Monday, December 18, 2006

See You When I See You  

Life tends to hold its foot down on the acceleration pedal, and its left my head spinning. Literally. And in the spirit of Christmas, not that this actually has anything to do with the spirit of Christmas, nor do I feel the yuletide joy that is supposed to be predominant during this season, I think it's time for me to kick it into neutral, hopefully slowing down enough to enjoy the last few weeks of 2006.

This means I won't be posting here for a while. I'll be too busy touring the world. Haven't you heard? I've been named PERSON OF THE YEAR by a respected publication!

All I have to say is, it's about time.

And this magical thing I call "Christmas"? I'll let the following Venn diagram explain and take me out, being so blatantly opposed to my actual views, that it caused me to chuckle:

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:42 PM .


Saturday, December 16, 2006

It Runs In The Family  

I haven't finished debating the ethics on posting this up, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyways, and I'll hide it under the guise of the "Read More" option. This is proof that cheesy humor and dumb puns run deep in my family blood. This is in reference to the make-a-list for parental Secret Santa post a few back. Here's what my brother wants, along with my comments in italics:

"1. I would like a dog tag with a beady chain that would reach past my neck (not too short) with my name carved in braille. Yes that's right, braille, alphabet found here. If the place doesn't do braille...then I guess my name in English would be okay. But if you get it in braille, I'll love you forever.

*My brother is not blind, nor do I think he could distinguish braille from grains of salt. But like Fergie Ferg, he'll love you long time.*

2. Gift certificate/card for HMV or Future Shop so that I don't have to pay the full 57.99 for that TV series I really want..that I'm "desperate" for. hahahaha lol

*GET IT?! DESPERATE Housewives? Genius. Except for the "hahahhaha" followed by the "lol" which is redundant.*

3. If 1 and 2 cannot be done, then use your imagination, although there's seriously nothing wrong with 2. I would ask for the TV series, but it's 57.99, so 2 is very practical and nice =)

*If you're having problems with number 1 and number 2, you probably should drink more water and eat more vegetables hahahaha lol.*

-crapstopher"

His favorite alias references "crap", my favorite person references "butt". The parallels are undeniable.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 3:48 PM .


Thursday, December 14, 2006

Bloggers Outlook On Life  

*Administrative Note* - I wrote this post about two YEARS ago. It was for a side project that never really got off the ground. We were young and brimming with ideas. Just wanted to let you know, in case some of the, uh, no, in case anything mentioned seems obsolete, even though I attempted to modernize the post with small touch-ups here and there.

You come home tired from work/school, fire up your desktop/laptop like you'd fire up a barbecue, hop over to your Blogger/Xanga account in a fashion that would make a little bunny rabbit proud, and prepare to completely rip into the "idiot who pissed you off today". And a lot of the times, the star of the post is a random stranger whose presence will never grace yours again. And that makes you feel better about the verbal hatred on the verge of being keyed out.

But allow me to make you squirm in your seat. What if today, YOU were that random human being who pissed someone else off? Go ahead, reminisce about all the not-so-considerate doings you pulled off today. I'll wait.

(humming the tune of Surfin' USA)

Congratulations, you're a certified jerk. Go on, give yourself a pat on the back. You know, one of those comforting, "thats okay" pats. Or if you're proud, go on and pat yourself on the back as well, and keep grinning like an idiot.

I'm not here to judge, because we're all guilty of selfish acts, such as not holding the door open for the old lady ten feet behind you, with ten dozen grocery bags hanging off her right arm, using her left hand to clutch her cane, and trying desperately to catch up to you because she knows there is no way she's getting through that door without your help. Not that I'm speaking from personal experience.

See the reality is that someone you've never met is most probably blogging about you. What comes around, goes around. Circle theory (please don't cite me yet, it hasn't been patented). Doesn't it make you slightly self-conscious? Are you running to get a towel as you sweat profusely from every part of your body, or is that just me?

I'd wager that most people don't think twice about being the subject of a blog rant. Which is odd because in an image-driven society, it should follow that people would be very concerned with their appearance.

Like looking fly at the local grocery store, because you could bump into some people you know while you're examining prospective produce. And you don't want to be the guy who was out grocery shopping by themselves.

By the way, what is wrong with going grocery shopping by yourself? And for that matter, what is wrong with going to watch a movie by yourself? Or enjoying fine dining for one? Or going outside to walk the town with only your own delightful company? (yes, my own company IS delightful thank you very much) Going on a vacation in Hans Solo fashion? Was this whole post defensively written to justify things I do/want to do? Was it? And more importantly did it work?

My own self consciousness led me to buy a magazine that promised a way to "Look 10 Years Younger -- No Surgery,", 'cause I TOTALLY wanna look like an eleven year old.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:42 PM .


Tuesday, December 12, 2006

I'm Not Giving the 'Read More' Option On This  

*Administrative Note* - I wrote this post about a week ago. Just wanted to let you know, in case some of the technologies mentioned seem obsolete.

def. Ballin' [Adj].
1. Living in affluence/wealth.
2. *insert jump shot motion*

Is it possible to justify purchasing a Nintendo Wii just to play Zelda? Two player games are no fun now that my brother is away, living the life (or is it MY life) up in Queen's (BROOKLYNNN ... not).

Speaking of spending money on presents, the families my parents roll with decided that this year, the long held tradition of each kid getting presents from every other family will instead be replaced by a festivity commonly known as "Secret Santa".

I say "commonly known as" because I am convinced the creator of Secret Santa probably called it "Operation Save Your Money". Allow me to prove this mathematically. I have purposely denoted the mathematical section of this post for those that want to skip over it for whatever reason (if you already see the concept, or if you are unable to grasp the merging of alphabets (not the cereal, but still delicious) with numbers in what I affectionately call algebra).

---------------------- Math Commencing ----------------------


Secret Santa requires that a minimum of three people play, or else there would be no "secret". Therefore, the amount of people, henceforth denoted as n+1, with the +1 representing yourself (because you count as a real person too, touching isn't it?), is required to be greater than or equal to 3.

1. Without SS (Secret Santa, not Stupefying Stupidity), you should be responsible for buying n presents, unless you plan on being the jerk who gave the shaft to someone, which I can thankfully discount in this magical environment I created to make my equations work. Mathematics, McOysty style. Ignorantly educating childrens all around the universe since 1837.

Not wanting to be known as the cheap-scape who only spent 2 dollars on each gift, you spend an average of $20 per gift.

In total, you pay $20n.

2. With SS, you would buy ONE present, with a general cap of $30 (manipulating my environment to suit my equations (and real life in this case) is fun), thus ensuring you spend AT MOST, thirty dollars.

Given n >= 3, $20n > $30.

Q. to the ED.

---------------------- Math Over ----------------------


Then, to ensure that us kids come away happy with one present, as opposed to other years where we expected and received a set amount of presents (number of families present minus our own), the childrens, myself included, are to draft up a top five under $30 (not to be mistaken with People's Top 25 under 25) list for their Secret Santa's to buy from.

Now to bring this full circle, because I'm oddly in the spirit of giving a well-rounded post that connects the beginning with the end.

Number one on my list, which I fully expect to be completely ignored by my Secret Santa, is, "Nintendo Wii - I will cover the difference, good luck".

*Post-Edit*
I rethought my list and concluded that a parent might take my demand for a Nintendo Wii the wrong way (I don't think they'd understand the joke). I quickly replaced that with a book (classy).

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:48 PM .


Monday, December 11, 2006

He Could Be "The Answer" To Our Problems  



Can you say season tickets? Just think about it...

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:22 PM .


Friday, December 08, 2006

Record Labels, Get Back On Your Game  

It wasn't logical to market the return of Jay-Z as the "Saviour of Hip Hop" with his album "Kingdom Come", only to come out the month after with Nas' "Hip Hop Is Dead". Sure the titles provide nice contrast, with with a certain Biblical flavor (FLAV). Although that's always been evident in their career's (God emcee, J-Hova (Jehova), God's son etc), and probably blasphemous considering the people we're talking about.

I'm not going to bother writing up reviews for these two albums because the way I see it, both these dudes are returning to the game just like one of us would return to, say, Zelda, after you've beaten it once over, just to finish off all the little side quests, go for a victory lap on your little horse, and shoot some arrows. Rack up some extra points, if you will.

While there's plenty of hate flying at both Nas and Jay this Christmas (ironic because tis season for love, hugging babies, and baby Jesus), I, for one, will have both these albums on replay going straight through to the new year.

        

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:59 PM .


Thursday, December 07, 2006

Cue The Trumpets  

65 years ago, early in the morning, the infamous bombing of Pearl Harbor roused America to decisive action in World War II.

Today, 65 years later, during what was declared to be the last gathering of Pearl Harbor survivors due to old age and dwindling numbers, some veterans still, and understandably so, harbored some anger towards the Japanese.

Of course I believe holding ill will towards anyone will damage yourself more than it will anyone else, even to the person the feelings are directed towards. But I don't expect these men to change. I cannot even begin to image the horrors they awoke to that Sunday morning, and have been forever ingrained in their memories, some 65 years ago.

My only hope for them is that they are able to get past the resentments and bad memories one time to try out this amazing delicacy turned common food known to me as ...

...sushi.

Preferably of the all-you-can-eat (the Canadian!) style. If not, they'd be sorely missing out.

Don't you hate it when I spoil promising posts?

While we're on the subject of war, luckily, I can label this blunder hilarious (thankfully). NEW JERSEY! You'd think they'd be over in Iraq, but apparently some schoolchildren just needed to learn a lesson.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:55 PM .


