Sustainable building design, translated

The building I work in was built in such a way as to be considered "sustainable design". It's supposed to be more eco-friendly, and it has certification that "recognizes excellence in energy and environmental performance".

Which is awesome. I mean, I'm all about the environment. I love that shit. It's about time that someone recognized that maybe we can live in straw bale houses but we definitely can't work there, so maybe let's get on top of making commercial buildings that aren't a giant blight on the face of the earth.


It turns out that sustainable design in a commercial building is really awesome in theory.

Like communism. Or shapewear.

But in reality, sustainable design for a commercial building is a clusterfuck of failed expectations and broken dreams.

(Also like communism. And shapewear.)

For example.

Energy efficient ceramic heating and cooling ceiling tiles: These sound brilliant, right? Dual purpose! Energy efficient! The cold air falls from the ceiling so you don't have to expend energy forcing it upwards!

What that actually means: Well, what that actually means is that it doesn't work very well. We are a province of temperature extremes. The 'heating' portion seems to do ok - we don't freeze in the winter, exactly - but the cooling portion sucks so bad that they've had to install a series of smaller standalone A/C units. Which sort of defeats the whole environmentalism thing. Also, it's not humid here by any stretch, but the ceiling tiles acquire condensation, forcing us all to watch out for drips and occasionally run a mop over them. It looks super profesh when you've got a number of buckets catching drips in your boardroom and your CEO is mopping the ceiling, I gotta say.

Bathrooms fitted with low-flow taps and waterless urinals to conserve water. Low-flow taps are tried and true. In a house environment, anyway. Where you aren't sharing your germs with 500 of your best friends. I think the 8 colds I had last year and the little signs they put up next to them at the office reminding us all to wash for ages to prevent germs speak for themselves though.

I don't think I can even sell the positive on that second part, because WATERLESS URINALS. What washes the urine down the urinals you ask? Well, more urine of course. What dries on the way down and consequently smells like a well-trafficked outhouse in August?

That was a rhetorical question.

Fun fact: I made that exact complaint to our office manager who then included it in her maintenance request to building management. There's paperwork floating around somewhere with the words "well-trafficked outhouse in August" - my legacy, y'all! Maintenance came out to "fix" it, so now it smells like the same outhouse in June...covered in fake flowers.

I'm beginning to understand why Greenpeace does most of their office work on a boat.




If he's going to get kicked out, it should be for something classic, like pranking the Dean

I love higher learning. I love the vibe of universities and colleges, the creative energy. They're a hotbed of information and social activity. I love to learn.

Sadly for me, we've determined that this time, it's hubby's turn to go get edumacated. It's for the greater good - getting him the hell out of the restaurant industry. (Can you imagine? Working jobs on the same schedule? Having *gasp* more than 30 minutes in a day to converse? The wonder of it all.)

So today he was there talking to the registrar about his options, and he sent me this photo from the bathroom. Clearly, the vibe at university has changed.

Let's hope he can follow the rules, shall we?

Kind of wondering why I'm still wondering about this.

At about 4am today my kid's stomach decided to reverse gears, and when the phenomenon repeated itself at 6 I realized he wasn't going to daycare, and I was in for a nice, relaxing, vomit-filled day off work. But I had to get my paycheck into the bank, lest there be a bounce-fest of epic proportions, which sounds a lot more joyous than it really is. So hubby spelled me off for a short while so I could go do that.

While I was driving there, I stopped to allow two pedestrians to cross. One was an older lady in a bright red coat, who looked a little confused that I was stopping at all, and then took her sweet time meandering across the intersection. When she passed in front of my car, she smiled and pointed skyward.

I have no idea what that meant.

"Oh, bless you for stopping, child, you'll surely get into heaven"?

"Look out, someone's about to drop an anvil on your head"?

"Thanks for stopping, I was totally going to fly, but I'm stuck walking across the street like a fucking peasant"?

You try to do something nice, and people just confuse the shit out of you in return.

I'll just get them to tile over the existing bloated corpse: Random Tuesday Thoughts


Hey, it's Tuesday and I'm BACK! I'm no longer self-medicating and feeling sorry for myself!

Well, okay, I am. But I'm blogging anyway.

Did you guys have fun over at Amy's place last week? It's bitchin', huh? Like some kind of bitchin' wives club, or something.

Anyway, regarding the Tuesday randomness: You know the drill - write a random post, grab the fugly purple button, and link up! Then visit some of your cohorts and make friends. The four people above you or something. Or, y'know, do whatever you want. I don't care.

Wait, did that seem bitchy? Hm. Surprisingly, I don't care about that either.

Hubby and I just spent part of our date night at Home Depot. I know, we rock. First Wal Mart and now this. But we were picking out tile for the bathroom, which is getting a little facelift. I am super pumped about that. It's starting to look a little...well-used.

