Tuesday, September 8th. The day when all of Toronto crawls painfully out of bed to get the crusty kids to school, crusty husband/wife to their jobs, and crusty selves to their own. The only people that didn’t seem crusty on Tuesday were the folks at Citytv. That’s because they’d just moved into their new building:

The Citytv crew made a big to-do about how the station would now be in the actual heart of the city. They’re probably right, but I suspect they just wanted to be closer to my place. Either way, it was a wise decision.

The move has been in the works for about two years. Gord Martineau, Citytv’s sneering six o’clock news anchor, has pitilessly plugged his involvement in the move stating that he was the one who brought up the idea with boss Ted Rogers, the guy who owns every co-ax cable in Toronto (and then some).

The building itself was an Olympics-themed tourist attraction for a couple of years, hence the big cone-torch thingie at the top. Aside from the pleasantly phallic symbolism (granted, a horribly deformed phallus), the building also forms an interesting arch over the intersection of Victoria and Dundas. Streetcar tracks go through the arch but there are no open power lines, probably because the construction workers were afraid of electrocution. Babies. Anyway, I’m certain that once they open it up it’ll make for a great place to throw back a couple of swigs of paper-bagged hooch, away from scornful eyes.

But Gord’s masturbatory visions weren’t the only things making headlines on Tuesday. U. of T. and York U. put their first-year students through the wash for the first day of frosh week:

All the noobs were baptized in the waters of City Hall with a ritual involving a Kindergarten-style initiation. A girl on a megaphone shouted out some rhyming instructions with all the students acting out the directions while repeating what she said. The Universities were only mentioned a couple of times during the chanting; they spent more time pretending to be alligators, crabs, and sleeping monkeys. Hurray for our future workforce!

What a time to lose my internet connection! And with TIFF coming up ‘n all:

Couldn’t have come at a worse time. Despite George Clooney and I being best buds, I doubt he’ll postpone his arrival for my technical difficulties.  I bet he’s disappointed.

Sorry, George. You’ll have to takeit up with my ISP. I tried and I guess I’m just not famous enough.

That’s it, it’s officially the last day of summer.

The sun’s hanging lower in the sky, the CNE is shuttering up for another year, and the kids are going back to school tomorrow. That’s the end of the summer, no matter what the calendar says.

As part of that last effort to get kids to forget their miseries, the Ex has the annual closing-weekend air show.

The announcers always go into excruciating technical detail like maybe we’re looking to pick up a couple of the aircraft after the show. Fires a hundred rounds a second, you say? I may be interested, keep talking.

Then, while waiting for the planes to fly into the show, the announcers go into all the crazy certifications and programs you’d have to go through before you’re even allowed to approach one of these things. For who’s benefit is that? The three-year-old standing next to me who should realistically start thinking about university now if he wants to be a pilot?

Then, the Top Gun music kicks in:

The show’s not entirely ironic. There were plenty of jet fighters on hand going down the real danger zone highway:

This happened to be the air show’s 60th anniversary, so the Blue Angels flew up from the US and with a salute:

This is the second time I’ve attended the show and I’ve really enjoyed it both times. The planes fly close enough to knock toupees off and the little prop ones do some really crazy stuff. Like climbing up into the sky, then cutting the engine, starting a crazy wobbly spin around every possible axis of rotation while plummeting back toward the water, and mere moments before impact, straightening out, re-starting the engine, and pulling up. Just insane.

I didn’t get to chill with the horses in the horse pavilion this year. That’s a regret. But the holiday weekend tradition I like to call “the flu” probably needed a bit of sunshine, so it was good to get out. And, all in all, it’s been a pretty happening summer. Maybe too happening; next year I’d like to see some of those things I missed this time around. I figure it’ll probably take four to five years to properly see most of the concurrent festivals, parades, and events that happen around the city every year. And with all the random news, changes, and just interesting stuff around … good frickin’ luck with that timeline!

I’m going to have to learn to pace myself.

The Toronto International Film Festival is stupid. I mean, good for them that they have so many movies but if someone actually wanted to watch them all, it would be physically impossible. Even if you managed to travel backward in time a couple of times. And then, just to really make it impossible, they throw in a bunch of well-known people who fart around town attracting onlookers and photographers.

Anyhow, there it is. Guess I’ll just have to deal with it. Medication, maybe.

