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In my defence, I was somewhat preoccupied with a perplexing new development. I mulled it over all weekend, only popping my head outside on Sunday afternoon to catch the dying gasps of fall. It was one of those staggeringly beautiful weekends that, if you miss them, you’re required to commit suicide. You just missed something that nice. So I had to.

Anyhow, it was a stark contrast to the development I mentioned, which has to do with my ex-wife and my ex-car. Okay, I know, it sounds whiny already, but I promise to keep that to a minimum. And the story gets a little unusual.

I figured I wouldn’t need the car while living downtown, so I let the ex drive it until the lease expired. I’ve been described both as a nice guy and a sucker. I’d probably stick myself somewhere in between. Besides, it shouldn’t have been a problem; car’s in my name and my folks guaranteed the lease. Whatever I chose to do at the end of it (this month), would’ve been to my advantage. Karma returning a favour, I thought.

Yeah, no.

Seems the dealership allowed my ex-wife to return the car without consent from anyone actually on the lease (I don’t think her name is anywhere on there). They didn’t even try to get in touch with anyone on the contract to verify if, you know, it was okay. I’m not saying I might not have made the same choice, but I would’ve liked to have been able to make that choice. I might’ve chosen to sell my lease … actually made some money instead of nothing. Instead, now I have no money and no car. Like a common beggar.

To add an extra wallop to this, they claim the car incurred substantial damages to the tune of four-thousand dollars. Yikes! The ex made a couple of contradictory claims about this amount so I’ll have to go on hard facts alone. The dealership’s damage report is coming (I’ve been promised), but verifying it may be made more difficult by the fact that the car is apparently now up for auction and may not even be around anymore. Yikes!

And this was the first I’d heard of it.

Yikes!

I think it would be prudent to seek some legal representation, or at least talk to someone with a degree. I mean, this just doesn’t seem right, does it?

By the way, how’re these photos working for you? Obviously they were taken on Sunday. I’d stopped screaming and punching random people by then so I quite managed to enjoy the outing. It was just a quick jaunt down Bloor Street but it was refreshing, cathartic, almost religious.

Perhaps, somewhere down the road, this affair will prove to be a blessing in disguise; the silver lining on a dark November storm cloud. Or the beginnings of a long and ruinous alcoholism.

Cool!

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So where did I leave off yesterday? Oh yes, the zombies had me surrounded and I’d run out of people to toss in their path. The situation was getting really ugly:

The great discovery happened when I pulled out my camera and started to take photos. I figured I could record my final few moments for TCL; become the first post-mortem blogger — I believe that would make for interesting content. But it wasn’t to be.

You see, it seems that zombies actually like to have their photos taken. Anyone in the crowd who happened to be brandishing a camera was given a wide berth and, often, cooperative smiles (or menacing grimaces – whatever the scene called for):

And I feel that branding them all as brain-hungry murderers really isn’t representative of the zombie population. Being undead, apparently, isn’t enough to stave off the requirements of the workaday world, but the zombies seemed to take it all in stride. If it wasn’t for the homicidal tendency of ingesting live human brains, they’d probably make decent citizens.

Haha! *insert social commentary here*

Speaking of commentary, who’s tailing the wag here?

That’s a little slice of a-okay, isn’t it? :D

Basically, there was a very good chance that most of the non-zombie participants in the walk would have made it out had I not panicked. But like the army used to say, “gullibility costs lives”, which would’ve been especially poignant had I actually said it to someone before pushing them into the flesh-eating crowd. Or if that were a real army slogan. Or if it applied in any way.

“Hmmm. No, you may not hide behind me and my camera. Go buy your own protective gear, cheap-ass!” *shove*

I did what I had to do to survive.

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that unprovoked, the zombies really just want to walk around complaining loudly about a lack of dietary cerebellum. That’s pretty much it. Only if you shove people into the throng will you get a reaction.

But, you know, I did what I had to do to survive. I’m not saying I’m proud of it.

Haha! Watching people turn into zombies is awesome though! The first symptom of zombiedom is a total loss of memory. Well, yeah. No brain!

“That’s right, fella, you’re with the rest of them! Yeah, good brains to you too!”

*yoink!*

And now I move in style :D

And sometimes you just need to direct the zombie’s attention away just because it’s kinda gross. Take the next gal (“that’s a girl in there?!”, someone exclaimed), for example:

Yeah, the “hands” are pretty creepy, and then there’s the chicken on the head. No thanks. Shove a sacrifice thataway and the zombie follows. It’s all about keeping it simple, effective, to the point. And grabbing the wallet before she gets her highly impractical “hands” on him.

Anyhow, the denouement of this story is a bit of a snooze so I won’t bore you with it. Needless to say, camera and hapless strangers helped to ease the journey until I eventually found myself outside the pack, and stumbled wearily back home.

But I don’t want to leave you with a totally bad impression; the undead population includes some interesting personalities so at least one of them was bound to show up at some point:

There you have it, a Halloween tale to scare the pants off your friends. The attractive ones. And for that extra depantsing kick, you can tell them that most of it really happened! And for a small fee, I can even corroborate your presence in this tightly-woven, explosive narrative. That’s guaranteed pantlessness!

You know how to get a hold of me.

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If you guessed the trucks, but not really sure why, you’re absolutely correct! That’s a movie crew and those trucks are just sitting there like that with not a soul in sight. This is in a slightly sketchy neighbourhood, and people do sometimes help themselves to stuff they “find”. So that’s one.

Number two is the complete absence of people on the street. The aforementioned missing souls are missing from everywhere. I think we can chalk that one up to the cold.

