this is my dull life. this is my dull life on drugs. this is a haiku.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Catchy slogans

Chicago, Illinois...

Funny how this stuff stays with you. I wonder what would happen if I sent a self-addressed stamped envelope to that address now... would I still get my free safety comic?


Ok, apparently McGruff has gone interweb. I just ordered a McGruff comic and McGruff trading cards from All I had to do was pretend I was in the United States Armed Forces and positioned in Canada, since they don't mail to Canada normally. Hopefully I get it soon...

Tuesday, April 26, 2005


So here I am, at the Health Sciences Library at MUN, 4 days after finishing school for the summer, and guess what I'm doing. Studying. Tomorrow, I've got a meeting with Dr. Hoover, my employer for the next few months while I'm doing research. Before 9 am, I've got to read a textbook that he's published, two of his research papers, and a pamphlet. Some of you might be like, "Hey, a pamphlet! At least that's easy!"


A "pamphlet" in research terms is about 30 pages long. And it has very small print. And no pictures.

I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing tomorrow, but I think they're going to teach me how to do whatever I'll be doing all summer for starch research (Yeah, I know. Exciting. To the max.), so Dr. Hoover wanted to make sure I had the background. If this is the background, I have a feeling I'm going to cry when I see the foreground.

So anyway, I biked over here earlier to study and got a chance to use my new bike lock for the first time. I was busy trying to wind it through the frame and the spokes of the wheel when I noticed something on the ground beside me. It was the very same bike lock model as mine, right down to the color. And it was visibly hacked all the way through, with the frayed metal sticking out of the plastic sleeve on either end of where it had been cut. Confidence inspiring, ain't it? Whatever, nothing I can do about it now!

I'm not actually starting this job until monday, so I guess this Wednesday thing is just an orientation thing. I don't know Dr. Hoover at all, so I've been trying to get some inside tips about him from his daughter, Shobi (ie. favourite color, least favourite food, etc.). So far I know that he really loves country music and that his favourite movie is Jurassic Park. I'm trying to think of a good openning line. So far I've go a few: There's "Man, I wish there was more country music in the Jurassic Park soundtrack", "Hello! I hear you like country music and Jurassic Park!", and the ever popular "So... How bout country music? Jurassic Park?". Maybe I'll just make a shirt that says on the FRONT: "If the dinosaurs had Garth Brooks..." and BACK: "Maybe they wouldn't be so fucking dead." I think he'd enjoy that.


  • I have not lived in a box yet.
  • Bert and I found a place to live.
  • I'm living out of suitcases at Lovell's until we move into our own place on Saturday.

Later people! We'll make contact later. Maybe when I get settled in and my compy set up.


Anyone else think it's weird that humans even enjoy touching each other's hair. I mean, it's really just a mix of proteins that is secreted from cells at the bottom of pits in our scalp. No different from mucus or gastric juices when you think about it, except that it's made to keep us warm. I wonder what would happen if some species evolved from slugs. I think these slug-people would play with each other's mucus, don't you?

And why are things only mortal or omnipotent (as in all-seeing)? Can't we ever have something that's in between, like dipotent? I'm not greedy. I'd be happy with being able to see and be completely aware of only two things at any time. Like maybe where that little ball is in that cup-and-ball gambling game that people play, and the contents of people's pockets without checking. i'd be perfectly happy with those dipotent skills. Wouldn't see me complaining.

Friday, April 22, 2005


Sweet jumpin' Jesus!
OK, apparently there is a 2005 David Hasselhoff calender. I am utterly speechless.

Done exams! w00t!!1

So yeah, I finished my last exam at 2pm today after literally getting 7 hours sleep in the last 72 hours. I’m surprisingly not tired, partly because I caught up on my sleep debt the week before exams started. So anyway, I got out of the exam and since I had no time to study beforehand, I was going over the test in my head, grumbling to myself about getting questions wrong, and basically being grumpy. Then, when I got down to the first floor of the education building, I looked up and realized the halls were completely empty.

Because school was over.

That was my pick-me-up! I remember thinking, “It’s times like this that I wish I knew how to do cartwheels. This is what the good Lord invented cartwheels for.”

So I looked around for any onlookers who might be able to see me, and seeing none, tried my hand at a few cartwheels. Let’s get this straight: I don’t do cartwheels. I don’t like them, and they don’t like me. Since I left my pen & pencil pocket unzipped when I left the exam, a whole assortment of writing devices -- my paraphernalia of penmanship; my machinery of manuscript -- fell all over the ground during the first cartwheel attempt. I tried twice more, then gave up, but it’s the thought that counts.

