Seriously Stupefying Stupidity

Remember When I Used To Be Aawesome?

2009-11-05T16:05:00.001-05:00

Ask The Audience

2009-09-24T19:45:00.002-04:00

Readership! I need your help! I got in an argument today about a particular song. It's a very familiar song, but don't skip over the lyrics! Give it a good read, and tell me what your impressions are.

That's all I'm going to say, because any question I ask would be a leading question. But if you really want to know what the argument is...highlight below...

Is this song dirty or not dirty?

Colbie Caillat - Bubbly
I've been awake for a while now
you've got me feelin like a child now
cause every time I see your bubbly face
I get the tinglies in a silly place

It starts in my toes
and I crinkle my nose
where ever it goes I always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

The rain is fallin on my window pane
but we are hidin in a safer place
under covers stayin dry *(safe) and warm
you give me feelins that I adore

It starts in my toes
make me crinkle my nose
where ever it goes
I always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

What am I gonna say
when you make me feel this way
I just........mmmmmm

It starts in my toes
make me crinkle my nose
where ever it goes
i always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

I've been asleep for a while now
You tucked me in just like a child now
Cause every time you hold me in your arms
I'm comfortable enough to feel your warmth

It starts in my soul
And I lose all control
When you kiss my nose
The feelin shows
Cause you make me smile
Baby just take your time now
Holdin me tight

Stem Prong House Foam

2009-09-03T12:40:00.002-04:00

The past few months, I've been sitting in the back of the office with the back door open. Sometimes, it almost feels like I'm working outside. I can hear the rumble of the subway, the zooming of cars and the ~~silence of the lambs~~ inevitable parking lot arguments. It's all become white noise to me. However, this morning, I found out the Canadian National Air Show is in town when one of the planes rumbled overhead and my coworker ducked for cover.

I probably would've ducked too, but this happened pre-morning-coffee, so I wasn't as alert. Instead, I just sat there very amused by my panic-stricken coworker.

I want to give you an update on my running/exercise-routine. This would make it the second post in a row regarding this topic, as if I'm writing a running diary about running.

I know, you didn't see that coming at all. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you're far too kind. Hold your applause, this is your song not mine.

I no longer walk-of-shame my way home; I can now go twice around my cute circuit. See, all it took was a little blog motivation. But you know, once I get to 2.5 circuits, I'll be right back here whining and complaining. And once more, you, my dedicated readers, will have to toss compliments my way to keep me going.

Millionaire Flashlight Spine

2009-08-24T23:48:00.002-04:00

Mixing Music Makes Me Mad

I thought staring at SAP all day was bad, but staring at audio waves is definitely worse. It only accentuates the repetitiveness of today's "hit" music.

Transition.

I jog lightly from time to time. My route has been labeled "cute", as in "awww it's as small as a baby, I just want to pinch its' cheeks". Whatever. Google maps informs me that this cute circuit of mine totals 1.8k. I'm consistently able to do 1.5 times my route...

...and none of the numbers really matter, except the extra "half" that's missing. Yup, my walk-of-shame back home.

I probably should expand my route instead of doing 1.5 times my current one...but you know.

Annnnnnnd cut.

Orb Tree Haunted House

2009-08-20T23:09:00.000-04:00

Any spare time I get from breaking hearts* I use towards breaking internet-paradigms.

For example, I want to write a full short story...via twitter posts.

When I get hungry, I go to ThisIsWhyYoureFat for ideas.

I'm gonna go on Facebook, create a photo album titled "Summer 2009", and fill it with pictures of snow, snowmen, icicles, and Christmas trees.

I peruse the NYTimes for their cartoons, but rely on Jon Stewart's Daily Show for news.

*C'mon, that line was so far from the truth, it was a little funny, right?

Do I Need A New Template?

2009-08-20T00:22:00.001-04:00

Is it true that if I'm to spectacularly relaunch my blogging career, it should be accompanied by an equally spectacular redesign?

Doesn't matter, I'm not here to do either. I really only came here for the therapeutic reasons, but I stay for the company.

(awwww shucks, I am talking about you!)

