Older blog entries for zab (starting at number 4)

I got to the office on Friday and found that some friends were going to be visiting Montreal over the weekend. It was quickly decided that I was going to have to join them in looking for an apartment. An hour later we had train tickets and hotel reservations.

We had the good sense to travel VIA1. We wandered past the frightening march-break-fueled lines and into the Panorama lounge. After a half hour of leather-couched goodness we were let onto the train. We got one of the seating arrangements that sits four people around a fold-able table. The table proved to be quite handy for games of travel scrabble. I was only able to win a game after the bottomless booze had disarmed Jen and Tyla. I still can't believe she was able to play aioli after a few glasses of wine.

Saturday was a mad scramble to find housing. We grabbed the Gazette and started sifting through the rental section. We applied the usual filters. Apartments must be in downtown near transit, the office(s), and restaurants. Existing appliances are welcome and heating is essential. Would you believe they advertise apartments without heating in Montreal? I guess Yeti have to live somewhere. We started making phone calls and managed to schedule a few walkthroughs that afternoon. While the boys were messing about with maps and newspapers and such, the girls had the good sense to have a quick nap. If only we had a camera; the cutesy quotient was through the roof.

The first apartment we walked through wasn't bad at all. It had a nice terrace and had been well painted by the previous tenants. The second place we saw was just amazing. On the fourth floor of a townhouse it had exposed brick walls, a nice open ceiling with rafters, nicely redone hardwood, and a terrace and roof-top patio shared with the neighbor. Its located between St. Denis and St Laurant near Prince Arthur which makes it a good fifteen minute walk from both offices. Quick inspection of the neighborhood found a nice Thai place within crawling distance. That settled it. There was neither sealing nor delivering, but signing took place.

After a successful afternoon of apartment hunting we needed dinner. We met Adam at Queue de Cheval. Our waiter, Jacques (honest), was a pleasant mix of efficiency and outright silliness. The food was great; the sauce that surrounded the spring rolls had a healthy bite to it and the garlic roasted mashed potatoes were butterlicious. Predictably, I had the salmon. I can't help that I grew up on the Wilamette.

So yes, most of you have probably figured it out. All this time spent in Montreal is not by accident. I've accepted the Dream Job from Zero Knowledge Systems and start on April first. I'm going to miss the red hat crew terribly, but I have to go kick some internet-privacy ass.

I'm typing this on the the train back to Toronto. Completing our four-seater this time is our new actress friend who recommended some fabulous furniture shops in Montreal. We just finished the chocolate mousse deserts that punctuated the pasta salad and mass quantities of meat. We're somewhere in southern Ontario passing through a recently snow-dusted countryside under a blue sky. I'm going to take a nap.

Life is good.

I am suave incarnate. As Ben and I were getting up to leave after our yummy thai food, I managed to snag myself on the table cloth and sent glasses of water cascading into my lap. At least I had the good sense to do it in front of Ben rather than That Certain Someone. As I was toweling myself off with a huge cloth napkin a nice lady sitting next to us offered me a teeny kleenex. It was a lovely gesture, but I couldn't help but giver her a surprised "What, exactly, am I supposed to do with this?" look.

The world hates procrastination. I found out this weekend that it is almost entirely impossible to have flowers delivered in London (Ontario) within two hours after six PM on a saturday. If someone would have told me it was just a two hour drive from Toronto, I would have delivered them by hand rather than spending 1:30 on the phone.

There is a series of advertisements that keep showing up in the subway. Their goal seems to be to stop teenagers from smoking by appealing to their insecurities. Go Team. Today's was especially inane. It had a picture of a despondent looking teeny person, with the text:

Poor Eddy here, aka "lumpy love handles", has a passion for burgers, butts, and his sofa. which makes him your, like, social disaster waiting to happen.
I want to run an add along side it. It would have a picture of Steph, our knock-out model friend, sipping a martini in a roof-top bar in Manhattan with a lit cigarette in her other hand.
When she's not having fabulous sex, Natasha smokes three packs a day. She will be dead by age forty. She will not see her grandchildren graduate from university. She's having too much fun to give a shit.
I mean, if the adds are going to be meaningless, they may as well be fun.

I learned another valuable lesson this weekend. Do not assume that a movie starring Ben Affleck is guaranteed to be watchable. I guess everyone has to star in a stinker from time to time. I hope they gave him lots of money, or donuts, or something. Anything.

ObGeek: 1) 1K Bogomips on an x86 box? The world gets more frightening every day. 2) I want to have Stephen's children. His kiofd mechanism looks oh so nice.

mmmm... civilization...

It is so nice to be living in a city with respectable public transportation again. I walk two blocks to the street car, ride it for 10 minutes, then transfer to the subway which drops me a block from work in about 2 minutes. Letting someone else worry about navigation also means that my time can be better spent reading, or cuddling, or what-have-you, rather than wondering how many interesting places I can find to stick the gunrack on the Chevy that invariably ties up traffic in North Carolina.

Should I even bother glowing about all the neat restaurants and shops around the office? Maybe its just me, but awesome thai food has that certain something that Wendy's lacks. Some one should let Dave know.

Anyway, I'm exceedingly happy here. Enough said.

Ben and I were forced to make emergency office stereo repairs today. Its amazing what one can do with packing tape and the Swiss Army knife that my dad gave me.

Good day, and welcome to day six.

My sixth day in Toronto, that is. We arrived last week after a frightening drive from North Carolina. Remind me never to drive for 12 hours without sleeping for 24 ever again. Its a miracle that I'm not lying dead somewhere in a ditch in central New York.

Watching last night's X-Files episode made it official; I'll never watch TV again. My favorite comment was shaver's "Lets verb the noun!" We all half expected to see "Written by Mrs Johnsonn's 3rd Grade Class" in the credits.

Four words: Milk in a Bag. Its good to be outside the US.

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