| Verb Object |
[Mar. 6th, 2009|01:38 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  lazy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Bird & The Bee - Meteor | ] |
There was this guy like, three months ago who walked into work with several hundred dollars of unused merchandise, and his original bills. He traded it for parts for another car.
He walked in again yesterday to return the other parts he'd bought. I'd actually even remembered his name and could easily have found the bill in the computer, but as a matter of procedure I asked if he had his original invoice.
"Well... I had it in an envelope on my dresser, and the dog got at it, and, ya know, one thing leads to another..."
That's right, I asked someone for something and they told me that their dog ate it.
Maybe I am destined to be a teacher someday? |
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| Hey, not like anyone will see it anyways, haha. |
[Jan. 22nd, 2009|08:50 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Feist - Inside & Out | ] |
“Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.”
Charlie Brown was a genius.
And I love peanut butter too, damnit. |
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| :o |
[Dec. 16th, 2008|10:27 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Ben Folds - Brainwascht | ] |
The odometer in the car at work rolled over 3333 at 3:33 today while I was driving.
The statistician in me came a little. |
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| ... |
[Dec. 12th, 2008|04:26 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  amused | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Rilo Kiley - Dejalo | ] |
 |
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| Canadian Politics: Magic The Gathering Edition |
[Dec. 5th, 2008|12:12 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  tired | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Ben Folds & Regina Spektor - You Don't Know Me | ] |
Harper: Jakulhaups
Harper: The Cheese Stands Alone
Dion: Think Twice
/change turn
Dion: Sliver Queen
Dion: Coalition Victory
Harper: Delay
/change turn
Harper: Propaganda
Dion: Misdirection |
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| Flashback: Candyass |
[Oct. 17th, 2008|07:27 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | flashback | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | okay | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Rise Against - Kotov Syndrome | ] |
As it stands now, I am not a pillar of knowledge in terms of sexual prowess.
I mean I'm not going on a tangent about what I do and do not know about various sexual acts and the female anatomy and where's the best place to pee on her, but I don't lie about the fact that I didn't write the Kama Sutra.
So, take what knowledge I have now and regress it 10 years or so, and not a whole lot remains.
Anyone remember that song, Blue Monday?
You know, the one that was a cover of that 80s New Order song but nobody really knew it was a cover?
Well, I thought that the song was totally badass, and so I bought the album.
(Note: When fishing up links for a blog entry, typing "Orgy Candyass" does not yield the Google results necessarily expected)
Anywho, at 12 years old in grade seven, the cool thing to do was to bring albums that you'd just bought to school. So, one day, without even having a portable CD player as a cover for my glorified show-and-tell, I brought Orgy's album Candyass to school.
On this particular day, all of the cool kids were treating me like I was cool. Nay, like I was actually breaking the rules by having an album with that name in school.
I should break here to note the pronunciation of orgy. You know, or-jee.
So, at recess, 12-year old Tony is still showing off his awesome newly purchased album, when Mr. Ayre walks along. 12-year old Tony knows Mr. Ayre, he lives just up the road. He's a devoutly religious man and somewhat of a hardass as a teacher (well, for grade 7).
Mr. Ayre wants to know what all the commotion is about, so 12-year old Tony proudly hands Mr. Ayre his super cool new hard rock/industrial album. 12-year old Tony does not understand why all the people around him are ooh-ing as if he'd just swore.
Oh, shit.
The album title has ass in it.
12-year old Tony promptly apologizes to Mr. Ayre for bringing an album with that kind of language on it to school, and is getting a pretty harsh glare.
He then proceeds to tell Mr. Ayre that, despite the album name, or-gi is really cool band and they don't even swear in most of their songs.
Mr. A: What did you say the band was called again?
12YOT: Or-gi!
At this point, the teacher shook his head, handed me back my album, and asked me to put it away. Nobody understood why I didn't get in trouble.
