Monday, February 13, 2006

In a weaker moment, or rather a stronger one depending on how you look at it, I agreed to write a long, interesting entry for Madison and the venerable Courtney Finan, who read my blog in the company of the equally venerable and quite esteemed Ms. Gorski. However, I unfortunately don't have a lot to say, so while I think of something to say, I will solicit comments and visitors (in that order) with respect to my Fakejournal, whose address will remain a mystery to my less-privileged readers.

Well, let us begin with the events of this afternoon, for I know that Madison and Courtney are both aware of one Krista Mackie, a dirty blonde who womans the deli counter at the A&P at the Bramalea City Centre, though not on this particular day. Now that I've taken far too many liberties with the personal life of another stranger, I can delve into the circumstances, unfortunate, tragic and excruciating, that brought me from the comfort of west-end Toronto to the sprawling parking lots and quarter-begging transients of Brampton.

The closest thing we have to a family activity outside of our home is the purchase and subsequent return or exchange of eletronics: desktops, laptops, MP3 players, speakers, cell phones and anything else the Creator endows upon us at reduced price, interest-free for six months on approved credit with a Best Buy card [editor's note: Best Buy is your one-stop destination for all consumer electronics; for more information, visit Best Buy at]. As a result, it was no surprise to me when, within minutes of arriving for a visit, we drive off to Brampton to return the latest gadget.

On this particular occasion, we drove twenty minutes to a mall to exchange a toaster for a coffeemaker, the two options for a complimentary gift as part of the cell phone package my brother had chosen. The mixture of an antiquated wedding gift, perhaps a now forever-dated conception of the process by which material possessions are acquired by young adults, and the fetid process that is the sale of electronics at places like The Source was the source of commentary that did not go unnoticed by our protagonist.

At any rate, we shall now move swiftly to our main event lest this blog become another sorry compendium of daily minutae, invoice-format details of latent alcohlism, moralizing derived from mass cultural experiences and the like. My brother, the same one who purchased the phone and came out to the mall to exchange the two household items (for our parents, not for himself), works for the University of Waterloo in what I imagine is a rather plum position, for he is not only afforded the opportunity to engage in the sort of activities that ensue, but seems to be able to go on an inordinately high number of coffee breaks. Ms. van West, an MSN stalwart, is familiar with him, the two of them being Trekkies, not to mention avid fans of Gilmore Girls (the former moreso than the latter).

One of my brother's co-workers, in some act of telekinesis or another word that is itself the combination of two Greek words (psychokinesis etc.) with whom I enjoy a vague familiarity as part of my studies in Greek philosophy (no questions, comments or incoherent editorializing, metaphilosophical or otherwise, please), has managed to twist a spoon. I should note that although the image below may not fully support my claims to this end, this spoon is quite credibly twisted, not bent. From what my brother told me, he was asked to hold the spoon in his hands while his co-worker rubbed his hands, somehow twisting the spoon. I took it for granted that the spoon was already not twisted prior to this experiment, although my brother did once, while about 4 or 5 years old, make it to school without wearing pants. Sorry Adnan.

Actually, before we get to the picture, I should probably confess that my brother is, unlike me, a stern pragmatist and has no patience for the ridiculous number of clauses, sidebars and multisyllabic quackeries I churn out in each entry, meaning that he didn't read this far.

There we are.

As I have done previously, I will now open up the comment box to all pundits, swamis, muftis, sha-people (maybe the sort that woman deli counters part-time), and, yes, even laypeople. Offer me a coherent explanation of how this spoon could have been twisted, and you will be entered in a contest to win an trip for two (or more) to Rancho Relaxo courtesy of management at the popular College Street bar and restaurant. Simply comment with your answer to the solution, and then tune into Global between 8 and 9 pm on Saturday night to see if your name gets mentioned. If your name gets mentioned on Global, visit and click on 'Development' and enter the confirmation code you see on Global for your chance to win. Win with Global, the International Association of Athletics Federations and And with your help, I'll get that chicken.

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