Dear alarm clock:
It would be really cool if you could go off tomorrow morning when I set you to go off, as opposed to seven-forty-five, fiteen minutes before I have to leave for work, thanks much.
Love, Lowly Human Whose Financial Well-Being Is At Your Mercy.
Dear Global News:
Leaving the closures list to the end of your stupid shitty broadcast, so I have to watch twenty minutes about... what the hell was that about... oranges? Grapefruit? Someone complaining about sub-standard fruit? Who cares about that? We're buried in evil white shit. Nobody cares about oranges. Bad call. And on top of that, you left out everything East of Canada Way? You suck.
Fuck off and die, Sincerely: A Viewer Who Has You On Her List, Mr. Asper.
You have arrived, with excellent timing as always, right on the tail of the last day of the Boil Water Advisory. I think that went up for Burnaby... what... this morning? You are truly evil. Congratulations. You must be so proud. I bet that Cape Breton Winter won't even stick gum in your hair at the Evil Weather Conventions anymore, or anything.
That said: I can see the gobs of ice on the power line across the street. That's fine. The news that there's power outages twelve blocks East of us? That's NOT FINE AT ALL. Shut off the college. Shut down the Skytrain. But if you shut off our power before my laptop finishes charging, I WILL CUT YOU.
Love, Inhabitant of a Bioregion Where You Are Decidedly Unwelcome, Unless You Get Me Another Day Off Work, But Past That, We're Through.
Yeah. Minus eighteen with the windchill. WINDCHILL. HOLY FUCKING GODS. I'm having Maritime flashbacks. I'm curling up in layers of blankets and scrawling holy symbols of protection in the air over the windows. This had better be a novelty, is all I'm saying. If we start getting shattered power lines, I am going to be Unhappy. And by the way? Only Marginally Useful Manager-Guy still hasn't gotten 'round to properly fixing the hot water. I suspect it's just us and one or two other apartments attached to the thing, or they'd have gotten it fixed by now, what with all the bitching. Bitching in little notes posted in the foyer, even.
On the upside, I wrote upwards of four thousand words today, and if nothing else have proven that if given time to do so, I can write FAST, and not even badly, mostly. I need a couple of weeks with nothing to do but write so that I can bloody finish something, is all. It would just be nice to know I can actually finish a whole book. Like, a whole book.
Can I just say: Quebecois Nation? Oh. Gods. There is a bus whose bumper has your name on it, Mr. Harper. How you and it keep missing one another, I have no idea.
And now there are lots of stranded people at YVR. Poor bastards. I feel your pain, Nameless Man In Ugly Tie. I've been there, Woman With Unfortunate Haircut And Horrible Noisy Children. But take heart: you're stranded in the nicest airport in the world, and around here, we actually hand out hotel vouchers you can use.
Ah, the ghost trains. I'm so glad they're admitting on the news that they call them that, now. That's a lovely urban legend.
And did I mention? A guy in a truck ploughed through the guardrail on the Westbound side of the Pitt River Bridge (that's the only connecting road between the booneys where I grew up and the rest of Greater Vancouver), and disappeared. The truck got hooked halfway over, but when the cops got the bridge cleared and went to rescue him, there was nobody in the truck. Doors were all shut and locked, and everything. Spooky, yeah?
Anyway. Ghost trains. I think that's neat. I'll have to use that in something.
For tomorrow: SFU is closed. BCIT is closed. Whyfor do they never mention the two-year schools? Douglas has more students than either of those places, but Global News does not see fit to mention whether or nout Dougie will be open tomorrow, or not. They do, however, invite me to tune in tomorrow morning at five-thirty, when they will be listing updated closures.
And I say: hell with you, Global News. I've got a deal with the snow. I can already feel the temperature dropping.
And now I am turning the news off, I promise, really I do. *crawls into bed, shivering*