And, if Id've known what an or-jee was, I probably wouldn't have understood, either. |
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| Acer update. |
[Jul. 29th, 2008|12:39 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  stressed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Forward, Russia! - Thirteen | ] |
My Acer is propped up between two chairs over a house fan on bust so that I can play World of Warcraft without overheating.
Occasionally, the RAM fails and get Blue Screen of Death'd, but it beats overheating every 20 minutes.
Anyways, last night on my way to bed, I turned off the lights and tripped on my chair assembly, knocking my laptop to the floor.
I didn't even pretend to be horrified because of my hatred for this computer--but alas, it didn't even shut off, just jarred iit some I guess.
I've just discovered that the keyboard works again.
No really, fuck you Acer. haha |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 22nd, 2008|05:19 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | annoyed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | KT Tunstall - Suddenly I See | ] |
H5 there.
5n case y64 wanted an6ther reas6n n6t t6 b4y an acer, here 5t 5s.
A3s6, 5f th5s 5s s60e sett5ng that 5 can't f5nd 6n 0y c60-4ter, -3ease 3et 0e 2n6w h6w 5t can be f5xed.
That 5s a33.
F6r a f433 trans3at56n 6f the ab6ve, -3ease c6ns43t 0e 6n 0sn. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 20th, 2008|12:54 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | content | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Metric - Live it Out | ] |
Anyone seen the ads for Swing Vote?
Anyone else bothered that everyone is hailing it as a unique and current idea for a political/social commentary when the exact same concept was used in a story over 50 years ago?
Bonus points: the election in Asimov's story happens in 2008.
/musing |
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| And it's been right under my nose all this time! |
[Jul. 7th, 2008|09:59 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - 1812 Overture | ] |
This past weekend, I headed to St. John's once again. Among the many sinkholes in which I poured some of my money was Traders, the friendly neighbourhood pawn shop.
In Traders, I checked out the cheap CD bin, and found a few things, one of which was a 3CD greatest of Tchaikovsky for cheaper than blank CDs. I took this oppurtunity to try and culture myself.
Today, while driving to Botwood, I popped in the first CD, and the first track is the quintessential Tchaikovsky piece, his Festival Overture of 1812. Also known as That One With The Cannons.
Now, I've listened to that piece through a number of times, but it's good enough to warrant hearing again. If you haven't listened to it in its entirety, I suggest breaking here and checking it out on YouTube. You might notice while listening that if you've ever watched Looney Tunes or any of their subsidiary cartoons that you've probably heard every major theme/movement in the 1812 before. This is one of the classical pieces that pops up literally everywhere you could imagine, especially in that cartoon.
So anyways, let me give you a brief synopsis of how it feels to listen to it. It starts kinda slow and takes a little while to build intensity. Then it gets kind of intense for a little while, and you hear the first iteration of the main theme; you know, the one right before the famous end with the BA BA BA BA BA BA BAAAAAAAA BA BA part. Of course, it's not over yet. It slows back down again, and proceeds to rebuild intensity. It builds slowly, going through some aurally pleasing parts, some loud parts, and that same theme again. After about 10 minutes or so, it gets to the third or fourth iteration of it on different instruments, and you begin to wonder if it's the end. It's not, there's still a while left yet. But, notice that every time you listen to this piece, you're waiting the entire time for that awesomely intense ending with the cannons (traditionally, most people use a very large drum nowadays). In any case, it goes back and forth from moments of great intensity to soft and warm ambience. And then, it builds up and up to the final time and they play that BA BA BA BA BA BA BAAAAAAAA BA BA part again, and kick into the aforementioned awesomely intense ending, play it a couple times through, and then quickly relapse into a short, but pleasing outro.
Now, if you ask someone who hasn't listened to this piece much to hum a part from it, they'll invariably hum that ending part, but not know some of the much more frequently recurred themes of the piece.
And this is where it dawned on me.
This isn't culture.
