And then today happened. It pains me greatly to say that, after almost a year, I was let go from Magmic. Although I’m definitely more than a little emotional over it, I have to say that, you guys, I had a blast working with you. I’m also relieved that I was able to leave the company while remaining on good terms with everyone there. I was informed, adamantly, that the decision to let me go was purely a business decision and not a personal one. It’s a tough climate and an even tougher industry. When you work in social media and marketing, there’s always that lay-off axe looming above your head.

Having the opportunity to work with such an, intelligent, amusing, and devoted bunch of people was a pleasure. I couldn’t even begin to list the things that I learned from every single one of you. To be able to say that I’ve sat in on meetings with some of the greatest minds in the mobile industry is, quite frankly, fucking awesome.

With that being said, I’d like to share a few words of gratitude to some specific people who especially made my experience at Magmic an exceptional one.

To Kyle McInnes, I’d like to thank you for putting in a good word and landing me an interview with the CEO. Without your support and encouragement, I most likely would have chickened out entirely. The things you’ve taught me will stick with me throughout my career – even if I don’t choose to stay in the mobile industry. Thank you so much for all of your help.

To Jen Chorlton, you made my transition from maternity leave to professional office worker as smooth as anyone could have hoped. You always managed to maintain a balance of professionalism and casualness that made me feel comfortable in an unfamiliar atmosphere. You were, and continue to be, an inspiration to me as a female in a male dominated industry. Thank you for everything.

To Nick Tremmaglia, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, and there were many times where we could have torn each others throats out (or maybe that was just me), but you were super awesome with easing me into my new position at Magmic. You always helped me out when I had no idea what I was doing, and you always provided constructive criticism where copy was concerned. I admire your determination and your often stubborn, no-bullshit attitude.  It was  great being able to work side by side with you this past year, and I wish you the best of luck with Wave Crasher and your little bundle on joy on the way.

To Reza Kazemi, I only had the fortune of getting to know you the last few months, but I’m super glad that I did. You’re a genuinely talented man with a heart of gold. You may not have known it when you were lecturing me on the ins and outs of the mobile industry, but you taught me some important lessons. It’s with great sadness that I’ve come to accept the fact that I’ll never find another ukulele player to serenade me while I blog. Thank you for your kindness.

To Jonathan Simon and Lionel Regis, you guys were awesome deskmates. When I moved to the Bplay side of the office, it was a blessing to have you two dorks sitting next to me, cracking questionable jokes at one another. Lionel, I’ll never forget your incessant clicking, and Jonathan, I hope your Wall of Twitter Excellence lives on even after I’m gone. You guys are great, and I’ll miss working closely with you both.

Last but certainly not least, I’d like to thank John Criswick. It has been an absolute honor working for you. It goes without saying that you’re a legend in the industry, and I could never thank you enough for the opportunities and experiences you’ve provided for me. Everything I’ve learned, the people I’ve met, the connections I’ve made, and the places I’ve gone throughout my year with Magmic have been incredible. My year with Magmic has taught me countless invaluable lessons that I’ll keep with me for the rest of my life. Thank you so much for everything.

To everyone everyone else, it was fantastic working with you. I’ll cherish the laughs, the dodge ball games, and the moments of pure, unbridled nerdiness forever. I’m really going to miss baking cupcakes and cookies for you guys. (Also, to my guildies – I’ll catch y’all in Azeroth)

I hope to maintain the many friendships I’ve made over the past year, both personally and professionally. If you ever want or need to contact me, please feel free.

I wish everyone, and the company as a whole, the best of luck for the future. Thank you, and I’ll miss you all.

I’ve been told countless times after slaving away in a kitchen for days on end that  I needed to start my own company in the food industry, but I’ve never had the confidence to do it. This past year has done much to improve that. I’ve always had a mind for food and the making of such, but last year I discovered that I had a special knack for one little dessert in particular: the cupcake.

I started making cupcakes for parties, for family members, for community organized events, and the feedback has almost always been overwhelmingly positive. I know what you’re thinking. “How exactly does one make  a bad cupcake?” Believe me. They exist. And people unfortunately still pay real money for them. I seek to end this travesty of mediocre cupcakery.