I don't think the importance of learning is stressed enough. Just in the few summer months, I've learned how to fold paper stars, I've learned how to play golf and I've learned a little more about money management. Yet, I still find I don't spend time learning about myself.

I mean, really, the only thing I think I've learned about myself is that I'm unwilling to give up on this blog, even as it's circling the drain of death.

I know "learn things" used to be one of my favorite slogans here at Seriously Stupefying Stupidity, but I think "learn 3P things" would be an updated version of that statement I want to use moving forward.

1P - Practical
2P - Personal
3P - Philosophical

That was in no particular order, by the way.

(maybe this blog ain't dead, but the humor sure is, right, right? ahh whatever, my jokes come and go, and there are a certain few people that pretty much laugh at anything I say...so I'll use their laughter as fuel for now)

It's About That Time Again

2009-08-06T23:50:00.003-04:00

You know, when I mosey on in here, write something relatively uninspired, or if it is inspired, then it's about two characters long.

And I'm not talking about the latest Black Eyed Peas' offerings either. HEY-OH!

That was dumb.

With nothing having actually been said, I can't really digress unless you count me digressing from the get-go, but then again I'm not sure I ever got going in the first place, you dig?

You no dig.

Google Wave. The new definition of amazing.

It Doesn't Get More "Mailin' It In" Than This

2009-07-20T00:15:00.002-04:00

As if once a month wasn't a bad enough rate, all I have is this:

Google Latitude

2009-06-29T23:56:00.002-04:00

I'm not too keen on stalker tools. Let me take that back. I like taking them for a test drive, (see Facebook 2003-2004ish), then I get out of there faster than Eminem at the MTV Music awards.

It took me about 10 minutes to think of that analogy. Pop culture is no longer my forte, and I'm very okay with that.

But it's true that as humans, we tend to hide portions of our life. Keepin' it in the dark, instead of keepin' it real. You know?

You no know?

Oh.

Back to my point.

If you turned on an application like Google Latitude, and then went on with your life, would you be ashamed to show your friends/family/anybody?

If yes, then what are you going to do about it?

If no, are you sure?

(I know that in a fallen world, even if you are able to live the impossible (the perfect life), you'd probably still be questioned because we humans have the ability to twist everything...but that's not the point, so don't think about it that way, thanks)

Blame It (Spoof)

2009-05-18T11:20:00.002-04:00

Pirates of the Caribou

2009-04-16T13:03:00.000-04:00

That title has nothing to do with the price of McDonalds in Mombasa.

Who knew that in the year 2009, the fight against piracy would be a fight against old-school piracy?

Moreover, does this mean I have to learn Somali to participate in this year's Talk Like A Pirate Day?

Lastly, how cool would a Pirate-themed reality show be? Hey, don't judge so quick. Let the idea simmer for a while..

..I know, right?!!

Easter Egg Shells

2009-04-07T21:40:00.006-04:00

Yesterday, my company hosted an Easter egg hunt at the office. While I'd like to think that I'm progressing in life, at least in terms of age, my inner-child keeps attempting a massive comeback, complete with a reunion special with celebrity guest hosts and other obligatory fanfare.

Today during lunch, one of my co-workers left a hardboiled egg unattended while microwaving the rest of her lunch. I found a highlighter and proceeded to turn the hardboiled egg into the best Easter egg my creativity could muster (I, I mean, my inner-child, coated half of it yellow, and I declared it a creative victory).

After half an hour of pointing fingers, confusion, fake-anger and other office hilarities that accompany a practical joke, it was time to move on, finish up lunch and get back to work (no pun intended..!).

Not so fast.

The highlighter seeped through the shell and transformed the egg into a nuclear-looking nugget. I inner-kid you not. Practical joke gone bad. Literally. Egg on my face. Non-literally.

I made up for it. I convinced the nice mom and pop shop next door to boil an egg for me. It cost me a buck. To this hour, I still think it was worth it.

Anyways, none of the above has anything to do with what I wanted to say.

I'm debating whether or not I should go get an MRI. I think it's really important to see if I have...

...claustrophobia.

Brutal huh? I'm leaving now.

Another Case Of...The More You Know

2009-03-24T12:53:00.003-04:00

According to my reputed source, Japanese people do not pronounce the letter 'r' like we do. Instead, they sound it as if an 'l' were in its place.

