a life in the day of me

Ridiculous bear analogies prevail yet again

2007-04-03T22:49:00.000-02:30

So I'm in the library studying some Psych, and I come across this pretty little fact in the textbook:

"For every self-defense use of a gun in the home, there are 4 unintentional shootings, 7 criminal assaults or homicides, and 11 attempted or completed suicides."

So I'm thinking, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH AMERICA THAT THEY CAN'T JUST OUTLAW THIS SHIT??? How can a tradition penned centuries ago by some dudes who didn't have any concept of social theory, still be upheld so vehemently today?

Trying to see it from another's perspective, I imagined a possible retort to the presentation of this fact. It might go something like this: "The solution is not to ban guns, but to introduce legislation and fund programs that will help control their misuse."

So in light of this imagined arguement, I present this simple analogy:
You've got a hypothetical playpen full of babies who are playing with lego, and, every so often, one of them puts a piece in their mouth and chokes to death. In order to alleviate the problem, you introduce a bear, highly trained in the art of CPR, into the playpen. Now, every so often, the bear will properly carry out his intended task, resulting in one rescued baby. The problem is that the vast majority of the time, the bear simply mauls and eats the children.

So how in the name of God do you solve this perplexing problem? REMOVE THE BABY-EATING BEAR FROM THE PLAYPEN!! Take the fucking bear OUT! Don't send the bear for more training, don't introduce more bears, don't ask for all bears to be registered at the CPR-bear registration bureau, just REMOVE THE BEARS FROM THE EQUATION! BEARS AND BABIES SHOULD NOT CO-EXIST. The dangerous solution makes for a more dangerous playpen for all babies, despite the minor problem that initially existed. So give the trained bears to the police, to handle the REAL problems. Or professional hunters... to... hunt ducks and... albatross...

...OK. So I must admit -- this is where the analogy starts to break down, but you get the jist of it. Guns = bad

My take on several doomsday scenarios

2007-02-28T04:26:00.000-03:30

Everyone seems to be terrified of nuclear war, but I believe that there's an upside to a nuclear holocaust. What possible upside, you ask? Well -- If science has taught me anything, it's that Earth will simply absorb all the energy directed toward it, and will be instantaneously promoted to a higher orbit, most likely outside of Saturn's. Also, if I understand correctly, this orbit will be much more exciting than our previous orbit, and will undoubtedly involve many parties and a large excess of beautiful women.

If you don't get why all this is true, then bone up on your physics.

Speaking of end-of-the-world scenarios, last semester, Craig and I were talking about alternate strategies for dealing with earth-bound asteroids. The whole send-a-rocket-to-blow-it-to-smithereens thing is way too overplayed, bu I've got a better idea, and it's simple...

Hamburgers.

Yeah, that's right: Hamburgers. How does this solve the problem of a massive rock hurtling toward us at unspeakable speeds? Well, simple -- The current world population is about 6.5 billion, so it's safe to assume that it will be 8 billion by the time this plan would come into action. So that means, at any time, half the population (4 billion) would have a line of sight with any approaching interstellar object. All we'd have to do is organize it so that everybody on one side of the Earth -- the side facing the world-obliterated asteroid -- had a hamburger. Everyone would wait until just the right moment, and then some dude from NASA would yell "NOW!", and everyone would throw their hamburgers into the air at the same time. The 4 billion hamburgers, each weighing about a quarter pound, would make for one billion pounds of minced meat hurtling towards said asteroid. I mean -- I don't have time to work out the calculations, but that is a lot of freaking meat. I'm sure it would deflect an asteroid...

But hey -- If it didn't, then we could simply fall back on the alternate plan, which would involve a few people throwing spices and seasoning into the air. These would combine with the hamburger and intense heat before falling back down to Earth, where we would all enjoy delicious tacos in the moments before we were purged from existence.

Old Blog Repost Series - #1

2006-12-16T00:56:00.000-03:30

I had another anonymous blog over the summer, but have just decided to transfer some of the old posts over when I've got nothing else to write about. Sorry if you've already read this...

------ Originally posted August 1st, 2006 -----
So I ran out of gas today...

Yeah -- I know, I know... lame. I know exactly what you're thinking: "Who runs out of gas??? Are you a monkey? Because only a monkey wouldn't realize he was out of gas. No, on second thought, even a monkey would realize that, so you must be something less. Perhaps you are an inanimate object, such as a piece of chalk. Yes -- you are likely a piece of chalk, which would certainly have no concept of a gas tank, nor the degree to which it was filled, yet you have somehow unlocked the secrets of the internet and discovered blogging."

Well, before you get all preposterous on me, I have an excuse. My van is a piece of shit. It must have some type of loose wire somewhere, because the console dials turn on and off. They'll work just fine for a long while, but then everything will just shut off for weeks at a time. I'm talking speed, gear, gas guage, odometer, etc. Though I can live without knowing the core temperature and RPM of my 1998 Caravan, gas and speed seem to be pretty integral to the whole driving experience.