A long time ago, I wrote a rant about how Archie Andrews is slowly destroying America with the shoddy morals that he's been teaching since somewhere in the middle of the 20th century with his womanizing ways. His friend all have their downfalls too (Jughead is to blame for our weight problems, Veronica for snobby rich people, etc.)
Others will debate on forever about which comedian or television show has so eroded the moral character of us all: was it The Simpsons and their constant subtle taboo references? George Carlin saying those seven words? Leave It To Beaver being the first to show part of a toiler on television? Clark Gable and his reckless use of the word damn?
Every generation has its target for the censors, but I believe I've got to the bottom of this.
I realized it while I was waiting patiently for that explosive ending part; Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky wasn't a composer; he was a pervert! The Overture of 1812 isn't fine art, it's sex in music form!
Go relisten to that piece and tell me different.
Thanks for the foundation upon which society has been ruined, Tchaikovsky--my future children won't be listening to your smut, that's for sure.
I don't even want to know what Swan Lake or The Nutcracker were about. |
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| Elmo, eat your heart out. |
[Jul. 2nd, 2008|06:05 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | annoyed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Forward, Russia! - Eighteen | ] |
Sesame Street used to have this song about one of those things being not like the other.
I present, for your approval, a game where you figure out which of 5 random* names from my MSN list is not like the other**. It is approximately as difficult as its Sesame Street incarnate.
* = Names not really random.
** = Also, is delusional. |
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| Fun fact: Upon completion, this entry has 746 words and 4174 characters. |
[Jun. 25th, 2008|08:18 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | alright | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Mars Volta - Goliath | ] |
Okay, so.
I've made countless allusions to the fact that, while working, my mind is very often elsewhere if there's nobody there to have a conversation with (driving, etc.)
Today I got on one of these thought tangents.
I'm not sure where it popped up from. I think I might've been thinking about Final Fantasy 3 (6 to you PS1/Japanese game owners), and how long it's been since I even laid eyes on the game.
But that's not really all that relevant. The interesting part is that the game had a step counter. Every time you moved your 2d, bleakly colored sprite one step in any direction on any map, it increased by one.
I was sure that over the course of a game, especially one like that where I'd build characters to level 99 for shits & giggles, I would have walked millions of steps. Of course, such is the folly of a human mind (especially a young one): even with a special item on that made your character walk faster, you'd only get 3-4 steps in a second. I'll take the liberal estimate of 4. At 4 steps/second, I'd have to put in around 70 hours of gameplay just making my character walk a million. No battles, plot progression, just walking. Funny how easy it is to overestimate such stuff, eh?
Not that any of this is important, but hey, it's hard to descibe a stream of consciousness without its tributaries, right?
...
After imagining the collective groan that the above joke got, I'll just cut it there and continue, haha.
Anyways, I was wondering what the idea of such a pointless and random statistic was, when it dawned on me: statistics need not have a point.
It's neat to know how much you walked in one run of that video game. It doesn't have to apply to anything, it's just a cool little fact.
And then I began to think, I wish I had a little gremlin who followed me everywhere and wrote down everything I ever did and kept track of it in tables and graphs and lists and spreadsheets and I could've given bureaucracy as a whole a boner with all the pointless numbers and facts I was thinking about.
How about the number of total steps I've walked? I don't step four times a second or anything, but I'm sure I've hit a million by now. Have I hit ten?
Wouldn't it be neat to know what the number one food you've ever eaten in your life was? French fries, pizza and cooked supper were my immediate thoughts, although I'd have to tend towards the first of those.
Also, maybe the number of characters I've typed total in front of a computer. Does it rival the number of steps I've walked? Or how about the total number of cents I've spent in my lifetime?
They don't all have to be as pointless or frivolous as those, though.
Did I eat takeout more often this year than last? How about a chart spanning the last five years of my exact weight at all times? I'm Sure I could plan a diet around something like that.
Or the amount of time spent studying for every test since I've started university graphed on a scatterplot (Which reminds me, watch The New Math). Maybe I could pick a perfect amount of time to study to expect a median grade.
