Nothing To Do But Write

Why?

Turns out that the message that has been annoyingly popping up on our ExpressVu every 30 minutes or so for the last month and change said something along the lines of

"Hey Fuckers - if you don't get a new card soon, you ain't going to have any TV to watch!"

Thirteen seconds ago is the new definition of soon.

Came home from walking Cool Hand Luke, sat down to watch some SportsCentre, saw Chipper Jones pull up lame (shocking, I know!) and then BLACK, followed by a nice little message that we didn't have authorization to watch TSN.

Or The Score.

Or CBC for that matter.

Every channel is now off limits, except for the ExpressVu info stations which are about as exciting as watching paint dry, outside of the "New to ExpressVu Adult" channel, which, not surprisingly, we're also not authorized for. Not that I would watch it in the first place.

The irony of it all? I live in a house with a man who works for Nielson's Television who gets all this stuff through work.

Be sure to check back frequently, as I'm sure to be here even more frequently than before now that I'm short one major procrastination tool.

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Our "New Car" Was Stolen...

For about 3 hours and 45 minutes.

We only knew about this for the 45 minutes, which started when the gentlemen with poor English phoned the house to see if we picked up the car and ended when Garry got back to the house after stopping at the shop.

"It's sitting right there," he said to me as I marched to the porch for yet another anger-induced smoke. "I stopped on my way in and the car is sitting there."

So many questions. So many frustrations.

• How do you send three hours seemingly unable to find a car that is sitting in plain sight?
• What kind of bullshit operation did I take my car to?
• Why in the name of all things holy would you only call me three hours after you opened to find out if my car was in fact stolen or picked up?
  
• Exactly when am I going to get my car back from these freaks?

I certainly should have just taken the car to Midas yesterday like I had originally intended. Being a cheap bastard got the best of me and an E-test and Certification for $230 sounded too good to be true.

It nearly was.

Now, it's 12:30 and they have only just resumed fixing the problems (whatever they are) that caused our new '93 Civic Hatchback to fail the E-test and meet certification standards so we can go and register the damn thing.

Interestingly enough, we don't really need the car all that much. I'm done working halfway across town at Lackluster Video, so now Sarah and I can both make it to work with nothing more than two feet and a heartbeat. That's ironic Alanis. An old man turning 98, winning the lottery and dying the next day is a kick in the nuts, not irony.

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I want to thank everyone for their kind words here, on Facebook and MSN over the last day. It means a lot to Sarah and I, as well as my family.

We're heading out tomorrow morning - carpooling with my brother and his fiance, which ought to be interesting - so I'll be missing Thursday and Friday's Soundtrack post will probably be up fairly late.

Let's face it - it's prolly going to be a sad bastard song too, just so you know.

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