But I'm not completely in the dark, since I've figured out how to manage speed, at least on the highways. Y'see, my van is a rocket. Sadly, I don't mean "rocket" in the sweet-vehicle-that-gets-me-chicks way. I mean that, at 130 kmph, everything in my van starts vibrating and shaking and groaning. I'm talking serious rumbling, as in -- Prepare-for-re-entry rumbling. So the strategy for going the 120-kmph limit is to take my van up to vibration-speed, then reel it in a notch. I like to think that this is how my anscestors used to drive... I feel so cave-man.

So the speed problem is solved, at least for major throughfares, but that still leaves gas to chance, prayer, and (at least in the end) the angle of my van. Which leads me to today, I was cruising through the city, and then -- just BLAM -- car starts stuttering and stalling. I'd just passed a gas station a minute ago, so (being naively optimistic), I tried to pull a no-gas U-turn on a busy road. Taking it wide, I rolled up onto the sidewalk, where this dude -- the nerve of him! -- was just strolling leisurely down the sidewalk as if he owned the place. His back was to me and he was blabbing on his cell phone, completely oblivious to the minivan on his heels.

So I honked. Given his road-side location, I guess he was pretty surprised to see me. I then succintly explained that I was out of gas and needed to conserve, so as to make it to the next service station ("MOVE! NO GAS! NEED EVERY DROP!" out the window as I rolled past). So I got turned around, but since the gas station was up a hill, I didn't get far. At the very least, I learned that gas needs to be at the front of the tank in order to be useful for locomotion. The line behind me was a about a dozen cars long before I deciding that this was no way to get gas into my poor van. So I coasted into a parking lot and left it in the open, not even having enough to make it to a parking space.

From here, I just booted it up to the Irving, where the cashier watched, perplexed, as I inspected the beverages, bought a 2L jug of water, walked outside, and dumped it out. I then filled it up with gas, paid, and ran back down the street. If you live in Saint John and happened to see some dude tearing down the street with what looked to be a large bottle of urine, then that was probably me. Once I got to the van, I realized something. Since recessed gas tanks aren't designed to accept liquid from a generic-brand water bottle, I could only get about $2 of the $3 worth of gas into the tank. And that was only with me thrusting the nozzle of the bottle into the gas openning with great velocity, in an effort to get the last little bits in. Needless to say, gas covered the side of my van and the ground in the immediate vicinity. I guess I can't complain though, since it was enough to get me to the next gas station.

So why didn't we have my van fixed ages ago? Well we've tried, but as I said, the problem is on-again-off-again. What happens is this: We book an appointment with the car dude, but by the time we get it in, the symptoms are gone. The car guy could never find anything wrong, so after 3 or 4 visits, he probably thinks that we're a family of vehicular hypochondriacs.

So... yeah... the end.

Best song EVER

2006-12-14T20:52:00.000-03:30

OK, so apparently they're old news in the indie music blogosphere, but I've just started listening to them, and they are fantastic. Who am I talking about? The band "Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin", that's who!

Take a listen to "I Am Warm and Powerful" if you want to know what I'm talking about. And don't be a douche who sits through only half the song, cause the changes in time that kick in halfway through are part of what makes it so awesome.

Anyway, here's the link!

Let's play a game.

2006-12-13T12:33:00.000-03:30

OK, here's how it works -- Guess what makes this sound:

HHHGGGUH *clink* PLLLHHHHF "god DAMN!"

Can you figure it out? No? It's the sound of me spitting toothpaste all over my glasses, which have just fallen off of my face into the sink.

Go me.

But only one exam left! I'm just heading to bed for the day, and should be up by 8pm to start studying again...

WRITE PATRICK, WRITE!

2006-12-09T02:43:00.000-03:30

So it's Friday night, and my thesis introduction still isn't done. What's more, I don't even have anything written past the outline. All I've got is what Coleman and Craig came in and wrote while I was gone:

Atagcgata Pats thesis is the best thing a monkey ever puked into a pile of
rocks.
CAGTAGCATGTACGTAGCTAGFAGGGGGGGG
hello there young skywalker this is dr doom from the fantastic 4. I have been waiting a long time to talk to you mr CAGTAGCTGATCGA and now we must dual.
Choose your word that stats with H and
I don’t remember the rest.
I choose sword.
Ok H word goes first.
And he hits and takes 47 hp off of doom.
Doom then uses his electric sword to take off 87 hp and H WORD DIES NOOOOOO
ok dr doom rules
Holla
THE EMD

Man -- I'm fucked.

Quickie

2006-12-07T23:32:00.000-03:30

I realize that I haven't posted in forever, but I'll just jump back in like nothing happened. Hopefully I'll do some catch-up stuff later, for all those folks at home and abroad who may or may not stumble upon this site again.

As for right now, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news.
The bad: I'm scrambling to get my honours thesis done for tomorrow. Then I have to start studying for my exams.