Tuesday, December 05, 2006

I Know Me  

"No matter where you go you are what you are, player."

Truer words have been spoken, but none as strikingly relevant. While it may be easy to alter personas to blend in with different groups of people (we've all done this to some extent), when faced with adversity, it is widely known that people's true colors tend to shine through. The person underneath those clothes (no Shakira).

The inner you.

Today, the inner me stood up to attention, as I proudly, and unforcedly, wrote and passed an exam that was not required for anything. A free will examination.

You see, you can take the student away from the school and plop him down in front of a computer monitor to make the company some money, heck you can even take his freedom away from 9am-6pm (would it have been too easy to include something to the effect of "taking my breath away" here?), but my DNA dictates that I am Asian, and you will never be able to take the student mentality (ie. the desire to GET MARKS) away from me.

I do realize that the majority of my friends are currently facing the daunting task of writing three exams in the next two days, or something ridiculous to that effect, and the fact that I'm posting about ONE optional exam that I educatedly guessed my way through may infuriate them.

But honestly now, you really should be reading the textbooks instead of the Internets. As the Beach Boys once happily sang, be true to your school (rah Rah RAH!)

Good night, and good luck.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:27 PM .


Monday, December 04, 2006

Monday Means Me Mumbling Mindlessly  

Talk about total non-creativity, but it just dawned on me that the NFL team based in Cleveland is named the "Browns". And I think the only way they should be allowed to continue on with that name is if they embrace it full heartedly. Which, in my books, means that their equally uninspired logo of a football helmet...



... needs to be changed from orange (?) to brown, and their jerseys also need to be painted a deep color of brown. Of course, then the ever so popular adage of "what you see is what you get" will apply, as the Cleveland Browns will look, and play, like turds.

Speaking of, did the memo informing me that Kevin Federline was to be on NBC's game show 1 vs 100 last Friday get lost? I guess my imagination will suffice:

Bob Saget (the host) - Hey everybody, welcome again to one, versus, one HUNDRED! Behind me is the mob who is here to beat the player and win their money!

*general hootin' and hollerin' from the mob*

Saget - Let's meet the player! All the way from Canada, we have the awkward, the aawesome, Buttug McOysty.

Me - H..h...hi.

Saget - And tonight, in the mob, we have Kevin Federline! As a favor, we let him on this show, but in return, he has promised this will be his last publicity stunt ever and will fade into obscurity after tonight, and I'm sure he will be eliminated quite rapidly.

*applause from the audience*

K-Fed - Glad to be here. *munch munch munch*

Saget - Where did you get the pancakes?

K-Fed-Ex - Haven't you heard? I'm the pancake man! Pancakes for breakfast, pancakes for lunch, pancakes everyday! Even on December.

Saget - "December" is not a day of the week.

K-Fed - Oh! My bad dawg, I knew that, fo shizzle.

Saget - Spectacular. Let's play this game shall we?. McOysty, are you ready?

Me - Y..y...

Saget - Mob, are you ready?

*general hootin' and hollerin' from the mob*

Saget - Alright! It's one, versus, one HUNDRED! First question! What is the first letter of the alphabet?! Press, A for 'A', B for 'B', and C for 'C'.

McOysty - I'm going to say 'A', Bob.

Saget - Let's take a look at that answer...YES! YOU GOT IT RIGHT! AMAZING! Let's find out how many got it wrong for $1000.

Feder-loser - I think it's just me Bob!

Saget - What did you answer Kevin?

Kevin - Well, I really wanted to push 'C' but then I remembered that I actually didn't know which of these letters in front of me was 'C'! So then I wrote down on this piece of paper here, "Thre", and hopefully you'll accept that answer!

Saget - It's spelled "three", and can we please cut to commercials? I'm going to need some time to comprehend this stupidity.

Me - This, Stupefying Stupidity? Ha-ha.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:27 PM .


Friday, December 01, 2006

Ferocious  

I don't have the stomach to write a full post tonight, but I'll let this guy cap an end to this week. Take us out good sir:

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Posted in , posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:27 PM .


Thursday, November 30, 2006

Album Review: Wintersong  

The time has come where a variety of artists decide to put out an album consisting of their renditions of such Christmas classics as "O Holy Night", "Silent Night", and "Jingle Bells". And by now, the very beginning of December, most of you are understandably sick of it.

In fact, I can quote someone as saying "I hate Christmas music".

For better or for worse, Christmas albums will really only be played in and around Christmas time (thanks Captain Obvious), and that does not offer enough pressure to deliver quality, innovative music. And if Heidi Klum, or Clay Aiken, can release a Christmas album, then why shouldn't everyone else? Even I think I can record random noises and make a better Christmas album than Heidi Klum, or Clay Aiken, could ever release.

With that all being said, because I opened up this CD that does not belong to me and popped it in my computer, I promised I would review it. Luckily, snow is scheduled to glaze Toronto tomorrow, so hopefully this offering from Sarah McLaughlin Mclock, AHEM, McLachlan, will ring in the season festively. Although I wonder if the owner of the album will be offended if I smash this to pieces with my fierce words. This won't be the first time I risk a friendship over music.



Hey Sarah? If this really is a Christmas album, and especially with the album titled "Wintersong", instead of prancing around in whatever that skimpy outfit you got on there, you think you could maybe throw on a parka and get some snow machine action happening? I mean, unless you were going for an oxymoronic album cover. And, some skiers in the background would be a nice touch.

Oh, and if you could change your last name to something easier to spell?

Track One - Happy Xmas (War is Over)
Unless you're going to say "Xmas" in your song, I'd consider substituting "Christmas" for "Xmas" in the title. And isn't it "MERRY Christmas"?

I'm already confused. And I STILL can't spell her last name. Otherwise, this track is kinda ho-hum for me. Of course, she has the children's choir in the background, which is actually a nice touch. Remember for children's Sunday school, you'd always have to sing in front of all the parents for the annual Christmas show? Yeah, good times.

Track Two - What Child Is This
Much darker than the first song, but really, that's how the song should be done. I wonder when Sarah gets to exercise her vocal chords, because she sounds like she's just whispering this song.

Track Three - River
"I wish I had a river so I could skate away". According to your album cover, your river wouldn't be frozen and could quite possibly drown you.

Near the end of the song, there's a little piano riff that resembles "Jingle Bells" in a minor key. That's the only thing notable about this movement here.

Track Four - Wintersong
Title track, better hit this one hard Sarah! C'mon!

Mellow, quiet, almost jazzy but not quite there, I guess this is the theme of the entire album.

Track Five - I'll Be Home For Christmas
I've always liked this song, so it'd be very hard for her to ruin this for me. And she just made a very fantastic entry into this song. See, I've adjusted my standards to realize that she is of the softer (no going up high and sustaining powerfully) singing ilk, and plus I'm imagining what a Clay Aiken Christmas album would sound like, and my perspective switches quickly.

Track Six - O Little Town of Bethlehem
This song on the other hand, I don't particularly like unless I'm singing it myself. Er, there seems to be a banjo, or a banjo-sounding guitar. Something Sufjan Stevens would try I'd imagine.

Track Not On This Album - Ice Cream
Sorry, I think every album should be required to contain a track talking about food, preferably pancakes, but Ice Cream is not a bad replacement.

Isn't this track the one of the most inspired pieces of work ever? First of all, there aren't many things better than chocolate, but better than both chocolate and ice cream? This "love" thing sure is something I'd like to experience one day (I KID).

So she really can go up higher and she really does have those power female vocal chords which I love oh so much. She reaches for them at the end of this track. Please please PLEASE have some of that on this rest of the Christmas album. Back to that we go.

Track I Lost Count, Oh, Seven - The First Noel/Mary Mary
A medley? Of Christmas songs? Exciting times.

This one sounds Far Eastern, rather mystical. Some drums have now kicked in that, leading me to conjure up pictures of Disney's Lion King rather than a frosty Winter Wonderland. But it's so much of a different sound that it really provides some contrast for the rest of the album.

Simba just totally owned Scar in my imagination.

Track Eight - Silent Night
Back to the "relaxation music".

That's IT! I can totally hear this album being played as in a Yoga class, or while I attempt to sit in a Zen Lotus position, which I fail miserably at. I'm just not flexible that way. And, no, I cannot bend over and touch my toes.

Track Nine - Song For A Winter's Night
I actually get a really odd sensation down the back of my leg when attempting to touch my toes. It has led me to never try it again.

Track Ten - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Another song that cannot be ruined for me, and while this track doesn't completely blow me out of the water, I can still lean with it, rock with it, stop with it.

And finally, a trumpet gets some time to shine. Should've had more trumpet. And more cowbell.

Track Eleven - In The Bleak Mid-Winter
I feel like it is already the bleak mid-winter-that-is-not-here-yet. Because in a few weeks, I'll be down south (not deep durrty South) in Michigan. And everything leading up to that feels bleak (just like Memphis' career prospects LOL).

Track Twelve - Christmas Time Is Here
Featuring Diana Krall? Intriguing. I remember when I first peeped the Charlie Brown Christmas version of this song and was immediately brought back to my childhood and I think I've liked this lounge-y, thought-provoking, imagery-plentiful song.

Classy way to end an album. Would've been better if Christmas time were actually here, but that's me picking at insignificant things.

Additional Thoughts
Just another seasonal offering. If you're a fan of Sarah McLachlan, you'll like it. If not, then it'll blend in with most other stuff on the radio/malls/elevators these days.

She needs to change her last name.

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Posted in , posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:24 PM .


Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Album Review: The Sweet Escape  


I don't intend to fully review another album tonight. As a matter of fact, my mind is currently occupied with the migration issues that have sprung up as I attempt to shuffle blog templates, all in the name of making your reading experience more enjoyable.

With that said, I've taken flak in the past for having too lengthy a post, or for being to superfluous. If anything, I am superbulous (super + fabulous), but in the open forum that is the Internets, people will have their say about everything. And because I dish out my fair of criticisms, I better be able to take it. And the solution that should satisfy everybody is...

...amazing.

So if you choose to read lengthy posts, that option is still available. And if you choose to skip over posts I have deemed lengthy so it will include the "Read More" button, then go ahead. The fact that you were even on my page increases the hit counter, I don't actually need everybody to read everything I write!

So back to the task at hand. I will now play Gwen in the background while proceeding with coding issues. It'll be interesting to see how this turns out.

Track One - Wind It Up
The Sound of Music inspired single. Basically it's ridiculous.

Track Two - The Sweet Escape
Speaking of the Sound of Music, I always get that movie mixed up with Mary Poppins. Isn't that weird? I mean, one movie's about, well, falling in love, and the other is about chim chimery's and a spoon so full of sugar that it's making my mouth water.

This track sounds like something S-Club 7 released a long time ago. And according to the title, Akon is supposedly featured, but it's the end of the track and I haven't heard him at all. It's for the better.

Track Three - Orange County Girl
Because you know, Akon is just another one of the mass produced R&B singers that so happens to be "hot" right now (no brokeback). I just haven't found the factory where they churn these guys out quite yet.

Give me break, I haven't even found Waldo yet, and Carmen Sandiego keeps country hopping.

Track Four - Early Winter
No Gwen, in fact, it's verging on December and I haven't seen much snow yet. I will not acknowledge the winter season until snow hits me square between the eyes.

Track Five - Now That You Got It
Why does my text spacing change after I link to an image/video? What the heck blogger? I'll work-around it by using the blogger insert image function.

Track Six - 4 In The Morning
Didn't Our Lady Peace do a song titled "4AM"? I hope I'm not making this up. And I know Matchbox 20 did that "3AM" song. Is this going to be a fad? Are we going to have tracks titled "2:46", and eerily spans 2 minutes and 46 seconds?

Track Seven - Yummy
I hope she talks about pancakes. Oh please, talk about pancakes! Oh, she's talking about herself and how she's delicious. Disappointment.

The Neptunes must be behind this because it sounds like track numero one-oh. Yup, there's Pharrell with his "superb" flow. Haha, she even says "wind it up"! You know what this is?

SYNERGY.

Four minutes into this track, it gets creepy, and the instrumental section comprises of sounds that I can only describe as factory-ish. I'm making headway into this R&B singer manufacturer investigation can't you see?

Track Eight - Fluorescent
Of course, there had to be a scheduled blogger outtage just as I was making some progress. I guess my changes will have to wait another day, along with this post, which I will now continue writing in Notepad, and post it tomorrow morning as if the outtage never occured. What to do now, what to do.

Hello, fantasy sports.

Track Nine - Breakin' Up
This song can either be about being dumped, or, bad cell phone reception.

Remeber that BackStreetBoys track? "MY BATTERY IS LOW! GOTTA GO!" Good times.

What do you know! She said "batteries getting low"!

This song is so good with the double entendres. This has the looks of an instant classic.

Track Ten - Don't Get It Twisted
How did the New York Knicks beat the Cleveland Cavaliers Lebron James? Oh, I hope David Lee lit it up...10-5-stl-blk, not bad not bad. Isn't David Lee such an odd name for a Caucasian? Maybe it's just me, possibly because I've known one or two David Lee's in my lifetime (HOV!)

Track Eleven - U Started It
Gwen, "U" is spelled "WHY-OH-YOU". Oh, I should probably mention that the last track had this for a hook, "This is the most craziest sh*t ever".

Just curious Gwen, Would you classify that sh*t as...

...bananas?

Track Twelve - Wonderful Life
Find it weird that I'm talking about sports in the context of this post? Rhetorical question really, because I'm about to continue.

I hope Vince Carter comes back to the Toronto Raptors. Then I can go to games and boo my face out, even if he leads the Raps back into the playoffs. I remember doing that for Tracy McGrady, although he was on the Magic, so I don't know how weird it'd be to boo a player on the team you're cheering for night in, night out. I'm still undecided.

Track Bonus - Candyland
Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew? Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two...
The candyman, the candyman can!

I don't know what this song is about, nor do I know if it will actually be included with this album.

Oh wait, she does say "this sh*t is f***ing bananas". Bringing it all back together into one neat little package. Well done.

Additional Thoughts: Very enjoyable album, time seemed to fly as I listened to this very cohesive album that is dance-enducing and very upbeat all the way through, even in the darker movements.

Gwen is probably the only individual that not only gets away with this stuff, but makes it sound good. I would say that Ms.Stefani is the leader in her field (female pop vocalists), with the most recent rip-offs including Fergie-Ferg and Nelly Furtado. She ascends to a whole other level with this offering, which, sadly, she has mentioned will be her last solo album.

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Posted in , , posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:38 PM .


Tuesday, November 28, 2006

The Redemption  

I know it seemed unusual that I would subject myself to such a wretched choice of music yesterday night, but I did it knowing that tonight, my ears would be healed, and my soul would waltz with the melodies and harmonics of the fantastic Chantal Kreviazuk.

Raine Maida, the lead singer for Our Lady Peace back in the day, opened up his wife's concert, and while his lyrics show his deeper and dark side, with politics and social injustice as themes, replacing, uhm, whatever it was OLP sang about, his voice was as captivating as I remembered it to be.

Going into the night, I actually didn't realize how many hit songs Chantal had, until she slowly started churning them out, and I strangely knew a ton of the lyrics. Sadly, a sing-along never broke out amongst the Markham Theater audience, but that didn't stop her from bringing down the house with her sometimes grandiose (almost operatic), mostly catchy, and always intimate style.

Early on in the show, she requested some people move up to fill up some empty seats in the second row, which of course thrilled the heck out of the lucky few that upgraded their seats. A little later on, everything felt as it should when she politely asked the audience to get up on their feet, as I'm a little used to being asked to stand for worship services.



I actually didn't get any pictures, so I'm going to leave that one up there and pretend I did. It's my memories and no one has to know. Even if her hair is now a rich dark brown.

And I still can't get over how ridiculously talented the rest of the musicians on stage were. The cellist and the violinist doubled QUADRUPLED as guitar players, flute players, and backup vocalists. And of course, Raine came back out to play the bass a little bit because he probably got bored backstage.

I have a feeling that I'll be singing under my breath tomorrow. And that I'll soon own all of Chantal Kreviazuk's albums. And that it won't hold a candle to the show she put on tonight. Live music will forever sound better than recordings.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:33 PM .


Monday, November 27, 2006

Album Review: Playing With Fire  

"...if you download the K-Fed and fess up to it...I don't think I can admit to being your friend anymore..." - K.C.

It's been done. I'm staring at the track listing on my iTunes as we speak, and I'm about to attempt something that may not only jeopardize my friendships, this realistically threatens my sanity.

I, Buttug McOysty, pledge to sit here and listen to this Kevin Federline, ahem, Fed-Ex, album in its entirety, tracks one through thirteen plus bonus material tacked on at the end, and make snide remarks about it, track by supposedly horrible track.

The over/under on when I start bashing my head into the table repeatedly is 7. And I'm being generous.



Before we start, I'd just like to take the time to notice that he actually cleaned up pretty nicely for the album cover. Is this a sign of things to come? Will he actually this off?


Track One - Intro
The Feder-liner: "According to sources, Federline's marriage to pop superstar Britney Spears has reached its last straw".
Did K-Fed just predict the future? Oh, I get it, he's come back from the future to tell the story as a grandpa. Buy the premise, buy the bit. I don't buy the premise.

Track Two - The World is Mine
The Feder-liner: "The world is mind, and everything in it, Young Jeezy told me that so I'ma go get it".
So theoretically, if the rest of this album manages to make me stupider, Young Jeezy should be the one held responsible. If it comes down to that, I'm counting on you, the readership, to avenge me.

Track Three - America's Most Hated
The Feder-liner: "You're mad that I made it, America's most hated".
On the contrary. You give hope to people with no talent and no money! You're a role model!

Track Four - Snap
This is the first song without a noticeable amount of piano. Hold on...

...this sounds a lot like a "Drop it like its hot". In fact, I'm gonna go ahead and superimpose Snoop's lyrics over this beat in my head and, look at that, I LIKE THIS SONG!

The Feder-liner: "A pancake man, f*** a hand shake man". What's a pancake man? And just now, he has proclaimed himself, "Hotter than a pizza oven".

I'm hungry. K-Fed is exploiting that fact in his lyrics.

Track Five - Lose Control
Oh, the piano is back. And so are his pedestrian lyrical abilities (not to be mistaken for my pedestrian writing skills thank you very much)
You know how sometimes singles are so good that when you buy the album you skip directly to the single in order to get yourself off to a good start?
Didn't happen. In fact, I'd like to plead the "heard it already" clause and go ahead and skip this track altogether.

Track Six - Dance with a Pimp
The Feder-liner: "It goes left, right, front to back."
That's it? I can dance like that...am I a pimp? I used to think that any track that described it's own dance routine within the confines of the song (re: One-Two Step, Lean Back, Chicken Noodle Soup) would automatically catch fire. This song is setting out to prove me wrong.
The Feder-liner, because I figure I owed you one from skipping the last track: "Dudes hate K-Fed, girls love K-Fed, it don't matter to me cuz K-Fed stay fed".
MIND BOGGLING.