Though I’m still a rookie by industry standards, I think I’ve got what it takes to grow a successful business – the details of which I’m keeping on the downlow for the time being. Be patient!

What I would love from you guys, my beloved eaters of cupcakes, are testimonials. For those of you who have eaten my cupcakes, vegan or otherwise, I’d love to have it written how you felt about them. You can be as gut-wrenching or as simplistic as you’d like. All I’m asking for is honesty from the people who’ve eaten my little creations. They will eventually be included on my website – which a close of friend of mine is working on as we speak!

Help a sister out, would you? Leave your testimonials in the comment section below. Though they’ll all be included on the website in the end, I will choose the one I like the best and I’ll bake the author and one friend of theirs each a dozen custom cupcakes.

And, go!

*****

Meanwhile, on the other side of luck, another girl has just realized that she’s lost her wallet. This realization was only made worse when she realized that in her wallet, along with all of her other forms of identification, was her Eco Pass. And since this girl resides in the far-off lands  of Orleans, her Eco Pass is her connection to civilization. Well, shit.

So, with a tight schedule and a  limited cashflow, she decides that the first,  most important, and easiest thing that she’ll get replaced is her bus pass. After all, it’s how she was able to go to work every day. The alternative was to use tickets until she had her pass replaced, and since she takes express routes twice a day, that could have gotten expensive. Quickly.

Alas, replacing her Eco Pass was of paramount concern. “How hard could it be?” she thought.

It is at this point in our story where we must refrain from bursting into uncontrolled laughter at her faulty assumption. She is, after all, a naive little girl who believed that this would be a simple matter of proper documentation and, most likely, a fee. She was fine with this considering it was her silly mistake in the first place losing her wallet. But she was wrong. Oh, so very, very wrong.

After receiving the replacement form from the accounting department at her place of work, she set off (rather quickly because she had a deadline and two meetings to attend that day) to the OC Transpo kiosk at the Rideau Center. It was nearing the end of the month, so of course, there was a monsterous line-up. Praise be, Fruit Ninja.

After 25 minutes in line, it was finally her turn. The conversation went a little like this:

Girl: “Hi there. I need to replace my Eco Pass. I lost my wallet. Silly me.”

Asshole: “You’ll need your replacement form, photo ID, and it’s going to cost you $25.”

Girl: “See, here’s the thing. I lost my wallet that had my photo ID in it. I do, however, have my health card (the red and white one, unfortunately), birth certificate, a paystub to prove I work there, the original forms from my first Eco Pass, and the replacement forms.”

Asshole: [Blank, emotionless stare] “I need photo ID.”

Girl “…but I have all of this other documentation. Is there nothing you can do for me? Please, I need my Eco Pass.”

Asshole: “Without photo ID, I can’t replace your Eco Pass. Next in line, please.”

Girl: “Awesome. Thanks.”

While she understood the need for photo ID, she was a little ticked off. She remembered in her younger days when she’d applied for a regular pass without a shred of identification or hassle. The difference, she supposed, was that if you’re paying them upfront, everything was A-OK. But if you’ve already been paying them off of every paycheck for the last few months, they won’t even talk to you.

“Well,” she thought, “I guess I’ll just have to pay for tickets until my new driver’s license comes in.” Unfortunately for her, she wouldn’t find the time to do that until almost two weeks later. That was also right about the same time she realized she’d have to change her address on her license, which would probably make the whole waiting process that much longer. She swore that if she didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no luck at all.

After three weeks of spending $8 a day on tickets, and a week after she had filed for her replacement driver’s license, she boarded the #35 from Lakeridge Drive to make her way to work. She popped in her tickets, and the bus driver, as he routinely does, asked her if she’d need her transfer. Absentmindedly, and in all probability still 86% asleep, she replied “no, thank you.” And off they went.

Just as she was arriving at her stop (Laurier Station), who boards the bus but the OC Transpo agents. Joy! Unable to remember whether or not she had taken her transfer , when the agent approached her, she looked up at the uniform with a flustered look and said “I can’t find my transfer!”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to get off the bus with me.”

After giving the emotionless and clearly uncaring agent all of her information and explaining to them then entire ordeal, the girl was slapped with a $150 fine and three options: 1) pay the fine, 2) have it revoked within two weeks with proper identification, or 3) bring it to court.