I don’t think I could ever tell you more about the festival than the actual website, but one of the things that does seem to be lacking is a useful celebrity list. The Toronto Star has a very complete list but much of the time I couldn’t put name to face.  I’m usually not great with names, more of a faces guy. Do you suffer from the same affliction? You may find this somewhat useful:

http://www.torontocitylife.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/TIFF-celeb-list.jpg

That took more than a few pee breaks, but — it’s complete! Or at least as complete as it’ll get. Some of the names were either a bit too obscure or their web presence wasn’t very strong. By that I mean that if I had to click more than once to find out who it was, it just wasn’t worth it. I don’t get paid by the click, you know!

I figured it could be used as an “Oh shit, is that who I think it is?” list.

Yep. Now you know it’s someone famous. You just don’t know who.

And who cares?! Take a picture, take one more … nnnnnn Run! Push everyone aside – grandma can go straight to hell — leap over hoods of cars – here’s my indicator, buddy!! — figure it all out later.

Get p-a-i-d!

Slick.

Well, maybe not so much for me. I know that the moment I’d go to run, I’d slip on something and come straight down on my chin and camera and all. One big flubby smash, digitally stored in a multitude of devices and angles, many of which would be capable of playing it all out in slo-mo. And the blood. Lots of it. People would panic, some guy in front of me would faint. I’d be a mess, bawling from the awfulness of it all. The celebrity now long gone having been whisked into a waiting car even as I was still coming down. Probably the scream. And the photographers — pissed. I’d just cost them the day’s wage.

So, yeah, I hope to be there.

After the last few days, I kinda felt like I needed to escape to a calmer space for a bit. To some place filled with the smell of the nutrient-rich poop of thousands of microscopic organisms healthily digesting vegetal material. Good, healthy soil kinda place. With plants stuck in it. So, since I hadn’t been to Allan Gardens in a while, I thought I’d give it another go.

As usual, the place was transcendent:

… Continue Reading

Is it okay if I get a little personal today? Just this once?

I did resist for so long, but I finally feel like I need to mention … the day job.

Okay, I need to bitch.

Are you groaning already? See, that’s why I resisted. I know how you feel about people whining about their jobs, and I totally get it. I mean, there are plenty of people who would love a job, and there’s plenty else to blog about, right?

You couldn’t be more correct in agreeing with me. But  I figure TCL can accommodate everything Toronto-related for at least one post. And I work in Toronto, so it qualifies.

Besides, my intention is to make this as painless, boringless, and whiningless as humanly possible. No names, of course, and I don’t claim that any of this is true. But I think inspired would be a good way to put it. Very inspired.

The People

Manager: My immediate manager (plus a few other people’s, including the art team’s).

MANAGER: Manager’s immediate manager.

Art team: The people who produce the designs and artwork for the software.

IT: The people who manage all the computer hardware and software that we use.

The Words

Bug: Any problem with a piece of software. Could be as small as the wrong colour on a button, or as big as your computer bursting into flames.

Bug ticket: GODDAM COCKSUCKING MOTHER OF A WHORE!! (A notification, usually by email, that the testers found a bug in the software we’ve written).

Code: The instructions (written by us) that make up the brains of the software. If we’re feeling fancy, we call it “source code”. But code sounds cooler.

Build: When all the code, art, etc. get collected and mushed together to produce the final software product.

Specification: A long and boring document that describes, in detail, what the software should do, how it should do it, how it should look while it’s doing it, and so on. At least, that’s what we hope for.

Server: A computer that sits on a network and “serves” data to any other computers that request it. That data could be a web page, Twitter feed, or hardcore pornography. Computers are awesome!

To: MANAGER@employer.com
From: patrick@employer.com
Subject: Requested time allotment report for Tuesday
Sent: Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Time Allotment

10:00 – 10:30: Searching for Manager to discuss bug. After questioning, art team revealed that he is home sick today.

10:30 – 10:45: Had to do some research to retrieve Manager’s unlisted telephone number. The one he recorded for our records is our own office number (we should probably update that).

10:45 – 11:00: Telephone call with Manager to discuss bug. Manager maintained that it was “impossible” for it to be his code so I re-assigned bug ticket to myself for investigation.

11:00 – 13:00: Ran verifications and concluded that the bug must be addressed in Manager’s code.

