The rumours of my death… yada yada yada

Yeah, so I went underground for a few weeks. What’s the big deal? You’re not paying me. You’re not the boss of me. Damn, I can’t keep up this tough talk! I love you, and I missed you too.

Now that that’s cleared up, some random updates:

• Facebook is the best and greatest thing ever. I was afraid it was just MySpace with a different name (which—largely—it is), but what makes it so wicked is that everyone I’ve ever met seems to have joined. I’ve connected with people I long though (nay, hoped) were dead. (That's a lie. I’m actually really glad to have reconnected with everyone I’ve found so far). Join up. You won’t be sorry. Unless you hate everyone you used to know. Then, never mind.
  

• We’re driving a Matrix these days because an oil change place wrecked the Protégé. I stopped into Georgetown last weekend to see my family, had some time to kill, and so went to a place my Dad recommended for an oil change. Well, after the oil change kid finished the job, for some reason neither man nor science can explain, he decided to back out of the garage with the driver’s side door still open. The door caught on a wall and got somewhat accordioned. The owner of the place was super cool though, said he’d get it fixed, set me up with a rental, and promised to drive down to Ottawa and swap cars with me later in the week. I’ve in no way inconvenienced by this, so really I just feel bad for the owner—poor bastard is out of pocket probably a grand. Also: the oil change was free.

• Sarah has almost gotten over the croup, and all of the Outbreak monkeys have been chased from our apartment.

• For fans of hilarious and absolutely fucking filthy banter, I highly recommend SModcast, which is a new podcast featuring Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier. It’s just the two of them shooting the shit in hour-long instalments. So so good. I’ve been buried with work lately, but these podcasts have made the time fly by.