So, here’s a post that I’ve been thinking about doing for almost a year now, but being really bad at Internetting I just haven’t got around to it until now. Anyway, here goes:

Some guy at work recently called me “Pat”. Of course, by recently I mean about a year ago. It was a guy who works in a different part of the company whose name I didn’t even know, so his calling me Pat just struck me as being off somehow. I mean, lots of people call me Pat, but it is usually people who I now better. Often times even people that I’ve known a long time prefer to call me Patrick. This, I assume, is because if I am ever asked my name or if I ever have to sign something or introduce myself I will, without fail, call myself Patrick. I have often had people ask permission to call me Pat before they start to do it. Like “Do you mind being called Pat?” and I have to say “No, I’ve been called worse.” or something. And it is true. I have been called plenty of things (Some things I have been called: Patrick. Pat. P. PDR. Patty. Pappy. Peder. Pee Doctor. Doctor P. Pudrig. PDFNR. Pat Smear. Patroclus. Peacock. P-Cock. Patty Cakes. Mother Theresa. Patrick Rydol. Patrick Drywall.) So anyway, I don’t know why I found it caused me pause to hear this work guy call me Pat, but it did. I guess the moral is, I’m complicated.

On the topic of being named Patrick: I don’t like meeting other people named Patrick. Never have. I believe this is a problem that has mostly to do with my name being common, but not too common. If I were named Chris or Adam or Mike or John or some generic name like that, I’d probably be used to running into Homonyms. Or if my name was something really obscure, like Ordob, Wibbung or Hamham, well then I’d probably be so surprised to find someone with the same name that I’d actually like it. As it is, I’m just at that point where I don’t have to regularly deal with other Patricks so I don’t build up a tolerance, but I do encounter them often enough to be bothered. I guess the moral is, I’m complicated.

Man, my beloved homestreet of Quinpool Road sure has been going through some minor but frequent changes of late. Not all of them for the best. Example: At the Royal Bank up the road there was a security camera that I used to talk to when I was making ATM transactions (I offer no explanation as for why I did this), but recently they re-designed their ATMs and the camera on the ceiling next to it has been removed. I assume there is a camera in the new ATM somewhere, but I don’t know where. How am I to know which direction to ham it up? Egads, what a predicament.

Up the road: The Iranian restaurant with really awesome rice is gone, replaced by a Sushi place. And I only got to eat there twice! Granted, for all I know the sushi place has excellent rice as well, but I’m not a big sushi fan, so why exactly would I go in to find out, huh? I wouldn’t.

The travel agency I have used in my too infrequent trips around the world has moved to a street about twenty minutes away (on foot). And I never got in to thank them for how hard they worked to help me get to China. I didn’t want to go in unless I actually had a travel-related reason. Of course, with that attitude I would have to come back and thank them for the trip I set up when I thank them for the China trip and it would continue forever. Perhaps when I use them again I will, upon my return, bring them muffins as a thanks and then hopefully I won’t feel so bad about thanking them without immediately booking another trip. I’ll have to keep that in mind.

Over the Summer, three businesses directly across from me (I can see them from my window Right Now) got big fancy murals painted on them. Not bad, I admit, but one of them Vogue Optical no longer has a sign on front that identifies it as Vogue Optical. Sure it has a mural of Halifax on the side of the building which, if you pay attention, you can find some glasses painted in there. Also, I don’t know why I care if the sign is there or not. I might be getting old.

And perhaps the most confounding is a change that I noticed in my very own building just yesterday. The door in the lobby which leads to the stairwell has been replaced. Replaced by a door which looks way, way worse. I find it strange that a building which has made so much effort in making itself more presentable in the years I have lived here would purposefully replace a good door with a bad one. I figure the reasons must be one of these: The old door was damaged somehow, which I wish I had seen for my own entertainment’s sake, or they sold the old door to keep our rent down. I’m pulling for that to be the true one.

One thing, though, the store connected to the Irving is now branded as a Circle K. I don’t even remember what it used to be called, for sure. I want to say Blue Canoe, but that might have been a hallucination I had. But anyway I assume the Canadian store that was there was bought out by the American Circle K in some Corporation-Style Shenanigans. I approve of this because now I can say “Strange things are afoot at the Circle K” any time I want! Any time. And that is one of the best things I can think of.

Today I watched Zombieland. I learned about the existence of Zombieland like a month ago, proving I am not up to date on what is going on in the world once again. And even then I thought to myself “Well, that movie is probably going to be passable at best” and that was that. But having actually seen it now, I can say that Zombieland is a fun and funny movie. Even with zombies being so overused these days (enough that even one such as myself can say it) I do not regret that that movie was made. Unlike the similarly-titled Zombie Nation. That movie I couldn’t even laugh at mockingly. But anyway, Zombieland gets at least Four and a Half Pieces of PDR’s Reviewing System Cake.

Also, a thought that has nothing to do with Zombieland but occurred to me the other night: One advantage to driving on the wrong side of the road like the Britishmen do is that you can stage car chase (and other car-related action) scenes to travel in the left-to-right direction and maintain focus on the driver. We can’t do that here. Unless, the chase involves one of those mail trucks I see with the seat on the wrong side. Or, I suppose if the car chase is being watched in a mirror. I guess.

So, I got an envelope in the mail the other day. Not that rare an occurrence. But this one was from the UNITED NATIONS. As far as I am concerned this is a step in the right direction. They’re finally beginning to acknowledge that I am a sovereign nation.

Naturally the letter has nothing to do with recognizing my sovereignty. And technically it is from the “United Nations Association of Canada”. But that’s close enough, right?

Anyway, it is a Citizens’ Panel Survey. Apparently the UN is interested on how we mere citizens think they are doing. Fair enough. And also they wouldn’t mind a monetary donation or two. I suppose that makes sense. They probably heard I was the kind of sap who will give money to lost causes. Okay. But when you get down to the bottom of the sheet where you fill out your name and information the square for “Yes! I would like to donate money” is already checked off. The survey is printed with that checkmark already in place. Why design the thing to look like it is an option in the first place? Annoying. The United Nations only wants me to give them my opinion if I am also giving them money. Well not this time United Nations!

Not this time!