I’m probably going to be on hiatus for a little while within the next couple days, since I need to dismantle this aggregation of worldly belongings which I like to call my room. Hopefully I’ll be back up soon.

QUESTION OF THE MOMENT: On my way back form my exam, I walked by this lady in the tunnels who had dowsed herself in perfume, and this thought occurred to me: Do you measure a trail of smell in seconds or in feet? (Well… it seemed like a good question in my incoherent state.) Either way, the specific answer for this particular lady was probably best expressed in scientific notation -- with exponents, that is.


Things I need to do before I get kicked out of residence Saturday at noon:

  1. Write my last exam.
  2. Sleep.
  3. Shower.
  4. Get loaded out of my tree for the last night of rez.
  5. Find a place to live.
  6. Collect all the outstanding canteen tabs.
  7. Get all the canteen financial stuff in order.
  8. Pack up my life.
  9. Do community service (explanation later).
  10. Write a letter to housing about switching the canteen and hockey storage room next year.
  11. Scout out a good box. Saturday's weather is looking good enough for a hobo sleepover.

T minus 32 hours, 18 minutes.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Library nap adventures

I'm studying in the library right now. It sucks. I am going to fail. Maybe not this exam, and maybe not the next...but the last one? Yes. I simply can't cram anymore information into my brain!

I got up at 9:30am this morning after going to bed at 4am, went to the libizzary, and rented a single room -- from Patrick the librarian, no less. Anyway, I had the room for three hours, so I went up, studied five minutes, got drowsy... and guess what? Yeah, I feel asleep under the desk again for the whole 3 hours! The next person came up to kick me out of the room and had to wake me up... I had been using my shoes for a pillow, so you'd think I would have felt stupid. But the the thing is, this wasn't the first time it's happened, so you might say I'm past that whole "feeling stupid" thing.

Actually, speaking of disgusting:
When I first layed down underneath the desk for a nap, I noticed all the gum on the bottom. I'm not the kind of person who is disgusted by that kind of stuff myself, and to tell ya the truth, I usually absent-mindedly pick off gum from under the tables as I study. Yet another study quirk, but that's not the gross part yet. Then I just throw it on the floor, of course (Actually, since I take my sneakers off to study, I threw some gum in my own shoe by mistake last week and found it at the end of the day... What a waste of a good sock... but that's not the gross part yet). So yeah, I normally just throw it on the floor, but since I was underneath, trying to sleep, for some reason I started poking all the gum to find out if anyone had stuck it there recently. It seemed to me at the time that sticking gum under desks was a late-80s-to-early-90s thing, so I was just trying to check whether that was true. I mean, who sticks gum under deasks nowadays? Well -- ya see -- I never found the newest gum. What I found was the oldest gum. It was so old, it was brittle. And coincidentally, as I lay under the desk, it was right above my head. Yep, maybe you can see where this is going. It basically crumbled and a big piece fell in my mouth. Ok, THAT'S the gross part! Feel free to be openly disgusted, cause I sure was. Ugh.

Anyway, back to studying says I. For some reason lately, I really enjoy messing with syntax as in the previous sentence. [conjuctive adverb], [verb] [preposition] [gerund] [verb] [pronoun].

Over and out I'm done.

Sunday, April 17, 2005


Man. I can't sleep. I've been trying to, but I just can't. I'm sitting on my bed in my underwear, listening to people talking outside my window down below, and all I can think about is travelling. I want to buy a big knapsack, stitch on a Canada flag patch, and get out of here. Not that "here" is bad -- just that "here" isn't "there".

I got thinking about this a week or so ago, and now I can't stop. I want to buy a two-way plane ticket and worry about how I'll fill the in-between time later. I want to do something spontaneous. Like go to the library, find the National Geographic section, pull out a random edition from between 1900 and 2005, arbitrarily open to a page, point to a pretty picture, and say "I'm going there." Or hit the "Next Blog" button (Avaiable in the top-right corner of your screen) until I find someone who's somewhat interesting who seems like they might be up for something out-there, and try to get them to agree to buy a plane ticket to the same place on the same day. Hey -- assuming people like this even exist, I'd keep with the strategy until I found one of them.

I'm too impatient, and it's pissing me off that I can't do this now, at 3:33 in the morning, while exams are going on. I hope this isn't a short-term feeling; something I'll just forget about in a week. I want to be in this same mindframe when I'm not smothered by exams -- when I'm not feeling so claustrophobic. I'd like to go with someone like Coleman. Maybe I'll ask him tomorrow. Maybe I'll wait till he reads this himself. I can seriously see myself doing it solo if I can't find anyone else. At least I can at the moment. Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow. Maybe I'll just want to play Xbox. Hopefully not.