So here she is, stuck in limbo. Up until now, she’s given (between buying tickets and still paying for an Eco Pass that she isn’t using) an estimated total of nearly $300 over the span of a month. A sum which will only continue to grow until a plan of action can be decided. Until then, she’s unsure of when her license will arrive so that she can replace her Eco Pass and effectively shoot down the fine, whether she’ll have to take the matter to court, or whether she’ll have to bite the bullet and pay the $150.

If ever there was a case for human kindness and leniency, this, ladies and gentlemen, is not it.

Any semblance of respect I might have had for OC Transpo has all but left the building.

Enter: anxiety.

Here it is. This is my confession. I’ve been struggling with panic attacks and anxiety for the last few months. It might seem superficial, but I assure you, it is the opposite of that. To anyone who has dealt with similar things, I’d be preaching to the choir if I tried to explain to you what it feels like to be completely overtaken by illogical terror.

It’s like a war with yourself. For me, my mind has been split into two distinctive sides. One side is the logical, level-headed, and collected me. This is the side that is ready and willing to take on the world. It’s the me that’s ambitious, productive, and social. The other side is a variable display of agitation, confusion, and instability. It’s the me that’s afraid to take a step outside my apartment, afraid of everything. It’s the side of me that came bounding out of left-field.

These two side are at war with each other constantly. And lately, the latter side has been winning.

My palms are sweaty. My heart is pounding. My lungs ache for more air than I can possibly breathe in. My head is spinning. I feel like I’m about to vomit as the world in front of me turns completely sideways. The walls close in on me slowly but surely. I try to convince myself to relax and snap out of it. I tell myself that it’s going to pass, and that I’ll be fine soon. But it’s all an act of utter futility. The panic takes over, and I completely fall apart. And each time that happens, my grasp on who I am is weakened.

For the whole of my life, I’ve never had to deal with anything remotely close to this. I’ve always considered myself to be mentally durable and straight-laced. I’ve dealt with my fair share of stress and everyday anxiety, and I’ve always come out on top. To admit to everyone, and to myself, that I’ve submitted and surrendered my mental strength to an anxiety disorder is totally alien to me. Before this, I never would have pictured myself relying on pharmaceuticals to get through every day. And that’s where I am. Each day starts with a 10mg dose of Cipralex, and each day, the shadow of my former self weeps. The anxiety hasn’t left me, but the medication has created a disconnect. I’m aware of it, and I know it’s there, but I’m able to ignore it.

I imagine that this was the feeling Rogers Waters and David Gilmour were talking about. I am the very definition of comfortably numb.

As lousy as this all sounds, I’ve recently discovered a flickering light, hidden amidst all of the black, empty space. It’s weak and it’s wavering, but it’s there. The reason I’m writing this — outing myself to my readers — is because talking about it and sharing what I’m going through is acting as the fuel to my little, unsteady light. The more I share, the healthier I feel, the brighter my light becomes.

I’ve decided that, although this disorder has my life in a choke-hold, I will refuse to tap out. I refuse to let this define me. I refuse to let this interfere with my life any further. I made a plan for myself. I’m paving a road for my life, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this pothole put me in the ditch.

The most powerful words that have gotten me through were these: ‘you’re never alone.’ And it’s true. You’re not. I’m not entirely sure how I managed to fall into the mess that I’m in, but I do know for certain that shutting people out won’t help me. Letting in and surrounding myself with the people who care about me and want to see me progress is exactly what I need. To those who’ve already given me their support and love, my gratitude is boundless.

When (not if) I recover completely from this, and I’m able to get back to my way of life, I vow to make every effort to pay my little light forward.

If you’re still here, I want to tell you a story about something that happen to me recently. I’ll try to narrate this in such a way that you might see through the social-media-douchery and appreciate the moment of realization that I had as a result. You might want to plug your nose.

Emotional establishment.

The setting is a coffee shop in Hintonburg. After hours. Private party. It’s piss-pouring rain. I rode the smelliest #2 bus to get there.

Upon arrival, the total number of people I know in attendance: one. Status of my day prior to this party: shit-tastic. Mood: questionable. Probability of crapulence: imminent.