What does this mean?

Japanese people LOLL UP THE RIM (err...LIM) TO WIN!

The Case of the Forgotten Shampoo

2009-03-17T23:54:00.002-04:00

Tonight during my daily (because anything less would be uncivilized) shower, I forgot if I had already shampooed and washed my hair.

Hands down, the dumbest I felt all day. Now, please excuse me while I converse with myself for a minute. You don't have to stay for this. But if you do, try not to butt in mmkay thanks?

*Side-Conversation*

Self.

"Yes?"

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook.

"But you, or should I say, we, don't have a pocketbook."

Fine, force me to point out the obvious Jennifer Hudson reference.

"What, you think you're so aawesome, sprinkling little tidbits of pop culture here and there?"

Yep.

"Me too."

Good talk.

*End Side-Conversation*

I Could Post These Every Day

2009-03-06T00:19:00.002-05:00

He's Just Not That Into You

2009-02-23T20:28:00.007-05:00

If I ever get on a game-show where I have to choose either door/suitcase/mystery-thing number 1, 2 or 3, I'd say something ridiculous to the host like, "Bob, my lucky number happens to be 13, and then I subtract the number of guitar strings I've snapped, about 11, which I then add 4 to because there are 4 letters in the word 'cool' and I'm definitely cool, then you divide those 6 by 2 because of the spontaneous process known as cell division, times that by Pharrell ft. Kanye West 'Number One', add the number of chicken wings I ate tonight, 25, divide that all by two because those technically were half chicken wings, subtract the number of awards Jonas Brothers have won, 28, according to Wikipedia, the most accurate and insightful encyclopedia ever, add my lucky number again, and then multiply by -1 because I like my numbers like I like my friends (REAL), that leaves me with number one."

(That wasn't what I came here to post about)

You know that saying, "fun in the sun"? Well, driving west while the sun is setting is totally NOT fun in the sun. You can't see any of the road signs/traffic lights, and the lane delimiters turn on their invisibility mode.

(Still not what I wanted to post...but it's coming up, so *MINOR SPOILER ALERT*)

So. The movie.

Looking back, if I kept a live-blog of the movie, I think it would've been hilarious. But then again, I'm really the only one that thinks I'm funny, so it might've turned out sad. We'll never know.

Being that it was a chick flick, there were the "awww" moments, there were the "oh no, that's stupid, please don't do that" moments, and there were the "please, real life doesn't work like this" moments. However, I think overriding all these moments, at least from my perspective, is that I left with a feeling of "Huh! Good for him/her/them". There were the happy endings, and there were the moving-on-with-the-rest-of-their-life endings, which is becoming increasingly popular and is fine by me because a lot of times, LIFE IS LIKE ~~a box of chocolates~~ THAT.

I don't think this particular movie overdid it on the unrealistic romance, nor were there any so-over-the-top-creative-your-future-wife-will-only-be-disappointed-because-you-couldn't-pull-something-like-that-off wedding proposals. I remember Jennifer Aniston looking stunning, by the way, bless her poor soul for having been set up like that at the Oscars (I didn't watch, but I heard about it after), but for one scene, she was wearing a terrible pair of glasses.

I should probably warn you, Seesun (because you might end up being the only person that ever reads this...my blog has become a desert wasteland), that if you like this James Morrison song, it is ruined forever by this movie. Forever. If you want to listen to that song again thinking happy thoughts, you can't see this movie. Mmkay? Moving on.

Rihanna, it SHOULD go without saying that HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU, and it's not simply a cultural thing, it's not something you should put up with. (Watch this video.)

This movie also employed the "small stories tied together by common characters" strategy. Like how you could be dating a co-worker that is your best friend's sister's therapist's brother. I kept expecting the stories to cross-talk and affect one another, but it didn't happen. Kudos to the movie people for faking me out there. It doesn't happen often. In fact, I haven't forgiven them for that yet.

I appreciated the attempt to accurately portray people's various approaches to relationships in general. Then again, I'm not going to the movies to learn life lessons (even though I really hope I'm not that guy). I'm going to study the Bible for that. Ruth and Boaz. That's right.

What else. What else.

