www.simoncollier.ca

I’m strangely excited about something so technical and mundane that I believe this to be undeniable evidence that I am a geek.

This December 31st, at the turn of the year, there will be a minute with 61 seconds in it.

This is the first time since arriving to Canada that I have experienced this, and the first time I have knowingly experienced it. If you have a ridiculously accurate clock that is automatically synchronised with an atomic clock (and really, who doesn’t?), it will show 23:59:60 just before midnight.

Those crazy French.

Here’s the correct time, according to the States. http://www.time.gov/timezone.cgi?UTC/s/0/java

I could have smoked 36 cigarettes and lost the same amount of time from my life. At least with the cigarettes though, the time would come off the END of my life, and not the PRIME of my life. That $7 could have bought me a McDonalds meal, or (and let’s go crazy here) fed a kid in poverty for a week.

What a load of crap.

Now that I walk to and from work every day, I’m starting to get frustrated with drivers that are completely oblivious to big white stripes on the road that people keep trying to walk over.

They’re called Zebra Crossings, and they’re intended to indicate to drivers steering huge great hunks of metal around longs strips of tarmac that PEOPLE will be crossing there. People, like me.

They seem to keep parking on top of them in heavy traffic, or remain completely unaware there is a crosswalk there at all (as they drive over large person-like bumps).

I think we should consider the installation of large metal spikes, that shoot from the ground on a zebra crossing should it detect a car stopped on top of it. There may, on occasion, be a little old lady or a puppy that become casualties of this system, should it misfire. But really, it’s for the greater good and I’m confident their families will understand.

We need better signed, better lit, better marked crosswalks. We need better policed padestrian crossings.

I’m getting tired of risking my life trying to cross the road at a designated crosswalk.

I am the walking dead, I feed from others’ souls.
I find a young and healthy girl, and drain her ’till she’s cold.
I suck the life from femmes Who dare be intimate
With a soulless zombie whose words are so delicate.

I efficiently strip the layers till they’re nude.
Then take their warmth, devour their perfect body and blood,
Exposed with defences down, I kill them from inside.
Darkness creeps in their hearts, they wonder why they cry.

Unaware they don’t suspect, the aching is by my hand.
The decay and rotting spreads before they understand.
Left alone to decompose, the changed corpses are fed,
With all that is needed to join me as undead.