. I love cereal. So we would always buy the cartons of milk. They go too fast. So like a true American, I say "Let's get a bigger one! YEEEEE HAAAWWW!!!" Well in Canada, they don't have gallons of milk (because of the metric system) so they have liters. Or as they call them litres. Well a litre is exactly what we've been pounding down over the last few months, so can't we go bigger? Because bigger is better.

This is what we got.

A nice little pitcher with a BAG of milk. It really is a sight to behold. You don't just buy one, though. You buy a bigger bag with four littler bags in it. Can I see the big bag, you ask? Why sure.

BAM! A bag of bags of milk. It's kind of like seeing the gigantic jars of relish and mayonnaise at Sam's Club. Too much. But honestly, it's better for the environment and it's easier to recycle 4 little bags than 1 big ass jug. And they have better things to use milk jugs for in Canada: Sweet Hockey Masks!

I'm coming home again.

For my sister's birthday this weekend, I'm coming home. It's only gonna be for a few days but I am hoping I'll get to see everyone. Kathryn and I are really bummed she won't be able to make it, so it's not gonna be 100% fun.

That's all for now. I'll try to post something with some substance and hopefully pictures in the next day or so.

The people you know.

One of the many great things I've experienced since I've moved is the people I've met. While most of them have been interesting, I think Tony is worth blogging about.

In my Comm 212 on Fridays, there are about 60 people, and English is the first language of about 10 of us. It makes things interesting. But most of the people aren't French. They are Asian, Polish, Russian - all sorts of randomness I've never really experienced.

So the first day of class, we had to get into groups. I just got into a group with the people around me, one of which was "Tony". He is Chinese, about 35, and moved to Canada in 2001. His real name is Xiaodong Chen. He told me he changed his name because people couldn't pronounce his real name. Not that this bothered him, but he didn't want people to be embarrassed that they couldn't say his name.

Throughout the next few weeks I learned that Tony has a 14-year-old daughter that lives with him. His wife still lives in China. I assumed that he came here to work and get money to send back home and eventually planned to either move back or bring his wife here.

Today I found out more about our buddy Tony. He doesn't work. I say "Hey Tony, why don't you work?"

He says "Because I don't have to." You see, when Tony was my age, 24, he had 2 Bachelor's degrees and was going to school for his Master's. He also began to open up a chain of car dealerships. After getting his Master's and expanding into other businesses, he decided to go to England and get another graduate-level degree.

Now, he is independently wealthy, owns about 15 businesses, and only goes to school for something to do. He takes one or two classes a semester. When he told me this, he wasn't bragging or cocky AT ALL. It was almost like he was apologetic for not having told me before. The reason he is in Canada with his daughter and not his wife is his wife is in China looking after her sick parents. They both wanted their daughter to study different languages and get the best education so the two of them packed up and came to Canada. Tony's daughter goes to a private school in the ritzy part of Montreal and is fluent in Chinese, English, and French.

It's amazing, isn't it? I know this is a stupid "don't judge a book" story, but it really is wonderful to have all your preconceptions (I wouldn't call them prejudices) about someone totally smashed.

This is one of his business cards he gave me. I know it's blurry but it doesn't matter because I don't think anybody that can read Chinese will also be reading this.

Kathryn wins us something to do.

I'm sitting here doing homework and waiting for Kathryn to come home just now, and she calls me after work. She's going to get a routine check-up for the car, and we chit-chat a bit. She tells me she'll call me after or maybe during if she's bored and we hang up. I go back to reading (tee hee hee).

4 minutes later, she calls back SCREAMING something about a radio and "HHHHAAAIIIIJUSTWWWWAAAAHHHHNNNTIXXXXX!!!"

"What happened?" I say.

"I was just on the radio and won a contest and tickets and something! OH MY GOD I NEVER WIN ANYTHING!" she replies.

Long story short. Well short story short, just arranged differently and without quotations - Kat won 2 tickets courtesy of Q 92 and their contest Star Search (the winning answer was John Cusack) for us to go to The Grand Masquerade IV.

