Unions. What good are they? If they’re pulling for the private sector, they toe the line very carefully. Multinationals invest more than you might think in investigating every conceivable loophole that may allow them to sidestep pressure from their proles. The unions know this.

In the case of Concordia University in Montreal, it seems as though those post-education endowments are generous enough to let shlepps enjoy some sugar-coated extras, thereby passing all that unnecessary strife.

The offices of the ConEd department close at 4:30 pm. I can leave work no earlier than 4:00 pm.

I’ll allow you guys the choice of your soundtrack for this journey:

Cake - the Distance

Or

Iggy’s The Passenger

And now the journey begins. I clocked out at 3:58 and ran to the elevators. Out the doors, I hit that shit running.

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It’s been raining like crazy lately in Montreal, but the one day I have to haul ass, the sun is beating down on me and I’m in black. Alright, whatever.

The plan is simple: Being situated on the plateau, it’s actually faster for me to get downtown running than by taking any public transportation, not to mention a cab. I start in on Montreal’s mountain, behind my place of work and run along it’s outer circumference, with my goal being to hit McGill University, where I plan to cut through the Montreal Alouettes’ stadium for a quick run unimpeded by traffic.

Just to show me how much he loves me, God places a construction crew in the very corridor I needed to access. Now, instead of having a convenient shortcut, I find myself with an even larger obstacle. I check my watch: 4:06. I draw in a breath and push forward. Have to go around stadium rather than through it.

I workout and keep in shape, but I don’t jog. By the time I get to McGill’s main campus I’m already halfway there and telling myself, I’ll walk the rest of the way once I get through the front gates. Once I do get through the front gates a voice echos inside my head : Unions, unions, unions….

I don’t stop to walk as planned, instead, I kick it up one last notch. At one point I even find myself running down the street against traffic, waiting for the right time to cross. It happens and I can now enjoy a downhill jog.

Finally I’m at the front door. I check my watch: 4:18. Twelve minutes to spare. I jog up the escalator and surprise, surprise, there is only some emo chump sitting alone working the reception desk. The registration officers are gone.

Me - “Where the hell are they?”

Emo - “Sorry sir, the registration department closes at noon on Fridays.”

I stare into the glassy blue eyes of the emo and consider jamming my throbbing foot up his ass. His pasty-white face evokes a look dweebish confusion.

Emo - “You can always return on Monday.”

I leave before my urge takes control.

Unions. Hmmpphh. The little voice was right all along.

Despite not getting what I needed that day, I confirmed something else: I’m in better shape now than I was in high school. I was not panting in the least after my jog and recovered my breath within a minute.

So I chose to celebrate my health with a beer. It tasted very good.

I look forward to challenging myself like this again.

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I dug this sucker up by special request and had myself a good laugh. I never would have expected this, honestly. Tina Charles shamelessly lip-synchs her classic I Love To Love and it doesn’t help to have to mega power-fags in the front row giving it all they have with the proto-bitchman gyrations.

This was her number one hit at one point and she can’t even time her lip-movement right? Looks like someone has earned her shift into obscurity…

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Just when you think you know what you’re up to, you sometimes find yourself pulling out that Joker card from your pocket and throwing your ass into a loop. At least, it does happen to a lot off people once in a while. For the last couple of days I’ve been tossing the cash around like a Rockefeller and this is something that couldn’t be further from my nature.

I guess it’s only natural to toss some greenbacks around like a baller after months and months of religiously preparing all my meals at home, among other concessions. The good news is all of the projects I have going on right now that require money (outside of the sudden trip to Cuba) are all perpetually financing themselves. After shelling out so much of my own cash in the past it’s nice to watch the mess clean itself up from now on.

I Like David & Goliath Stories

As mentioned here, I made it clear that I may not be a hockey fan, that is to say miles apart from some of the more hardcore Montreal Habs fans in this town who are total fiends, but I like a good story.

It looks like Jim Balsillie, the grand wizard behind that Blackberry you may be reading this on, is finally about to get what he wants: His very own Canadian NHL franchise.

The NHL’s top man, Gary Bettman, will have to live with a little bit of egg on his face. Oh well, Fuck him.

Thursday’s announcement indicates that Judge Baum will decide all of the issues. The judge had also said he could permit the Coyotes to move, on the condition that the relocation fee had been determined.

The judge expressed reluctance Tuesday on holding a lengthy hearing on the relocation fee. Both sides indicated that if they could not agree on a figure they would have to call several witnesses to back up their positions. The judge noted that could take a couple of days. He pointed out that time is running out, given that the club’s owners are pushing for an auction to be held on June 22.

So there you have it. It’s no longer about whether or not Balsillie has a right to buy the team. It’s also no longer about whether or not he can move the Coyotes to Hamilton. Now it’s down to what final payments the man must make to see the whole shebang through. Seeing as how he’s worth billions, that’s about as trivial as choosing what shirt to wear out to work.

Speaking of David and Goliath…

Some of you might be familiar with 70’s serial killer David Berkowitz from Spike Lee’s Son of Sam, but MAD TV has a much better take on the deluded murderer’s plight of terror.

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My good friend Mike nicknamed me ‘The Man With A Plan’.

My mother tells me that everything happens for a reason.

I did a lot of walking this weekend. My walks led me to parts of town I hadn’t been in for some time. Or at least it only felt that way because I walked more slowly than my usual frantic pace and took notice of smaller details in areas I’d been in hundreds of times before.

I spent time with a girl who is still in university and it did me a world of good in the sense that it helped me focus on what it was I wanted when I myself was 21. Like most 21 year olds, she thinks that all time is on her side. I did, of course.

If it wasn’t me hanging out with the care-free university student, it was my chats with some of my older friends that also contributed to a mindshift. Are we really pursuing what it is we are because we know that attaining said goal will really make us happy or is there something more attached to it all?

While there are millions out there wasting their lives, doing nothing more than playing videos games until they fall asleep after coming in from work, or those that choose to stay at the office until they’re ready to fall asleep, how many of us are wasting time striving at something with the hope that it might payoff and give us something better in the end?

As I sat at home trying to draft my upteenth ‘To-do list’, a phone call came trorugh.

“John, do you want to go to Cuba?”

“Uh, when?”

“August?”

I looked down at the mosaic of tasks I had listed for myself to do and frowned.

“Book me.”

This my friends, is how you solve dilemmas. Since agreeing to head down to Cuba, I feel I’ve gotten more done in the past two days than in the past four weeks. The only difference between my time in Nicaragua and the time I will be spending in Havana is that all reports of my time down there will wait until my return.

But that’s not for another few weeks. Until I do go, look for a couple of new videos to come your way. For an idea of what I mean, check this out.

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Tags: Travel, Work