If you're reading this and you know me: please don't ask me about it. For some reason, I feel like if I talk about it out loud in real-life, it will make it seem less possible. Maybe less real, if that makes sense. Me talking about it while cramming for exams would somehow... Well, I think my current reality would shoot the dream downm. Let's leave it at that.

And if you're reading this and you don't know me: Ever had the urge to travel? Seriously.

Maybe this Ian Mack guy had an influence. He's helped set up some nifty Travelblogger site, if anyone's interested.

Anyone can feel free to comment on this topic though...

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Failed caper

So I found a hole drilled in the wall going from the corridor outside our door into the phone booth. It was filled with gum and paper, so I was fishing that out for a good while. Then I went to get some straws, hooked em together, stuck them in the hole with StickyTac so that the corridor-end of the entended straw was flush with the wall. Then I printed off a "Where's Waldo", cut a tiny hole in it, and stuck it overtop the hole in the wall so that the straw just poked through. Then I waited in the phonebooth. And I waited some more. And then I had to pee and gave up on the waiting-in-hiding idea entirely. But had someone come by, they surely would have been drawn toward the Where's Waldo, because what soul could resist the charm of a missing man in clashing red and white stripes. A man who likes books. Not a one, says I. They would have leaned in for closer inspection, and I would have spit water in their face from inside the phone booth. Actually, I would've needed to laminate/tape up the printed sheet in order to do that. But I could have blown in their face and given them a gust of air they'd not soon forget. OK listen, I'm trying unsuccessfully to justify spending about an hour setting the whole thing up.

Exam are going OK. Ripped Psych apart, but Metabolism was... lacking. It's possible that I got an A. I really need A's from now on, so Pat, it's time to pick up the slack.

DOC: Fuck this, who cares anyway. I have officially retired the DOC rating. It shall go the way of the glowing FOX hockey puck and take its place in the heavens at the right hand of the father... scratch that. The only thing this idea deserves is the back-hand of the father. And I'm sure he would say "Bitch." as he did it.

PS - The rating tonight would be very low.

Friday, April 15, 2005


(Wrote this part this morning-->
For some reason I just thought of this:

When I sat down on my bed just a second ago and pulled a sock onto my left foot, hundreds of other people in the world were doing the exact same thing at the exact same time. I could go over to my closet, push half the clothes to the side and pull out a pair of pants -- the same thing. I’d be doing it in synchrony with countless others. Whoever said that “all the world’s a stage” was right, at least in the choreography department. It’s funny how out of all the feelings of anonymity and insignificance that sometimes accompany the vastness of humanity, you can untangle a sense of connectedness and find something comforting. (From here on I wrote tonight--> Maybe the fact that I find this realization soothing as opposed to bleak -- maybe that unearths something profound about the way I think. But I'm too tired and lazy to dig around for that now.

I'm going to bed. OK. Together now, everyone: Please remove your left sock.
And while you're at it: Ladies, please remove your pants. Wicked.

Coleman's giveaway

This is how lazy Coleman is:

Coleman had a set of 900 MHz wireless headphone -- perfectly good -- and a bunch of dirty dishes. So Coleman-logic (something akin to Patrick-logic) told him to put a sign saying this: "Free wireless headphones to anyone who does my dishes and cleans my microwave" And oh yeah, we hada dirty microwave, too. So as of right now, Seamus is in the bathroom cleaning some plates, then he's gonna come back in and take the headphones. Craziness, huh? Actually, Coleman's having a CLEARANCE SALE, and everything must go. We had a box of movie/music/game CDs outside our door, but that's been picked through. And then I found a bunch of Barbies up in a bin (Don't ask.), and we ripped all their appendages off and threw them under doors... Look, it makes a whole lot of sense, trust me! And the we made ninja stars from the aforementioned leftover CDs... OK, I've got this weird guilty feeling that's making me want to explain the Barbie stash. It's only a short story, and that story is that I was a "chick magnet" at Mardi Gras on George Street last Halloween, so I had a bunch of Barbies sewed to a jean jacket.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Before bed...