The good: I've invented a new drink.
Just buy a 600 mL Coke -- Or wait... Ahem. I mean 591 mL Coke. Fuckin corporate commie bastards weaseling me out of 9 mL of delicous beverage...

So take the bottle of Coke, and drink half. Then go to Tim Horton's (or your preferred local conglomerated pseudo-cafe) and buy a small coffee. Pour into the remnants of your Coke, and -- VOILA -- Coca-Coffee!

Not the finest of inventions, but what can I say... Tastes like ass but helps me pass.

Back?

2006-05-09T22:16:00.000-02:30

Anyone remember "Active Worlds"? My brother brought it up earlier today. What is was was a chat program in which my brother and sister and I all had accounts. The jist of it was that we could walk around this 3D world that was thousands of virtual acres, and we could build houses and chat with other people who appeared to be other good-willed netizens.

Given the recent hoo-hah surrounding child safety on the net, I think this childhood experience should be re-evaluated. Thinking back, it was a very shifty situation. Chris has concluded that our parents had no clue what we were doing, and must have assumed that we were playing a regular videogame. After all, what else would explain why they'd allowed us to join such a sketchy online community when we were no older than 10. Sketchy how, you ask? Well, let's just put it this way -- It wouldn't surprise me if half the Active Worlds members had purchased their first computer by pawning off their large black cargo van, and then paid the first month's internet bill by liquidating their vast supply of delicious candy. Having vacated the playground parking lots, these people now found themselves in their reclining swivvle chairs, basking in the glow of CRT monitors while "surrounded" by small children just itching to talk to strangers.

Thinking back, I remember that every once in awhile, we'd meet someone online who was especially talkative. They'd chat, and find out the general area where we lived, then they'd invite us over to their virtual home, which they'd built at N450 W450... Sound creepy? Yep. But at the time? We'd just made a "friend".

In a way, my siblings and I were sort of like pioneers in 1995/6. Remember when drinking and driving was cool, simply because people didn't know any better? While it may be a stretch to call them "pioneers", we, as children of the unguarded internet, were like those first drunk-drivers -- cruising around the interweb, drunk on information and communication, and running into pedophiles like they were potholes.

Ok, so I just googled "Active Worlds" in order to find a picture, and found a site that seems somewhat suspicious. My suspicions seemed to be confirmed when I clicked a link to read reviews of the different "worlds" (there were a bunch). The only review was for "AWTeen". Here's an excerpt:

So, what could one say about a world such as AWTeen? Well for one it is a diverse place, with younger folks from all over the globe... as the world title, suggest it is a place for teens and teens at heart.

"TEENS AT HEART"?? Hmm... So what qualifies someone as a teen at heart? Is this a valid designation?

"Statutory rape??? Lord no, your honour! I'm just a teen a heart!"

Good grief.

And sorry about the lack of updates or contact of any sort. I've kind of been neglecting the ol' blog -- what with having worked EVERY day since I got back home about 2 weeks ago. And tomorrow, I'm going to Hailfax to host a high-school model UN conference, so... Hurrah!!

-----------------------

Russian credo
RUSSIA: Where the men and men... and the women are too.

-----------------------

Random thought:
If I could be an eternal match-maker, arranging marriages over generations and generations, what would I do? I'd probably mate people with various odd phobias, creating whole families of people who were terrified of ridiculous things. Like bread. At the same time, I would go through the same process with people who really loved those same things that the other families had phobias toward. Over the generations, these would probably turn into fetishes. I would then force both these families to live together. And then I'd film it and make it into a sitcom. It would be called... People Who are Scared of Things and People Who Aren't. I would win a Daytime Emmy.

You know your take-homefinal essay is bad when...

2006-04-18T00:00:00.000-02:30

...the last line of the email in which you submit it is:

Again, I apologize for the oncoming assault on all your rational senses...

For serious. I'm going to bed.

I'm too busy to post right now,so I'll link to Ashley's blog

2006-04-17T20:40:00.000-02:30

The title says it all. No need for any more... y'know... those things... describe-amajigs... WORDS! That's the describe-amajig I was looking for!

Ashley talking about today

Coleman being pseudo-angry at Ashley

Ashley's tribute to Coleman and I

The end.

Bright Eyes

2006-04-08T19:29:00.000-02:30

Bright Eyes - The First Day of My Life

When the President Talks to God (Protest Song on Leno)

That's all I got. I wrote a real post yesterday...

Conversations with myself

2006-04-07T20:36:00.000-02:30

So Ashley says I talk to myself.

Apparently all the time, while I'm alone in parts of the house. My defense is that I'm not actually talking to myself, but only talking in the hopes that someone will listen to me. So it's more an issue of me just being sad & lonely, as opposed to outright weird & crazy -- which is kind of comforting... maybe?

She told me this when I came up from my room earlier today. I guess I'd been cursing downstairs as I was looking for something. I hadn't really thought about it before, but the accusation got me thinking... I suppose that I do speak quite a bit when no one else is around... One of those habits that I don't notice until someone else points it out to me -- Like how I recently found out that I double-up words all the time, such as "cool cool" and "ok ok" and "yeah yeah".