13:30 – 13:35: Telephone call with Manager who confirmed that, “of course”, the bug was something he needed to fix.

13:35 – 13:40: Emailed response to build team’s complaint regarding errors in our builds. I reminded them that we can’t prepare our code for a build if they don’t tell us they want to do one. We have not as yet been able to develop psychic abilities.

13:49 – 14:00: Discussion with you regarding project X:
Project to be completed by this Friday or next Monday for release in the afternoon, same day. Art team will produce graphics on Thursday and  the specification will be ready by Friday morning. Testing to begin next Tuesday with a round of bug fixes scheduled for next Wednesday. Scheduling discrepancies will be dealt with later. This is to be exclusively top-priority until finished.

14:00 – 14:30: Your team meeting request to discuss why the schedule wasn’t being met. Team agreed that closer attention needed to be paid to scheduling.

14:30 – 14:45: At your request, sat with your assistant to update the schedule with accurate dates and times for current projects.

14:45 – 14:50: Emailed IT explaining why I needed a license for the Adobe Flash development software (specified that I am an Adobe Flash developer). The software lock currently in place on my copy of the expired software is preventing me from effectively doing my job.

14:50 – 14:55: Emailed IT again explaining why my current software was, as yet, unlicensed. I included copies of the six unfulfilled software requisition forms I submitted during my first six months of employment.

14:55 – 15:00: Discussed with you why I required a software license for the Adobe Flash software.

16:00 – 16:05: Larry asked, on your behalf, for a detailed estimate on development time for project X.

16:05 – 16:10: Wong asked, on your behalf, for a detailed estimate on development time for project X.

16:10 – 16:15: Vergil asked, on your behalf, for a detailed estimate on development time for project X.

16:15 – 16:20: You requested an estimate on development time for project X.

16:20 – 16:50: Took lunch.

16:50 – 17:00: Worked on project X.

17:00 – 17:10: Meeting to re-assign priorities. I should now focus all my efforts on project Y.

17:10 – 17:15: Vergil asked, on your behalf, for a detailed status report on the progress of project X.

17:15 – 17:20: Emailed IT to request more disk space on our only development server. Explained that it was the only way to test our software. Request was denied, but I would like to point out that I am willing to purchase an 8 Gigabyte memory stick ($20), out of pocket, to effectively quadruple our storage capacity. Please advise.

17:20 – 17:40: Deleted and compressed data on the development server to clear up some space.

17:40 – 17:50: Sat with your assistant to re-input the schedule from this morning. I’d like to suggest that only one person be responsible for updating the schedule to preventing this type of data loss in the future.

17:50 – 18:00: Produced this time allotment report to identify some of the inefficiencies in our system.

Thanks for humouring me. I feel … lighter.

Should I find myself suddenly unemployed for some reason, I’ll even be able to reveal how much of that is actual, unembellished truth. The number shocks even me.

And as a special favour to you, I will abstain from boring you to tears again for at least a week.

A couple of weeks ago, a few Torontonians got all sorts of feminine undergarments bunched up in their crevices when they learned that Coors had mentioned Toronto in one of their ads in B.C. “Colder than most people from Toronto”, was the exact phrase.

I wouldn’t have even mentioned it because the whole thing barely warranted it. What, like thirty to forty people complained? TCL gets that many visitors in a month, easy!

However, on my standard route this afternoon I found another one of their ads:

I read it. Then again. Then one more time.

I still don’t get it.

I mean, I like to think I’m kinda hip when it comes to this social media stuff. I may never have become a Facebook addict because I found it to be a cheap high, I never did have much use for MySpace because I already have my space, and while YouTube has been an endless source of painful (in so many ways!) hilarity, I can only digest it in twenty minutes sittings. But I digest (YES!! FINALLY GOT TO USE IT!!). I do it to stay with it. Like I said, hip. *thumbs up*

So this Coors ad … what the heck is it supposed to mean? Is it a reference to an online chat room where someone pokes you to get your attention? With a beer? I’m just not stoned enough to appreciate that, I guess.

My next thought was troubling; did someone just imply inserting a cold beer into my anus?! And what about the option for ladies?! — Hopefully that was not the message.