Track Seven - Priviledge
Generic R&B hook sung by an unknown artist named Bosko. Things, are starting to sound the same.
Another song I have had the, uh, "priviledge" of hearing before, thanks to me being too lazy to flip channels during a performance at MuchMusic.
The Feder-liner: "I'm not a father, I'm just a Mac, got tired of the drugs so I switched to rap".
Last time I checked, he was a father of THREE (I'm a little unclear if it's two or three, but the point still stands).

Track Eight - Crazy
I am slowly going... at least it's one track later than I anticipated.
OH. WOULDN'T YOU LOOK AT THIS. The obligatory Britney collaboration. I guess he owed her one since she probably paid for this album.
Sorry, not paying too much attention, I am trying to decide who I have a harder time listening to, Brit-Brit, or K-Fed. I'm going to call it a tie.
The Feder-liner: "Don't think they understand, how much cake the pancake man have". And I think he shouted out Tupac...

Track Nine - A League of My Own
Sounds like something G-Unit would do. I bet 50 could've made this song and made millions. A screw it, I'm going to take a washroom break.

Track Ten - Playing with Fire
The novelty of being forced to listen through an album for a track-by-track review is wearing off.
The Feder-liner: The entire hook is "Playing with fire, playing with fire", repeated 8 times. Listen, K-Fed, I GET that it is the album title, no need to pound it into me anymore. Lay. Off.
And he just said something about pancakes again, pancake reference count at 3? (excluding the last track that I "accidentally" missed)...

Track Eleven - Caught Up (Intro)
You know when you just finished up one boring lecture and you have that 5-10 minute span to get to your next boring lecture. So you pick up your backpack, make your way to the exit, and the fresh air and sounds of nature/other people/cars give you a chance to clear your mind? Yeah...that's where we are in the album.

Track Twelve - Caught Up
I won't lie, I'm starting to ignore the lyrics, and concentrating instead on the seconds ticking by until the merciful end of this album.

Track Thirteen - Kept On Talkin
Ending on a track numbered thirteen, some would call that bad luck.
The Feder-lines - "Pancakin' is my job, in the mix all the time". LOL.
"PANCAKE PANCAKE, I'M THAT MAN". ROFL (That's the HOOK).
"My name is Kevin Federline, pancakin' all the time." (LMAOWTF)

Bonus Track - Middle Finger
He actually thought that people would wait out the 3 plus minutes of silence to get to the bonus material? Never mind the notion of bonus tracks being so preposterous (seriously, why isn't it just...in this case, track fourteen? What makes this a bonus? Is it only released on 30% of the albums created?).
The Feder-liner: "Like Jesus in every way, I'm crucified and slayed, watch me die and I rise on the seventh day."
Hey, Kev? Jesus rose on the third day.

Additional Thoughts: He raps about money, how girls love him, how the media hates him. ON EVERY SONG.

And, I take it he has an odd attraction for pancakes because I don't know of any popular pancake sayings, nor can I imagine a pancake being a metaphor for anything.

To be completely honest, I don't think this is the most atrocious thing I have ever heard, and some songs will get replayed on my iPod, because I think K-Fed is hilarious. As mentioned, I could definitely see other rappers spittin' over some of these beats, as some of them sound suspiciously close to being rip-offs. Of course he has an affinity for piano laced beats.

Lastly, I would suggest he look into advertising full time for pancakes instead of making music.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:45 PM .


Friday, November 24, 2006

The First Of Many  

You don't have to look very far to find conflict in this world. From the very real conflicts such as the debacle in Iraq, to the petty conflicts where friends intelligently debate who between them should rightfully claim ownership of the louder speaking voice, to the fictional biting-social-commentary conflicts supposedly portrayed in cutting-edge television shows and movies, to the trivial conflicts when one is deciding whether or not to hit the snooze button for the fifth time that morning. Conflict is one crop us humans will never run out of until His Kingdom Comes (no Hov).

Well wouldn't you look at that. This post is sounding promising. And there's much bigger in the issues in the world, I know...

...but I first have to take care of the world I know.

Similar to Star Wars, in music, there is a dark side, and there is a good side. Subjectively speaking of course, but that is implied, given that firstly, this is the Internets, and secondly, if I refer to myself as the most highly aawesome Buttug McOysty, it can be inferred that I am openly opinionated. Of course, I also willingly flip sides, and do so very frequently. Luckily for me, this won't be much of a problem for the next few posts because there happens to be another force, neither good or bad, neither jedi or dark, neither gravitational or centrifugal, that is governing the recent musical offerings by your favorite artists (favorite artists to hate included)...

...the force of central tendency.

For those less mathematically, statistically, scientifically and computationally inclined, that was just an abnormal way of "average".

And over the next little while, I hope to delve into samplings of the current music industry. After all, I started this blog business posting lyrics, and any of my posts of substantial length will no doubt include some musical reference(s) that few will catch (my very own blog easter eggs), so this is going back to the basics (no Genie in a Bottle) for me.

Stay tuned, pun (haha), for more.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:52 PM .


Thursday, November 23, 2006

Who is General Failure  

...and why is he reading my hard drive?

Sometimes, I get the premonition that I am in the wrong industry.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:26 PM .


Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Life...is but a Beach Chair  

*The poetic inspiration: Twas the Night Before Christmas*

Twas the night before American Thanksgiving, and I was watching House,
I missed it Tuesday night, like the blind cat missed the mouse.
There's nothing as calming as watching someone administer quality health care,
And for a split second, I would've much rather been there.

To see the patients all tucked into their beds,
Then out of nowhere, a song got stuck in my head.
I tried to settle down, took a swig of water and replaced the cap,
When that wouldn't work, I attempted to take a short nap.

But no, the incessant music was growing to a loud clatter,
Mother asked, "Is everything alright?", I replied, "Nothing's the matter".
And just like that it was gone like a flash,
All that was left was the memory, that, and my sash.

Here's where I give up trying to match the last word of each line,
Because I'm about to go on a major tangent, go into the undefined.
A couple weeks ago I forgot to write an "I'm Thankful For" post,
Luckily I've been given this second chance to go back, like Christmas Past, the ghost.

First and foremost, Pantene Pro V for making my hair glow,
Not to boast, but it's as smooth as a baby's below.
In an age where life moves so fast, I make time to move slow,
To the joys and the strife that are passed, I grind and I grow.

Delightful company is as hard to find as a misplaced wallet,
Grateful for my crew, my peoples, my hood, whatever you call it.
The company in the other sense puts money in the bank,
Allowing me to eat well, prime rib steak to the flank.

The novelty of writing in verse is slowly fading like the ozone,
I'm thankful for everything, the big down to the small toys I own.
Thankful for my cheap A-B rhyme schemes, patented and perfected,
Thankful for the path that lies ahead that has been previously selected.

And with that I'm gone, but not for long,
Back by tomorrow, minus the cute song.
This post may have been a lost one,
But sorry, I'm a champion.

*A couple minutes later, I decide this video is appropriate, besides the first part which most won't understand*


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posted by Buttug McOysty . 9:10 PM .


Tuesday, November 21, 2006

A Little Nintendo Word Play  

I sat down to write this post and right away I was faced with a dilemma. The way I figured, there were two ways I could've gone about developing this entry. And just like that, two little characters appeared, one on each of my shoulders.

The first possibility, as explained by the character that resembled the recently ousted Donald Rumsfield, would've had me penning today's happenings, much like a narrator, except the narrative would have been in past tense, and I'm no good with tenses. I would've been filling everyone in on the events of my mundane life. If you think about it, it's like living through a boring day twice, and similar to how victim's of horrible atrocities are unable to talk about it because it replays the events/emotions all too realistically for them to be able to take it, I wasn't too keen on this idea. Even minus the horrible atrocities.

The only reason I would've subjected myself to this torture would have been to create a carefully constructed story that cleverly included every phrase found in this list that shows how the blogosphere has abused the gaming console's name. All 35 of them. The post would've taken on an ironic feel.

The second possibility, as explained by Homer Simpson (no O.J.), would've had me writing up a medium sized post that didn't really go anywhere, with the only objective being one crazy punchline at the end that would've left the reader feeling not only slightly shocked, but also gipped of an actual post.

The three of us looked at each other in disbelief. It was so simple, yet so genius, that Wii concurred on option two.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:01 PM .


Monday, November 20, 2006

Sometimes, I Skim My Spam  

I received an email titled "Want to be a hero in bed?". I deleted it right away, not because it was obviously spam (it was filtered directly into the spam folder), but because I'm already a hero, one that can be only classified as super. And it's not like my powers fade away when I go to sleep at night, or while I'm reading books on my bed with my sheets tucked securely around me in cocoon formation.

My Spidey senses are indicating that my interpretation of the email may not have been what the email was actually trying to convey.

I offer proof of me using my powers for good: O.J.'s book is CANCELLED. You know, that book I was complaining about? Well it seems enough people (me) created an uproar so great, we couldn't be ignored.

For the still unconvinced, I will now illustrate with a story, in order to help you quantify exactly how ridiculously aawesome me and my super powers are. The story is true. No names have been changed because no names have been utilized.

I woke up at 6am this morning because I felt compelled to open my blinds. I awoke again at 9am, with sunlight pouring down on my face as if someone was pointing a flashlight directly at me, and couldn't for the life of me remember why in the world I dragged myself out of bed in the middle of a wonderful sleep session to screw myself over so badly in the morning.

Then I realized, some things, like my super powers, are not meant to be explained, just taken, not stirred.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:17 PM .