Freida Pinto's husband, if she's not calling you, she's JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.

The Mac guy, playing a mack. Sorta. But it doesn't matter. Having a role in Die Hard 4 didn't matter. He's forever the Mac guy. Even when he's 50 and Mac's and Starbucks have fused to become Appstar (I'm not feeling particularly clever today), he's still going to be the Mac guy. I hope he's okay with that. Forever.

Terry Porter, the Phoenix Suns were just NOT THAT INTO YOUr coaching style.

I'm debating if Christopher Walken would've made this a better movie. Nah....although...haha

Dared if I Do, Dared if I Don't

2009-02-21T00:49:00.003-05:00

You know, in all my years of typing out things and pressing "post", I don't ever remember being dared to write. Sure, I've been given suggestions, been encouraged, and more often than not, been mocked, but never dared.

Until now.

And as I thought about it, I realized that no one topic was really off-limits for me. To talk about that is. I mean, I know some things are better left unsaid, some things are better said in person, and something's gotta give. The movie. But not that movie.

What I've been dared to write about is something stereotypically left for the women of this world to write about. And from that gross over-generalization, I'd break it down into two groups; one group that will gush on-and-on about said topic, and the other group that will hate till the cows come home for a whole spectrum of reasons.

Where am I going with this.

I will review the movie, He's Just Not That Into You.

(Do yourself a favor and go watch the trailer AND the bit about the cliches not found in the movie).

Wait. What? McOysty is going to review a movie? He doesn't do that, does he? I mean, I know he's written a humorous review of a Hilary Duff album, but a 'chick flick'? Does this mean he watched it? And liked it? Did he watch it before or after being dared to write a review? Did he go by himself? Is life really good? Who is this teacher that keeps sending me parenting emails from California? Does my car really need to have it's oil changed at 9am tomorrow morning? How much work should one expect to do on their last week on a client project? Can somebody hook me up with a TTC metropass for the month of March? Why do birds suddenly appear? What's a good 1am snack?

All that, and much less, will be answered in the next post. So sit back, relax, but not too much, because you'll want to be here when it hits the internets. It's going to be legend...

...ARY. Legendary. Exclamation mark.

On second thought, I might be hyping this post a little much, to the point where my writing abilities probably won't back me up. Now, I don't want this to be the biggest letdown since finding out about Chris Brown, so you know, just swing by about a week from now, you know, on your own time. Whatever.

T.I., What Say You?

2009-02-09T19:00:00.005-05:00

Adversity builds character. Character can take you places money can't.

Alright, I'm with ya. Hear hear!

Your values is a disarray, prioritizin' horribly; unhappy with the riches cuz you piss poor morally; ignorin' all prior advice and forewarnin' and we mighty full of ourselves all of a sudden, aren't we?

So he doesn't like ending words with the letter G, but are we really gonna hold that against him? If you are, you'll have to lock me away too, I just used 'gonna' instead of 'going to'.

And one blurb that has nothing to do with any of the above, and it's not a T.I. quote.

I like to use an economics and finance term to describe the waste of time; the term is switching cost. Switching cost usually refers to the cost and time and money of switching from one provider to another. In the case of multitasking, people feel that they are doing multiple things at the same time, but they are not. The brain is incapable of focusing on multiple tasks at the same time. When people attempt to multitask, what they are really doing is switching rapidly back and forth between tasks. Because of this, I prefer to refer to multitasking as switchtasking. It is because of these switches that people lose time in the switching cost. In this way, switchtasking causes us to be exponentially less productive. - D.C. (but this man hooked me up, so I'ma (<-- that's not a typo, that's how I say it) cite him too)

Boom. Headshot. Live your life, folks, live your life.

How Not To Handle Your Accounts

2009-02-07T15:10:00.003-05:00

I went to deposit some funds into my brand new shiny TFSA.

*Sidenote* - Mc Hammer's 'U Can't Touch This' but instead of 'touch', substitute the word 'tax'. Hit single, right? *End Sidenote*

I wanted to get an access card so I wouldn't have to provide ID everytime (it's basically a debit card). Now, I have had prior dealings with this particular bank, so the process was supposed to be quite simple.