Could it be that someone has just physically poked you, with a beer? Does that make the beer more appealing in some way? Maybe has it touched a variety of sweaty spots during the poke and is now ringed with savoury body salts? Not with my beer, thank you kindly.

It just seems like the Coors people are having some trouble getting their message across. Look here:

So what’s so bad about this? On the surface, nothing. You have a beer that’s so cold that it’s been frozen to the bus shelter. The whole thing has, in fact, become a giant ice box. The image of a super-cooled beverage was probably intended to convey how you’d just turn to a chunk of solid ice the moment that baby hit your lips – it’s that cold.

The first problem is that it’s a lie. A visual lie, I mean. You walk into that shelter on a sweltering day and it’s not a bit cooler than it is outside. In situations like that, the “ice” becomes “condensation” from the heat, trapping the sheltered travellers in a sweltering sauna! Or at least it seems that way.

The second problem is that it’s it’s such an extreme image, all I can think of is the pain of anything ice cold hitting the back of my throat on a hot day. Some people get brain freeze, I get this; either way, I don’t want anything that cold to drink. A voice box that can be shattered with the tap of a hammer is not refreshing to me, I don’t care how many calories it has.

Finally, you got the snow on top. That’s Toronto for a good chunk of the year; summer is when most people try to forget about it.

The message was supposed to be Coors: cold and refreshing, but to me it came across as Coors: deceptive, painful, and upsetting.

I don’t even have anything against Coors. Not a beer I care for but I’d give it a hand if it fell in the street. You know, live and let live sorta thing. Besides, other beer companies have subscribed to strange advertising ideas too. Take this Stella Artois ad, for example:

The weird square in the middle is an UpCode tag. What you’re supposed to do is to download the UpCode application to your mobile phone. When you run it, it uses your webcam (at a very low resolution) to scan the code in, like the UPC scanner at supermarkets, and it opens up the web page it reads in. An automatic, no-type web address, if you will.

If you’re bored, you can read the UpCode from the photo above (the large size works better) on your own phone; just tilt it a bit to flatten the square in your display.

Anyhow, the whole thing seems like a long diversion, doesn’t it? And what does it link to?

Hopefully they’ve fixed it by the time you’re reading this, but you’d think they’d get their act together considering the poster is, like, out there.

They could’ve used that spot in the ad for a nice-looking model doing enticing things with a beer bottle. Instead, it sports an ill-conceived brick.

I believe in the modern interweb lingo, this is called advertising FAIL. (sorry, not sure if I’m supposed to italicize that)

At least Coors got the part about Torontonians being frigid jerks right.

The Copper people are doing their thing in the neighbourhood again:

Exciting scene with some woman getting pulled over by the cop. As he gets out of the squad car, she continues to roll. He yells at her to stop, she revs her engine!! … well, I won’t spoil it for you. But as I write this, the wind is picking up, possibly in anticipation of the interesting weather planned for tonight. Those prop trash bags on the lawn are keeping more than one crew member entertained; they’re filled with styrofoam or something similarly light, and they’re not tethered to anything. Flying, Valkyrian garbage! It’s happening all over again!

:D Not really.

The only things flying around the city these days are rain, knives and performers.

Dear reader, more artisans from Buskerfest (loud link!) for your entertainment. And, ah, if you wanna show your appreciation with a small donation, that would be great. Preferably bills:

Remember the Australian-region guy? He does actually do something. But not before my foot had fallen asleep waiting for him to stop flapping his gums and do it already:

And then this guy did a variation on it. He actually took the pains to point out that, unlike that guy over there, he wasn’t being supported by anyone:

And finally, the item that I so egregiously omitted yesterday, the human beatbox video. To retain the live spirit of the performance, and because I’m lazy, I didn’t edit the video at all.

[kml_flashembed publishmethod=”dynamic” fversion=”10.0.2″ useexpressinstall=”true” replaceId=”videoplayer” movie=”/flash/videoplayer.swf” width=”350″ height=”280″ targetclass=”flashmovie”]<a href=”http://adobe.com/go/getflashplayer”><img src=”http://www.adobe.com/images/shared/download_buttons/get_flash_player.gif” alt=”Get Adobe Flash player” /></a>[/kml_flashembed]

Doesn’t that just take the cake?

Well, I’m all buskered out. But those folks are doing it all weekend. And why not? After this it’s back to Dundas Square or subway stations, so they might as well rake in as much as they can.

