Pretty good pizza, I'm lookin' at it and it doesn't fall apart, not like those other places, all you gotta do is look at the pizza and BADABOOM, it's fallin' apart. You gotta be kiddin' me!

For corporate resources, generally, Waterloo Corporate Resources satisfies. Not overly resourceful, and not lacking in resources, Waterloo Corporate Resources has dutifully provided corporate resources for a number of years. Resources provided vary, invariably, but are generally corporate in nature. The corporate resources provided here generally pertain to the corporate resource needs of Waterloo, and there are provisions accessible to provide the corporate resources required. Waterloo Corporate Resources is, more to the point then, not an agglomeration of resources, but rather a provider of corporate resources with access to said resources, located in Waterloo.

I paid for my daughter's treatment here, and she was very pleased. They found a safe and effective treatment designed specifically for her, professionally tailored to her body and personality. She was able to speak with trained counsellors who helped her stay motivated. Unlike other programs, which can be hard to follow, this place provided a simple and lasting solution. I watched from behind a two-way mirror as they blasted the fat right off of my daughter with a high-powered laser beam.

Food was excellent, as I only enjoy halal. Interior of the restaurant was pleasing, aromas were tantalizing. The staff look sharp, and they are professional. Courteous, not overly friendly. You may wait a bit for your food, but as they say, good things come to those who wait. Unfortunately, this restaurant is located in Scarborough.

The store in question cannot accommodate the clothing needs of a morbidly obese person; also, some of the signs are placed so high that if a morbidly obese person were carted in on a stretcher-bed, they would not be able to see them. Furthermore, if a morbidly obese person required assistance to disembark a stretcher-bed and try on clothes, the personnel are too few in number and inadequately trained to assist. Also, provisions are insufficient to sustain a morbidly obese person for the duration of their stay.

Whether you're just looking for lines that go - - - - - - or -----------, or even ========, Imperial Pavement Marking Inc. can get the job done.

Tired of riding your bike through traffic on Victoria St, getting homophobic slurs hurled at you the entire way? These guys can hook you up with a bike lane so you can comfortably lob insults back at bigots and gas-sucking road hogs.

Tired of not being able to pass grandma on the highway? Turn that double line into a single stitch and take your chances with what's coming over that hill.

You got your white lines, you got your yellow lines, you got your orange lines, you got your forange lines. You also got lines that are kind of there, but it's raining and dark, so you're just wingin' it, freestylin' on the highway of life.

If you want to visit these guys in person, don't bother with the address. Just hit the road and follow the lines.

At my age, there are some things I suppose I will never understand. Like why, for example, a company would hire a company to hire a person to do a job, therefore spreading available money amongst paper-pushers and other so-called "HR people" who sit at a desk while the people with usable skills are paid a pittance to do the real work. We can blame the loss of our manufacturing sector (which especially thrived in Kitchener) on free trade all we want, but the fact is we have too many people who would prefer to sit at a desk and re-arrange numbers and letters into some contrivance of a job well done. For shame, Manpower. Let the factories and mills re-open, and let your own workers, pale and gaunt from lack of sun and physical fortitude, exit your seedy strip mall doors, and abandon you in search of meaningful, fulfilling work.

I used to look out the windows of airplanes and wonder. I could see the spread of humanity below, like a dull-coloured computer chip, self aware, blinking yellow, green, and red. What if, I thought, what if we were but a PEST on the earth? What if I could hire somebody to spray a chemical weapons-grade foam down over an entire city, covering roadways with up to 100 metres of sudsy death. Those out in the suburbs would feel safe, exiting their homes to see the frost covering their city. Unbeknownst to them, merely inhaling the vapours would cause their central nervous system to short circuit, jumbling the senses, making them think they could breathe through their eyes, taste with their ears, see with their skin. Then, an almost instantaneous collapse into an unrecognizable puddle of a person. A disturbingly psychedelic demise, to be sure.
This dystopian dream, however, is something I am disparagingly all too willing to inflict on the creatures around my home. What it says about me, or HPM Wildlife Control for that matter, I do not know. All I know is that my patio is safe... for now.