Teller - Can I see two pieces of ID?
McOysty - Sure thing. *Produces a driver's license and credit card*
Teller - Oh...not this credit card. Would you happen to have the one you used in your previous dealings with us?

Hold on to something, you're about to travel through time.

------THREE HOURS AGO------

McOysty - Hi credit card company, I'd like to cancel this credit card.
Teller - No problem! I'll do that for you right now. Would you like to open up a new account?
McOysty - Nope. I already opened a new one, which is why I don't need this one no mo'.
Teller - Alright! Have a nice day.
McOysty - I think I will.

I then proceed to victoriously cut up the canceled credit card, accompanied by a small victory dance (a little two step).

------BACK TO THE FUTURE------

McOysty - -_- (I really made that face)

The NBA is Out To Ruin Your Relationship

2009-02-05T22:13:00.002-05:00

When I say, "February 14, 2009", do you think of:

1. Valentines Day

or

2. NBA All Star Skills Competition

Your answer to this question could determine the fate of this world.

(my answer is, "February 14th? That's a Saturday isn't it? I love Saturdays. Or the half of Saturday I'm actually awake for. Plus, isn't that two days before Family Day? Pfft, name me a greater holiday-that-celebrates-nothing-because-I-celebrate-family-everyday than Family Day. I think I'm gonna go eat some ice cream now." Sometimes, I have a problem with staying on script.)

2009-02-03T22:28:00.003-05:00

That's How We Do

2009-01-26T22:19:00.002-05:00

The workplace cafeteria menu for today read, "Chinese New Year". I sat there thinking to myself, "Self, I would've appreciated a day off instead. But maybe they'll have cool dragon dances and hand out red pocket money! And have all you can eat turnip-cake! This could turn out to be a not so bad attempt at being culturally sensitive!"

Then it was time for lunch.

And wouldn't you know.

Chicken balls.

So I basically ate 'Manchu Panda Express Wok' for lunch today, but I'm sure other people actually felt like they were taking part in an authentic Chinese New Year celebration. Poor fools. If only they knew that the real celebration involved trading well-constructed phrases of good-wishes for money.

Fill'er Up

2009-01-20T18:54:00.003-05:00

I wrote this yesterday, but I chose to publish it today. Why? I had to take my time and make my readers wait on this one, make my readers all mad and stuff, like, "You usually throw up something on the day you write it, post it already!", and then I come out of nowhere...

I forgot to gas up the car this weekend, and only realized this on the highway on-ramp with about 2 blocks of fuel left. Since the little fuel light hadn't flashed on yet, I was somewhat confident I could at least make it to the gas station outside my house (the most convenient one). Then, I went and did the dumbest thing.

I opted to take the Express lanes home, only to find out that the 401 Express was crawling, and now I didn't even have the option to take a random exit for gas if needed.

Then the little gas light turned on, informing me that I was not only in need of gas, I was also an idiot.

The rest of the way home, I tried my best to conserve gas by doing things that may or may not actually conserve gas, but gave me some peace of mind. I flipped off the radio (driving start-stop traffic without radio is maddening), and I only turned on the heat every ten minutes (to defog the windows and bring my freezing limbs back to life). The best idea I came up with? Put my car in neutral, and let it roll down any natural incline instead of giving the car any gas.

Brilliant, amirite?

You Can Call Me Mario

2009-01-15T22:49:00.002-05:00

Because I live in the mushroom kingdom.

Let me explain.

Rushing in from the "deep freeze", my sense of smell (my smelling buds) was overwhelmed by an aroma I had never before experienced. It was not outright pleasant, but after a tiny adjustment period, I found myself breathing deeply.

Doing my best impression of Leroy Brown, I rightly concluded that the smell was burnt mushrooms (yeah I asked my mom what she did).

I think my mom just facilitated my third-hand smoking of mushrooms. My first semi-encounter with not-real-drugs. How exciting. And revolting.

Kayaking Makes My Shoulders Sore

2009-01-12T23:36:00.003-05:00

I usually have about 3 or 4 stories that I plan to convert to blog posts coming back from a trip. Thanks to my ever changing blogging habits, I probably shouldn't go with the tried, QA'd, QC'd, and true "lead with a small story and build towards the biggie" method. Let's just get right to the main event.

