"Don't try to keep all this junk, one day you're gonna grow up and regret spending all your money on these Pokemon cards. You'll see. Oh, sure. Pretending you can't hear me because you are too focused on that Super Nintendo.* Hey, HEY I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT WHEN YOU WERE BORN, WE WERE HOPING FOR A DAUGHTER.**"
So as I replaced the seemingly endless stream of 'Where's Waldo slash Bearstein Bear' books with University Textbooks on my bookshelves, finding Pogs and Hockey cards being used as bookmarks, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I should've listened to my parents. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. True/False questions are fifty-fifty. And it looks like there is to be a fourty percent chance of FREEZING HAIL RAIN!? for tomorrow.
I digress.
For the first time ever, my room finally looks mature. I wish I could say the same about me, all while staring at the miniature Pokemon characters attached to my keychain. I quickly threw those out.
Then reached back into the garbage bag to save Squirttle.***
*It was a Nintendo 64. **I pretty much made that whole quote up. Just like Gr.12 English essays. I miss high school. Uh, no I don't. ***I'm sorry Squirt, I will never disown you again. I promise.**** ****How do you know a Pokemon doesn't have the ability to read? I mean, some can dig, some can swim, and some can fly. It's only reasonable if we consider that an undiscovered Pokemon has the ability to read.***** *****Is it too much if I askterisk my askterisks?
A couple posts back, I put up a picture of myself taken 19 years ago. It generated an extraordinary increase in comments. I have come to the conclusion that the sky is blue. And that I like blog hits/comments.
Let me just take the time here to say hi to all my friends that have found this page through a google search of "did bow wow and ciara break up".* Yes. Yes they did. I know, it's sad, but I knew all hope was lost when Brad and Jen couldn't make it happen.
In a sense, that picture I posted a while back is how I came into Queens University. A baby. A big fly lookin baby. Let's see how I'm leaving it:
They say your attitude determines your latitude, well look at that, I'm FREAKIN KANYE WEST:
Yeah, that's the best I could find. Not even close huh?
There's so much that could be said. So many memories to recall, people to thank, foods that I left in the freezer, messes that I may have left on roommate's beds**. But yeah, Cryfest-2006 will have to be postponed until I recover from moving so many boxes***.
*That right there should generate A TEN FOLD INCREASE in blog hits from random searches. **I've said too much. ***Even managed to move boxes out of the U-haul, into a garage, and then BACK INTO THE U-HAUL in a span of half an hour. My bones feel like cracking.
The season has come to a close. I'm gonna go all ESP on everybody and start calling out winners. Those of you that don't care much for hockey or about throwing your life away by buying Proline tickets (you don't need more than you have, everything you could possible need already comes from above...SON), feel free to skip this post right over.
I must warn you though, I like to usually call it like it is, stay mostly neutral. Oh no that doesn't sound right at all. Let me try again. The following predictions are as biased as one can get.
Why am I giving more reasons for people to skip over this post? I don't know. I'm high on the drug I got from a bottle labelled "I'M DONE SCHOOL FOR 16 MONTHS AS OF TOMORROW". Let's at it shall we?
Hart Trophy - Player most valuable to their team - Joe Thornton Vezina Trophy - Best Goalie - Mikka Kiprusoff Norris Trophy - Best Defenseman - Nick Lidstrom Calder Trophy - Rookie of the Year - Alex the Great Ovechkin Jack Adams Trophy - I Dont Care Comeback Player Of The Year - they don't get a trophy, but Teemu Selanne. Where was this two years ago Teemu? Finish Flash? I hope you finish last. Alexander Daigle Trophy a.k.a. The I can't believe I took this guy in the first round of my fantasy pool trophy.* - MARTIN ST.LOUIS. I HATE YOU MARTIN.
Stanley Cup - with 1/16 odds**, I feel good taking Colorado. I always feel good taking Colorado.
*Yeah, I found this somewhere else, and since a couple of my pools got screwed over I just had to point this guy out. **It's probably more like 1/1000472378 the way Detroit is playing. It's just ridiculous.
AND I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING. WHAT DO I DO WHAT. OH CRAP.
Wait.
My eyes were closed.
Sorry.
*edit*
The Pamphlet just came and asked me for my BlockBuster card so that he could rent a movie that he needed to watch in preparation for his exam.
He gets to analyze movies for school. I get to analyze, well I would tell you, but couple hours before my exam and I still haven't gotten the gist of the material yet, so I'm gonna say that I'm analyzing nerdy and wordy (in the very unnecessary stuff-as-many-letters-into-one-word way) science journals.