God’s speed, little buskers.

And to you, dear reader, a fair and pleasant weekend.

It’s been quite a busy day at the TCL city desk today.

To begin with, a bunch of personalities from my wake-up radio station were axed, en masse, this afternoon. I’ve only ever heard promos for the Motts’ show and I accidentally tuned into a Michael Coren repeat one night. Didn’t care for it. And Jacqui Delaney I found to be as awkwardly appended to my daily dose of waking petulance, the Bill Carroll Show, as the spelling of her name, and this clause. Plus, she was kind of abrasive.

But I wish them all well. It’s not always easy out there on the streets.

Take the Carties, for example. Almost everyone agreed that the concept was great; let’s have some alternatives out there on the streets instead of just the ubiquitous hot dog stand. The city clenched their butt cheeks extra hard on the requirements and only eight finalists (out of twelve entries), were accepted into the program. They had to pay a ridiculous sum for the carts which were sold, and branded, by the city. The vendors also had to wear city-issue uniforms. Oh, and the city told them where they would go and conduct their business. Some locations were great. Some, not so much.

There were also suggestions that the city might want to, you know, have a chat with existing street vendors to see how they do things. Kinda pick the brains of some of the people who have done this day in, day out, for decades.

Yeah … no, they didn’t do that.

I once bought a samosa from one of the a la Cart guys. His little shack was impeccably clean, almost too much so. He probably had the city’s sanitation inspectors living in his colon. The food was okay, nothing too exciting; proper City-Hall, middle-of-the-road flavour. And what’s this about handling every little thing with a pair of gloves on? With street meat, you get a dollar-store serviette (as dainty as the word implies), holding up a propane-soaked bun which is cradling a hastily warmed specimen of “dog” of some sort. “Hot” it most certainly is not. No latex glove, that’s for sure.

It’s almost inevitable then that the Carties would start dropping off, isn’t it?

Sad.

But Buskerfest helped me forget all about it! The name says it all; a street carnival filled with buskers. Open guitar cases, hats, plastic cups, and other collection receptacles abounded.

One of the performers flew in from overseas. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say somewhere in the region of Australia:

Strangely, this is as exciting as it got. At least for me. In the ten minutes or so that I stood there, the routine seemed to go nowhere. Those knives never saw any action. I still don’t know why those people were lying there. I waited, I applauded; tried to cheer him on. Nada.

Oh well.

Elsewhere, some of the buskers had so much polish, they were like some kinda disco machines:

It may not be to everyone’s liking, but everyone’s gotta make a living somehow. Even the very tall and gangly:

The evening ended with a rousing human beatbox, but that video is still being transjiggamafied. I hope this will suffice until then:

Oh, Gene.

Let me start by saying that KISS ended up doing the right thing and scheduling that concert in Oshawa. Good call, gentlemen. But I guess Gene Simmons didn’t like the negative spotlight of this little aside and he went and started blaming the media for spoiling the surprise the band had had in store the entire time.

*ahem*

What was the surprise again? I mean, the cat was out of the bag and running around the room hissing and  breaking things when KISS announced that Oshawa had won the well-publicized contest. Toronto was a contender in that contest, as were Los Angeles and New York. Was the “special” surprise that the winner wouldn’t be getting a visit from the group? Would they be revealing some awesome piece of the show simply by announcing that they would be having a show? That would make the tour an awful spoiler. Contest too.

I don’t get it.

Another thing I don’t get is this story of the twenty-two year old student who faked his own kidnapping last weekend. Well, no, I get the story; I don’t get the plan behind it.

If you don’t want to read the whole article, basically the guy called his family some time in the middle of the afternoon last Saturday. He said two guys with guns were trying to run him off the road. Then silence. Parents called the cops; “he’s been kidnapped!” Almost immediately, strange facts start to pop up in the news. He’d just been fired from his part-time job at IBM and was also arrested for stealing stuff. And he had two grand in his pocket at the time of the kidnapping, allegedly on his way to fly out of the country; a big no-no on account of the theft thing.

Then, yesterday, they found the guy in St. Catharines. No kidnappers. No kidnapping. Just a snitch.

Disappearing, okay, that I can appreciate. The kidnapping though. I mean, that’s a guaranteed manhunt; even more people looking for you. And it’s a race against time because now there’s reason to believe your life may be in danger. Sweet sweet irony.