Thursday, November 16, 2006

The Office - That's Good Writing/Timing  

*Kevin pouring salad dressing into a paper shredder waste box, containing lettuce shred by said nondescript paper shredder*
"Where'd you get the LETTUCE Kevin?"
"Uh, Staples."

AND THEN THEY CUT TO A COMMERCIAL FOR THE NONDESCRIPT PAPER SHREDDER BROUGHT TO YOU BY STAPLES.

Somebody get me a salad.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 9:25 PM .


Have You Been Good or Bad?  

Either way, Santa's coming to already in town. Gather round childrens, let me tell you the pagan Christmas story.

Bear with me, as this is a purely imaginative tradition, facts may have been lost in translation (similar to the movie, but I haven't seen the movie before so I can't quantitatively how similar) as it was passed down to me through the generations. By myself. To myself. If things seem a little out of place, just remember, as with all crazy stories, there probably is a moral that nobody remembers at the end.

That was a desperate plea for you to read to the end. Proceeding away now.

At the dawn of time, Santa was given an augmented calendar from monkeys (I think that's what people that don't believe in God believe in), the first Christmas present ever. Every year, the magical calendar would use a complex mathematical algorithm to generate an arbitrary number between two and five. That number would correspond to the number of days removed from the middle of the calendrical year. Think of it like a gigantic sandwich, where you slowly pick off whatever is in the middle, slowly shrinking the sandwich while leaving the outsides intact.

This was all done unbeknowst to Santa, and as December rolled around yearly, Santa starts making appearances in children's dream's and putting up posters of himself everywhere to generate excitement, unaware that his campaign to promote himself was coming earlier and earlier.

I think I better skip to the meaning of the story.

Kids, before you go writing your cute letters to Santa asking for the ponies, the toy trucks, (what is it that kids play with these days, oh yeah) the Tickle-Me-Elmo's, and the super power that you've been wanting all year, just remember, SANTA'S A FIGMENT OF YOUR WEAK IMAGINATIONS, relative to the glorious imagination that's been on full display in this post by yours truly, Buttug McOysty.

Sidebar for a moment, shouldn't every comedian have a Tickle-Me-Elmo at every performance? You know, for when one of their jokes bomb? They reach over and set this baby off, instantly making people forget about the bad joke by masking it with fake, yet highly contagious, laughter? Am I right or am I genius?

So, uh, good story no? And my segues are even more impressive. I'm watching Futurama while typing this so pardon me if it's lacking punch. If you wanted a more compelling story, try watching TBS on the weekends because they showed HOME ALONE at least three times this past weekend. The movie series that is reserved for the Christmas weekend, and only the Christmas weekend.

Normally, I ignore the Christmas decorations in the malls, because I understand their need to promote a holiday in order to milk us of our hard-earned money. But television would NEVER do this to me. Television would still be celebrating Remembrance Day if you're up north, or Thanksgiving if you're down south. To show a Christmas movie upstages and insults veterans and turkeys all around. And that's one demographic you don't want to piss off, the veteran/turkey's.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 6:54 PM .


Blogger/Google, I'm CALLING YOU OUT  

To Whom It May Concern.

I have been a Blogger user since '03, and never once considered switching over to another free blog host, all of which I consider inferior to the service you provide. That theory was only solidified when Google purchased Blogger, because Google seems to have a good track record in investments and seeing the future.

With all that sucking up out of the way, I'd like to inform you that I have not been put on the supposed select list of blogger that are being allowed to switch over their accounts to Blogger in Beta, this new venture co-hosted by Google and Blogger. Considering my phenomenal loyalty, this is rather unsettling. And not to sound demanding or anything, but I better be able to upgrade to this Blogger in Beta thing by the end of this week, or else I will badmouth you on Wikipedia.

I wait expectingly.

Thank you.

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 6:19 PM .


Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Drink Apple Juice Because OJ Will Kill You  

Here's what not to do after being acquitted of a crime. Why didn't he keep his mouth shut, and disappear off the face of the earth? This case was a little before my time, or at least before I decided to get in touch with the world outside of my bubble, so honestly I do not care much for the case other than, you know, people were killed and lives were ruined. Terrible, but not very compelling to me.

Strikingly similar to R Kelly writing songs using explicit lyrics about certain activities, that shall remain nameless because I'm much too lazy to look up actual lyrics today, that he partakes in, while on trial for charges very similar to the lyrics.

This paves the way for plenty more morons to release similarly thought out books. Maybe Bill Clinton will write a book titled, "I did not have sexual relations with Ms.Lewinski, but if I did, here's how it would've went down? Pun intended." And yes, pun intended would be a vital part of the title.

In fact, anytime somebody supposedly does something that is assumed to be true to the general population, but denies it to the death, the offending party should be required to write a book outlining how they WOULD'VE done what is said that they did, had they done it. Go Keyser Soze on everybody, leaving just enough hints so that people realize all too late as you slowly hobble away. Word to Kevin Spacey.

For example, I would probably write something to the effect of, "I am the most efficient worker in the known universe, but if I were to waste the first half hour every morning getting coffee and reading the Internets, here is a list of sites I need to check in order to not obsessively think about them the rest of the day." That's a working title.

There are other trivial things that I think should be mandatory, off the top of my head:

Anytime a football is run in for a touchdown, with the run consisting of 50+ yards, play-by-play people, and all subsequent highlight reel commentators, must incorporate the already beaten to death, made famous by a supposed classic I have never watched entirely through once, "Run Forrest, Run!".

Anytime there is a story about meteor rocks or craters, ESPECIALLY if the location is Kansas, news articles must include some reference to Superman coming to save us from ourselves.

Anytime a food is deemed delicious, somebody needs to deep fry it, because chances are, it'll be extra delicious. Even if the food is actually a liquid.

If you didn't notice, I've had those articles saved up for a while. I have a bad habit of not posting everything I draft, and an even worse habit of posting things a few days too late. Sometimes, I'm just waiting for somebody in the world to screw up so magnificently that all I have to do is log onto my account here and let the post write itself. So there really would be no better way than to end this article by expressing my thanks to that individual who made life easy for me today.

Thank you, OJ. Fool.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 8:06 PM .


Monday, November 13, 2006

Creepy...  

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Posted in posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:32 PM .


Friday, November 10, 2006

Taking You To School, On A Friday?  

I, Buttug McOysty, do solemly swear to educate, cultivate, enlighten-ate and indoctrinate my readership as I see fit.

The dotted lines are back.

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So learn away folks. But before you do, not that I'd ever want to impede your right to learn by taking up valuable time with this soon-to-be run-on sentence, as tempting as it may be to look for Waldo during the playing of the clip, I can assure you he's not there. I realized this after my third time through it.



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The only thing that would increase the irony of this story is if the unknown metal is iron itself.

Would I be so lazy as to link to an article, then abruptly move on with no discussion of aforelinkedto article?

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Sorry Kanye, but it seems that Harvard has shown that babies are born as Gold-diggers.

Would I be so bold as to not discuss two linked articles in the same post?

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Guns don't kill people. People don't kill people. RUBBER BANDS kill people. And the most amusing fact is that the weapon is sold out. Enough nerds, like me, have found this site and have decided for themselves that their lives would be incomplete without this gun. Although, the sell job is top notch:

"This beauty is a fully funcitonal machine gun with TWELVE rotating barrels and a live action trigger."

Christmas is right around the corner, for any of you making "Things To Get Buttug McOysty For Christmas". I'm looking at you...

...Santa.

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That dotted line was a premature, because I think certain Barbadosians could've used said weapon. Aren't snails the slowest creatures on the face of this earth? How does an entire country get attacked by snails. That's just sad. If ravenous monkeys suddenly sprung up on a village, I would understand, but SNAILS.

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The United States political landscape has taken a sudden swing to the left, to the left (everything you own in a box to the left). Yup. Just in case anyone was hiding under a rock, or was searching my post for a musical reference.

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After ranting about my fantasy hockey teams, it seems that certain members of my fantasy basketball team have come down with the undocumented disease only known as turnover-itis (DWIGHT UGLY HOWARD), said to be caused by brain cramps and lapses in judgment.

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That's all, see you next week, I'll be sure to not mention how my hair embarrassed me in front of the entire English congregation of my church.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:40 PM .


Wednesday, November 08, 2006

The Ousting Of Hair  

I do not possess an enormous vocabulary of Chinese words. Of the words/phrases I understand, I am only able to verbalize 40% of them, at most. And if you think I abuse the grammatical laws in English, your ears may shatter at my attempt to form coherent sentences in Chinese. And you'd probably squirm while watching me attempt to thank a person in Chinese.

For inexplicable reasons, sometime long ago, someone decided it would be great to have two different ways of saying "Thank You". One for when someone does something for you, and an entirely different one for someone who gives you something. Don't ask me which is which because I've been on this earth 21 years and I still haven't figured it out yet.

To me, it's as confusing as having two distinct answers to the question "2+2=?".

So you can imagine the dread of me finally manning up and walking into my Chinese-run hair salon. Yes, if you're wondering, it was my fear of speaking Chinese that delayed me from going to get a haircut all along. I really wasn't going for the bum/ugly/mullet look, as some have commented.

And of course, being the professional barber this man was, he asked me very politely, in Chinese, how I wanted my hair cut. Of course, I'm sure he was capable of understanding perfect English and I very well could've told them exactly how I wanted it to be done, in English, and saved myself a lot of trouble.