Pretty exciting stuff! We have to go downtown to pick up the tickets and I think we are going to go on Sunday. I'll let you guys know how it was.

Thank you Kathryn.

My favorite websites.

As some of you may know, I am a bit of a night owl. So what do I do when I stay up so late with Kathryn usually sleeping by 10 or 10:30? I go online. Or I read.

And since just poking around online has such a negative connotation to many people, I thought it would be nice to put up some of my favorite websites so that you guys can get an idea of the stuff I'm into, and also to show you that the internet isn't always Myspace and YouTube.

#1) New York Times - I know, it's not the Trib or even the Gazette but it is the best mainstream news source in my opinion.

#2) ManyBooks.net - Download whole books for free (and it's legal!) as PDF's or for your iPod. A great way to read the "classic" books you always wanted to (I'm reading Wuthering Heights) without being the jackass to go to the store or library and get it. "Excuse me sir, can you tell me where to find Don Quixote?" Jackass.

#3) Uncyclopedia - This is what some people think of when they think of Wikipedia. Ridiculous articles and hilarious.

#4) kxcd I don't understand about 1/3 of the stuff here but the ones I do I think are hilarious. Hit random a few times and you'll be laughing.

#5) Woot I don't know how they sell some of this stuff so cheap, but it really is awesome. The amount of statistics they keep of the sales is insane.

The best and the worst.

So I just wanted to fill everyone in on what I believe to be the best thing about the apartment in which I live as well as the worst thing about said apartment.

This one is pretty easy.

The best thing is that every weekday at about 5 PM, the woman of my dreams walks through the front door.




She is shown here in one of a trio of pictures I call "Bebo fakes he doesn't know how to use a camera and takes really bad pictures."

And now on to the worst thing. From where I am sitting now and sit often throughout the day, this is my view :



Hmm that's a nice little view you have for yourself there Bebo! You got your computer, your headphones for when Kathryn is sleeping, some coffee, and an old Tim Horton's cup in the back. All around just a solid little work area. You are blessed with all your needs right here. Now we just lean back and take a little look around...





Oh what's that? Oh we even have a nice little window. But surely the worst thing about my apartment can't be a window. They are our connection to the outside world. They give us light. We can open them and enjoy the cool breeze. It isn't the window that I fear, so let's dig a little deeper. Let's take a look through the blinds.




Woah what is that little blue thing? You see that in the middle between the blinds? The only way to know what that is, I guess, is to open the blinds and take a daring, middle-of-the-day creepy guy taking pictures out of his window picture. And this is what we see.




OH MY GOD. Our worst fears are realized. That is indeed a wolf blanket. And it has been there since I moved here. Just there. All blue.

The bus.

This will require a bit of prefacing. I have class Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until 2:30 PM. I take the green line of the metro (subway) from Guy-Concordia to Lionel-Groulx. (You pronounce Groulx "grew".)





When you get off the metro, there is a mad-dash to catch the bus that leads to the west island, since the only real reason to get off at Lionel-Groulx is to catch this bus. The bus is the 211. But, during rush hour, there is also the 221 which is a rush-hour 211. This bus does different things at the end of the route, but the majority of the people on it (myself included) take it to Dorval which is the first stop (even though it can take about 45 minutes) so it doesn't matter which one I take.

When I get off the metro, I go to the street and there is always a huge line, either on the left (for the 211) or the right (the 221). Naturally, you wait in the longer one because that's the one that is coming next. Even if a bus is supposed to be the 211, say, it will change to the 221 if it sees that that line is bigger. Sound confusing? It's really not. Until today.

Scene - 2:35PM. Outside the Lionel-Groulx. Balmy. Overcast. Light rain falling. Otherwise normal day.

