I’ve been offered a job heading my own training department in a small 60 person company. I’ve already said no thanks, but they are insisting. I’m very hesitant to take it.

Factors to consider:
. I’ve been extremely bored at my current job since April, but I believe this is because we’ve just been bought. Once the dust settles there will hopefully be more training work to do.
. Although their offer is very attractive financially, I’m afraid it means I would be one of the first to go if they should ever need to cut expenses. Training is not something this company makes money from, so they’re likely to see it as an expense.

Of course, they’re stunned that I’m refusing this opportunity to go into management. Am I totally lacking in ambition here? What’s wrong with remaining a small fish in a big pond, for now?

<evenpar123> I think I’m losing it…
<Slant> evenpar123: Losing what?
<evenpar123> my ability to tell the difference between games and reality
<evenpar123> Just today, I was driving down a street, and saw a building that had sunlight reflecting off it…
<evenpar123> And I thought “Damn….these are some nice graphics…”
<evenpar123> ugh

(Taken from Top 50 IRC Quotes… merci T)

Back when I was living with Matt, my ex, I had a little frame on my desk, and Matt used to amuse me by changing the picture in it every month or so. He’d always put the picture of a guy I had a crush on at the time; Saku, a Concordia prof, Mats Sundin, and one of his climbing buddies, Brian.

Today I read in Michel’s blog: “The saddest event, however, is the disappearance of Brian Faughnan. I met Brian a few years ago on a telemark trip…”. Reading this, I think my God, what if it’s him. After all, Michel’s in Montreal and an avid climber.

I follow the link to a blog that chronicles the search for Brian (who disappeared in Whistler a month ago), and the blog ends with an obituary that appeared in the Gazette this weekend. I finally find a picture, and with a great chill, I see it’s indeed that very Brian. The page describing the last times he was seen, his actions and plans at those times reads eerily like a Krakauer story.

In the comments of Michel’s blog, there’s one by Bill (with whom I have just become friends). She, too, knew him, to my surprise. She, too, just found out about this.

How did she know him? Replaced him at Dream Pod 9 after he had a bad climbing fall a few years back. Well, guess what: this last December, I cohosted a New Year’s Eve party with the great folks at DP9. Could this get any stranger?

I think some of you (like Jane, perhaps, as a member of MOC) may also have known Brian. I’m sorry if this is how you’re learning of his disappearance.

Last week, I bought a ticket to Spain for my vacation (not my destination of choice, but I was outvoted). Upon booking, I confidently entered all my air miles numbers into the system, sure that the numbers would be sufficient to get a discount on some airline, somewhere. I didn’t care if I went by Polish Air, through Nairobi, as long as I got there cheaply. Got the ticket, checked my credit card balance and sure enough, the ticket had only cost me 154$. Yay me!

Then I get my credit card statement, which reveals that the only reason I got off so cheaply is that I accidentally paid my balance twice last month, and thus had an outstanding credit. None of my air miles had been debited, because I didn’t have enough for a worthwhile discount anywhere. This is despite the fact that in the past year I’ve logged about 100 flight hours.

So now that I’ve bought a ticket to Spain, I figure I’ve at least gotten enough air miles from that to get something – anything – in return. I check my account, and the trip to Spain buys me… 32 miserable little miles! This must be good enough to go to the movies with, I think. Sorry. It takes 150 miles to get a free movie pass.

This means you have to go to Spain five times to get a movie ticket. Sounds like a crock, smells like a crock…

I have this thing for Boston Terriers. In my opinion, they’re ugly yet endearing, the very definition of cute.

This makes T wonder what I see in him.

Hmm.

I just got a hit from a Yahoo search for “Lexus anal scene”. The fact that this search yields my site as a result is almost as surprising as the fact that someone actually searches for “Lexus anal scene”…

Once during my student days, I was reading outside the Redpath library at McGill, when a homeless man came up to me. “Spare change? For food, not alcohol”, he said. I dug into the top pouch of my backpack, and didn’t find any change whatsoever. I did, however, have a small unopened bottle of Absolut vodka (why I did is not the point of the story). I offered it to him and said that’s all I had. He looked down at me like I was the worst of heathens and went away.

In the hot afternoon yesterday, Cedric, Iris, Gord and I went for a sangria on St-Denis. A delivery man came up and asked us to watch his bike and the contents of its basket while he went inside momentarily. I asked Gord what he’d really do if someone stole the guy’s beer, and Gord said he’d kung fu them.

Now, you have to understand that Gord, sometimes known as Mr. Zero Forethought, is the one guy I know who actually could do something insane like that. This is the guy who shot his perfectly functional VCR with a crossbow, exploded a huge firecracker in his hand (on purpose), and ended up with 12 stitches to the balls after an altercation with a flagpole.

So naturally, sensing an opportunity to witness one of the infamous Gord Stories first hand, I offered one of the beers to a passerby. But again, no way to get anyone to take it. Why is it so hard to get people to take free alcohol?

The latest flash of genius to come out of the wonderfully deranged minds at thinkgeek is this caffeinated soap, so you can get your jolt right in the shower.

This brought to my mind a couple of questions, such as: is the human skin really permeable to caffeine? Is it more potent when taken dermally? Are there any areas of the body that should be avoided? (you know, some highly sensitive, highly vascularized regions?) Wouldn’t doing this cause a skin flush, and mess with body temperature?

But the thing that most boggled my mind was the very last sentence in the product description: “Note: We Cannot Ship Any Caffeine To Sweden Or Belgium”. Now, I know I have regular readers in both those countries. So what gives, guys? Having personally been happily caffeinated in both countries, I can’t see what’s so special about Sweden and Belgium (in that respect anyway)…

Anyone got a theory?

The wheel of fortune never stops, for better or worse. In the last few days, I’ve gotten:

• An apology for the fridge fiasco ( ! ) and a brand new fridge from my landlady. She also threw in a very expensive stir-fry pan, a salad bowl and some bio pasta.

• A bouquet of sunflowers, my favorite, for no reason (who the hell has a vase adequate for sunflowers?)

• Horrendous cramps from eating the bio pasta.

• New tape for my dancing shoes.

• An offer from my landlady to buy the entire contents of my apartment (furniture, dishes, pots, pans) when I leave (hopefully in October). She wants to rent the place out furnished next. Interesting idea, but I’m still in love with my current Ikea stuff. Thinking about it.

• Accused of e-stalking. Hee!

• Booking confirmation of my trip to Barcelona, two weeks from now.

Overall very good. Better go out and do some good to even out the karmic balance.

Francis Strand’s Swedish word of the day a while ago was att olla, a verb meaning “to touch with the tip of one’s penis”. Don’t you love Swedish? He asks.

Made me think about how Swedish is such a great language indeed. Everything is so literal. Take the following examples:

Bröstvårta – (literally “breast wart”), means nipple.
Dammsugare (”dust sucker”), means vacuum cleaner.
Tvättbjörn – (”washing bear”), means raccoon.
Bältdjur – (”belt(ed) animal”), means armadillo.
Sköldpadda – (”shield(ed) toad”), means turtle.
Smekmånad (”caress month”), means honeymoon.

(I’m rusty and have probably made tons of mistakes here, but you get the idea…)