Actually, if you squint, and not even that much of a squint, it looks like the kind of bathroom that your bloated corpse would turn up in after you took up heroin and your family lost track of you for a while.

I'm even more super pumped about how we're paying for said facelift, which is not with money that we don't have or we would have reno'd long before it started looking like a place where crack whores pee. No, hubby is trading one of his contractor friends a bunch of Metallica crap memorabilia for painting, tiling, and possibly installing a fan. So - winnity-win for ME!

So glad I didn't drop a match on that stuff that one time.

I have a job interview tomorrow. I feel like throwing up. I haven't had to interview for a proper job since 2003.

Are nipple tassles still appropriate?

My tooth hurts.

I'm completely repulsed by this girl who got her tongue forked, but I can't stop watching it anyway. I bet she's popular. I'm really, really glad nobody suggested this to me in high school, when I was younger and stupider. (Well, younger.)

I feel like I need to go study for this job interview now. Kill me now. Er, I mean, wish me luck.

Random up!

Supporting athletes should be left to jock straps, not pastries

So I started my first Two Week Resolution, which is to submit a logo design a day to, and I've met my quota for the whole two days I've been doing it so far. It's been taking a bit more time than I thought it would, and yet today when I managed to get one submitted during the toddler's naptime I was all, sweet! I have a free evening in which to play video games or read comics or hell, go to bed early!

Then I was like, oh riiiiiigggghhhht. That blooooggggg thing.

Half of you are probably off at Blissdom anyway, but I will share with you something I spotted the other day. I was at Tim Horton's, which is Canada's answer to, say, Dunkin' Donuts. Except it's WAY more addictive because I'm fairly certain they make their coffee with butter.

Or maybe crack cocaine.

Anyway, they were featuring a donut covered in tiny red candy maple leafs. Ooooh, how patriotic! Except - wait - Canada Day isn't until July, guys. What's with the unwarranted patriotism?

(Canadians don't like to get all patriotic for no good reason. It's ostentatious.)

(It's the same reason we say "excuse me" when somebody bumps into US, okay? We're just inexplicably weird that way.)

Then I realized, oh! It must be for the Winter Olympics, which are in Vancouver soon.

Because...nothing screams "Olympic athlete" like a big fat deep fried DONUT.

Nice one, guys.

Maybe it's because they're shaped like an Olympic ring? Yeah, we'll go with that.

What does the Canadian Mafia do when they want to send you a message?

...apparently, they put a moose head in your dumpster.

This week, there was a moose head in our disposal bin behind the office. As in, the severed head of a very large roaming land mammal.

Moose. Head. In our dumpster. What the FUCK?

Now, I know some of you think that we Canucks live it rough up here on the tundra, spearing stray narwhals and clubbing seals on our way to work in the morning, but we do indeed have cities. I happen to live in one of them, and my office happens to be downtown. Not a whole lot of room to be slaughtering animals that are the size of a Buick, y'know? So I can't help but wonder a) Where it came from and b) WHAT THE FUCK?

I'm not going to post a picture of this poor animals cranium here because some of you got grossed out when I posted a picture of a dead mouse. This is one vowel and about 75 pounds different. But I know there are at least a few of you that are going, "OMG ewwwwwwwww WTF that is so gross A DEAD MOOSE OMG well aren't you going to show me?"

No? Just me then?

Well here's the picture anyway. Click or don't click, I don't judge.

(I do check web stats though.)

Anyway, all I can say is - I WILL NOT BE INTIMIDATED. I don't care what kind of dead animal you put in our dumpster or throw through our front window*. I've been sick and really busy. You're not getting your artwork any faster, okay?

*Just a suggestion. My work day is pretty boring, barring the odd severed head.

Non sequiturs, or, Evolutionary U-Turns Sometimes Make the Best Conversationalists

Overheard in the grocery store line-up:

Dude 1: "Yeah, so, it's when the guy just, whoop! Flicks his hockey stick between your legs. Like, lifts your sack and smacks you underneath. Man, that hurts."

Dude 2: "Yeah."

Dude 1: "Just, y'know, a quick hit. Fuck that hurts. You have no idea how much that hurts."

Dude 2: "Yeah I do."

Dude 1: "Oh, yeah, right. I guess you would know, huh?"

Dude 2 (reading newspaper headline): "'One Million Kenyans Face Starvation'. Poor Kenyans."

Dude 1: "Enh. Kenyans. Whatever. They're all reincarnated, over and over. The entire population of Kenya."

Dude 2 (sings, loudly and tunelessly): "The Keennnyaaaa...come to Keennnyyaaaa...we have llliiioooonss...."

Me (thinking): So...which aisle of the grocery store do they sell recreational narcotics? Because I somehow overlooked it.