So as I was thinking about all this in the kitchen, I got it in my head that I was going to turn this habit around. I was going to stop it before it got out of hand.

"I, Patrick Cahill Connolly, will hereby never talk to myself AGAIN!" I announced triumphantly.

And then I had to call Ashley back in, because she'd left the room while I'd been mulling it over.

Given that my mom is also prone to talking to herself, I have a feeling that this might be genetic. She also has a habit of making up words that she thinks fit what she wants to say, but I don't think I've inherited that little quirby. But it does seem that my talking-to-myself issue is a little worse than hers is.

Hopefully my problem doesn't get worse with age, but just in case it does, I've got a solution: Surround myself with dogs. It's not seen as quite so odd when people talk to their animals. With this strategy, instead of turning into a crazy old man who talks to himself incessantly, I would simply turn into an elderly fellow who really loves his animals.

So they wouldn't be so much pets, but objects at which to channel my pent-up senility.

Come to think of it, with this solution comes yet more problems, since I would now be an old man who lives in a house full of dogs...

Drats. Is there no way to win?? Am I doomed to be CRAZY?!?

"Yes. Yes you are."

SHUT UP!!!

I haven't died

2006-04-06T16:23:00.001-02:30

So Ashley and I were chilling out in the TV room a couple of nights ago, watching the news. Our house watches the news fairly regularly, since we've only got two glorious channels of antenae-fed televational goodness. Actually, it'd be more appropriate to say that we've got 1.5 channels, since the sound on one of them often freaks out and starts buzzing really loudly for no apparent reason. It's baffling, since it's the CBC station that does this, and the CBC building, with its 20-foot broadcast dish, is located a hundred yards down the road -- so go figure. If you ever stop by our house, there's a good chance that you'll find a buzzing television and at least one person literally yelling at it. I don't think I've ever cursed with so much conviction as I've done when I'm watching that goddamn TV...

So anyway, Ashley and I were watching a news story and Alisha comes down into the room. She glances at the screen, then goes "Oh this guy! He's like 19 now? Started when he was 14 years old, right?"

Ashley and I both: "Yeah..."

"Yeah, I've seen some of his stuff before."

Blank looks from Ashley and me.

"Huh, what? No? What's this kid do then?"

We looked at each other, then back at Alisha, who was keeping a straight face and apparently being serious. Then Ashley answered:

"Umm... child pornography."

Anyway, I'm not sure who Alisha thought he actually was (cause I was laughing as she tried to explain), but she'd coincidentally nailed all the facts on the kid who, testifying at an Online Child Safety hearing, had formerly been mixed up in the kiddie porn business.

I found it funny. The misunderstanding, that is -- not the child pornstar...

Robot fights are freakin' sweet.

2006-03-30T22:23:00.000-03:30

Now all someone needs to do is pit one of these mofos against a monkey. On that day, my life will be complete.

So maybe making a monkey fight a robot isn't humane but... well... then I'm not picky. I'd be just as happy to see a baby duke it out with the robot.

Babies don't "duke", you say? Well... then that's their fault.

Story/VIDEO from high school

2006-03-25T14:24:00.000-03:30

Ok, I should really be working on my essay right now, but I need a little break, so I'll gonna tell a story.

Back in grade 12, Adam "Lefty" Leclerc and I were working on a Physics video project: "The Adventures of Fiz & Ix". Hmmm... come to think of it, maybe I'll post it sometime... It's a whole lotta nonsense, but it's still mildly amusing.

Well anyway, we were filming at my house for awhile, and Coleman said that we could use his place for a scene in which we needed to throw one of his cats off the deck (Man oh man, I really need to post that video). So we get to Coleman's place, and I've got to tell you: Coleman has a really nice house -- all hardwood and glass-panel doors, and tables with really thin legs. So we're in his house -- no one else is home -- and we catch his cat in the garage. Since we're not quite ready for the throw-the-cat-off-the-freakin-deck scene, Adam and I are debating how to keep the cat in one place. Being the geniuses that we are, we figure that the best mode of action is to tie one of these things (usually used as a stake to tie my dog out in the backyard) around the cat's neck. If you have to know, we've got it with us (along with some twine) for possible use as props in the movie.

So we tie this big honkin' metal spike around this little cat's neck, and -- dontcha know -- she starts to walk away. Looking back, what follows makes perfect sense, since all this stupid cat knows is that she's strutting along and suddenly hears this grating, rumbling sound as if something's following behind her. So all her catty instincts come into play and she started running. In the split-second as she's speeding up, Adam ad I both look at each other -- surrounded by all the breakable, expensive things in Coleman's house -- and we're both thinking the same thing: "Good. Lord."

So the cat freaks out and starts tearing through the kitchen -- between the legs of the hardwood stools and around the corner into the "living room". So maybe you're not familiar with the terminology, since maybe it's a Maritime thing, but out here people don't "live" in the "living room". For some reason they just gather all the expensive and pretty things in their homes, and place them all in this one little enclosed place. Yeah -- it's beyond me...

