Saskatoon in nine words and a sound effect.

"The light to cross 23rd street is now on." Beep boop.

Correction: I apparently will be living not in Westborough, or Westboro, but on the Hindenburg. Or something.

Blogger, heal thyself.

It's been brought to my attention that my online vomiting has recently subsided to a mild spew, as opposed to the torrential geyser of months past. And since I've started cajoling a fellow blogging colleague to update her page, it would be hypocritical if I didn't provide an update myself.

Since last Saturday, I've been in Saskatoon. Much has happened over the past two weeks. For one, I now have a job at the Cornwall Standard-Freeholder as a reporter/photographer - which, if I remember my comic books correctly, means I'm a hybrid of the lesser parts of both Superman and Spiderman. Oddly enough, this has necessitated a trip to Saskatoon where, with the financial expertise of mes parents, I have invested in a 2007 Toyota Yaris. While I won't go into the gory details, the brochure for the Yaris emphasizes that it combines the efficiency and the creativity of the best Japanese vehicles - or, in their terms, the "J-Factor." Love it.

I'm also moving to Ottawa, where Ella and I have found a charming third-floor apartment in Westborough. We are contemplating acquiring a cat of some fashion, and I am spending a good amount of time convincing her we should name it "Football," so I can kick it. This proposal has met with some resistance. I think I can wear her down, but I would also settle for "Attila the Cat" or "Chairman Meow," should a compromise be necessary.

So, that's that. Below are some photos of Saskatoon that I've taken on two separate trips - one along the Meewasin trail behind my parents' Silverwood home, and another down 2nd and 1st Avenue and into the warehouse district. You may have to enlarge the first to read the sign. I'm out of space on my flickr account for this month, so they have to go here.

Saskatoon in pictures.

Myspace, arts and crafts, and shemale porn.

Who knew that when the Eagles crooned "You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave," back in the 70s, they were actually singing about Myspace?

Quite hilarious, though perhaps not for the poor soul who, God forbid, actually wants to leave Myspace. I've got an account there somewhere - and the only reason I signed up was to get an e-mail for a freelance piece that ultimately went nowhere. So the account's just sitting there, friendless and empty. In the Myspace community, I'm basically that weird guy from highschool who always wore a trenchcoat and, during fifth period Chemistry, whittled Tolkein characters into his desk with his switchblade.

The sixteenth letter.

Hmmm. Maybe I should do an alphabet series.

My swift descent into poverty.

Ever try to live for two weeks on twelve dollars? I don't recommend it.

What happened is this: about three weeks ago, I received a cheque in the mail, one that had been owed to me for quite some time, for about thirteen hundred bucks. As it was in American funds, I deposited it with a teller instead of with the ABM. She told me I would have access to three hundred dollars immediately, but the remaining thousand would be subject to a twenty business day waiting period.

I stupidly did not ask WHY this was so - mainly because I was confident I would be receiving (a) my tax return, and (b) payment for a magazine article I'd written months earlier, within the next week. So confident, in fact, that I decided to pay off almost all of my credit card balance with the amount I had available to me.

Of course, neither (a) nor (b) came true. As a result, I'm currently living off of approximately $6.42 in spare change, plus credit, until my thousand dollars clears next Monday. Today, I splurged on an avocado, four apricots, and some assorted greens from Kensington market. I think I spent about $2.50. Kensington market, like most places I go for everyday stuff, does not take credit. Yesterday, I cashed in a four dollar winning lottery ticket a friend had got me for my birthday, so I could mail a letter. Tomorrow, I'm taking back beer bottles so I can MAYBE see an NXNE show on Thursday.

I can't buy a College street hotdog, but my credit rating is bitchin'.