The Musings of Oneil and Co.

Just to remind everyone what a loser I am …

Every lunch for the past few weeks, I’ve had stew or soup. Everyone recommends having hot lunches so I always either bring something in my own tupperware or go down to the cafeteria for the soup of the day.
The first couple of times I did this, I ended up staining my beautful white shirt, beige shirt, grey shirt, baby blue shirt. So I learned from my mistake and started stuffing napkins down my collar. That worked for awhile until I wore a long sleeve shirt. I got sloppy again and dipped my cuff in my soup as I checked my email. My fault I guess because I like to be stylish and NOT button the cuff. (Only theater actors would understand this.)

Time for a new strategy. (Like duh)

I have my own office so I can close my door and eat in privacy. I decided to take my privacy to a new level. I took my shirt off. No need for napkins. Worked like a frickin’ charm.

But as I’m cleaning up my desk I look down at my beige pants and wonder where that big brown splotch on my leg came from. I then see a piece of meat embeded into the carpet like I stepped on it and didn’t notice.

I somehow messed up my pants, and the carpet just by taking my shirt off. But worse, I didn’t notice it.

Do I have to go back to kindergarten or should I just start wearing my Depends now and start asking passers-by what my name is and whether they have change for a Canadian dollar bill.

********************************

And U.S. Elections are on.
I’ve never publicly stated what my affiliations are but now I must.

I want Barack Obama to become the next POTUS.

I really like John McCain. I think it is really sad he might have to take one for the team for this election.

1. I’m smarter than I look but I don’t act like it. Because I’m too cool for school, fool.

2. It is time I get off the internet. I heard two people at two different computing places used the term ‘The Cloud’ on the same day. Either there is a conspiracy going on or I wasn’t invited to the Philly dip commercial Party.

3. The answer is No, No, No!

4. It is also time to get off the Wordpress soapbox before I unlearn everything I’ve ever been taught by real human beings.

5.
Your (Pension) need no introduction
My (Pension) don’t even function
Your (Pension) served a whole lunch-in
My (Pension) - it look like a munchkin

6. On Halloween, I’m going to dress up as the invisible man for work.
– with apologies to Mickey Avalon

I have to apologize for not yet continuing the Jack Bauer Saga. I thought I could cure writer’s block by forcing a schedule upon myself. I guess I’m too free-spirited and lazy.

Anyways, Jack will return. Eventually.

But first there are a couple of things I have to get off my chest.

1. You are a blabbermouth! (You know who you are, bitch!)

2. I can’t stand Bell’s new advertising campaign. I hated the beavers but I liked them better. I do respect the usage of a different font, though.

3. Someone leaked to my neighbours in my building that I was moving. You should see how happy they all are now. Was I really that bad? No one gave two peanut butter sandwiches about me before but now everyone and their dog wants to wish me good luck.

4. The innofader is oot and aboot. (Yay!)

5. Paris Hilton has got my vote (all of a sudden)!

6. I’m not the super amazing writer I vowed to be when I was 12 years old. Time to kick my ass a bit.

7. Things become so much clearer when you’re not depressed. You really get to see which people are good and which are complete phonies. (Yeah, I’m talking about you, you lying bitchass retard who actually has more problems than me but won’t realize it until all the meds you’re on wears out. You know who you are. I wish I could be across the street when you wake up and the bus smashes into your face as you realize the type of menace to society you’ve been.)

8. Feels good. And I’m not going to let anyone ruin it.

Happy Birthday Juliet!

You represent the best that life has to offer and I truly hope you get all the riches you deserve.

Have a great day!

Part Two

Part 3 is postponed due to technical difficulties.
The thrilling mini-series will return 7 August 2008.

She kissed me. And I kissed her back.

Oh dear god, allah, buddha, or contemporary diety of choice, please help me not mess this up.

Part One

True Story (continued)

As Jack goes to relieve himself I take a look around the Tim Horton’s. There are kids studying, a homeless man dozing in the corner and a gay Chinese couple holding hands. That Jihadist-looking Terrorist was outside smoking a cigarette scanning us Western filth. There is a look of disgust on his face. I realize I’m staring at him and he stares right back at me. Cool. And then he looks away. Apparently he was waiting for his friend. Another suspicious-looking male of Middle-Eastern Muslim Jihadist descent comes up to him and they start talking. I wish I could read lips.They take furtive glances into the well-lit Tim Hortons.

I did not like what was going down. It just didn’t look right. Where was Jack?

I walked over to the entrance and picked up the mop. Time to find out what was going on.

* * *

Ring Ring. Ring Ring

“Yeah!”

Ferris was delivering baked goods for Tim Horton’s and he was late. His dinner break had gone on too long and he didn’t accomplish his objective. Nailing that broad who was some kind of Mexican was going to take a bit more work. And he was drunk. Luckily enough for him there weren’t too many idiots on the road at 11:26pm. He could maybe gas another 10 clicks before any dumbass cop pulled him over. This neighbourhood was quiet and had pretty much all gone to sleep. He figured he could answer his phone now since he was only a couple of blocks away from his next drop.

“Isn’t she?” Ferris was talking to his buddy Moshe from Accounting.

“She is like so frakkin’ hot, I almost don’t believe it. But wait, do you know what is she? She looks like Spanish, but she could be Mexican, I don’t know.”

“She’s what? Iranian? No, man you’re shittin’ me.”

Honk! Honk! Honk!!