I went kayaking...

...through the "river of death".

Which turned out to be more "stream of tight turns, underwater obstacles, and low hanging branches".

I didn't take that picture, because not only was I surrounded by water (water + electronics = go back to school and learn things okay?), in the state of Florida, it's not mandatory to kayak with a life-jacket on! Even if you're going through an area where there are supposedly alligators and snakes. And, before entering that area, you had to cross through a relatively high traffic channel (first time through, level 10, if you're being competitive).

Meaning that even if the camera is safely protected by Ziploc, in the event of a kayak flip-over, the camera would just float away as safety is struggled for. And I wasn't willing to take that risk.

Kayak also satisfied my need to "work out" at least once a year. Check how the generic conversation taking place sometime in 2009 would go down.

Gym Buff - I'm tired from pumping that iron and benching, like, double my weight. But going to the gym is soooo worth it. Could you please open the door? I can't lift my arms right now.

McOysty - Back in January, I paddled a kayak for 2 hours with alligators and snakes swimming beneath me, other boats either trying to run me over or cause big enough waves to tip me over, and branches hanging so low I was directed to duck, all while sipping on a can of beer. Yeah I did. So I think you should open the door for me, seeing as you owe me for imparting that bit of aawesome on you.

Don't Be Mad

2009-01-07T18:30:00.003-05:00

Me:

For comparison sakes, most people that read this:

You Know You're Not Ready For Work When...

2009-01-05T22:46:00.002-05:00

7:40am, running through the checklist before leaving the house...

IBM Laptop? Check.

Employee ID? Check.

Dress shirt? Check.

Dress pants? Check.

Dress shoes? Check.

Fast forward to 8:45am, in the office, making the necessary "how was your holiday" conversations to avoid starting work...

Dress shirt + dress pants + NO BELT = thanks for trying, but really, just go home.

Me No Know How To Write

2009-01-04T18:41:00.004-05:00

I got fans. Internet fans. Maybe not Internet Nerd Fans, but close. And no, you won't really understand that song unless you're this guy, and if you really were that guy, I hope you didn't click on the link to bring you back to your own blog. Haha.

And my internet fans are always like, "Yo, how come you don't blog no mo'?"

Okay, so they're not ALWAYS like that, and they usually don't use "mo'" instead of "more". But they really should. Their point would be that much clearer if they phrased it that way.

I don't know. Something has happened since I stole a piece of framed paper and escaped from Kingston's tenth prison, if you know what I'm saying.

I was talking about Queen's University.

We good? Right, moving on.

I used to pride myself in writing free-flowing blog posts. Not very cleverly crafted posts, but I compensated for this fact by touching on a wide variety of topics in one post. However, somewhere along the line, I lost the ability to connect thoughts. So I started using dotted lines and allowed my thoughts to be disjointed. I know, sounds like a bandage solution right?

It also smells like one too. What?

Now this has bubbled over into not-MTV's the real world. Because I think I have some amount of quick wit, I like to chime in with a well-timed phrase here and there during a conversation to give it new life, or a change of tempo. Recently, I've bungled the words I want to say, sometimes in a very dyslexic manner and other times just not putting much thought into what I'm saying. I've also struggled to convey my thoughts. And I read somewhere that your thoughts don't exist unless you're able to convey them.

Aw shucks. Turns out that author really wrote the same post I'm attempting to write right now, but ten times better. That's my cue to wrap this baby up and put it under the Christmas tree.

What!?!

I cannot resolve to be a more consistent blogger. Life as I know it is a-changing. I'll be around here when I want. Is blogging dead? Is hip-hop dead? Is my cellphone dead? People have been calling but unable to get through even though the phone is just sitting there in front of me, and yes it is switched on.

Where do we go from here? I have a company trip to Florida coming up this week, I'm sure I'll have somethin' to say soon after that.

You Won't Recognize Me

2008-12-16T19:38:00.005-05:00

I'm not the kinda guy to run to my blog when things go awry at work. I'm also not the kinda guy to run to my blog when things are spectacularly splendid at work. Furthermore, I'm not the kinda guy to run to my blog when I get told I need to blog more.