Quick post in reply to this Christian character (and Madeleine too), or at least on the same topic:

Actually, I completely agree on the idea behind that documentary. If it was done well enough, I'm sure it would win some awards! But anyway, just got me thinking about this short story I read in Stephen King's Everything's Eventual that has to do with a dude who collects all these bathroom epitaphs, and... well, I'd recommend the read, but since that's not so possible, the next best thing is the video that I stumbled upon a couple of months ago on Wicked site, by the way, if you're looking to burn some/alot of your time. Anyway, it's called The Secret Transit Codes of America's Highways (though the original short story was called "All That You Love Will Be Carried Away").

OK, I promise that I'll have something at least mildly entertaining the next time I post. Usually, I scribble down stuff I want to write when I think of it in classes or sitting around, then type it later. The thing is, all I've done is study the last couple days, and I keep my mind on a severely shortened leash while on such study adventures. So yeah, keep on... truckin? Um... yeah... like this guy:

DOC: 100%

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

poem fragment

Sometimes when I'm studying, I think of pieces of poems, but I'm just too lazy to write the rest of them. I figured I'd just write/type this one down before I forget it, and before I head back to the library. I guess the context is kinda necessary, so I'll just say I was looking at the library's cement walls and pillars around me as I was studying in a little cubicle in one of the dark corner of the library. I only had the lgith front a sliver of a window, the rest of which was on the other side of the divider wall that I was working wit my back too. There literally layers and layers of signatures and messages on the concrete, and if you strained, you could see ones from as far back as the 70s (like that lack of apostrophe Raph? Just for you, buddy.). Maybe I'll write the rest of this later:

Lifting my pen,
I made my addition:
A mark on the wall
In the shape of my name.

PS - If you linked here from Coleman's blog, all I've got to say about the bird is that Bert wanted the exterminator guys to catch it with electric seeds... Yep. Your guess is as good as mine. Well, I thought it was funny. Well, back to the libizzary, to stoozle some bizooks... dawg.

DOC: 97%

Monday, April 11, 2005


W00T!!1 Ok, MacGregor got it! Impressed... I'm bettin the hint didn't help. the answer was "WTF", as in "What the fuck". So now, in order to send you your honorary Beer of Merit® I need your address, postal code, SIN, and a large unnecessary downpayment to the tune of 50 to 75 dollars. Actually, I really am gonna try to send you a beer, so I'll get your address some other time over MSN.

Later! Time for bed...

And oh yeah... COLEMAN GOT A BLOG!!! After all that making fun of me, and poking me as I spent hours typing my thoughts onto the interweb, he's cracked. I've got one thing to say: I'm awesome. Sorry, this train of thought seemed to be leading away from me, so I thought I'd haul it back in my direction. This site is mine after all.

Living arrangements

And oh yeah, Bert and I were supposed to look for a place to live this summer, but we're both slack and won't even begin searching till after our exams. This is bad. My final final, for example, is not until next friday. "Next friday" being the day before we get kicked out of residence at noon. In conclusion, I believe that I have clearly demonstrated in what way this is a bad idea, and also why I should not be given any degree of responsibility.

Hopefully, no one important (such as an employer) ever reads my site, because the whole thing is somewhat of an anti-resumé.

So back to my "point" (using the term lightly): Bert and I, whether we get a place or not -- and weather permitting -- are going to sleep in boxes and/or a tree for one night. I, personally, can see nothing wrong with this idea. But then again, I possess Patrick-logic. This patented logic has led me to sleep in a variety of places, including by not limited to:
  • on bars
  • on the sides of building downtown
  • on the counter while waiting in line for Munch-House
  • in drainage pipes on construction sites (maybe I'll type the story some night)
So yeah... sleeping outside, connecting with nature, and just generally hobo-ing it up... yo. Represent... erm... trees...

PS - I shall provide the answer to the picture riddle below betwixt the hours of noon and 11 of the clock on Monday the eleventh. In other words, there's still time to answer it if you'd like a free drink courtesy of me. And I will mail a beer if I have to.

DOC: 66%

MSN7 potential quirk?

My question is: With the "What am I listening to" feature on the new MSN Messenger, can people also see what videos you are watching? If so, this is potentially very funny. That would mean that everyone can see when their friends are viewing porn. And porn is funny. Period.

DOC: 89%

Sunday, April 10, 2005

Word game!

Ok, try to guess what this picture means. It's like one of those things you did in puzzle books in grade two. Ya know, where you made a word or phrase from pictures and letters (For example, if it showed a bee and then beside that, a person eating something, the answer would be "beat". Get it? B-eat?) Take a guess and I'll post the answer later if no one gets it, which I doubt will be the case.

Hint: The first thought that goes through your mind is probably right. Oooooh... double entendre...