But isn't it awkward, and to an extent, rude, when someone asks you a question in one language and you answer in another? After-all, I'm Chinese, and I need to save face. So instead, I went ahead and mumbled and jumbled my way through a couple of sentences, pausing every few seconds to catch to appreciate the new level of low I have descended to in my quest to be understood in Chinese.

And the best part is, whatever I said must have amounted to "Hello, I'm in the profession of making kids laugh at me, a clown if you will, so I'm gonna need you to go ahead and grab a bowl, put it on my head, and cut around the bowl in order to yield the dorkiest, most horrific, image you've ever seen, and I will pay you seven fat dollars for it".

If you don't see me for a while, I hope you understand. Must I remind you of the aforementioned ancient Chinese philosophy of saving face?

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:59 PM .


Tuesday, November 07, 2006

The Enigma Team  

Taking place at an undisclosed local hockey arena. Coach Isiah Thomas calls upon his team of hockey players, whom also happen to be a collection of Buttug McOysty's fantasy team players.

Coach Thomas: Gather round boys, take a knee.

Daniel Alfredsson: Are we getting sandwiches?

Markus Naslund: Are you ever not hungry?

*Daniel clubs Markus with a baseball bat*

Marian Gaborik: I know I have no right to speak, seeing as how I'm constantly injured. But it's not my fault I got clubbed by a baby. SERIOUSLY NOW. But Daniel, maybe, just maybe, you should trade that baseball bat for a hockey stick, dontcha think?

Jason Spezza: Sorry, what team do you play for again?

Marian Gaborik: The Minnesota Wild.

*everyone loses interest*

Cam Ward: Has anyone seen my MVP trophy? I seem to have misplaced it.

Pavel Datsyuk: You mean you mis-EARNED it? Ha, ha ha.

Alex Tanguay: *inaudible French-accented English*

Martin Gerber: Hey, why don't you speak the heck up Alex.

Patrik Elias: Why don't you work on stopping a beach ball?

Wade Redden: Why don't you practice putting the beach ball into the ocean?

Coach Thomas: Guys! GUYS! Look, I know that I haven't been successful in this league. There is no need to laugh, or should I say s(K)NICKer at that. In fact, everything I touch instantly turns into a boiling pot of crap, an unmitigated disaster.

*Henrik Zetterberg decides to start annoyingly jabbing his stick into Mark Bell's ribs, who is too drunk to care*

Joni Pitkanen: You come near me with that stick and I'll stuff you in a cardboard box with a one way ticket to Siberia.

Coach Thomas: I WASN'T FINISHED.

Henrik Lundqvist: I'm not finished my sandwich either. Gobble gobble.

Erik Cole: Turkey.

Daniel Alfredsson: Turkey sandwiches? WHERE ARE THE SANDWICHES?

Coach Thomas: Here's what we're going to do. We're going to hit 88 miles/hour going north on the 404 which should take us back in time, where I will take a pass on my inclinations that any of you will be productive.

Shawn Horcoff: Coach, are you my father?

Samuel L. Jackson: SNAKES ON A PLANE!!!

Rick Nash: Who let this dog out?

Daniel Alfredsson: I guess we won't be getting sandwiches after-all.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:47 PM .


Thursday, November 02, 2006

I haven't done one of these in a while.  

Happy Tree Friends! You know, these little fellows and all their friends:



What's that? You've never seen an episode and would like me to recommend one? Try, "Helping Helps". I'm warning you though, as cute as they may appear, and as morally sound the title seems, this stuff is not for the weak-stomached and is rather upsetting. Hide your childrens and stuffed animals. You have been thusly warned.

I'll wait while you watch.

*humming* Where the gangsters boogey? The Gangster Boogey!

And I definitely laughed when, well, you know, I realized what had happened to the poor thing's head. Now before you berate me for being a cold-hearted killer, keep in mind, I had no clue going in. Nobody told me to put away my childrens. It was merely a reaction when you really don't know what else to do.

What you can find horrible is the fact that I continued to laugh even after processing the events.

Now watch this incredible segue...

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Today I received my first professional massage. None of that "housemate walks into your room to snoop on your MSN conversations but tries to hide that fact by giving you a fake massage which is just a shoulder squeeze", I'm talking a person that has her own business card.

Ten minutes later, I painfully found out my back muscles are so knotted (how knotted?), well let me tells you, they are so knotted that they deserve a whole section dedicated to the setup and execution a knot joke.

There were three pieces of rope wandering in the desert. They were very hot and thirsty. They came upon a bar and one went in. He asked for a drink and the bartender said, 'read the sign buddy we don't serve ropes.'

'Oh come on just this once', the rope asked again. The bartender said 'nope', so the rope left. The second rope figured he was a bit better looking and maybe the bartender would soften a little and let him have a drink. He went in and asked for a drink, the bartender shook his head and said 'Hey Buddy, it's just like I told your friend we don't serve ropes here.' Dejected the rope left the bar.

The 3rd rope heard both of their stories, thought for a moment. Then he rolled himself into a knot and fluffed the edges so it was a little frayed. The third rope went into the bar like this and asked for a drink.

The bartender asked, 'Hey are you a rope?' The 3rd rope looked down at himself and said 'Nope, I am a frayed knot!'

The dotted line could not have come any sooner.

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My over/under for number of technical fouls 'Sheed Wallace receives this NBA regular season is set at 50.

My over/under for number of times someone will comment "Your hair is so long!" this weekend is set at 20.

My over/under for number of comments this post will receive is set at 3.

Over, under, over, under, over and out.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:48 PM .


Monday, October 30, 2006

FireFox Holes  

In the spirit of me attempting to go through a long, and agonizing, hockey season without jumping ship on my favorite teams, the following paragraphs that have been strung together should not be read if you have anywhere important to go in the next hour, because it's as long as I am aawesome. A whole lot.

Convenience, compounded by my laziness, has led me to save passwords on sites I frequently visit. For the less Internets-inclined folks out there, allow me to explain. I am a devoted checker of my email, which is a very pleasant way of saying I obsessively check my email every 20 minutes. On top of that I have a variety of things that need I feel the want to check up on three (or twelve) times a day.

As if I were boiling water and obsessively checking to make sure it hasn't boiled over, when it hasn't even begun to boil at all. And when checking on water boiling, the lifting of the lid is a vital part of the process. Which sets me back. In fact, this whole paragraph may have set my entire post back further than I would would've imagined at its conception. Post, back and further, three words that all describe relative position, used in a row. Sometimes, even I amaze you, the readership.

So you see, instead of being forced to type out ... my password (almost typed it out right here before realizing how hilariously oxymoronic that would render my argument) every time I deem it necessary to check up on something, my accounts and affairs instantaneously load up on my click.

Introduction to Making Computers Work For You, CSC 010. Welcome to class.

Now with my previously announced browser switch to Firefox, a previously unnoticed issue has been noticed and is noteworthy enough to be noted here on this virtual notepad, Stupefying Stupditiy. A problem isn't a problem until it becomes a problem. Unless you're a go-getter, solving problems before they occur, but welcome to the world of technology where everyone is usually just playing catch-up to problems. And in the not-so-famous words of a certain comic, I don't got jokes, I got problems.

What?

Thus far, my convenience has payed vast, unobvious(?) dividends. Unfortunately, as all things that go up must come down, all things good must come to and end. Or seemingly. I may be overreacting, but just to be sure, pay close attention, because...

...after this flow, you gonna owe me a favor.

Firefox saves your password, UNENCRYPTEDLY.

Buttug McOysty (that's me), making up words at an alarming rate equivalent to the rate of our ozone layer shrinking into obscurity. By the by, what happened to that craze where everyone was worried about that? Calling Greenpeace, get on it thanks.

Pardon me, allow me to reiterate, but in regular-speak. If you use Firefox, save your passwords, and let me on that computer, with one push of a button I can display each saved password and the corresponding site in a nice chart format!

You know, for my perusing convenience.

Now, I'm not ready to incite a browser war between different factions of my readership. I'm absolutely positive there are ways that my saved passwords can also be recovered from Internet Explorer. I don't deny that. But I'm sure there isn't a "Show Passwords" button that is securely guarded by a "Are you sure you wish to show your passwords" prompt either.

I'm glad I don't save my online banking passwords. Because that would be taking "show me the money" to a new e-level. Somebody in the Mozilla Firefox organization needs to lose their job due to my insecurity. An unsatisfied customer is only satisfied when heads roll.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 12:00 AM .


Thursday, October 26, 2006

LOL  

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:53 PM .


Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Picture This  

When I first started writing on the virtual paper known as the Internets, I wouldn't say I had a clear direction I wanted to take it in. And if you dare to click on some of my archives, or obsessively read all of them in a row, you can clearly see different writing structures/styles and how I have (d)evolved over the years. I feel like I've changed a lot, yet very little at the same time. As if I was discovering myself through my sometimes thoughtful, sometimes angry, always exciting, always aawesome, ramblings.

This is beginning to sound like I'm celebrating a blog birthday or "1000 posts" or "over 10 billion SERVED! visitors", all of which I plan to one day merrily celebrate, today not being that day.

My point being, I designed, er, modified the Stupefying Stupidity template using Internet Explorer, and consequently (but not apparent to me at the time), for Internet Explorer.

With my recent browser jump to Firefox, I startlingly discovered that one of my beloved background images was not being displayed. So because it is the paragon of art blending in smoothly with a color scheme, I'm going to dedicate the rest of this post to it, and hopefully Firefox cooperates and allows me to display it in all its glory following this sentence, when I choose to end it, right...soon...now:



I find it ironic that Firefox has selectively blocked out an image of a shadowy FOX.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 9:56 PM .