So I'm just about full-fledged panic at this point as I tear after the cat, hearing all the bangs and smacks of the metal on wooden floors and walls. Luckily for us, it doesn't get any worse than this, since as the cat was sailing past an inwardly open door (on the way into the living room), the twine was pulled underneath and so the metal stake was been pinned on one side. Good thing I'm not skilled in knot-ery, because if the twine hadn't released the cat, the stake might have eventually been freed as the cat flailed around. Or Coleman's cat would have strangled itself, but that would hardly have been a negative aspect...

So anyway, here's the video we made for that school project. Not the best quality, but it was fun. And yes -- we are doofuses.

School strikes back

2006-03-22T00:39:00.000-03:30

Unfortunately for myself, I'll be working on a bunch of things for the next two weeks, so I probably won't be doing any major updates. Possible exceptions may exist for after the Burke House Formal on Saturday, but that all depends on how my essays go...

In the meantime, here's something I found in the WalkSafe room tonight: The synopsis on the back of the "Godzilla VS Megalon" VHS.

The whole point of "borrowing" it was to take a picture, but just in case you can't read it, here's what it says:

The evil Seatopians have a plot to take over the world by unleashing Megalon-a giant cockroach-like monster. The people of Tokyo need their hero Godzila to save them, but where is he? Scientists build the cyborg Jet Jaguar, who can change size and shape at will, to find him.
Meanwhile Megalon has found a new friend-Gigan-the giant metal bird with a buzz saw in his stomach. Together Megalon and Gigan wreak havoc on the Earth, and only Godzilla and Jet Jaguar can stop them!

Closing remarks

2006-03-19T19:34:00.000-03:30

Alas, the magic of the mystery of my broken window is no more. Ashley solved the puzzle earlier today while talking to Keough...

"So Ashley, was your house pretty beat up after?"

"Oh yeah, like... you don't even know."

"So how was Pat's window?"

"How'd you know about that???"

"Huh? We were standing in the driveway. The window flew open and Pat crawled out, pulled himself across the pavement, and threw up in the snowbank."

So yeah. The story was not as magical as I had at first thought it might be. I think Friday night was a low-point in my life. Don't get me wrong -- I was the happiest kid on the block right up until the moment when my GI tract started running in reverse. It's just that I have never been that drunk -- for that long a period -- in my entire life. All in all, even though I did lose vast reserves of dignity and bodily fluids, I don't think I've ever had such a prolonged sense of glee... or rather, man-joy, because as I've said before, guys don't tend to do the whole "glee" thing.

So yeah, since I awoke Saturday morning in my frigid bedroom, beneath a broken window -- a window in which the pane had not just been pierced, but of which the whole frame had been removed and replaced upside down -- since then, it's been a weekend of rediscovery. And now it's coming to a close.

But before it's over, here's one last video from the morning after. I'm not a big fan of it, but Coleman and Ashley are insisting that I post it up anyway. I guess it provides the context around the "poop" remark made in the previous video...

Over and out I'm done. Hope everyone had a good St. Paddy's Day weekend!
And sorry about not responding to any comments, but I assure you that I've read em' all and really appreciate them :)

Our house is broken. [PICTURES/VIDEO!]

2006-03-18T15:38:00.000-03:30

Every party we host seems to be a learning experience.

One of the invaluable house party lessons of yesterday evening was this: Do not ever, under any circumstances whatsoever, throw a party -- an event at which drunk and unreasonable people are prevalent and encouraged -- Do not throw one of these things when you are low on toilet paper. Trust me. Once your stock runs out, people tend to improvise and get "creative", to the detriment of those who own the house.

Here's the damage for the night:

broken screen door
3 broken windows
glass in my bed
someone's barf in Andre's bed
3 gallons of water in Coleman's bed
like 7 of Andre's shirts ruined
a towel with -- ugh -- on it (hint: it was in the TP-less bathroom)
downstairs bathroom door ripped off

It's hard to decide where to begin. Let's see... As alluded to yesterday, I ripped my pants before heading out to the biochemistry faculty mixer. Being that I was already pretty intoxicated, I elected to leave the same pants on and just head over to the mixer as-is (see picture below). In hindsight, it was one of my patented BAD ideas to go to a social event in a pair of pants which left my boxers showing, especially considering that my profs and the head of the department were also going to be there. So I show up wearing the most attention-seeking get-up possible, consisting of a reflective green novelty vest, an orange construction hat, and a squirt bottle full of booze at the hip. I didn't buy a single drink the whole time -- just made my own rum & cokes. They let it slide since it was my birthday :)

So at some point I decided that it would be a good idea to go talk to Dr. Mulligan, the head of the department (extreme right in picture below). This man's a great guy, having always been cool to me, since I get like 90s in his classes and I talk to him fairly often. But, this being said, he IS pretty straight-laced and proper, so he doesn't drink. So I go up and join in on his circle. A few minutes later, there's a lull in the conversation, and one of the secretaries from the Biochem office just says "Oh dear...". I look down and see that my pants are hanging particularly wide open on the right-hand side, exposing pretty much my whole leg up to the belt-level. Still sitting in the circle with the faculty, I quickly take off my reflective green novelty tie and use it as an elastic to wrap around my leg and hold my pants together. From my (perhaps distorted) viewpoint all seemed to go well from there, and as the mixer wound down I mentioned to some of the professors (half jokingly) that there was a party at 12 Hatcher afterwards.