DOC: 72%

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Faaaaaaaaaaancy's tale

The title's just keeping with the current trend of extended vowels...

So yesterday was the ever-so-lovely keg party, and though I couldn't go, the stories entertained me for at least a few minutes. The best one involved Fancy. Most of you in res have probably already heard it since, since Fancy was going around telling left, right and center... and quadrilaterally. I heard it probably 3 times myself from a very inebriated Fancy. Anyway, here it goes, from my understanding:

The keg party was held in a small-type bar, and the owner of the bar was there. I guess he was a really cool guy, what with buying every rounds of beer and giving away some free shots, so before they left Martin asked everyone to contribute to a tip for the owner. All Fancy had was a $20 bill, so he threw in $10 and took his change back out.

Later that night, people were buying pizza. Fancy went up to pay for his slice, threw the guy a $10, and was surprised when the cashier looked up at him and asked "What the fuck is this?". Fancy had no clue what was going on, so he asked what the guy meant. The guy started freaking out and saying that the bill was counterfeit, then picked up the phone to call the police. Fancy was just like "Whoa! Calm down, buddy." He took the bill back, then naturally threw more money at the problem and offered the guy a twenty; keep the change, of course. So he had his pizza and now they were heading home in a cab. Inside this van cab, someone ate his pizza, so Fancy got kinda pissed and threw the styrofoam plate into the back of the van. The cabbie started freaking out and yelling at him, so again, drunk Fancy threw money at the problem -- The same $10 bill as before. The cabbie looked at the bill, said "Da fuck is this?", and threw it back at Fancy. This was when Fancy finally looked at the bill with the attention-for-detail that only a vigilant drunk can muster. It looked like this: front and back. I thought it was funny.

Apparently Matthew threw in his novelty-gay $10 bill illustrated with a novelty-gay man flaunting his novelty-gay penis. (PS - Matthew himself is novelty-gay.) So that's Fancy's story, which he will no doubt have on his own blog in one form or another.

I've had my say. I'm out.

PS - I wholeheartedly support the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement!

And another thought: Is there any article of clothing that is more funny in verb form than "pants"? The idea of pantsing someone is so much funnier than pants themselves. By the way, shouldn't it be de-pantsing? Mhen, I should stop... I've been told that the literary technique of turning nouns into verbs is looked down upon. You heard it here kids: Never verbify your nouns...

Heh... I'm so tongue-in-cheek...

DOC: 91%

Friday, April 08, 2005

Gooooooooo FRIDAY!!! ...ahem.

I think that if you live in a big city and you own a car, you should get in the habit of giving the horn a quick honk every time you get out of the car. That way, any would-be car thieves'll think you've got some high tech car alarm shit goin on, and that you've just activated it. I know, don't thank me now... just think of me whenever you come back to your car and it's... not... stolen?

Man, it took so much effort not to go out tonight! There is a huge FREE keg party going on at one of the bars for the winning team of Burke Day. Ya see, last term the same thing happenned: One team won, but the keg party prize wasn't until the friday before finals, so it the people who ended up going weren't even originally on the team. It was pretty much whoever was willing to get their drunk on right before exams. Anyway, I even planned for this contingency this year and was saving my drunk night for this Friday, but then I heard on Wednesday that it wasn't going on that way this term, so I went to Open Mic instead. And then; SURPRISE! "Happy stupid day, you jerk!" said God, "There really is a keg party!" (Contrary to popular belief, God plays a key part in keg parties, so I know he was involved...) So yeah, I'm sticking home and getting my learn on instead of my drunk. I just can't bring myself to go out twice in the week before exams, and I already gave my night up... Dah well, last night of res will be fun anyway!

Note to self: Start looking for a place to live. As much as I love cardboard boxes and all cardboard-box-related things, I have an inkling -- heh... inkling... -- that I would not enjoy living in one this summer...

Also found this. If I had some of this, I think I would just freak out. Or explode. This much pleasure was not intended for mere mortals.

Shout out to Ashley! She wanted me to write something about her, so.... Ashley drinks her own pee.

DOC: 95%

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Looooong post! Sorry.

Today I was doing my daily search for He-Man-related pictures (har har), when I came across this couple. I'm at odds to say what I might do if I came across these people posing like this in a park near me. I just can't even comtemplate what my reaction might be.