Thursday, October 19, 2006

"Television You Can Believe In!"  

During last night's Avalanchian burial of the Toronto Maple Leafs (WOO!... I know I live in Toronto and can rightfully be branded as a traitor), I flipped around the channels during commercials to pass the time. Impatience never was one of my finer qualities.

Being aawesome atones for that.

One of the more frequently skipped channels during my commercial-time perusals of alternative programming is the homely Crossroads Television System. Better known as CTS (which I always thought stood for Christian Television Station). Even better known as the channel that airs Benny Hinn! Say hello to Benny everybody:



I actually decided to pay attention for five minutes during one of his broadcasts, and after he miraculously heals someone he nudges people by the head and they fall like trees. If I ever got a chance to go on that show and pretend to be healed, I would fall like a tree, then feign like my knee snapped on the way down and then sue for assault and false advertising.

But Benny Hinn aside, the CTS... aw heck, I'll let them explain themselves:

"Choosing television programs on CTS TV provides viewers with a range of entertaining and inspirational programs that present values based on biblical principals."

To my delight, and more so my confusion, during my channel-fly-by yesterday, I caught a glimpse of DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince himself on CTS! I had to go back because I was already well on my way to the next channel, and after rubbing my eyes, and confirming with the Internets, I realized this was no mistake. Fresh Prince of Bel Air is one of the many "entertaining, inspirational, biblically principled" shows CTS offers on a daily basis.

The same show that once introduced me to the entertaining idea of poking fun at fat and short people. And inspired me to never go to West Philadelphia where men randomly pick fights at a schoolyard basketball court with scrawny kids (like me).

It just seems like another television network has decided to appeal to different demographics. And while I don't doubt that Fresh Prince was a (dysfunctional) family-oriented show, can somebody show me where the Biblical principles are? Can somebody also show me where Waldo is?

And if this trend of television networks brining in shows to reach different demographics continues, what's next? World Wrestling Entertainment on the Women's network? Survivor - Cook's Island on the Food Network? Unbiased reporting on the Fox Network? Only time will tell.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:35 PM .


Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Coach, Sum It Up For Us  

I wonder if anyone that reads this blog saw the Bears/Cardinals game last night. Because I have to say, watching professional athletes, a whole team of professional athletes no less, self-destruct when the game is on the line, warms my heart on cold, lonely nights a la Chicken Noodle Soup (with a soda on the side).

That is, unless I'm watching my beloved Colorado Avalanche getting smoked game in game out.

And my fantasy hockey teams. And my virtual stock portfolio.

And (so it seems) my life.

Somebody give me a hug.

Making it the 156378'th time the following video will have been posted on a random blog, but I am no random blogger. I'm the aawesome, the only, Buttug McOysty. Honestly, I know most of you don't care for football. But just watch how this interview spirals out of control in a span of 42 seconds. That's all I ask.

And the coach, Dennis Green, is rightfully pissed off after such a monumental collapse, and the best part is, he knows he's gonna get canned. Suffering from a minor case of the cussing, please excuse him, and remember, his team sucks.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:19 PM .


Monday, October 16, 2006

Mixed Messages  

It's confusing when one tries to make an informed decision, a decision that could will profoundly impact lives in and around oneself, and different camps of important people have chosen their sides and are deeply entrenched in their respective positions.

And like Lifehouse, I'm somewhere in between.

And because I consider myself one semi-highly educated, and a very highly aawesome, individual, I tend to know a few things. And one of my many skills is my innate ability to sense an opportunity.

Call me defense contractors, or reconstruction companies if you will, but even in the middle of a verbal war, dollar signs are dancing around in my mind.

So from now on, instead of simply commenting on what I should do with my hair, you can put money into the "Here's five bucks, go cut your excessively long hair" pile or "Here's five bucks for that extra bucket of shampoo you'll need to invest in to keep it growing, and keep it flowing" pile.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:32 PM .


Spaceballs On Television  

Comin' your way Fall 2007. For now, all we have to hold us over is classic clips:

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 12:12 AM .


Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Television Made A Funny  

An ad for NBC's "The Biggest Loser" show just played, you know the show where they say "Fat people aren't good enough so let's set them in front of cameras and taunt them with tons of food while they exercise in hopes of losing weight thus conforming to our definition of beautiful".

And then following that was an ad for Arby's mouthwatering deal of two cheeseburger melts for the price of one.

I laughed my face off, but I have yet to figure out what type of irony this is. I'm leaning towards situational, but cosmic is coming in a close second.



That picture is making me hungrily giggle.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:49 PM .


I Forgot To Take Out The Trash  

After posting that elevator photo, I stumbled across a photo that utilized perspectives in a frighteningly similar method. As such, it is my humble duty to throw it up.



What's even scarier is that in Toronto, trash pickup occurs every two weeks, and so because I forgot to take out the pile of trash accumulating in volume and odor inside my garage, not only does that mean some of that garbage will have been rotting in my garage for a good month by the time it finally gets picked up two weeks from now (confused yet?), I'll have successfully robbed my parents of all their good memories from the past two weeks in Europe upon their return by replacing it with memories of how I cannot be trusted at home alone.

Run along sentence, run a-'long'.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 12:22 AM .


Thursday, October 05, 2006

Day Five - My Brother Is Alive  

And today, he has come home. I greeted him by sending him out to McDonald's to buy me some fries which will be the fuel I burn as I continue to mull over this nifty word association game, and after and give up to go "play" this that cannot be classified as a game but is thoroughly amusing.

My brother and I have an odd relationship. Once mortal enemies that would argue to the death about anything, we now seem to have a common understanding that life would be made so much easier if we were on the same team.

Against our parents.

Not really against AGAINST them, but you know, we face the common adversity (parental nagging) that binds us together. So together in fact, that we have a lot of friends in common (he may be stealing all of mine, but I'm probably just being insanely/insecurely paranoid).

Apparently my house has been volunteered for thanksgiving activities for those friends. I just want to say for the record, nobody is invited and everyone needs to stay away from me and my house because I do not want to have to clean up a darn thing. STAY FAR AWAY.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:51 PM .


Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Day Three - GG  

After a night at a local watering hole spent with some boys of mine, I have come to the conclusion that beer does not make a hockey game more enjoyable. Actually, that should really be separated into two conclusions, from which I spliced as if the conclusions were DNA.

I miss school.

1. Beer does not make anything more enjoyable for me.

and

2. Nothing can make watching the Toronto Maple Leafs attempt to keep up with the other team less painful.

Both, gross over-generalizations, and both probably will not make any sense to me by tomorrow morning when I re-read this post (I, ButtugMcOysty re-read absolutely everything I write because that's what floats my hot-air-balloon), but as of right now, I would battle to the death defending either of the stances put forth.

I had to crane my neck the whole night just to be able to see most of the television because of a bad architectural decision by the restaurant. Although, watching a game in a semi-crowded public place with plenty of people groaning or exclaiming "OH!! OH!!!!" at every near-goal is amusing and makes for a good evening. (Atmosphere is everything. Save our ozone layer!)

That, and chicken wings. A big platter of chicken wings.

The cherry on top of all this? When living by oneself, if oneself decides go out on a certain evening, upon returning to oneself's home, the mess to cleanup is considerably less.

The following is a depiction of a wicked prank idea (click picture for more details):

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:56 PM .


Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Day Two - What Else Is New  

The empty void that was once occupied by my mom shoving fruit in front of me every half hour, or by my dad asking me about my future every half hour but on the 15's and 45's so as to give the impression of a never-ending barrage of parental influence in my life, has now been replaced by a deafening silence.

I have attempted to fill the void with fantasy sports drafts, and I am a draft-aholic. However, this is eerily ominous of my future parenting skills, in that while I enjoy putting a team together, the thrill ends there, and for the rest of the year, I only care about the two or three teams that rise above the rest. Favoritism and negligence are two qualities that should never go hand in hand.

Feel free to dial half-way to child services in anticipation. I won't hold it against you.

I managed to remember to take out the recycling this morning, and upon my return home tonight, the boxes that were placed on the edge of my lawn closest to the street had been strangely moved to right outside my garage.

Almost as if I had a guardian angel...

...that did my chores for me.

Maybe tomorrow I'll come home and the lawn will be mowed, or the toilets will be scrubbed, or there will be candy on my pillow.

Either way, there are still dishes to be washed, laundry loads to be done, and television to be watched. Apologies to Matt Damon, I've run out of time.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 9:21 PM .


Monday, October 02, 2006

The Chronicles of Home Alone - Day One  

On a whim, my parents have flown off into the sunset, on a jet plane no less, to vacation in Europe. Yes, it's rather romantic, two people, after so many years of marriage, running off like any happy married couple should. Hitting up a few different locations in a span of two weeks. Expensive dining, fancy shopping excursions, trading the cares of the world for room service with an accent, that's everything a vacation should be. The only minor issue they have to deal with, they left their POOR CHILD behind to fend for himself.

That's me.

Just in case your memory needed a jolt, or if you're a new reader, which is highly unlikely because my hit counter readings are inversely proportional to the readings I get off my actual scale, and when one is bored with nothing to do, one eats, so let me share, and for my sakes, please act like you care.

Somebody hold me.

Last time I was left alone by myself, I ended up eating Pogo Sticks for meals. And I outwitted, outplayed, and outlasted starvation.

This time, I'm determined to eat right, and so tonight, I helped myself to a healthy serving of beans and beef and assorted mixed vegetables. And yes I'm very aware of the old adage:

Beans, beans, they're good for your heart.

We all know the rest, no need to get smart. If I survive the night, I'll be back here tomorrow. As Edward Murrow would say, "Good night, and good luck".

