Our dirt bikes bring all the boys to the yard. Damn right, they're better than yours.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Depressasaurus Us!

So wow, did we ever pick the wrong time to start this group blog, huh? Seems like everyone's got a little sadness in their hearts these days, and frankly, I've been no exception. I know that almost two weeks ago now I promised an update about our trip to Montreal, but you know, every time I think about sitting down to write it, I just kinda found something else to do, of which there are several in my life at the moment. (Plus, I've got to write the thing for Rue Morgue anyhow, so why would I do it up twice? I imagine RM would feel a little ripped if I gave them a dressed up version of a blog account. If you want to read it, by the magazine, you cheapasses, when the story runs next October. Don't worry, I'll remind you.)

Rest assured, however, that a good time full of terrified little kids, creepy French theatrics, pounding Ministry songs and, unbeknownst to me at the time, fake blood dripping off my chin all over my rented "costume" (which consisted of a frilly white shirt and an ill-fitting sport jacket that I rented for $40, but could have easily bought for $10 at VV before I left), causing the rental place to get all poopy and say they might have bill me. But the jokes of them, you see, because I don't live in Quebec, and also I don't care. Seriously, Joseph Ponton's Costume Shoppe; if Club Fit wasn't able to pry the $200 I "owed" them out of me in two years of trying, there's no fucking way I'm going to write you a $5 cheque for the dry-cleaning. Ha! Eat it, Frenchlords!

Anyhow, things have been less than awesome lately, mostly due to my suddenly realizing that my boss has no problem with stepping in and telling me exactly what to run and how wide I should smile while I'm doing it, despite the fact that he's always talking about how every newspaper in the CanWest world is evil because they tell their writers what to write. The difference, as far as I can tell, is... well, hmm. At least CanWest doesn't bother pretending they don't? Whatever. The point is, I'm extremely tired to caring about the things I'm supposed to care about as an editor of an "alt weekly," which I've come to learn is really just a fancy way to describe a wad of local ads stuffed into the same space as a bunch of stories about whatever the ads say, and as such want out.

Where to go from here, though, is as of yet unclear. I'd like to stay in Edmonton for the next few months if possible, but I guess I wouldn't rule out moving to Toronto earlier than I thought if I found a decent-sounding job. Which also means that I should start seriously looking; a difficult and time-consuming task when you currently have a job, it turns out. If anyone has a line on something awesome (that for some reason you yourself aren't interested in), feel free to let me know. I'm realistic about this, of courseā€”I don't mind being a shill; I just want to be told that that's what I am.

At any rate, wah wah wah. In the meantime, please enjoy this painting of a unicorn, presumably chasing Tron.


Anonymous Kenny said...

Man, that sucks about newspapers being slaves to their advertisers. And about everybody wanting to "off" themselves. I think the unicorn sums it all up. We can all dance around with our golden horns and beautiful furry manes flapping around, but in the end we're all trapped in an endless monotonous (yet shiny) grid with blocky tanks hunting us down. Ahh crap.

7:10 PM

Blogger enthrall said...

You're a shill.

My next pitch will be about this millionaire guy who runs ads looking for love in alt-weeklies. Whaddya think?

9:42 AM

Anonymous collin said...

That's a seriously muscular unicorn. It looks more like a stack of white cannonballs.
Um, as for depression try doing what I did this weekend. I saw all three installments of the Robocop trilogy thanks to Spike TV. It's not like Murphy has such an easy life, but he makes his way. Whether its drowning a vicious thug in toxic waste, stabbing the dad from "that 70s show" in the neck with his transference jack, or driving around Old Detroit in his then futuristic-looking 1994 Chevy Lumina, Robocop makes the most of it.
It makes you think.

2:11 PM

Blogger Superdude said...

His vehicle in robocop is a futuristic Ford Taurus, circa 1987. Why either vehicle would be considered for crime fighting is a mystery, though.

3:25 PM


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