I KNOW we supposed to hate the game and not the playa, but I'm counting synonyms to the word 'jealous' right now. I can count to two then I get too mad to keep going. And normally, I can count to Pi, BACKWARDS.
But apparantly, my previous post happened to be post number 500 on buttugnoraa.blogspot.com. And no I'm not going to link to the previous post, just scroll down there you lazy bums you.
I hesitate because this does not seem like a tremendous milestone of any sorts because upon inspection of my archives, I had some pretty crappy posts. For example:
The Force Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the world together....hmm....deep...very deep...hehehe
*he shoots, AND MISSES WIDE RIGHT*
But here's to the next 500 posts, creativity-willing. May my posting be as smooth and awesome as these Rube Goldberg machines. That thing they say at the end, "Pitagora Souchi" may mean Pythagorean Machine in Japanese, although I cannot confirm that with any accuracy. But put the stats aside and watch away:
I remember making one of these back in middle school. My objective was to pop a balloon. My machine consisted of some marbles, some dominoes, some styrofoam and some cardboard. And at the end of the day, the balloon was only popped when I added thumb tacks to the bottom of the box holding the balloon at the very last minute, you know cuz I realized that not only would my machine not work but I'd make a fool of myself in front of my grade 8 class. And I was already too unpopular to afford another blow to my non-existant playground cred.* Can you spell ghetto?
G-H-E-T-OH YEAH**
*Why am I talking about my loser-ish past life? This is depressing. **Possibly one of my worst blog post endings ever.
The best part about listening to taped lectures in the comfort of your own dinky room in 311, besides the fact that you can loudly munch on Crispers/Nutri-Grain bars/Bananas while strumming on a guitar and folding your laundry (I need to go do laundry thanks for the reminder), is that after a quick zone-out, you just hit that rewind button and you miss out on nothing at all. Except for the last five minutes because everyone knows daydreaming is a waste of time.
Don't even get me started on the pause button, which is currently depressed* right now while I post. I LOVE THE PAUSE BUTTON. See, now I've started and I thought I told you that I won't stop UGH**.
This is a taste of the life I would have with the Staples Easy Button, which, by the way, you can put down on your "LIST OF THINGS TO GET BUTTUG FOR HIS BIRTHDAY". I know y'all have one of them. Or maybe two.
So you're snoring real loud in the front row of a lecture and the prof is standing right in front of you. No problem. Easy button.
You walk out of the washroom, only to realize you haven't washed your hands and the girl of your dreams asks you to hold her hand while you two promenade down the hallway. EASY button.
You can't seem to beat that Fire Temple in Zelda: Ocarina of Time because you keep running out of bombs because you haven't acquired the bigger bomb bag yet, and it's gotten to the frustration boiling point where the next continue screen you see could cause a family-room wreckage of epic proportions. EASY BUTTON.
You're walking down the street when you accidentally kick a parked car, setting off its alarm. The old lady beside you who can't take sudden loud noises has a heart attack. You would call for an ambulance but you also happen to have a soar throat that day and can't utter a word to save a life (how ironic). E-A-S-Y-B-U-T-T-O-N.
Your name is Kwan Chan and you have an ugly face.*** ... Sorry Kwan, even the Easy Button admits that it can only do so much.
*As in, the button is really really sad. Because I'm ignoring it to write this post. **I figured I'd cite this as coming from 112's "Only You" just because I thought you'd like to know. ***I'm still mad at him for I don't even know what. Maybe this is just my way of coping with leaving.
I have a feeling I'll be cooped up inside for the next little while. And because well reaching over to pry open my window requires too much of an effort, I usually just flick on my electric fan.
So please, gather a bunch of people together and put together a nice little rotation to occasionally (hold on I'm not done with the redundancy yet) here and there from time to time once in a while drop by from time to time to make sure I'm still alive.* Plus, I'm only here for another 13 days.**
That's all that I ask.
*humming Beyonce's Check On It, then realizing I hate that song except for that fact that it is Swiss Beats produced. SWIZZY!* <--***
Changed my mind. I'd also like to ask you how if, this is just hypothetical now, you were living with a horribly inconsiderate housemate who would refuse to do dishes, remember it's all hypothetical, and even after you yelled at him and he still wouldn't do the dishes, hypothetically speaking, how long would it be before you whacked him over the head with one of his own dirty dishes?