Back at our house, things began to get fuzzy. I know that we walked home around 8pm, bringing a trail of people with us. I also know that Dr. Nag, the prof for my Biological Membranes class, did show up and was drinking at our house until like midnight. Since I don't feel like telling the story of the whole night, nor am I even reasonably capable of doing so, I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking. I only have those from the pre-party portion of the night, since my camera went MIA for quite a stint once people started arriving. Due to the lack of evidence of both a cognitive and photographic nature, I feel I need to stress this: The place was apparently packed. Pretty much our whole three-floor house was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Lovell says that I personally spent half the party standing/dancing on tables, and this was simply because it was the most efficient means of transportation. It would literally take the non-table-oriented folk several minutes to make it across the room, given that every surface was occupied by the throngs of swaying drunks. Estimates from the people I've talked to place the numbers at between 80 and 100, but it's hard to say since not everyone was in the same room. There were people in everyone's bedrooms, on the deck, in the driveway, crammed into the living room and kitchen -- You name it. OK, so on to the pictures!

Before going to the mixer, we did some setting up. Since we don't own a vacuum cleaner, we found some pretty nasty scenes under the couches we tried to move. Instead of actually cleaning it up, we just shuffled furniture around (bringing up the couch from my room) so that space was maximized, while all the exposed dusty spots were minimized. Looks pretty clean in the end, doesn't it? I assure you that it's all an elaborate deception.

I found an old lamp which, despite being extremely fun to play with, had somehow managed to elude any of us tenants since we'd moved in, way back in September. I found it under a bunch of crap in the front closet, and immediately began swinging it around with reckless abandon. I was smacking it into walls and furniture and people for quite some time before it lost my interest. I rediscovered it this morning and plugged it in as we talked in the living room. Periodically, when conversation would start to die down a bit, I'd just be like "Well... back to work." and then I'd throw this big friggin lamp over my shoulder and just stand in the middle of the room with it dangling by my waist. I also wore it around for a good few hours as I cleaned the house, since the long cord gave me a pretty good range of motion. Maybe I'll wear it to class on Monday...

For reasons beyond my current sober-state comprehension, Andre and I were head-butting each other for a few minutes. Yeah, I know... I'm blatantly feeding the stereotypes for college-aged males, but what else can I do? Not head-butt people, you say? But that's preposterous! I was wearing that hardhat all night, and since there happened to be an old hockey helmet floating around too, the stage was set and it was just waiting to happen.

Me and Andre and Ash getting/being drunk before the party. Nuff said.

The next morning, since a bunch of our clocks had been changed, I barged into Ashley's room claiming that it was 11AM instead of 9. I changed her clock to the "correct" time. When she figured it all out, she got kinda mad at me because she'd forced herself to get up when she thought it was so late in the day. Mhen. Loves ya Ashley!

So yeah, we (Chipper, Ashley, Alisha, Coleman, Andre, Kim and me) sat around all morning trying to piece the night together, before moving on to the cleaning/repairing. I've got a video of Coleman explaining what Andre had been doing after some unknown jerks threw an iceball through his window and shattered it. I think it's pretty funny. Just to let you know though, the mention of me and poop was based on a previous conversation that we'd been having, and is in no way -- I repeat, no way -- based on reality! I guess that since my recollection of the evening was so hazy, they'd tried to get me to believe that something had happened when it hadn't...

FREAK OUT!!!

2006-03-17T16:44:00.000-03:30

Today is my birthday.

I woke up at 8 o'clock, drank bailey's in my coffee, then went to class. I have a spray bottle (hooked onto a carabener) which I've had hooked to my hip since this morning. I bought Coke on the way to school. I have rum in the spray bottle. I've been to the Breezeway twice today. I've been to Bitters once. I am quite possibly drunk. I've had a rum & coke in my hand all day, even as I sold ice cream for the UN Society fundraiser. The tiny room we had rented reaked of booze thanks to me. When small children came by for ice cream, I slunk away. I don't have a problem drinking in public, because it's my birthday. Besides, I had the advance over Campus Enforcement -- I had the elemtent of surprise. As in "SURRISE! I'm drunk in public! Betcha didn't expect that, didja?"