I’m sure by now, you’re probably thinking you’ve pieced together where this story might be heading. I’ll tell you, you’re probably mostly right. But there was a little something extra for me in the cards that night. Of course, I wouldn’t fully realize or appreciate it until the next morning, but, as I’ve frequently been told, these things take time.

So, I mingled.  I chatted a little with the owners of the shop and circulated my way through the 15-odd people in attendance. Everyone was friendly. It wasn’t so bad. If Twitter had taught me anything, it was how to network myself in a room full of people I didn’t know. I decided this would be just like any other event I’d been to in the last 12 months. But, as I slowly came to realize, the difference between those parties and this party: these were not Twitter people. In fact, these people weren’t even into social media. At all.

The plot thickens.

The first off look I received after mentioning Twitter triggered a ‘flight’ reaction in me that I hadn’t felt since the first day of middle school. I needed an out, and that’s when I spotted the iPad. That sleek and magnificent 11-touch-point piece of magic that taunts me at every corner; beguiles me any time I’m within a 30 foot radius. And like a perpetually relapsing crack head, I give in. It belonged to the shop, so I was free to use it. I pulled a seat up to the bar, picked the iPad up, slid my finger along the smooth surface, and unlocked happiness. I wasn’t going to check my e-mail, or play Angry Birds, or read the Constitution in high-resolution. No, no. I did what can only ever be expected from me: I signed in to Twitter.

After roughly ten minutes of perusing tweets and professing my drunkenness to the Twitterverse (as my long-time followers are painfully aware), it happened. I heard the words that would shake me to my very foundation. The inception was about to be implanted:

‘Look at you tweeting your life instead of living it.’

The score intensifies.

There was an awkward pause for approximately eight seconds, followed by a resounding “FWWAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” from every. last. person. in the room. I stood there looking like an idiot for a moment. You know those mach-speed conversations you have with your conscience when you’re debating how to proceed in an awkwardly mortifying situation such as this?

Fuck, that was embarrassing. Quick! Think of soemthing! GO-GO-GADGET WITTICISM! Well…you know he’s was kind of right. No, god damn it! Stand UP for yourself! Who is this prick, anyway?!

When I looked up at him with my stupid, adolescent face, he was smiling at me. It was almost as if he was saying ‘relax, kid; I’m only poking fun.’ I would have just let out a giggle or a nonchalant shake of the head or roll of the eyes — you know, something to perpetuate the illusion that I was unaffected by his snide remark — had I not noticed that hint of snark in his pompous grin. Okay, buddy. Let’s rumble.

The apex is reached.

“You just don’t understand. You’re not into social media. Don’t criticize something just because you don’t *get* it,” was my genius response. Pure philosophical gold. I’d like to thank the Academy.

“Oh, I understand it fine. I just don’t waste time on it. I don’t request or follow my friends,” he rebutted, still grinning.

“…Well, maybe you should… just.. try it. Y’know. Sometime.” I know. My well of genius ne’er runs dry.

Of what was said after this point, I am uncertain. However, I’m sure that it can be concluded with fairness that there was a lot of this happening at my expense. That kind of shame knows no drunken barriers. For the remainder of the night, that was the ongoing joke. All anyone had to say was ‘tweet’ and the entire room would erupt with laughter. Instead of fighting it, I said ‘cheers,’ and drank myself into compliance with the Twitter haters. I’m a lover, not a fighter, baby.

The next day, and for several days following, I couldn’t shake the words from my memory. That voice was on loop in my mind. I felt as tormented as Homer was by stupid, sexy Flanders. Why was this happening? What did it mean? And then I decided I needed to reevaluate my entire perspective of Twitter, and what it all meant to me. Was it really worth the ridicule?

I thought about this. I thought about this for a long, long time. I put more thought into this than what was probably necessary, but finally came to the conclusion that — despite how it may appear from the outside looking in — YES. Twitter, to me, was and is worth it. The collective eye roll I’m sensing here would probably have the ability to generate enough of a gravitational shift to summon a tidal wave of tropic-swallowing proportions, enough to devastate the whole of southern hemisphere. Or something.

Resolution unlocked.

