Getting a Move On

A few notables in this brief rest in the eye of the hurricane which is packing my things.

Nik Antropov, I'm never going to make fun of you, liken you to Aki Berg, or hope that you'll be traded. In fact, I wish to share this beautiful representation of what you mean to your home nation.

To me, Borat will be always of second place in heart for glorious nation Kazakhstan thanks to hockey greatness being Antropov. Number 80 Ya Ya!

If you want a good beverage, if you love your antioxidants, go try some of that True Blue blueberry/pomegranate stuff. Man it's good. DON'T get the Superstore/Sobeys ripoffs though, it doesn't taste the same at all.

I hope Ger and I can paint in the place we're looking at getting. funky colours and murals will abound.

Okay, I guess that's all for right now but I'm probably going to start adding some degree of animationosity and hockeytude to this blog when there's stuff to talk about. Well, I guess there's some to talk about, like "Chris Simon BAD", but you probably already know about that if you're American because that's all the coverage that hockey gets down there. I think in return, we as Canadians should only cover incidents in baseball where a player scratches himself.

Got der jorb!

So I'm a Kat now. A Kat who is, evidently, Fat. A Fatkat, if you will. I know I haven't posted in a while but that's because the life of a veggie slinger is not as glamorous or sexy as you all may have thought. As of right now, I have three consecutive shifts left, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Then, two days to get all my junk organized and embark on a magical journey of temporary housing courtesy of Ger, and eventually an even magicaller journey of sedentary living in Newcastle, effectively putting a stopper on nearly a decade of my rich, noble nomadic history and legacy. We can only hope that I will not forget to use every part of this proverbial buffalo, even the weird fiddly bit that just gets hung out on the clothesline and dried out into jerky.

Also, I hate to disappoint my many socialist and communist friends, but evidently I am comfortable with capitalism. Comfortable at least, in the respect of appreciating that I have the opportunity here to actually justify some of my hobby spendings instead of having to steal sticker cards for Extreme Pita from my friends and co-workers. Maybe one day I'll look down from this tower of money and think "if I jumped off, I might just land on someone soft and idealistic." Then I will chuckle and hug my dollar-sign burlap sacks all the closer, whispering that I will never leave them again, baby."

Ahem.

So. I have packing to do. Essentially everything I own must be ready to go by Saturday morning. I'll be taking but a fraction up with me, namely clothes, a few tech goodies, some music and some books. The rest will be on its way once a house is claimed and my ponderous mountain of personal swag can cease huddling together in one room like a dusty gelatin mould, and flop outwards in a cascade of action figures, Toronto Maple Leafs apparel and various shapes of dice.

Only one person in the world is more excited than I am right now, and that is the version of me that yearns to realise its potential and finally exist.