That's not me, that's not thee, and that's not a bee. That's a Hornet. And the clip is as old as your grandmother, but so what.

I don't really have much to say, much less a point to make. I mean, I could talk about the free lunches, baked goods, gift exchange, a cubicle that doubles as a cubicle because it's situated underneath the only air vent that spits out cold air during winter, how I'm a complete sucker fund-raising drive donation requests from co-workers, how I am both a rockstar and a complete newb at what I do, the unmerciful daily commute to Mississauga (Toronto's cousin we never talk about), how I keep getting non-spam emails from a teacher out in San Diego that claims I'm a parent of a 7th grader (this is non-work related), how I am sharing a cubicle but still manage to forget half the time that there's someone there behind me until I bump into him. All valid blog topics.

But that's not me. That may be work me, but that's not internet me. Internet me is tired now, and is going to watch TV. And by watch TV, I mean go watch my brother beat Zelda: Ocarina of Time, which he does once a year around Christmas time. It's a twisted ritual, but I don't question it. I just sit back and watch him mechanically run through every detail of the game.

Don't call this a comeback.

You'll Get A Kick Out Of This

2008-11-12T22:49:00.002-05:00

I had the good fortune and enough spare time to take a leisure pop-music history course last year. I was made aware of people, places and eras that would have generated blank stares in the past. One of the first terms discussed in the course was Tin Pan Alley. The birthplace of what I will grossly generalize as "stuck-up-white-people-music". Skipping over lots of details, lets just say they had the market cornered for quite a while. Releasing such hits as, "Take me out to the ballgame", and this classic, amongst others. Except this version is much better and related to Tin Pan Alley.

I do that often don't I? Deviate from the point (if you think I have one), and then deviate from those deviations.

Thus, I was outraged to read about this. I know you don't like clicking, so here's my one sentence recap:

Tin Pan Alley is now being sold off and turned into skyscrapers! I don't know who dropped the ball on getting this site declared as historic, especially since this place, that place, and here all have that status.

There's nothing really important there. I picked three boring places to emphasize my point. Feel free not to click and take my word for it.

The point is, and people of New York, you should probably drop everything you're doing and read this next sentence carefully, if you really liked Tin Pan Alley that much, you should've put a ring on it.

Uh-huh, I just did go there.

The REAL Point Is: In the event that Tin Pan Alley is brutally gutted and replaced forever by new and cool housing options...

...

...I would totally live there.

Today Is Gonna Be The Day...

2008-11-05T21:00:00.001-05:00

That.

They're gonna bring their kids to you. At work.

And I thought, why do we limit this opportunity of providing a glimpse into our daily lives to kids in grade nine? It's not like grade niners are excited to go to work; in fact, that demographic avoids work like the black plague. I could probably find a statistic that says that 70% of grade niners skip one or more classes a day. But who needs to find something when they can just make it up (War in Iraq!)

In light of this, I propose to expand, "take your kids to work day" to, "take all inquiring (some to the point of annoying) minds to work week". Watch how I do this, alliteratively (how is that a word, I was expecting to make more things up to provide an unexpected continuity to this post...bah-humbugs), I will bold and capitalize because apparently, my blogs are confusing, so this should be as clear as crystallized hearts (what?):

Mondays are take your Mom to work.
Tuesdays are take your Tots to work.
Wednesdays are take your Wives to work. Because only husbands work, not wives, especially here in the year 1902...oh what's that? I was only cracking a joke to make this fit an alliteratory (THERE WE GO) pattern?

*dodges tomato thrown by angry mob*

Thursdays are take your, uh, Thursdays are take your Time getting to work day.
Fridays are take your Friends to work day.

(work doesn't know about Saturday's and Sunday's, shhhhh)

Someone once asked very poignantly, "Now why you wanna go and do that love huh, huh, hey why you wanna go and do that, and do that?" And I'ma tell ya. It's real hard to explain to everyone exactly what you do. If I say, "computers", you might just assume that I fix printers or something ~~cool~~ not-so-up-to-my-skill-level. If I start really explaining to you what I do, not that I can because it's supposedly client confidential, you'd do the whole nod-your-head, pretend-to-understand, figure-out-the-best-question-to-ask-that-wont-make-you-look-completely-stupid-but-wont-spur-on-too-much-more-conversation. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

However, if you take your moms (they tell your pops), your tots (who tell their friends), your wives (who tell their friends) and your friends (they, uh, return the "favor"), you might have covered all your bases (that belong to us), and you won't ever have to talk about work again!

