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Bob Denver died today, and to say his time was up would be somewhat of an understatement. Earlier this year Bob underwent quadruple heart bypass surgery – and he has been battling cancer for ages. He eventually warmed up to the fact he’d be eternally Gilligan, and was harder to kill than an African cockroach. I’m glad he stuck around as long as he did – as he always made me smile.

“It was the mid-’70s when I realized it wasn’t going off the air,” Denver told The Associated Press in 2001, noting then that he enjoyed checking eBay each day to keep up on the prices “Gilligan’s Island” memorabilia were fetching.

Bon voyage, little buddy. And I’m sure it’s no shock that I’d easily pay upwards of $100 for a coconut radio. And by coconut radio, I of course mean Tina Louise’s bamboo gusset.

Royce and Bentley are a little hairy handful. Janet, Josh and I are over at our neighbor’s house today babysitting puppies. But they have jetskis (the neighbors – not the puppies). So the pooches are being sat upon in shifts, while the relief sitters rip around the Rideau on Sea-Doo GTIs. It’s a swell trade off. Swell.

This is our last trip up to Portland this summer, and although I frequently write about how exchausting it has all been, I will miss it. The rental units move back down to Florida for the winter in October, and I’ll be Canadaless until Christmas. No more poutine, no more creullers, no more campfires.

Luckily, I have enough Horton’s in my Boston kitchen cabinet to choke a moose.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a day more devoid of creative thought than I did on this Thursday the first of September, in the year of our lord 2005. So I’ll do what I’ve set out never to do – and write about not being able to think of anything good to write about. I’ve thought plenty today about my job, my coworkers, my clients, my new roomate – but not once about this website or it’s beloved readership. Not once about dead hookers or the many associated jokes. And for that, I apologize. But I’m glad to see I still have some sense of priority in my life. And a job.

A gift has been bestowed upon me, methinks. And that gift is the ability to keep ‘er going, copy-wise. I can write about anything and make it somewhat funny and interesting. But today I feel like I’m on some sort of brainwave blocking medication. I got a ton done at work – one of the most productive days in a while. But I feel like I’ve been lobotomized. Instead of wasting time running around like a smacked arse, I got a little work done today. So please forgive me – this doesn’t happen often.

Saturday, Nick and I were sitting in the living room eating jalapeno poppers and watching Waiting for Guffman. It was, quite simply, heaven on Earth. The girls who live above me had been moving out all morning, and when we heard a loud ‘bang’ as a piece of their furniture hit the pavement outside like a jumper, I thought nothing of it.

Nick got up and went outside to smoke a post-popper lung rocket, but quickly poked his back inside the door. “Dave, you’d better get out here”. I’ve been hucking furniture, showing apartments, typing up leases, making keys, painting, visiting the bank, waiting for repairmen – all as part of my new building manager duties. I knew August would be a rough month when I took the job, but I really thought I was over the hump. In short, the words “What the fuck is it now!?” quickly flashed through my brain like a Times Square marquee.

In their haste and deplorable moving wisdom, my lovely ex-tenants decided to lower a large boxspring off of their fire escape. And by ‘lower’, I of course mean ‘drop’. Said heavy object then bounced backwards towards the building and shattered both panes of my bedroom window. The window frame itself is bent beyond repair – to the point where I couldn’t even remove all of the broken glass. I took a deep breath, nodded profusely and affirmatively when they offered to pay for the damages, and covered the mess with cardboard and duct tape.

What would Schneider do? I mean, besides try to sleep with both of them?

Do any of my Boston peeps need, or know someone who needs, a decent blue/grey 2-piece leather couch? I also have a coffee table and a kitchen table available – more info here. The former tenant left in a hurry, and the new tenant has her own furniture.

I am giving this stuff away for free. I just need it out of there. Let me know. Nice couchy.

Still loved as much as he was on the day he died, Chris Farley has been given a star on the hollywood walk of fame. I wrote about Farley 4 years ago – and the bit still holds water – so I won’t retread too much of it here. Regardless of his excesses, Farley was, during his time on Earth, the funniest man on it. I’ve never been more saddened by a celebrity death. He is sorely missed.

This will be the first weekend in what seems like an eternity that I will a) be in Boston, and b) not have anything remotely resembling ‘plans’. I’ve been looking forward to it – as my apartment could use a once-over before the next imminent changing of the guard, and I have several building manager-related Schneiderish tasks that need my attention. I only wish I had a Miss Romano to compliment the handlebar ‘stache.

As the weekend creeps closer, however, I’m starting to wish I had something tangible to do. I’m not saying I feel like traveling somewhere again – not at all. But a tabula rasa of a weekend, even in the midst of the most hectic summer in history, still seems a bit depressing. So here’s what I’m going to do – I’m going to make it the most productive fucking weekend of my relatively young life so far.

I’m going to get up early on Saturday and head straight to the Beanstock Company for legal drug-induced energy. I’m going to sweep, mop, spackle, paint and re-arrange. I’m going to throw away a ton of crap I’ve been hanging on to like a sad, sentimental packrat. I’m going to spend a couple hours on the roof and keep this tan going. I’m going to go for a run. At night – I’m going to put my figurative nerd cap on (which I imagine would have a Deep Space Nine logo on it somewhere) and work on some of my websites – Goonblog in particular is doing really well traffic-wise and has already been linked to from 4 prominent hockey sites that have noticed it. Then Sunday I’m going to wake up and do it all over again.

So there’s my weekend laid out like marzipan. The somber, sober, salacious Schneider.