But this is truly how I feel about Twitter. More specifically, this is how I really, truly feel about the things and (especially) the people Twitter has introduced me to. I’ve been given opportunities that, I can say with fair certainty, I would have never been given had it not been for my presence on Twitter. I’ve been given a chance at a career. I’ve been able to connect with people that have done so much to improve my life. I’ve often said that the people I’ve met (electronically and face-to-face) because of Twitter are some of the closest friends I’ve ever made. While that might seem outrageously douchebaggy and lame, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for it. When you’re like me, you (I.. we.. whatever) spend most of every day and night talking to the people we follow. We build personal, intimate relationships with these people before we ever meet them.

If the people you follow are anything like the people I follow, you’re assaulted every day, hundreds of times a day, with 140 character insights into the lives of these people. You develop a love and respect for them — even though you might not ever meet them in the real world. They become a part of your life regardless. And since Twitter is such a melting pot of cultures and stories and personalities, the quality of my life has been rehabilitated. It didn’t fix my problems, or right any of my past wrongs, but it’s done its fair share in helping me tap into the real ‘me,’ and dumping the kind of people into my life who actually appreciate that ‘me.’

For Twitter, and for the opportunities it has granted me, and for the relationships it has opened me up to, I am infinitely grateful. Haters notwithstanding.

Fin.

And then something happened.

Here’s the thing about love. You often find it whenever you’re not looking. During a discussion one night on Twitter, a friend of mine mentioned something called Slow Cow. Slow Cow? You know. Red Bull — Slow Cow. Cute, right? She told me it was a good alternative to regular energy drinks. More so that it was an anti-energy drink. No zoom, all zzzzz. I was intrigued.

A few days later, I spotted a can at the convenience store up the street from me. The events that followed were nothing short of miraculous. I came home, tweeted about taking the Slow Cow for the maiden voyage, and took my first swig.

Heaven.

It tasted of citrus and flowers and sleep. A smooth, delicate flavour that is currently unmatched by any energy related beverage. The effects are magical. I consume a can and I’m instantly more relaxed. What’s great is that it’s not a dead relaxation. It’s a very calm, zen feeling that allows you to focus without the spontaneous urge to run a small marathon.

Caution: Be wary, friends.  Like most relaxation aids, it’s probably a good idea to stay away from heavy machinery while you’re riding the Slow Cow. In my experience, the effects last a couple of hours. Coming down from Slow Cow is less of a crash, and more a gentle lead into a night of deep and relaxing sleep. So drinking it before bed is the best decision you’ll make all day.

Slow Cow’s main ingredient is L-Theanine, an amino acid derivative that’s been proven reduce stress and improve mood. It’s also being studied for its immune-boosting properties.  Slow Cow also contains chamomile, passiflora, valerian, tilia cordata, and hops. Yes, that’s what I just said. Hops.

So, if you’re looking for an alternative to the typical ‘live fast, crash hard’ lifestyle of Red Bull and energy drinks like it; or you’re just looking for something to help you mentally center yourself (not even kidding), then Slow Cow is your poison. And hey, it’s made in Canada.

http://www.slowcowdrink.com/

Follow Slow Cow on Twitter: @SlowCowDrink

I know my tweets and things I’ve said and written in the past may suggest otherwise, but you should know that I harbour no hatred or hostility towards you.

…Okay, so that’s a lie.

You drive me insane. All of you.  And I’d sure love to chop your fearless leader down a couple of sizes, steal his New Balance sneakers, and shove them directly up his greedy, pretentious ass. Sans lubrication.

But I don’t hate you. I said once that I needed to write a blues song and call it ‘All My Friends are Apple Kids.’ It would be enough to make a grown man cry. I know this because of how much it pains me having to simultaneously love you and deal with your endless conversion tactics –covert or otherwise.

“Come,” you say. “Join us on the dark side.” You’ve got top quality products. You’re innovative. You’re blazing a trail; changing the world; revolutionizing the Internet. You’re transforming the way technology enhances our lives. You. Just. Work.