You always know that an employee is new at Wal-Mart -- or any other department store for that matter -- when they pick up the phone in their little corner of the store and you try to say, "Hi, I'm just looking for a remote controlled brassiere and..." (or whatever it is you're looking for) but they cut in right after your "Hi" and say "Hello" back. It leaves you both feeling stupid. Them because they've cut off the customer and you because you realize how impersonal you've become with another human being. I mean, you always throw in your "Hi" at the beginning, but at some point this became just another part of the procedure, losing the aspect that made it a courtesy. It's just cordiality without soul.

Yesterday I was at the library and decided I was getting pretty tired, so I figured it would be a good idea to curl up under the desk and nap on the single study room floor where I was. This is not altogether uncommon for with me, cause I have no problem with curling up in a variety of places and napping. Anyway, I fell asleep, had a few dreams, then woke up. I decided to study at home cause it wasn't worth staying at the library. I went down to the lobby and ended up meeting Ashley and Alisha who were heading back too, so we started walking back together.

For some reason we ended up walking through the overpass from the Chem to the Science building, and about here I started getting really disoriented and lost track of Alisha and Ashley. I was feeling kinda dizzy so I sat down on the steps going down to the first floor of the Science building, and started talking to these goths. They were acting all weird and looking at me funny, and I remember thinking that I felt kinda drunk. Like I was saying the stupidest shit. I noticed my legs felt like they were falling asleep so I was kicking them to get the blood flowing. I figured that it was the way I was sitting on the stairs. After a few more minutes of awkward conversation, I realized that not only my legs but my whole body had this strange numb feeling. I tried to stand up, but I had no strength and just fell against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

I remember having this disconnected idea that I must have been sitting in a really bad position and cut off some vein, and that's why everything felt numb, instead of just my legs. A second later I realized that this didn't make sense, but even as this was running through my head, I noticed that all the people around me in the halls and the ambient noises were kind of fading away. It was like I had tunnel vision and my whole world consisted of the square cinderblocks of the wall and the black plastic border at the bottom of it, which was all I could see.

About at this point, I decided that something was wrong with my heart and that not enough blood was getting to my brain. My mind started racing (at least it felt like it was racing with everything else going so slowly) and I realized how, ever since I had left the library, I had felt more and more disoriented, illogical and not myself, so this conclusion only made sense at the time. The next bit was just stroboscopic memories -- flashes of light, people leaning over me, being lifted, walls flying by me as I was pesumably wheeled down halls. I was so scared at the time. Then just blackness.

I could feel these weird poking and picking feelings in my chest. They didn't hurt, but they were uncomfortable. After a second, I realized that this was what it must feel like to be operated on. I tried to yell -- to tell them that I wasn't completely unconscious -- but could only half hear/feel myself saying "Nnnnnnnn". And when I tried, with as much strength as possible, to open my eyes, I saw a vague silhouette. I assumed that it was the plastic canvas they covered everything except the surgery area with during operations. I went through a little more of this conscious unconsciousness and then…

I woke up. Yeah, you guys could probably see that coming. The first thing I noticed was how heavily I was breathing and how freaked out I was. My heart was beating ridiculously fast. Since I was still under the study-room desk, I saw that the “silhouette” had only been of the underside of the desk. I got up, pulled myself together, and went and apologized to the people in the study-rooms next to mean for the heavy breathing and strange “Nnnnnnn” sounds that I assumed I had actually been making. What a fucked up dream. That’s the first time that I’ve sincerely believed a dream to be real, and I had literally thought that I was going to die. Freaky shit.

No need to feel you have to comment, I just had to get that off my chest.

DOC: 98%

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Weather for dummies

This site has now replaced in my "Favorites" list! It's so simple, how can you not love it???

Note to Jenn: This is NOT my submission for weird site. My search for that is pending...

DOC: 100%


I'm pretty sure even Jesus dropped the F-bomb every once in awhile. Like probably when Big G told him that he was sacrificing him to give mankind eternal life. I bet he dropped an F-bomb then.

DOC: 80%

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Productive day, says me

What the hell is a "mechanistic cheeseball comedy"???

Have you ever been doing some menial task such as separating your laundry, when you realize that you've been singing the same repeated tune (to some words) over and over? Happens to me every once in awhile, but usually I can trace the words back to something I was thinking about or doing earlier. But in this case, all I got is: What the hell? I have no bloody clue where this came from!

Anyway, this is a no frills post. I'm just gonna list the things I'm going to do today, and hopefully since I've written my goals, I'll be motivated to get em' done...

  • Do laundry
  • Take a shower
  • Go for a bike ride (so mice out... "mice" = "nice" in typonese.)
  • But a bike lock
  • Work on Burke House DVD
  • Study a bit
  • Sort out canteen finances
  • Remake _______s (This is somewhat of a late "surprise", so no details online)
  • Do not touch blog for the rest of the day! IMPORTANT!