Enter fat American with Cubs hat, winded from long walk up the stairs :

I walk out to meet the day. I instantly see 2 things : there are about 100 people waiting for the 211 (this means I'm standing) and the back end of the 221 (JUST missed it). I walk about halfway down the line for the 211 when, like a jackal, the bus drives past us to the now deserted 221 stop. Woah. The driver should have changed to 211. Whatever. Myself and about 20 others jog over to pick up this bus, happy that we won't have to wait. Instead of thinking to myself "don't get on the bus of the person who leaves 100+ people standing in the rain," I thought "YES!!!"

This was, literally, the worst mistake of my life.

As I make the turn onto the bus, I always do two things. Show the bus pass and say "bonjour." The drivers love it. Seriously. It's my little way of giving back. So today is no different. Except that instead of a friendly "bonjour" back, I get a snarl. Like an honest-to-goodness snarl from the bus driver who looks abnormally like Phyllis from The Office -



Hmm. That's odd. So, as fate would have it, I am the penultimate person on this bus and the first of two to be standing. This was odd because I saw like 10 more people behind me jogging over to catch this bus. She literally slammed the door on people in the rain. ODD! Anyways, I should have sat on the floor, because what would take place over the next hour and a half I would wish on no man, woman, or child.

Devil-Phyllis, as I will call her, is quite easily the worst bus driver in the history of the universe. You could ride a camel bareback through a bazaar in Calcutta and not be in as much vehicular danger as I was with Devil-Phyllis at the helm of the Satan-bus. She drives like a drunken teenage girl speeding to a Myspace party. She would accelerate towards a stop sign (it was raining) only to then SLAM on the brakes. She apparently was getting paid by the gallon of gas burned, not hourly.

She was driving a BUS with LIVING HUMANS and doing about 60 MPH on a side street IN THE RAIN.

So that was horrible enough. But then she decided to take a little Devil-Phyllis shortcut. And by Devil-Phyllis shortcut, I mean the longest, most horrible, rain-soaked, brake-slamming, accelerating-to-stop-signs SHITcut of all time. And you are correct if you guessed that SHITcut has a red squiggly line under it. Apparently that isn't in the dictionary.

What I had penciled in my mental daily agenda as a 45 minute jaunt through western Montreal turned into an hour and a half long side street festival of turns and off-balanced attempts to drink my Starbucks.

When we finally arrived at Dorval, my arm was numb from the death-grip I had on the metal bar that saved my life about 80 times. As I looked out at the area where we would be stopping to let myself and the other Dorvalers off at, my heart dropped. School children. Devil-Phyllis would be driving school children home. May God have some sweet, sweet mercy on the 221 Devil-bus. Don't blame those kids for Devil-Phyllis' evil ways.

As I descended the small flight of stairs leading me to solid ground again, I felt like the first person to be negotiated for in a hostage situation. Yes I was glad, but I wouldn't rest until I knew those other souls were delivered home safely. Well I didn't hear anything on the news about Devil-Phyllis' Satan-public transportation vehicle taking anyone with her to hell so I can now rest.

And I missed the next bus because she took so long. I HATE HER!

Exam Time.

Midterms really suck. But unlike normal class, you can't just stay home (KIDDING - sort of). You have to go. Which basically makes them suck more.

I have a midterm in approximately 4 hours and I am online blogging around and generally making an ass of my day. Why is this you ask? Because Concordia University thought it would be prudent for me to take Economics in my first semester. This is fine except I TOOK IT ALREADY. AND GOT AN A. LIKE 3 YEARS AGO. All in all, I must take 2 Econ classes and 2 Math classes over again as well as an online computer basics class.

Is this because I am an international student and am paying a much higher tuition rate? NAH! I'm sure it's only because they are scared that I will feel too pressured taking the other first semester classes like Speech. And Critical Thinking. And all the other big baddies that us wide eyed first year students must take (even though I'm 24).

So thank you Concordia University. You are enriching my University experience in ways you will never know. I will now eat some cereal and then I'll hit the books a bit. And if i don't get an A on this test, I will cut off my little-finger.

Cocky? No. Just underwhelmed.

This is the first run.

I'm just checking right now to make sure this works. Hopefully this is something that I can do on a regular basis to keep in touch with my American friends and allies.