Well, you know, that’s all fine and dandy, but…here’s the thing. I don’t disagree with anything you’re telling me. And before I elaborate on that, let me tell you something: this is the difference between you (Apple kid) and me (Everything But Apple kid.)  I know Microsoft kinda sucks. I get that RIM is totally boring and is evading the App train like the plague. And maybe a MacBook Pro is heavier than a Dell laptop because Apple doesn’t fill their computers with ‘candy corn’ like Microsoft does. I acknowledge and admit these things. You guys? Well! Apple could do no wrong even if they tried.

Back to what I was saying about agreeing with you. Please don’t have a coronary. I know you’re more accustomed to fending off evil MS Rebels with your unwavering allegiance, but please relax and listen.

You’re right. Your products are awesome insofar as innovation goes. The iPad is a super cool product (yes, Jason Snell. My foot tastes fantastic right now. Thanks for asking). The iPhone has set the bar for what people want in a smartphone (sort of). The iPod revolutionized portable music for everyone. The Mac has proven a hardy adversary against the almighty PC.

As nice as that all is, I’m still not going to buy your products. Would you like to know why?

Say it with me:

OPEN. SOURCE.

For real, yo. Just quit it with all the exclusivity horse shit. Stop chaining your customers to iTunes. Stop trying to eliminate Flash. And for the love of all that is holy, if your customers want to upgrade from a 16GB iPod to a 64GB, they shouldn’t have to buy a whole new iPod. Throw them a fucking SD slot or something! Is it really that hard? That’s all you’d have to do to convert me. That, and stop i-ing everything. It used to be cute, but now it’s just egomaniacal and pretentious. Please stop.

Just consider the possibilities. Think of the potential customers Apple could gain. Open up and let the rest of the world in. Simplicity and compatibility are your friends — not your enemies. Take a breather from your aspiring world domination. Quit fighting the existing norms and start using them to your advantage. The prospects are endless.

Let me love you, Apple. I want to. So badly. But I also need to be able to sleep at night.

Until this unlikely day, I’ll continue to suffer the trials and tribulations of Windows and BlackBerry.

“We’ll be waiting for you, Elle,” you always tell me.

No, Apple. I’m waiting for you.

I’m a Leafs fan. I’m a Microsoft enthusiast. And I can’t bring myself to delete my Facebook account.

Apparently, abusive relationships are my forte. I’m sorry, mom. You did your best.

I went into this blog post with every intention of telling you why you should break up with Facebook and graduate to higher forms of social media. What with all the sketchy privacy policy nonsense and Zuckerberg eternally playing the “Privacy Doesn’t Exist on the Internet” card,  people should be fleeing in hordes from the almighty Facebook. But we’re not. Suddenly every Facebook user has morphed into a typical Canadian: I’ll complain about this ’til the dogs come home, but I ain’t doin’ shit about it.

When the doubt started to dawn on me, I frantically began scouring the internet for reasons to go through with deleting my account. Not surprisingly, Gizmodo came swiftly to my rescue, like my Onion Knight in shining fire armor. For much the same reason that I hate Apple and Steve Jobs (for conspiring to take over the world), Gizmodo cites that the Zuck’s ultimate goal is to own the Internet. lolwut?

Aim high, young Padawan. Aim high.

Anyone else remember the good old days of a youthful Facebook, when it was original and simple and uncluttered? Add a friend, make an event, join a group, write on a wall — the ancient practices of yesteryear that have been all but washed out by fake farms and pseudo gang warfare. I find myself letting out a long, nostalgic sigh when I think about the year 2006, when Facebook was brand new to me. I loved it. Everything was rainbows and daisies and shiny like new love tends to be. But, as it often does with love, the novelty faded. It became less of a “want” and more of a “need” to log in every day. Wake up in the morning, rush to the computer, fall to the floor curled up, shivering in the fetal position when you discover you have no new notifications (other than that stupid, fat kid you felt bad for in high school who “likes” every single fucking thing you do.) “Why oh why,” you ask yourself. “Why is my wall and inbox and life so empty?” You’re constantly toggled “offline” so people won’t catch on to your problem.

Just breathe.