Comments (in order of appearance):

Mandy -->Wow! You're such a friggin dedicated commentor. Or would that be commenteuse, due to your estrogen content? As always, you're awesome. I'd check your blog more often if you updated with any regularity whatsoever!

Lucas --> Thanks buddy. Means alot. Seriously. Some day, we're actually going to visit one another, ya know that, right?

Madeleine --> heh yeah... "life in the day of me" is what it's said that since the very beginning. It was actually the title of the one song I ever attempted to write this past summer. Thought I was all original, but I guess the Beatles made a song about it. Props to Mandy on that!

Raph --> yeah... I realize now how serious it is. Kinda hit me when CNN listed it as a developing story... Sadly, no one is ever a developing story unless they are about to die. Sorry if I offended anyone with the pope post. I don't so much do the pray thing, but I'll cross my fingers and hope for the best end to this.

Sally --> Listen: Our leaners are plenty worse. Just figured I'd explain the basis of the leaner. We've got piss leaners, old food leaners, broken glo-stick leaners, and the infamous Emerald Palace Tequila leaner (A bunch of people go to the Emerald Palace Chinese restaurant, eat as much as they can, then shoot tequila till they're sick, and throw up in the bucket... well, you get it. Ok, maybe that hasn't happened yet, but Shane Fudge had the idea!)

Jenn --> Ok Jenn, are you challenging my weird-site-finding-abilities? Cause I have MAD weird-site-finding-ability skillz (with a ZEE)! You better recognize. I challenge you to find the most bizarre site you can. We'll see what people think is the weirdest... I'm all about the competition!

DOC: 94%

Oh happy day

WOOT WOOT! Look at me! I'm "featured" on I've never been featured on anything... you know... so professional-like! Actually, I'm not sure "featured" is the right word, cause my handle and my name are both spelled wrong, aaaaand I'm under the lost in translation section, along with some Portugese blogs. Apparently I don't make any more sense than the Portugese, whatever that means. But whatcha gonna do? Beggars can't be choosers... well technically they can, but then they'd probably die from malnutrition or hypothermia or... clowns? Yes.... clowns....

Hey look! It's that time again. Bed time. Coherency is hovering near an all-time low. On that note, I'm starting a new way to rank my posts. I'll try to remember to end each with my DOC (Degree of Coherency).

DOC: 32%

Friday, April 01, 2005

really, Really, REALLY, incredibly cheap PDA!

Wow. Coleman found this dirt cheap PDA. I think it's supposed to be like $417 instead of $17... but unfortunately, they were out of stock by the time he found it. Sadness.

Things I think about while looking at my foot

If something is really slow, there should be a benchmark. Like for something really fast, it's the speed of light, but there's no set rate for the slowest. In my opinion, the low end of the scale should be the speed of toenails. They're pretty fuckin' slow. I colored my big toenail with permanent marker last November, and I just realized that I can still see specks less than halfway from the quick of the nail...

Get well soon, Pope...

So my friend Adam wrote a post about the pope and I just had to give my two cents on it too. I suggest reading his first.

First off, I think this Pope thing is being way over-publicized. The pope's pulled through alot of stuff and it seems the only info the press have, has been leaked. Big P's tough. He'll make it. I'm crossing my fingers that he'll be OK... Anyway, I feel further elaboration on the pope-ifying process is necessary. I guess how it works is the right-hand man (the camerlengo that is, not Jesus) hits the pope on the forehead with a silver hammer three times, asking after each hit to the holy noggin, "[Insert pope name HERE], are you dead?". After this, he says "I declare that His Holiness [Insert pope name HERE] is truly dead." Full thing here.

Is it just me, or does this whole process seem REALLY open for deception? First: hitting the pope on the forehead with a hammer before asking him if he's dead/conscious, when it's usually the guy who's up next for pope who is the one doing the knocking? Second: How about that same dude counting the ballots, then burning them? If I were this camerlengo character... Well, I've written a quasi-poem about what I might do:

While he's asleep in bed,
I could pop him on the head,
Ask him if he's dead,
Then to the polls I'd tread.

Take the cardinals of the land,
And I could count their votes by hand,
And now the best part -- This is grand,
Cause I could burn them as I'd planned.

The votes, not the cardinals, that is.