Yeah, so my parents named me Patrick, since I wa born on St. Patrick's Day. With that calibre of originality -- just looking at the day of the week and naming me after it -- it's a wonder I wasn't named "Thursday" or "Porkchopnight". Wahtever. Out house will be ridiculous and I'm going upstiars to help set up now. My pants are ripped. My couch wouldn't fit upstairs and we had to cram it up the narrow stairwell, and my pants ripped.

Stream of consciousness or what? Pictures/ mroe posts to follow.
Thanks to everyone who gave me happy birthday shout out today!

PS - O'brian threw a snowball at me today as i was holding a cooler (ice cream sale). I tryied to duck my head, but it's didn't work. All it looked like to anyone else was this: Dude standing there with a cooler. Guy throw snowball 3 feet over his head. Guy ducks his face down really quick and smacks his face full-force into the cooler he is carrying, then starts bleeding from the mouth. The end.

PARTY!

2006-03-15T01:11:00.000-03:30

HOUSE PARTY AT 12 HATCHER ON FRIDAY!!!

It's a liquor-luck (modified version of a potluck), so everyone needs to bring an exciting type of liquor. The deal is that whoever brings their own liquor puts it into the community cabinet, and they're allowed to drink whatever they want from it. We want everyone to bring twenty-sixers/quarts, but if you're extremely cheap or otherwise poor, then flasks/pints will be allowed -- you'll just have to keep in mind that the cabinet won't be quite so all-you-can-drinkerific.

So yeah, this should be fun, especially since it coincides exactly with my birthday, and in the same week as Saralynn and Raylene's! I'm am SO pumped!

And tomorrow night (Wednesday) is Open Mic Night for SL and Raylene's birthdays! SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARALYNN! HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAYLENE!

This week is turning into a throw-away...

Sorry bout the lack of updates, but I'll probably start writing more next week when the work starts to get heavy :)

LibrAARRRRRRy!

2006-03-10T10:31:00.000-03:30

As I was walking up the enclosed stairwell in the library, I saw this guy who looked a little familiar. I passed him, trying to place his face, but it wasn't until I was headed up the next flight of stairs that it came to me.

"Hey," I called out, leaning across the railing overlooking the stairs below, "Didn't you fall through my deck last semester?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you fell right through the railing and landed on your face."

"Oh. yeah... I was pretty drunk."

You sure were, you big, fat party animal, you... and quite a jerk, if I remember correctly, though I didn't say this part out loud. Had he been able to even stand upright that night without falling into a kiddie-pool, he probably would have been deemed fair game and had his ass kicked six ways past Sunday. I don't even understand that expression, but I'll assume that it means "kicked really freaking hard".

On a related note, the whole reason that I was in the library in the first place was to check out a few more books. I happen to have a lot of books out at the moment, so as I checked out these extra two, I asked what the limit was.

"There isn't any limit on the number of books you can sign out," said my good friend Library-Patrick.

"Whoa whoa whoa. No limit? As in, there's nothing in the library code that allows you to prevent me from signing out as many books as I want?"

Reluctantly, "No..."

And that, my friends, is a lack of foresight of the highest degree. And it got me thinking. I walked over to the public computers, and did some quick research. From what I can tell, there is absolutely no Guinness world-record for the most library books signed out at once. None.

Given the library loophole that seems to be present, I can outright plunder the library -- like some type of goddamn library pirate -- and there's absolutely nothing those stinking library beaurocrats can do about it! OK, that's unfair... there was no need for the "stinking" comment, because all the library folk seem rather pleasant...

But the point is that I can plunder! -- PLUNDER, I SAY! Plunder and pillage and plunder some more -- just like real library pirates would do, were they to exist! And then they'll put my name in a big book, where it will live for all eternity. Or at least until some other knavish library pirate pilfers me bounty. Ahem. My bounty... My fame.

...YAAAAAARRRRRRR.

All pirating aside, I think I'm going to email Guinness World Records to see if the record actually exists.

If only blogging were always this easy

2006-03-09T22:52:00.000-03:30

Coleman came downstairs just as I was giving up on trying to write a blog entry. I started to explain that I just wasn't getting any blogging vibes tonight. Naturally, he had something to say.

"What do you mean? It's easy. Just look around your room, pick out an object, and blog about it!"

"Coleman... That's a stupid idea."

"No, it isn't. You just have to make something up."

At this point, Coleman put on my cowboy hat (don't ask) and started swaggering around my room with what he no doubt imagined was a dashing cowboy-strut. He then started in with a drawling, monotone cowboy-voice, "I was born... a ramblin’ man --"

I cut him off, "Coleman, that is a song and you didn't make it up."

"...Oh."

And now I'm blogging it... because I'm a sucker who falls for Coleman's clever attention-seeking ploys. He gets great satisfaction from being blogged about. I think he should get his own blog, cause he's free-loading off of mine and I don't fuckin appreciate it.

What a jerk.

On being irresponsible

2006-03-08T00:16:00.000-03:30

I've done absolutely no real work in the past two nights. For complicated reasons, I didn't need to go to any of my classes this morning, so last night, Coleman and Julia and I had a few drinks and watched a movie while everyone else in the house got high.