Remember this: Facebook doesn’t owe us anything. It’s a free “service” whose interests clearly lay in internet marketing and not in social networking. We don’t pay to be there. We don’t *need* to be there. Like Dan Yoder says, the internet is chock-full of other social media outlets for you to enjoy without having to worry about all the shit that goes along with having a Facebook account. And Zuck knows this. In fact, I bet he’s shaking in his awkward, sweaty Harvard U panties right now. Zuck knows the end is nigh. Facebook’s younger, hotter sister (Twitter) just filled out and people are starting to notice. Why else are we seeing things like “sharing” on Facebook, something eerily similar to a retweet? It’s okay, Facebook. MySpace is waiting for you with a shoulder to cry on.

What’s funny is that six years ago — this was MySpace.

“Have we forgotten about MySpace? Oh, right. We have.”

Case and point. Facebook and Zuckerberg will fade out, and we’ll all be laughing at this in a few years. Farmville and every other useless Facebook application like it will be but a crusted old stain on the lapel of human history. So, delete your account, don’t delete your account. It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before the Zuck Empire falls and people get over it. It will happen. We’ll all learn to embrace higher, simpler forms of social media and networking. And we’ll all be better people for it.

Now excuse me while I go snort a line of Crackbook.

(5:30) Just woke up to take a shit, so I might as well stay up and eat 6 eggs and 14 slices of bacon before I have to shit again. #IBS #SadFace

(6:00am) Shits not happenning. Hopping in the shower for approximately 12 minutes, so as not to waste any hot water. #ShitDoesn’tGrowOnTrees

(6:08am) RECORD TIME! After I chuckle to myself about this small victory, I’ll go mow the lawn for 7th time this week. Its only Monday. I’m on a roll!

(9:30am) Well shit. Walked by the TV & I’ll be damned if there wasn’t some obscure documentary on the Military channel that I just couldn’t miss.

(9:32am) Going to Quebec for cheap beer. Who’s thirsty?! #QuebexicoRULES

(9:35am) Wait, better 10-4 all my friends before I go. Hey @ellebetz. Bet your fancy berry-whatchamacallit can’t do this! #KidsAndTheirGadgets

(9:49am) #NowPlaying Tom Sawyer by BEST? BAND? EVER?

(10:13am) HAHAHA Just raced french kid. He lost. Obviously. I watch Nascar, kid. I *know* how to race. #TurnLeft #TurnLeft #TurnLeft

(12:02pm) Back! Beer in tow. OH SHIT – NEED TO CHECK CALL LOG.

(12:04pm) Jeepers, that was close. I could have missed one of those telebastards. #GiveEmTheOldOneTwo

(3:00pm) Thinking about supper. Hmm.. what to make.. If it wasn’t alive and mooing yesterday, I’m not fuckin’ eatin’ it. #BeefOrGTFO

(3:02pm) Was just bombarded by weird hippie daughter & forced to try something called goat cheese? Obviously it was terrible. #TastesLikeGoat #PeasantFood

(3:43pm) BEST COMMERCIAL EVER. http://is.gd/c55JG lolololololololol

(3:45pm) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA http://is.gd/c55Q1 OMGSTFULOLWUT

(5:00pm) About to eat 24oz Tbone basically raw w/ giant starchy vegetable drowning in butter&salt. Maybe there’s room on my plate for salad. Maybe.

(6:00pm) #DoNotDisturb. Glued to A&E for next 4 hours watching #First48 or another random true crime show. Then #TwoAndAHalfMen @ 10! #BestShowEver

(11:00pm) BRILLIANT SHOW. So many life lessons to be learned from those guys..I swear one of them is gay..just can’t quite put my finger on which.

(11:03pm) Well. Goodnight Twittertown.

(11:45pm) thought I’d let you/the rest of my house know that I just had the hugest, stinkiest shit in my life. Since this morning. My day is complete.

I imagine that the day each person heard the news was not unlike the day Kennedy was shot. You remember exactly where you were. You remember exactly what you were doing. You remember exactly how you felt.

People say that cancer doesn’t discriminate. Good people, bad people, older or younger. If ever there were a case for that argument, this was it.

Matthew McSheffrey.
The class goof.
The one who’d do anything, anytime to get a laugh out of us.
The small, warm center you couldn’t help but gravitate towards.
The most spirited kid in the world discovered that, at the age of 20, he had leukemia.