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:12 PM .


Sunday, October 01, 2006

Not All Change Is Bad .. Hair Day  

I suspect my switch-up in shampoo brands is paying dividends. Some of the comments I've received thus far into my one and a half week adventure:

"Your hair looks great!"

"Your hair is shinier, what shampoo are you using?"

"Your hair is aawesome, just like you!"

"Your hair has never looked browner! This new shampoo accentuates that!" (??)

"I think you should cut your hair, boys shouldn't have long hair," (uh...) "but right now it looks okay!"

So maybe the last two were inferred compliments, and maybe I was talking to myself in comment number three, but you can't argue with the other two glowing reviews, and as such, I must blatantly product place Pantene Pro V.


Because it's your hair's time to shine.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 10:07 PM .


Friday, September 29, 2006

How On Earth  

I am regularly confounded by shows that can only fall under the genre of "genius" come hand in hand with ratings that make the NHL in America look good.

And if you don't know what that means, lets put it this way. The big TV networks shied away from NHL games, so it ended up on OLN. The Outdoor Life Network. Right there along with FISHING and those Caribbean Workout people. How many things do I find wrong with that? Too many.

Before you can digest all that, I digress.

Perhaps I just watch stuff the masses don't enjoy, although that definitely does not sound like me at all (hello Grey's Anatomy). But, let me just give you a sample of the writing found in Veronica Mars:

"A Saturn, for Mars, in Neptune. Now move Uranus, the Mercury is rising."

That line itself is confoundingly incredible. So great, I had to rewind, listen to it again, just to make sure I understood the context and everything that was said (actually I just wanted to make sure I got the quote down correctly).

Speaking of smart, Jon Stewart. Is there anything he can't do? Enough said.

To sum up this non-lengthy post, more confusion to be had. Because the more the merrier, and more is better, some odd Photoshop contest I stumbled upon conveniently included this entry (I'm so bored I spend my time acquainting myself with Photoshop):

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 7:19 PM .


Sunday, September 24, 2006

I Feel Like I'm 13 Going On 45  

Urban Quest 2006 re-run. Yes I paid $40 to qualify for another day of running around downtown Toronto, moving from station to station completing random tasks that were vaguely mentioned in the clues provided. And moving to station is no easy task, especially if you have to retrace your steps because of an oversight.

There were a few differences between the way my team decided to run this race as opposed to the last one we ran back in July. We made one big mistake both times, but this one was made right at the beginning so we attempted to hustle by running whenever we had the chance (last time we leisurely strolled through the course and didn't end up finishing in time). This time, both my knees gave out 2 hours into the 5 hour race. As such, not only was I a hindrance to the entire team, I was a severe disappointment to myself.

Being the prideful guy I am, I refused to give up or even complain. I bit down on that t-shirt, and when I needed to run, I ran. And I'm paying for it today, and will probably pay for it for a while to come.

But $40. The principle itself would not allow me to quit.

And when I say I'm a prideful kinda guy, it's not the outwardly arrogant guy-you-love-to-hate persona I portray daily on this blog.

Buttug McOysty. Because I'm aawesome and I have added the word "aawesome" to my Firefox spell-check dictionary as if it were an actual word that could describe me without being underlined by a red squiggly. And I sure did break in the middle of a thought to link to myself.

It's not a competitive spirit, and it's not a sit-back and admire what I have done. I'm talking more of a deep down, don't want to let anyone else down, thing that must've been passed down in my DNA because I'M CHINESE. And that's how we roll.

Optimistically speaking, I have now been given a very convenient excuse to not exercise, to veg in front of the TV, or to nap, for an extended period of time.

And as such, I must plug one of the best shows on television today, NBC's The Office.
A comedic masterpiece that is telling the most compelling love story on television since who knows when, that reached a mini-boiling point right at the end of last season. Here, watch for yourselves if you have no idea what I'm talking about, and even if you do, watch again because this almost brought tears to my eyes (I bent my knee the wrong way just now...not because I'm sappy):



Now you must go watch every Thursday night, and if you don't root for Jim, you may just be the type of person that would also strangle a puppy.

I'm a modern day TV evangelist, minus the Benny Hinn, persuading people to watch what I watch, and I promise from now on, any show plugging will be done subliTHEOFFICEminally.

Happy birthday to the girl with the best laugh in the world. She doesn't read this blog, but I shout her out because it probably makes all of the people that DO read my blog and DO NOT receive any birthday shoutouts that much angrier. And that just tickles me like Elmo.

I love you all, please continue to read me, please?

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 9:20 PM .


Thursday, September 21, 2006

Racial Survivor  

I intentionally delayed writing something about this new season of Survivor, where the tribes are initially separated by race, because in the first episode, NOTHING HAPPENED. My guess is that the first episode was supposed to sell the shock of this "new and fantastic social-experimental" way of dividing the tribes, but let me tell ya, shock factor goes out the door when the gimmick is leaked a month or so before the actual show is aired.

So after sitting down, expecting fireworks to fly, bombs to be blasted, stereotypes to be portrayed, and tensions to boil over, I disappointedly came away empty-handed, with no ammunition for this blog of mine.

The only person being slightly racist was a member of the Asian tribe, Cao Boi (pronounced Cowboy, which is ridiculous in its own right because that name should've been reserved for somebody from Texas, and THAT RIGHT THERE was more racist than anybody else has been on the show, and I don't even know if that's even considered racist), and he was only poking fun at the ASIANS.

There's an understanding that if you're of a certain group, you're mostly allowed to make fun of that group, of course with some lines that should never be crossed. But similar to how black people have no problems calling themselves, uhm, ninja's (use your imagination, and go check out Ask A Ninja), and just like how I poke fun of some people for being extra-short, extra-loud-mouthed, extra-analytical, or extra-absentee, things may be said, but things are also understood.

I miss my house-mates, it's so sad we had to separate and go our own ways and blubber blubber blubber. FALSE.

No actually, I really do, but The Office is back and is still hilarious.

So with that all and more being written, I will now stereotypically analyze this episode of Survivor. It's all in good fun, and I'm plenty bored.

And from now on, because I'm starting to feel mighty weirded out by the over-usage of some of these words, I am going to rename these teams. Here goes nothing:

Blacks: Soul-Power
Latinos: Latinos (it's not weird calling them that)
Whites: Americans
Asians: MY TEAM

How Race Affected The Happenings On Tonight's Episode of Survivor

Speaking of Russian, does anybody else feel bad for John Leclair? You know, the guy who took out the superstar hockey player imported, no, SMUGGLED out of Russia leading to international uproar and all that other good fun foreign policy stuff? IN HIS FIRST NHL game, no less the PRE-SEASON? Like boy, if Evgeni (superstar dubbed best hockey player not playing in the NHL) does NOT make it back in time to buoy the Penguins to a respectable season, how many crazy Pittsburgh fans will have their shotguns ready to gun this man down? That's just horrible luck.

1. MY TEAM is smarter.
There is a certain amount of mental aptitude needed to play the game of Survivor, especially needed to manipulate other players, but also needed to navigate your way through demanding challenges. MY TEAM has been two for two in challenges and although the latest one was rather close (they tied for the win), they completely trashed the Soul-Powers and the Latinos in both. Only the American's have been close.

They say that an average human uses only about 10% of their brain. I'd say that the people represented by my team use about 12%, giving us the edge.

And as a sidenote, from now on, whenever I get asked, "What would be the one super-power you would like to have?", I'm going to reply, "To use 100% of my brain". I picked that up somewhere, but I fail to remember, because, I only use 10% of my brain.

2. You DON'T leave a member of MY TEAM alone with a logic-puzzle which when solved, is rewarded immensely.
Another twist in this game is that the losing team choose one member of another tribe to spend two nights on an island by themselves, aptly named "Exile Island". While it is not the greatest news to hear, the additional twist is that hidden somewhere on the island is an Immunity Idol, and Immunity is what you want in a game of Survivor.

This guy, puts two and two together, and digs himself up the idol, thus giving him an ace in his pocket, on top of his already dominating tribe.

3. If it wasn't obvious, I'm cheering for MY TEAM.
It's not uncommon for a viewer to pick sides early on in any show, much less Survivor. But now I have to be careful what I say when expressing my delight or disgust for the events that unfolded on Survivor.

Whereas before I could walk into my office, and announce "JABUAU just STEAMROLLED over them TAMBAQUI's", it would not go over so well if I pop up 9am in the morning and state "So the Americans really walked all over the soul-power's last night huh".

Because they have been for the past few hundred years. And while the truth is funny, the truth is also hurtful.

4. I really feel compelled to make a fourth point even though I don't have one.
Because it would've been pretty jerk if I teased making a really long list and it ended up containing only three items. A bullet point list would've sufficed in that case. And you, my readership, have come to expect longer and better lists. I've built a blogging career on making lists at least four or five items long, I'm not about to disappoint. Even if this post has dragged on long enough.

I guess I'll take this opportunity to thank Jeff Probst for bringing us this extremely boring social experiment. And it behooves me to think of the only logical gimmicks for the next season of Survivor, unless it is canceled, but most probably won't be because fools like me still watch.

I mean, they've divided tribes by race, gender, age (if I remember correctly) and IQ (which is semi-equivalent to race, okay that went too far, I apologize).

"Next season on Survivor, we pit the ugly people against the good-looking people!"

or... (and prepare yourselves now)

"Next season on Survivor, we put faith to the test as we divide people by their religion!"

Oh (cow) boy.

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posted by Buttug McOysty . 11:37 PM .