As Ashley mentioned in her blog, I spilt some water in the kitchen last night. Since she tried to call me on it, Coleman and I picked her up and used her socked feet, her back, and her head to wipe up the floor and counter. It was funny. I laughed.

Also, Ashley things that she might go on unemployment. Normally, I'd be against this blatant manipulation of the system, but I know that she'll use the time to volunteer, cause that's just what she does. It's not like she'll just be sitting around all day, smelling bad and contributing nothing to society except a stream of illicit drugs. **cough Hendric cough**

Aaaaand tonight was volunteering at WalkSafe with Coleman and Fraser. Being that I'd picked up a bottle in Ottawa and that Fraser was heading off for Amsterdam soon, we started talking about Absinthe. Supposedly, the wormwood extract in the real-deal stuff makes you go crazy with a condition called Absinthism -- resulting in dementia, hallucinations, and seizures. Since wormwood grows along the highways in Newfoundland, we got into a discussion about making our own authentic Absinthe, since the stuff you can get in most parts of the world is only for novelty purposes -- lacking that key crazy-maker wormwood ingredient. I figure most of the effects wouldn't be that bad... with the possible exception of the seizures. Then again, even the seizures wouldn't be so bad if we put a positive spin on them. For instance, if we thought of them not so much as seizures, but moreso as... involuntarily rocking out. That sounds bad-ass, doesn't it? Shit -- even people with epilepsy probably wouldn't feel so down about themselves if, instead of telling them that they had a debilitating condition, we told them that they simply had a subconscious urge to rock-out hardcore whenever the strobe-lights started going.

Chaos Theory

2006-03-07T03:27:00.000-03:30

What is chaos theory, you ask? I'l tell you what it is. Chaos theory is eight screeching Sparks -- basically just mini-Girlguides with half the maturity and twice the vocal pitch -- confined in a small gymnasium-like enclosure.

I just got back from CANIMUN (which was a blast, by the way), and volunteered to help with the "What Kind of World" UN awareness program, put on by the UN society. Since one of our society members is the leader of a Sparks group, we figured we'd go over and enlighten them as to the ways of the United Nations.

Let me just say this: Five-year-old girls have no interest in learning about the purposes of the Economic and Social Committee (ECOSOC). Actually, I don't think it's so much that they have no interest in ECOSOC, just that they have an inexplicable amount of interest in screaming and running around in circles -- which doesn't happen to be conducive to learning about ECOSOC.

Basically what we did was try to do little games to get them to learn about basic issues like human rights, UN organizations like ECOSOC, and the purpose of the UN itself. I admit that it was probably over their heads, but it ended up going pretty well -- At least for yours truly. I worked with kids for two summers, so I know all the tricks. As a result, they wanted to play my game twice, instead of telling me that my game was boring (which they did to the other presenters). Also, as we played the wind-down game of tag, a little girl tapped my knees to get my attention, and then gave me a hug.

That made my day.

While I'm on the topic, little girls playing tag in a confined space is hilarious. As I'm told, tag is used at the end of every Sparks meeting in order to tire everyone out -- and I must say: these kids make manipulation look easy. Let me set the scene: Leader yells "Tag! {Insert little girl's name}'s it!". Little girls begin running counterclockwise around the room, screaming constantly. After a few minutes, the girls are still running in the same direction -- shrieking their little heads off -- and it appears as if the majority of them are now somehow "it". Soon, the rate of whirling of the tag-circle slows considerably, and the screaming begins to subside as the little girls become oxygen deprived. One by one, they fly out of the spinning ring, only to crash against the wall and slide, panting, to the floor. I'm told that it works every week, without fail.

Other things that happened:

Two girls simultaneously slapped me in the ass. Under other circumstances, this may have made me feel sexy, providing that the girls had not been FIVE FREAKING YEARS OLD! Baffled as to what the appropriate response to this might be, I elected to just ignore it.
While playing one game ("What Time Is It Mr. Wolf?"), I was chasing this one tiny little girl, who I tagged on the back of the shoulder with like two fingers. Only TWO! Let me tell you -- this little girl flew. She was airborne for like three and a half seconds. Oddly, after she hit the ground, she got right back up and continued with her screaming and giggling. What a trooper.
During the opening UN spiel, one of our guys asked the big group of girls "What do you guys think the United Nations are for?". There was a few moments of utter silence, before one diligent child piped up "Counting!". I mean -- double-you-tee-eff?!? I found this really funny. Kids say the darndest things, don't they?

Week-long Hiatus

2006-03-01T01:56:00.000-03:30

Ashley's here, my school crap is done, and I'm leaving for the airport in about and hour... Should be a good time in Ottawa doing this whole model UN thing!

I probably won't get around to updating while I'm gone, but I'll be back on Sunday night -- Ya know... just in case anyone cares :)

I realize that I've been slacking it up lately in terms of original content, but I'm thinking I'll put a little more effort into my posts when I get back.