The third, and I must admit not so easy to spot, thing wrong with the photo is that it was shot at the end of September, not today. See? Hard to spot.

But today was much like it looks in the picture. If you splashed a bit more yellow on the leaves and had steam coming up from sewers, this would be pretty accurate. And I still think it’s due to the cold.

It’s either that or my slight frame is getting even slighter. And I start to look emaciated at 170 pounds! So what else can I do but take it indoors again.

I hit the PATH from in front of the CN Tower and Convention Centre South building, which is in the lower left-hand corner of the map. That area gets windy and cold in the summer, and if it wasn’t for the brewery across the street, it’d be a completely desolate wasteland. With a big tower.

From there I shivered across the Skywalk to Union Station, tried to get warm as I made my way up through the Toronto-Dominion Centre, and did my best to thaw out as I headed east of First Canadian Place, north to Scotia Plaza, and then out to the intersection of Yonge and King through MetLife Place. Stopping every four steps to take a photo.

Outside, I was cold again. *sigh*

The Bay Adelaide Centre will be a nice addition. It’ll be the other main artery north and give me something new to look at while I try to lose the chills. My God, it’s still just October!

Okay, enough yammering. You know the drill, if you don’t have the Adobe Flash Player, get it here: http://get.adobe.com/flashplayer/

If you can see the dark, grainy silhouette of the CN Tower with a big “play” button on it below, you’re good! Just hit that button but keep in mind that this is a 5 minute animation, so give it some time to transfer to your computer first. Feel like you need a pee break? Now’s the time ;)

I think I’m going to need that Second Cup sponsorship if I’m to survive this winter. That fine, flavourful, and hot brew on a cold autumn morning, what could be better?

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It’s also been an unusually traumatic week, what with Bill Carroll switching time slots and all. You can smell change in the air. And musty autumn leaves. And urine. Why’s it always urine?

But no matter. The proper urban rat knows all the warmest holes in the ground. In Toronto it happens to be a long-ish path known as, umm, PATH. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be an acronym or what; not that it would jazz it up any.

Today, instead of writing a long post describing what’s there and blah blah blah, I thought I’d just invite you along for the walk. I am so thoughtful!

Just a couple of things before we get going. First, you’ll need the latest version of Adobe Flash Player installed. If you don’t have it: http://get.adobe.com/flashplayer/ (no cost, no sign-up/strings, 100% legit — I promise!) But you might not even need to. If look below and you see the photo of Metro Hall with the big play button on it, you’re golden. Otherwise install and reload. Shouldn’t take more than a few seconds.

Second, you’re along for the walk! I think it runs about five minutes (about a quarter of the actual walk), and it’s a sort of flip-book animation, so give the pages some time to load. Grab a coffee and put on some cool music. (Hey I slapped this together in an evening; whaddya want?!)

Finally, if you must stop, you can just click on the movie to pause / unpause it. And right-click for extra options and creative ways to screw up the interface. But try to keep up, okay? I gotta write that TCL post tonight!

Oh, I almost forgot! We’re starting off at Metro Hall (heading east), veering north by Roy Thomson Hall, through St. Andrew Subway Station, slightly south through Standard Life and Toronto-Dominion, then north through First Canadian Place, up to the Sheraton Centre Hotel, across to The Hudson’s Bay Company, over Queen Street to the Eaton Centre, and finally ducking under Dundas Subway Station to come up in Toronto Life Square on the north side of Yonge-Dundas Square. Here’s a map: http://www.toronto.ca/path/pdf/path_brochure.pdf

Haha! Screw you, cold!

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This morning, as I was trying to decide which pair of underwear was less disintegrated and thus suitable for duty, a radio spot came on for Walmart’s “Walk for Miracles” campaign. It occurred to me that I hadn’t been to a Walmart in ages. Hence no underwear.

That’s probably because there aren’t an awful lot of them in Toronto itself, and not within easy strolling distance. Walmarts, that is. You have to admit, their distribution in the Greater Toronto Area is pretty uniform, even in the outlying sub-suburbs like the ‘Shwa.

I’m going to come clean right now and say that I don’t care for Oshawa. Not one bit. Didn’t like driving through it, didn’t like stopping for ice cream. It was the first time I saw a bona fide Springeresque trailer park. If you insist on going through, the main thoroughfare’s okay, just … don’t wander.

Anyway, I don’t want to get off track. The point is that the expectations seem to get a little bit lower wherever a Walmart is present.

Look…

…that’s CIBC, well represented anywhere you look on a map of southern Ontario. Also a very heavy presence here in the city. Gentle running seems like a good middle ground of physical exertion. Especially when you look at the 100% downtown Princess Margaret crew:

That’s a two-day bike ride to Niagara Falls. And as an option you can hop along for an extra ride with Steve Bauer for some real action.

Walmart, serving who they serve, decided on this:

Families with kids aren’t really into running. Neither are the ‘Shwabians.

In the trendy, sea-bound urban centers of Vancouver, they also tried walking, and look at the result:

I know, right? That’s exactly how twisted, wheelchair-bound super villains start. I bet he’s seething with rage.

I guess it’s because city dwellers just don’t get “walking”. They need that hardcore rock climbing biznatch all up in yo mother’s face (that’s how they talk out west). Urbanites want to come home with an arm missing or a cavity where there previously was none. CHA-RI-TAE*! WOOOOOOOOOO**!

Better start getting my pudgy ass in shape. Bikini season’s just around the corner!

* Charity — I know, that west coast accent always messes me up too.
** An overdrawn WOO — Them and their crazy Vancouverese, you gotta love ‘em!

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