“Some idiot is standing in the middle of the street. GET OUT OF THE WAY YOU MORON! Jesus Christ, he won’t move!

Honk!! Honk!!

Ferris dropped his phone and put both hands on the wheel. He’s over the yellow line now but the man with the death wish follows him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!”

At the other end of the phone Moshe hears screeching, glass breaking, Ferris cursing and metal meeting metal.

“Ferris?”

* * *

5 minutes ago …

Mohammed couldn’t believe all his worlds were crashing down on him at the same time. It was over. It was definitely over and he didn’t know what to do. Janet was having his baby whether he wanted it or not. Janet was also divorcing her husband, Wayne, whom Mohammed had looked up to for many years. Her plan was for them to be together and love each other and their new baby without Wayne. Wayne had become so abusive lately with all his failed projects and Janet had fallen into Mohammed’s arms. And he needed her. She had helped him through his recuperation, his emotional and physical therapy.

Was it just another Night Nurses fantasy? Did he truly love her?

He slid on his walking sandals then turned out the light to his apartment and locked the door behind him. He walked slowly down the hall, giving a quick smile to the cat that was always locked out and walked down the stairs to the ground floor.

He did love her. But he didn’t want to be with her this way. Their forbidden dalliances motivated him to continue treatment. What she wanted now was the mundane drudgery of domesticated life.

“No. No way,” he said to himself as he opened the fire door to the street. The street was quiet. He crossed the sidewalk and squeezed between two parked cars to get to the middle of the street.

“Has everyone gone to bed?” he asked anyone within earshot. He heard an engine roar in the distance which sounded like a truck or bus or Ford Expedition.

Mohammed looked around and saw that there were still people in Tim Hortons and people outside smoking.

He smiled. “Everything is going to be copacetic,” he thought to himself.

Part 3 coming to you 31 July 2008

Happy Birthday Shan!

Have a super amazing excellent day!

And happy belated birthday to someone you know who I missed.

True story:

My buddy Jack (everybody else calls him Mr. Bauer) and I were chill-axing (I believe this is the term the young whipper snappers like Spencer Pratt uses) inside Tim Hortons after seeing a movie. We hadn’t seen each other in ages and we were reminiscing about old times and he was telling me about this great relationship he was in. His woman was always so supportive of him and was always interested in what he had to say. But she always wanted to know where he was and the minute he got home.

“I got another 10 minutes before she calls to check in on me.”

“I understand,” I said. “I’m sure you think it’s annoying but all it means is that she cares about you. She’s a Worrier ™ . Stiffling as it is, it’s a balancing act, and it’s not like you’re perfect either.”

“Ha, I know it. It just seems like whenever something out of the ordinary happens, it’s time for me to check in. Like now, fer instance, we could talk for hours about training at the Academy and …”

“Oh man, the Academy!”

“… yeah, you remember the shit we pulled. Anyways, it’s like she doesn’t want the randomness of life to interrupt our relationship.”

“Yeah dude, she cares about you. She has the strength of conviction to see beyond the extraneous crap that takes couples off course …”

“Off course?! Leading to what?”

“Let me finish, dammit. You’re always jumping to the wrong conclusions. Cause basically, you’re a dog; in the playful sense, you see a squirrel and you chase after it.”

“So she owns me?”

“No, she’s a dog too, you’re both walking together on the same path and her phone call is just a reminder that you’re both walking down the path together.
The point is, you walk down a path, a tree falls in front of you and you get out of the way. But she’s right beside you.”

A suspicious-looking male of Middle-Eastern Muslim Jihadist descent wearing an oversized parka enters our brightly-lit but soothing Tim Hortons. He orders an extra large coffee black and a Boston Creme.

“You’re not making any sense. I’m a dog, she’s a dog and a tree falls in the forest and squirrel loses its ears. What does that have to do with why she needs to know where I am all the time?”

“Like I said, she’s a Worrier ™ , and that’s what Worriers ™ do. I’ve known you two for a long time and I really debated about hooking you two together, so don’t start questioning things outside your control. Especially now.”

“Is this part of your plan?”

“Maybe, maybe not. The point is, all you have to do is put up with a few nags from her every once in a while and you’ll have someone when …”

“When what?”

“When you come home.”

“When I come home? What the f*** does that mean? Am I going somehwere? Bolivia? China? Iran?

Jack takes a quick look at the cash register. The suspicious-looking Muslim male Jihadist of Terrorist descent is paying for his purchase using the Mastercard ™ Quick Pay ™ Service ™ . Jack squints at the man.

Curiosity gets me. “What’s going on Jack?”

“Finish your thought,” he says without looking at me. He changes his focus. There’s a mop and bucket in the corner by the wheelchair accessible entrance.

Suddenly it hits him. “It’s July and its 30 degrees (Celsius) outside, right?”

“Yeah so?”

The suspicious-looking male picks up his donut and coffee and heads out.

“Finish your thought.” Jack gets up. “I gotta hit the head.” He walks towards the washroom.

– Part Two coming 17 July 2008 –

I would just like to say congrats to a friend of mine who just got green status. No, he didn’t just trade in his gas guzzling sports car for a hybrid. I won’t say exactly what happened but I’ll give you a hint.

The next time you’re dining at your favourite fancy restaurant, go around to the kitchen and start laughing at them. You know who I’m talking about, the ones who don’t have green status. And then go back to your table and pray that your meal isn’t your last.