Archive | June, 2011

Alert, Nunavut & the procrastinating student (PART 2)

27 Jun

Dear readers, do you believe in fate? Happenstance? Serendipity? Because I do.

It just so happens that today’s Word of the Day is hyperborean, as shown above. This was not just a coincidence; it was a sign. It was a friendly reminder to me, from the nice folks at Merriam-Webster. They reminded me that I never followed up on my scary story of Alert, Nunavut, which you can read here.


The reason for my delayed update is primarily that once I began researching Alert, the less frightening and mysterious it seemed. The less frightening and mysterious it seemed, the less eager I was to share the information I unearthed.

Alert, Nunavut is home to a Canadian Forces Station for receiving intelligence signals. In actuality, the base seems like a summer camp to me. …And by “summer” I mean ice cubes and ice skates and highs in the 40s and snowmen and five months of night (ok, so it is a little spooky). Highlights of the base include an indoor gym with a two-lane bowling alley, a recently remodeled cafeteria (with reportedly delicious food) and, best of all, a radio station.


The only question I’m left with is this:
Where do I sign up?


Like a kid in a candy store

23 Jun


Salutations. I hope you were ready to see something that beautiful. Didn’t catch it? Well, here it is again X-MO style:


Can you spell #SWAGG? That’s right.

It’s time for a story. I was hanging out at a bar with a friend (for clarity’s sake: not a sports bar) and wearing my usual uniform. That’s right — my uniform. I somewhat consider myself a character. To be specific: a cartoon character, whom you can easily identify by their wardrobe. Because you asked, (didn’t you?) it’s a name-branding strategy. I read it in the entrepreneur’s handbook. #getwithit

So there I was in this girly bar clad in my button-down shirt, jean shorts, mocassins, and the pièce de résistance: my Jays cap. Trust me, it always ties the outfit together, without fail. No day is complete without the 59FIFTY Jays cap. (No snap-backs here.) It’s become my trademark, and it’s a particularly effective one in Manhattan, where Toronto fans are few and far between. (BTW, if you’re out there, I’m still looking for you.)

I was rockin’ the cap — backwards, forwards, off to the right — as the night wore on. This chicka foolishly stepped up to the plate #badpuns and asked me about baseball. BASEBALL. Ask me about baseball, I swear it on Joey’s bat, you better have plans to meet someone later, because I’m not going to stop talking. Surprisingly, she actually listened to my self-indulgent monologue, and jokes aside, I became this kid:


After maybe half an hour or so, I totally baffled her. She released the beast inside me, and clearly had no idea what she was getting herself into. She wanted to pull the reins a little, so finally, she interjected. She asked me, (as if my previous soliloquy wasn’t enough):

“So…. what do you like about baseball?”

“The way it makes me feel.”