I can't even begin to fathom the bazillion applications that such a list-keeping gremlin would have.
After typing this rant, sometimes I wonder if I picked the wrong focus for my major; maybe I should've been a statistician instead of a pure math nerd. Were it not for every Stats major I've ever met warning me of the insufferable difficulty and pointlessness of the program to any non-Asian brain, I might consider delving further. If my above ramblings somehow haven't convinced you of my affinity to random facts and stats, I have a pretty good example. When Miranda IM was all the rage (it was an ICQ client) and you could tell who read your away message and when, I rigged it to log a .txt file containing all incidences of someone reading the away message and look over it regularly. Just to know. haha
If that's not a love for useless random fact knowledge, I don't know what is.
You know, not that this post had a point or a punchline, I just considered it a neat thought to share.
Think about it! |
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| Last night, I had a dream. |
[Jun. 22nd, 2008|10:41 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | chipper | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | ¡Forward, Russia! - Eighteen | ] |
I sent myself an e-mail during my last weekend trip to St. John's in May. I sent it on the Saturday; I hadn't felt so on top of the world in months. I had enjoyed myself so much the night before and that afternoon that I told myself I HAD to keep track of it, to write it down like I always used to in this blog when I had all the time in the world and all that desire to write and was actually kind of funny sometimes without the constant use of non-sequitur or purple donkeys.
The point of this preamble is that now that I feel like life has slowed down for a few minutes (but only until someone calls me back), I owe it to myself to write this down, and it's for me, not for you. I put the journal in livejournal, I tells ya.
That said though, feel free to read, and I'm sure there are a couple things that are--perhaps--worth a chuckle.
It was a Friday night in St. John's. Unlike the average group of 21 year olds, our plans dictated drinking and socializing. So, we got together our liquor for the night and got ready to get out and have a time. The original plan was a house party and downtown. Again, surprises abound in our planning strategies.
At this point, Ev & Becky leave for the mall to meet up with their friend Megan, and me, Phil & Turner decide on taking the bus. Becky calls and says that they're jumping the route 2, and we can go wait on the other side of the mall rather than walking around. We do so, standing on the side of the road. We got out at 9:26, the bus left the mall at 9:30.
And wait.
9:27.
9:30.
9:33. A bus comes out of the mall, going in another direction. Phil comments that he'd bet they're on it.
9:35. Turner decides that we've definitely missed it.
9:36. I announce that, if we each spend our $2 bus fare on a cab, we'll get pretty damn close to where we're going.
9:37. Phil will hear nothing of leaving before Becky calls again and admits that they're idiots.
9:38. I'm cold, Turner's cold, Phil's stubborn.
9:39. I motion that I'm leaving, Turner follows, reluctantly bringing Phil.
9:40. Phil still wants that call.
9:40:30. Phil gets said "we're idiots and told you to get a bus you couldn't get" call, before we get in the house.
Victory establishes itself early on this night.
We quickly call a cab, jump in it, and tell them to take us to the McEsso. We get there, and as we pull in the parking lot, the three that grabbed the bus are walking just in front of where the cabbie lets us out.
Ev: Why didn't you guys get the bus after?
Turner: WHY INDEED BECKY!
Had to be there for that one I think. If there was a bed, she would've jumped under it when Turner yelled that.
We get to Geoff's house, and discover that they either never really were having a house party or that they hadn't worked too hard on invites. Either way, I was plenty happy to have a chillout night with people I don't see often anymore. It's nice being the guy that walks into a room and everyone's like "Hey, you're not usually here now! Novelty!"
After about 5 minutes of sitting and drinking:
Tony: There's a Super Nintendo there and we're not playing it.
Geoff: Indeed.
Tony: And it has Family Feud in it.
Geoff: Indeed.
Tony: Screw you guys, I'm playing this.
It took all of 3 seconds for me to catch everyone's attention.
So we begin the game, and the first task is naming the family. After many shouts and utter confusion/panic, Megan convinces me that the Mike Hunt family works, and I say I'll go with that.