Look, if you’re evading the law, the best and only way is to fake your own death. Something fiery and bally you can watch from the distance while sipping a rare liqueur. I’ve been considering the various avenues now that the government has decided it’s time for me to start paying my back taxes :( Death is an option.

But that’s not my m.o. I’ll just have to become a master criminal so cunning that the shadowy income I pull in will quickly eliminate any debt I have. The death I’ll save for retirement.

What’s the alternative? Blogging? HahahHAHAHahAHAHAhahe hehe HAHAHAhaha! Oh man that’s funny. *wipe tears*

Huzzah for blogging!

So, let’s have a look at what we have here, shall we?

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First of all, ignore the percentages shown above. The -41% thing would suggest that, perhaps, they’re not entirely accurate.

So, out of 42 votes cast the highest percentage (21%), believed that Mondays should be illegal. A further 14% cast a disparaging glance at the rest of the week too — something about shooting the weekdays while we’re at it? Crazy gun-nutty Americans :) Most shocking, however, are the serious allegations of impropriety on the part of Mondays, with a whopping 17% of you (that’s nearly 1 in 5), reporting that Mondays have made unwanted sexual advances toward you. Only one vote was cast for the whole poll not making any sense, and I cast that one, so we can safely assume everyone understood the question. Except me.

But who cares? Isn’t that shocking?! I sure do hope the local media pick up this story.

My own experience with Monday is one of pain. I woke up today in some discomfort, having finally attended Dream in the Park.

The discomfort portion of the story, I’m ashamed to report, is one-hundred percent me.

They do recommend bringing a blanket, jacket, and bug repellant. I did not. To complicate matters further, I had biked to High Park, pushing it up that final bitch of a road like a real man:

Then walking the remaining half of the hill like a real tired man.

By the time I got to the top I had worked up a good, healthy sweat. As I may have mentioned before, the seating for Dream is literally on the ground. The stage is simply a wooden platform and the audience sits in an amphitheatre cut out of the hillside in front of it. Luckily, I did have something between me and the moist earth, but I hadn’t planned on the chill wind that swept down into the valley that night. If the play hadn’t been so engrossing, I would’ve picked up and left. But those assholes were so damn good that I ended up with a sore back!

Okay, so it’s Shakespeare. Yeah, it put me to sleep in high school too. English; borringest subject ever. The Tempest; *sticking finger down throat*. But people actually brought their kids to this!

I don’t want to sound like someone’s paying me to say this because, alas, I remain sponsorless, but this is really a show to see. With the Pay-What-You-Can pricing, it’s always affordable. You’re encouraged to bring snacks and anything you want to make yourself comfortable. And I can assure you that whatever your equivalent of the suggested $20  donation is, the feature-length show will be well worth it.

The beauty of this production is that it’s been taken back to its roots. No, not rag-adorned, unwashed, Elizabethan showmen; I’m talking about the people for whom Shakespeare wrote his works for. Unfortunately, the language isn’t quite as up-to-date as it once may have been, but the actors make up for this through their modern intonation, great acting, and physical improvisation. They really bring out the comedic, entertaining nature of the play. And even though they’re all speaking at a fair clip, the whole story is completely intelligible. It’s almost like you’re a filth-covered Shakespearean commoner out for a night on the mud.

I had never actually read The Tempest. I knew the gist of it; banished wizard-Duke Prospero, big storm, deserted island, yadda yadda; but never the nitty gritty. I’m fairly certain that the glaring Gilligan’s Island overtones present throughout the Dream version are not part of the original story, but it did help to set the context.

Prospero was replaced with Prospera (Karen Robinson), and Ariel (Audrey Dwyer) did a couple of Lion-King-inspired musical sequences, presumably to give the show a softer touch. Nothing over the top, mind you; old Willy’s work is still kept pretty much intact. Just enough to break up the slow parts. Worked for me.

The music and sound effects worked with the trees, bees, and birds around them rather than trying to fight it out. The crickets started to sound like cicadas after a while. You kind of got the feeling you were actually on Prospera’s island:

Yeah, I really liked it. A modernized classic that was genuinely entertaining. Can’t say any of that about any movie I’ve paid to see lately.

Okay, time for me to get back to the heating pad. Mondays …