The Chantastic Blog

Actual quote from an MSN conversation I was having: “I miss you….I miss having you around.”

Everybody likes being wanted. In this case, unfortunately, the quote was from…one of my buddies back home.

Sigh.

Throw in how I’m organizing get-togethers which I’m actually referring to as “Man Dates” when I go home for the holidays, and it seems I’ve got way too many bromances going on in my life.

I’m currently 27 years old. The thing is, I don’t act like a 27-year-old. If you know me at all, you know this to be absolutely true.

You see, half the time, I act like I’m 40. I don’t feel the need to go out often - I’m perfectly comfortable staying at home on a Friday or Saturday night. If I go out, I’m much more comfortable in a casual pub than a club. I am notoriously cheap careful with my money. Often, I think people younger than me are naive and immature. I have no desire to have flings or one-night stands. More and more, I find myself thinking, “I’m too old for this” or “When I was that age, it wasn’t like that”. I don’t have the same ability to stay up late, or to operate on little sleep. I wear clothes to feel comfy, not to look good. I rarely get angry, but often feel disappointment (A recent “House” quote: “Disappointment is a coward’s anger.” Hearing that was…disappointing.). Women confuse me.

The other half, I act like I’m 14. I love celebrity gossip. I watch horrifically bad reality TV. I’m chronically late for everything, to the point where my friends understand the term “Chan Standard Time” and are surprised when I only show up 10 minutes late. I still idolize my hero from when I was 14. My favorite artists are more targeted towards this age (who’s free on February 9th, by the way?). Blowing things completely out of proportion is one of the things I do best. I quickly become obsessed with things I’ve discovered (new TV shows, games, celebrities, etc.), and then will quickly become un-obsessed. The “Family Guy” chicken fights are hilarious to me. I’m more than willing to start a one-sided feud with someone who annoys me. I’ve turned procrastination of homework or studying into an art. Girls confuse me.

I never act like I’m 27 since I spend half my time behaving like a 40-year-old, and the other half like a 14-year-old. Yet what’s the average of 40 and 14? Why, it’s 27…so maybe I do act like I’m 27 after all.

Actual e-mail that I received today from my buddy Cobra:

These are my friends. Even worse, I’m not at all fazed by this e-mail.

The server which holds my blog was down all day yesterday, which led to a couple of e-mails inquiring as to why my blog wasn’t working. The best quote came from Catalina, who actually suggested (among other things) that her work had blocked my blog on their server.

I welcome the day that my blog is blocked because of its detrimental effect on workplace efficiency due to its popularity. That, or someone hacks into my account and loads my site up with viruses that infiltrates millions of computers worldwide. They’ll probably call it the Chantastic Worm. Either way, it’ll be interesting.

At least once a week, I think to myself, “I need a new pair of shoes.” Walking by the entrance to my place just now, I’ve got five pairs of shoes on the mat by the door: my brown loafers, moderately old but still wearable runners, my dress shoes, my “going out” shoes (affectionately referred to as the “moon boots” by my friends), and my cleats. I also have a pair of indoor gym shoes that I use once a week for ball hockey.

Man, I feel like a woman.

Part of a 3-person e-mail chain today, and here’s what my friends had to say about me in consecutive e-mails:

Jimbo: I have never met a lazier person in my life.
Cobra: You act as though this is a surprising discovery.

I’ve built a solid reputation among my friends over the years.

Remember my decade-long feud with a neighbor that began when I was woken up by a horrendous violin coming from their place?

Well today was my last day in Edmonton. As per my usual routine, I was enjoying a nice nap until I was woken up by a radio being played. I stumbled downstairs to find out what it was - it turns out it was that same neighbor blaring the radio through the same window from a decade ago. So basically, it was the exact same situation. Are you kidding me? What are the odds?

But this time, instead of provoking an argument, I went back to bed. I’ve matured since the last time, you know.

Of course, I still do not like those neighbors. And I’d be lying if I claimed I didn’t want to channel my inner Wayne Brady…