In my case, there's a clear exponential correlation between the amount of dishes and the time before I smash that plate over Mik...the hypothetical housemate's (good save) head.
*Sounding like a ploy to have people visit me and make me feel special/not-lonerish? PERHAPS. Would it make a difference if I said I could offer you some Crispers? Those not-enough-of-a-chip-to-be-accepted-by-chips and not-enough-of-a-cracker-to-be-accepted-by-crackers ... things? **Posts, getting, sappier. Excuse me while I go watch endless episodes of Friends, followed by Cinderella Story. ***Please don't confuse italicized asteriks with regular asteriks. Slightly confusing yes, but please no riots because I may be abusing the asteriks system.
I don't like posting up pictures of myself. Afterall, there is a reason I refer to myself as Buttug (Buttugly for those that are horrible at the game of follow-the-leader*)
But how often does it snow in April?** So without further ado, this is me, a long time ago. In a galaxy not so far away from the Sagittarius Dwarf, ie. the earth. NO, I AM NOT THE CHAIR. CMON. Right there, the little kid on the left. Or is it my right?! Oh, it's YOUR left. So confusing sometimes when I have to talk from a person-from-the-past-in-the-computer-screen perspective.
So thank you Bev for bringing me back to a time when my face wasn't pimple'd/glasses'd. And a time when you were equally as stunningly-captivating-awesomely-hawt as ever. Oh hey, next time we decide to take a picture, smile for the camera k thx? Honestly. Was the time it took to take that picture (what, two seconds?) too much to pretend you weren't repulsed by 1. having to be around me and 2. having proof of you ever being around me cemented into picture format?
*As is really, REALLY ugly for those that just really dropped the ball a long long time ago, so long ago that you're probably sitting at home cuz you gave up looking for that elusive ball. **Really has nothing to do with anything. Just thought I'd play the part of the weatherman for a bit. Cuz I know a couple y'all studious people already holing up in preparation for final exams, and are nowhere near a window and would like to know what's happenin in the world today. You're welcome.
480 Days before The Simpsons movie makes its way to the big screen.
Its slightly creepy that while I'm typing this post up, the person sitting beside me in the library with full view of my screen is also posting on blogger. It's like we have some sort of inner connection that just led us to blogger at the same time.
Creeps the Bejeebees* out of me.
Lets say your ready to empty your bladder's contents into a urinal. Some dude that smells slightly funky, has messy hair and is talking real loud on a cell phone decides to run into the washroom to do their business at the urinal directly next to yours.
THAT IS HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW SO I'M ENDING THIS POST AND GETTING THE HECK OFF BLOGGER.
Because even though I refuse to stop mid-stream mid-post, I can most certainly rush it. Good-da...oh no time for pleasantries, I'm out of here.
*What the heck is a bejeebee? I don't know. I don't care. It sounds psychedelic.
Welcome to Gangst'romics Mondays, where I, the most aawesomerific Buttug, takes you pupils back to school. What is behind this madness you ask?
Thanks for asking. Rewind with me to last night, a random outburst occuring in the residence of yours truly.
The Pamphlet: Why are we so gangster?
Buttug: Look at me. I'm eating a pepper WHOLE**.
The Pamphlet: OH THATS RIGHT. REPRESENT!
*Actually I had to turn back blogger time to make it seem like I posted this on Monday because well you don't really care. Making it 11:58PM was just a nice little touch in my opinion. **As if I were biting into an apple. Seriously. No dicing peppers into tiny little finger foods here. I only use knives to make myself appear more threatening than I actually am.
I decided in all of my infinte wisdom (with infinite being a generous and very loose upper bound to the actual amount of wisdom I posses) to sit out Lebron James* in TWO (count them, ONE...TWO) different fantasy sports teams both fighting for their lives in their win-or-go-home fantasy playoff weeks (I'm just throwing in this last set of parentheses because well when was the last time you saw a sentence with THREE sets of parentheses? Yeah that's right. Never).
Not only was that whole sentence back there amazing because of the three sets of parentheses but also because that one sentence was the whole paragraph. And not some dinky two worded paragraph. That sentegraph (yes I am truncating and concatenating words to form new ones as I like) was action packed with more information than the 6 o clock news. I have truly outdone myself.
*Lebron James. You do NOT know who Lebron James is? I TOLD YOU that you wouldn't care much for this post. Although on this magical place known as the internet, I can quickly rectify this situation by capturing your attention with this snazzy embedded video on my blog. Now click and watch this Lebron James in action.