Tony: *typing letters*
Geoff: *reading* Mike... Hunt? That's not what I heard! ... Oh, wait, I get it.
Let me tell you that if you have not played early 90s SNES Family Feud, on a scale of 1 to Barry Bonds, the computer cheats roughly about an 8. And the answers are hardtarded to get sometimes.
Needless to say, the efforts of 12 or 15 people were failing miserably at getting anywhere with this. Getting shut out, winning one round, etc.
We kept trying to pick lucky names for the families; Mike Hunt was followed by Androgenous (shortened to Androgenou by the game, and I made a comment about how if I were more clever there's a Maya Angelou joke to be had there somewhere), Androgenou was followed by the JohnWells family, and finally I let Peter pick the name and he likes the Guncon family.
Whatever, it's Peter.
Category: Name a revered American in history.
I answer Lincoln, top answer, we play.
We go around and Washington, FDR, Martin Luther King Jr & JFK are all guessed and correct. Two names remain.
We get three consecutive strikes on guessing Edison, Bell & Reagan.
If you don't know how these games play, when the other family guesses, it says "I don't know" or "No guess" if they don't know, and their answer if they do.
Imagine the horror that passed over the room as the computer slowly but surely typed "Lucille Ball" and stole the round.
(For anyone wondering, the other answer was Elvis)
Luck, however, was on our side in this game, and we actually won it.
FYI, I was drunk by this point. Fuckin' Family Feud.
When we get to the final round, I tell John Wells to go to the next room and be our other player.
My guesses total 158 points in the bonus round. John needs 42 to win.
He 0'd the first three questions, and got only 7 on the fourth.
One of John's 0's came from the question "What should any couple do before marrying?", to which John replied "Get the cake", which the game shortened to "Get the cak".
So, going into the fifth question we had a mixture of excitement and John rolling on the floor losing it at "Get the cak"
We got exactly 200 points and won.
You wouldn't know but everyone's favorite team had just simultaneously won the Stanley Cup. So much positive energy in that room.
Laughter continued at "Get the cak".
We moved from this to a much better drunk game: fuck-ups.
But we had already deviated from the norm by playing Family Feud while drinking on a Friday night, so we forewent (pretend it's a word) many of the standard fuck-ups traditions in favor of new games. There was a Pokemon card, a Chinese Whisper card, a US Presidents card, and perhaps the best idea of all time: A Simpson's quotes card. The rule of that one was pretty simple; it had to be correct, at least one person had to laugh, and you couldn't repeat one.
We went around the table seven times before someone fucked up the first one. And some of the classics that people came up with--I can't remember the last time I had such a good laugh. Again, positive energy to the nines.
A couple other fuck-ups highlights came during the "Never Have I Ever..." card, where the person who drew it says something they've never done and anyone who has, has to drink.
Becky: Never have I ever lost my virginity to Hungry Like A Wolf!
(I won't name the person for respect purposes, haha)
Guy: IT WAS ON A MIX CD.
Guy's girlfriend: And, it was NOT me.
Becky: Never have I ever... hmm...
Turner: Vomitted on a naked Phil?
Tony: Vomitted on my dad?
Geoff: Vomitted in a mosh pit?
Ev: Oh come on, you guys are out to get me.
Ev has vomited in some exotic places, apparently.
After this game of fuck-ups, we were all sufficiently fucked up, and it was late-ish. So, some went downtown, while me and Phil found a drum set and banged away on it for a while--he fell off the stool and hurt his wrist, to boot. Drunk, remember?
I spent some time trying to figure out things I remembered from Rock Band (Run To The Hills, Enter Sandman), as did Phil, and then we just called it a night and got a cab home.
When we got there, they almost simultaneously stated "You got this Tony" and jumped out of the cab. This, after a suggestion that we tuck and roll out so as not to inconvenience the cabbie.
And neither of them remembered it.