Of course, I personally would never do this, I just felt that a first-person poem would best describe what someone could do, were they malicious. You've got to admit, the election system has some gaping loop-holes. These loop-holes are so large that I'm pretty sure you could use them to hang elephants... Or any number of large mammals, for that matter.

One word: Drats... I mean.... drats.

Once, some friends (I don't remember who was involved anymore) and I were having a conversation and somehow it got on the topic of how one of them always did number 2 before they pissed -- or maybe it was that they flushed in between. That way, nothing "splashed up", cause that was really gross. Everyone else involved in the conversation nodded and agreed and was like, "Yeah, good point.", but I remember thinking, in my intenal monologue voice of course, "IT'S YOUR ASSHOLE! YOU POOP OUT OF IT! It's not the cleanest place to begin with!". I just feel that it's possible to spend time solving more productive problems. And I don't just mean those clichéd ones like "world peace" or "child poverty" or even "the caramilk secret", but maybe find out something like "the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow", or "why 11 isn't pronounced onety-one"...

Thought of the moment: If there is no God, then who pops up the next Kleenex in the box?

Last Night

Today has been the least productive day ever. No kidding. Less productive than that time when I was 10 and decided to build all the puzzles in my house. Man, did we have a lot of puzzles. At least after that day, I had something to show for all the wasted time. Namely: puzzles. Now I don’t even have puzzles. All I have is the remnants of my headache.

If you haven’t ventured a guess, I was drinking last night. Good ol’ Open Mic Wednesdays… It was ridiculously packed last night! For like the first time ever, we actually had a few drinks before going down to the Breezeway. Usually that doesn’t happen. We were kinda bored so we made up a drinking game for six people where each person is assigned a number between 1 and 6, then you roll a die. If it lands on your number, you take a drink. Simple, eh? Lesson learned: Rolling dice is not a game of chance; Six appears more often than statistically expected.

Anyway, at the Breezeway, Meghan and I tried to co-ordinate a swindle of the neon Budweiser sign off the wall. I figured I’d be cool to have another sign not only since the other one is a little broken, but also because Lovell (Pic: Turned his exam beard into a handlebar mustache last year. Wicked.) seems to have claimed it. I don’t think I’m getting it back. So I crawled behind the curtain divider that they had set up, up the stairs, and then crouched below the waist-high wall. Since only the front half of the bar was supposed to be in use, Meghan was on the cell phone telling me when the bartenders and bouncers were walking by. I was planning on grabbing the sign and making a run out the patio doors. I got it unplugged and unhooked from the wall, but guess what? I guess, now they actually STRAP the signs to screws in the wall, as opposed to just hanging them like they did before. It kinda sucks that I couldn’t get another, but it’s also kinda cool that I left a legacy at MUN. I mean, maybe I’ll go back in 20 years with my kids and the Breezeway’ll still be strapping the neon signs to the wall to keep people from stealing them, and I’ll say, with a proud glimmer in my eyes, “Kids, that’s because of me.” And then I’ll tell them to… I don’t know… make me pasta or something, cause hey, they’re my kids and I can make them do whatever I want.

And oh yeah, last night when me, Mills, and Mitch got home from the Breezeway, we grabbed Coleman and some tools and went down to Martin’s room. Since his door was unlocked, we opened it up, and proceeded to remove all the screws that held the hinges in place. After the door was off, we brought it all the way from first floor up to the fourth floor telephone booth, and left it there. We left Martin a note telling him where it was, and the plan was that we’d put it back on ourselves in the morning. Anyway, it didn’t work out so innocently cause, Shawn (the proctor) got pretty mad, and a work order got put in to get the union guys to come put the door on. Yeah… that means Housing knows. Shawn called me down for a “talk” and long-story-short, he said that he’s going to decide what to do within 24 hours. I’m kinda worried.

So back to being non-productive, like I started out saying. I woke up, threw up, then cleaned up (the leaner that Martin had placed on our door once he realized that his own door was missing, that is), watched a few "eps" -- Hurrah for unnecessary abbreviations! -- of 24 with Mack, went back to sleep till about 6:20, ate supper, openned canteen, then... wrote this blog. It might sound like alot, but the fact that I can pretty much sum up my whole day in one sentence is pretty sad. And oh yeah, a common theme throughout the whole day was aching pain. God bless Tylenol.

PS - A "leaner" is a garbage-can full of water that someone leans against your door so that when you open it, it tips over and turns your floor into a puddle.

SITE: Good lord. This baffles me, yet is strangely entertaining...


How come nobody calls anyone "rapscallions" and "ragamuffins" anymore? I'd still find these terms offensive...