Living in Calgary at the time, the native of my hometown decided that, after a few days of being sick, he needed to see a doctor. Marilyn told me that after she arrived at the hospital in Calgary at 2:00am, from the earliest flight she could get from Ottawa, the doctors and nurses had nothing but praise for Matt and how stouthearted and polite he’d been. She said they had already had a bed set up for her, and that Matt was asleep when she arrived. If there was anything that showed what kind of person Matt was, it was showcased perfectly in the first words he said when he woke up to his mother:

“I’m hungry.”

Marilyn told me that the 8 months he was sick were the best 8 months she’d ever had with Matt and her other two sons, Steven and Daniel. She said that Matt never faltered in staying strong, that he saw through every day with a smile and with seemingly impossible positivity (and brownie bites, of course), straight through to the end. And on April 27th, 2009, the world said a reluctant and painful goodbye to a friend, a nephew, a grandson, and brother, a son.

But if anyone really knew Matt, they’d know that he’d want us to look back not in sadness for our loss, but in celebration for the time we were given with him. And though it was cut short, these memories are the gifts he left us with, and we should cherish these memories forever.

We’re left with the memories of his contagious smile, his infectious laugh, his endless antics from public school up until high school (licking poles in the dead of winter; running tape across the road; eating whatever we dared him to eat; egging houses; chipping his brand new tooth the day he got it, and then walking around like Lloyd Christmas for god only knows how long.) The life of the party. The cause of the laughter. And though his physical self is no longer walking among us, his heart and soul will never leave us. He will never be forgotten.

Rest in peace, Matthew “McDick” McSheffrey.

We will love and miss you always.

p.s. Make those Habs take the cup for us this year, will ya?

And We Remember Still

On angels wings you left us
A year ago today,
You sang your song
You ran your race
You had no fear,
you ran on faith.
You left us with such grace.
and we remember still

What we would do
To have you back
And hold you once again.
But every day we see your face;
And in our hearts you sing.
You ran your race with pride and grace
and we remember still

We held you in our loving arms
You hold on us your wings.
Your soaring with the eagles now
Your in his arms again.

The final race it was so rough
a tear you wouldn’t cry
You didn’t want your mom to hurt
The day you said good bye.

In McSheff style you went outside
To rest out in the sun,
your smile it shone., and in God’s grace,
You said the time had come.
and we remember still

No words can take the hurt away
Nor drinks would kill the pain;
The only thing we know for sure
Is that He called your name.

We miss you more than life itself
And we don’t understand.
But as you wished we do out best
show up and smile again.
and we remember still

You touched the lives of many
You built our strength within.
You taught us not to run and hide,
but smile and worry nil.

You chased your dreams with courage,
were kind to all your kin;
You lived your life with love and hope
And gratitude within.
and we remember still

Your smiles will never leave us
Your crazy antics win;
We loved you from beginning
until that bitter end.

You were the finest brother
the friend beside all friends;
The son who left too early,
a whisper in the wind.
and we remember still

And so we’re left with memories
Of hockey – sleepless nights;
From Calgary to quarry times
And parties till the end.

Your clubs they by the front door sit
can’t bear to let them go.
We wait with hope and heavy hearts
The rain in time will slow.

We know you’re up there somewhere
in time we’ll have our fun;
We’ll see you on the other side
And play a round my son.
and we remember still

We go to see you often
On the other side of town;
We know your’re not there really
Where your brothers laid you’d down.

Some days we’re not quite ready
To say good bye old friend
and So we leave you and in time’
and we remember still

The days are passing sooner now
the nights they aren’t so long;
The tears don’t flow so quickly
Your smiles to carry on
Your in our hearts forever
You’ll always be our song.

It’s been a year since you’ve been gone
And we last saw your face;
But every night we close our eyes
and feel your peace and grace.
and we remember still

The cards were dealt, we didn’t win
It’s not ours to question why.
We’ve learnt through time
We won’t forget Your laugh and silly grin.

You’re living deep with in us
Where the eagles soar on high,
We’ll do our best to fly with you
Until we meet again;
We’ll see you on the other side;
Good night sweet boy, our friend.
and we remember still

Always remembered, always loved.
I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always,
I’ll carry you with me, wherever you be,
As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.
Love you this much and more
Love U, Love Me