48 days

I have an apartment.

I move in August.

I am simultaneously excited and terrified.

In related grown-up news, I also have a full-time job (I’ve decided the blink tag is tacky) and have had to start budgeting for dry cleaning because I now have more dry-clean-only clothes.

Yikes.

Like I said

Habit. He’s spent his life battling the bleu, blanc et rouge, first with the Nords, now with the Leafs. This would be like changing religions.

I’ve been saying this THE WHOLE TIME. Except, of course, from the perspective of someone who would never want an ex-Nordique and ex-Leaf sporting sainte flanelle.

Electability +1

This is intriguing, if only because it makes me wonder what a Canadian version would look like. And, more specifically, whether it would involve a Question Period sudden death round.

So it’s come to this

I have less than three months to find an apartment. The search begins in earnest tomorrow, starting with requests for viewing appointments and then, one hopes, viewings.

My feigned interest in soccer lasted exactly 12 days. I will continue to feign some level of interest until the Italian team — Italy is, I’m sure, lovely but its national soccer team makes me go all Madeline Kahn — is unceremoniously removed from contention. Preferably by some upstart team no one saw coming. Netherlands, I’m looking in your direction. [EDIT] Spain will do nicely, gracias.

The video game blogging project has been revamped and expanded, as I’ve come to realize that no one really cares what I, as an individual, think. Furthermore, I challenge you to come up with a better tag line. I’m embarrassingly proud of that one. Next up: getting Jen on board. I am not above asking publicly so as to reduce the odds of rejection.

In related news, yours truly has finally caved and purchased a Wii for reasons I’m not technically allowed to discuss yet. Big announcement — possibly involving the blink and/or marquee tags — when I can.

Is hockey back yet?

One last note on the 2007-2008 NHL season

The lowlight was, surprisingly, not seeing Montreal enter the playoffs as the first-place team in the Eastern Conference only to die a slow, painful death in the second round.

The Habs, you see, can bounce back from that and will enter the 2008-2009 season with more experience and confidence regardless of what fate awaits them next year.

Ottawa, however, can never bounce back from this:

I’m not usually this narcissistic but…

… I’ve done something semi-drastic and feel I should reduce the possibility of friends and acquaintances having shock-induced heart attacks by breaking the news on the internet first.

While having my hair cut earlier, Hairstylist Man (I swear, I’ve never been to the same person twice in the past two years) pointed out that my highlights-to-natural-hair-colour ratio was fast approaching 1:1. Said highlights, as seen on Tower Bridge mere weeks ago, were first introduced in the summer of 2007 and then touched up that fall. They were then promptly forgotten about, save for the occasional mirror-induced realization that Natural Hair Colour (the ugliest shade of brown ever; a teacher once cited it to give the class a reference point as to the colour of the Thames) was coming back with a vengeance. Furthermore, Natural Hair Colour only meshed well with Highlight Colour when the two were mixed and not so much when the two were side-by-each. Needless to say, the orange-ish hue was not about to find its contract renewed. Hairstylist Man asked anyway. I said I didn’t want the same thing.

And so, he said, the logical way forward was to dye my hair something moderately darker than Natural Hair Colour because that way, when Natural Hair Colour grows back, the roots will resemble highlights rather than a bad match.

For some reason, I consented.

Talking points:

• It’s dark brown, even though it looks black in this particular photo.
• It’s not as short as it looks. Most of it is behind my ears.

(I did also get new glasses, in case you’re wondering. Which you aren’t. But there it is.)

And now to return to my normal life, which typically involves not really caring about hair. Though I do hope the new hair/new glasses combo slowly leads to a decrease in the number of times I’m asked what, exactly, I’m studying.

Five more months

With the 2007-2008 NHL season behind us, never to be spoken of again (at least not by me) following this blog post, the countdown to the 2008-2009 NHL season begins. This is an important year for nos Canadiens, with the team celebrating its centennial and the city preparing to host the NHL All-Star Game. And more importantly, Wikipedia states that Canadiens management has “pledged to be a Cup contender.” Clearly, if it’s on Wikipedia, it must be true^*.

In quasi-related news, if there’s anything less climactic than the annual Cupcapade (the post-game skate around the rink — not to be confused with the Cup parade, which always takes place outdoors and in the victor’s city) taking place in a half-empty arena accompanied by small bursts of applause from the few happy fans who made the trek to the other team’s city and half-hearted chants in favour of the vanquished home team by the few heartbroken fans who opted to stay, I haven’t found it.

And finally, the last word on this now-defunct season: It started well, fizzled out towards the middle and the less said about the end, the better, but at least I only feel ambivalent compared to the intense hostility I’d most likely be feeling had it been, say, Philadelphia.

Now to feign interest in soccer until France is eliminated, which for all I know may have already happened. Such is my interest in soccer.

^* SARCASM. Duh.

All in favour of replacing “sloshed” with “Tubed?”

I am so very glad I missed this.

Note, however, that even in a constituency that regulates the sale of alcohol to the point that the only liquor retailer is the government and where the gist of the above story — that only now is a city putting a stop to alcohol consumption on public transit — tends to elicit stunned confusion, there are still drunken brawls on public transit. Twice have I had to sit on a motionless GO train as the police were summoned to haul away intoxicated ne’er-do-wells.

If cryptography is outlawed, bayl bhgynjf jvyy unir cevinpl.