Actually, that's part of what made this story so excellent. After waking up the next morning, we regaled the tales of the previous night, and despite my bottle of wine and few drinks of Turner's brandy, I was the only one with a decent memory of the three of us. As it happened, the night was just mildly enjoyable, but I didn't realize how hilarious this night was to me until we started exchanging some stories.
After a while, we realized that we were minus one Ev. We assumed that he'd slept at Becky's, and would turn up eventually. Sure enough, he did turn up eventually, and when he came back, he had a story that trumped us all.
They went downtown to The Ship, and as he described it, the place was sorta packed. Tom pointed out to Ev an old guy in the corner, and told Ev that he was actually the man who invented spellcheck. I dunno what you now about Ev, but his mastery of the English language roughly parallels that of my mastery on the Russian language. This man undoubtedly passed high school English for him.
Anyways, Shithoused Ev decided that he had to investigate further. As he described it, "I asked him if he was the guy who invented spellcheck, he mumbled something that I don't remember but I know it wasn't a direct no, and so I hugged him. I don't think I saw him after that."
Whether Ev actually met the man who's saved a million essays, we'll never know, but as far as I'm concerned, he won the night. |
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| Coworkers: Take 'em or leave 'em? |
[Jun. 17th, 2008|05:54 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | amused | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Genesis - Land Of Confusion | ] |
Today at work, driven.
Not that I care, I'd rather be running around answering phones and making deliveries than getting yelled at for not sweeping the floor for a second or third time that day because there's nothing else to do.
But, out of a driven day comes the venting of frustrations which often turn out to be amusing.
The way in which I have chosen to do this is to highlight the stupidity or similar ventings of those around me.
This is basically a wordy preamble of saying THESE THINGS HAPPENED AT WORK AND I LOLED.
George spends a half an hour on the phone trying to order a part, calling everywhere in Canada.
Meanwhile, a conversation ensues between the rest of us about affirmitive actions, racial/gender quotas, etc.
And it gets broken up by this:
George: Yeah, French people are fucking great. I'd keep at least three as slaves if they'd let me.
Conversation/social progress quashed.
Remember the coworker who doesn't want to be here when Newfoundland tips over?
Back in full force.
Last week:
Me: Yep, shitty weather it is. And it seems like it's gonna stay that way for a while.*
Einstein: Tell me about it. It's not even sensible, I was talking to my sister at 10 or so the other night and we're not even getting as much light here as they are.
Me: ..Huh?
Einstein: Yeah, in Ontario it was still a sunny day outside.
/cry
* - I was very right.
This morning:
Tesla: There's a guy on line one who needs this part if you have a chance there.
Paper reads: 02 Doge Ram 4x4 8cyl cold start senor
/cry again
I make fun:
Price: Yeah, I fucked a jew once.
Me: Cool. Was he circumcized?
Price: ...Fuck you.
I get burned:
Cater: Where are you going with those three sheets of paper?
Me: Making copies.
Cater: Why do you need three copies of the same thing to make copies?
Me: ...Fuck you.
Yeah, most of that probably isn't that funny but I felt like writing okay GEEZ I NEED AN OUTLET |
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| xkcd wins again |
[Jun. 11th, 2008|12:28 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | amused | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Who - Baba O'Riley | ] |
 |
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| I got fooled again. And I said I wouldn't. |
[Jun. 9th, 2008|12:39 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | amused | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Goldfinger - Superman | ] |
/thewhoreference
Anyways.
Lunchtime. George is playing Scrabble, I'm eating lunch and watching.
George: *spells penitent for 70 points*
Me: Holy shit, nice one. I didn't even know that one.
George: Only the penitent man shall pass.
Me: ...What?
George: The penitent man kneels before god.
Me: Still don't get it.
George: Well, you just woulda got your head chopped off.
Me: ...
George: Indiana Jones, you turkey!
I tend to forget that my old man actually has decent taste in movies.
But damn, and I feel like I draw my bingoes in Scrabble from random places. |
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