Let's face it. Talking about work, outside of work, is just not appealing.

(I actually don't mind as much as I appear to be ranting, probably because work is still new to me, and it's ever changing, and I like talking, sometimes)

2008-11-02T20:15:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, I will commence my second week of work as a full-fledged business consultant. And while this was mentioned a few times over the course of my training, one of the skills a consultant must hone early on in his/her career is the ability to answer a question without actually answering the question.

Or, as I'm about to put it, saying nothin' while saying somethin'. Don't get it mixed up with making somethin' out of nothin', or going from nothin' to somethin'. The nothin' and the somethin' occurs at the exact same time.

Moving on.

I am currently in possession of a fancy schmancy dancy clancy key-chain that displays a six-digit code. Did I mention this code changes every 60 seconds? And it can only be used in combination with another set of codes that reside in my brain!

I feel like I am carrying the launch codes to the Canadian nuclear arsenal, you know, the imaginary arsenal that I tell myself Canada is in possession of to get myself to sleep at night.

My blogging skills have sooooo fallen off.

Thank You, Sarah, Thank You

2008-10-25T11:16:00.002-04:00

I am participating in a semi-competitive fantasy hockey league with a bunch of colleagues from work. My thinking is that nothing would get me noticed/promoted quicker than smokin' everyone in the yearly fantasy hockey challenge. Am I right or what huh!?

Much to my chagrin, I woke up this morning to find out my goalie had TEN saves last night and let in two goals.

(For the hockey illiterate, that's the equivalent of waking up to find that gas prices shot up ten cents overnight AND that little needle is pointing to 'E' AND your car smells because last night a cat came and peed on the door)

Then, it started to make sense. In fact, it all started to make sense, including these commercials, this universal law and this song.

(That song name drops Obama, but the song itself was released in 2004! That's crazy! That it oddly, in a two-degrees-of-separation way, ties in with the punchline of the story was by pure coincidence (I only discovered this while screening the song for safe blog posting))

Crispy & Crunchy

2008-10-20T22:14:00.003-04:00

You know what's really fun?

Crossword puzzles.

But a very close second is pronouncedly chewing extra-crunchy (in a crispy way, but not like the chocolate bar) grapes to the backbeat (learn things) of that iPod commercial song.

I Want To Be A World-Class Athlete

2008-10-20T00:02:00.002-04:00

But only because when I win, and the interviewer asks me the question that seems to be so popular these days because inquiring minds like to know these things, "McOysty, before the game, when you were listing to your iPod, what song was playing?", I'd get to look at the camera, flash my winning smile, and answer, "Little Mermaid's - Part Of Your World".

Yes, I'd say "dash".

Can't Buy A Coup With No Coupons

2008-10-09T23:28:00.001-04:00

I thawt I thaw a wabbit.

Excuse me.

I thawt I bawt a wabbit.

I did! I did!

Am I Talking About My Blogging Habits?

2008-09-29T20:58:00.004-04:00

Like any cheap thrill, prolonged exposure to the same stimuli can lead to a decrease in sensitivity to the stimuli. To achieve get back to the level of thrill one is accustomed to, an increase in sensation, or moving on to bigger things, is necessary. No seriously, it's a biological theory of some sort. I remember daydreaming about flying cupcakes while a professor discussed an experimenting that showed this theory in action.

It's too bad I can't remember the actual term(s) because then I would've at least linked it to a wikipedia article. This definition will have to suffice.

Welcome back. If you have no idea what just happened, you've been Rick Rolled. Now, THAT I the wikipedia article for.

Back to my point.

My cheap (PUN) thrill is free stuff. In years past, I was satisfied with attending events for free stuff. You know, put in some time and get rewarded for that time. Especially events I was not directly affiliated with. A commerce information session? Cool beans. A fifth year student with full-time jobs already lined up attending third-year-student internship recruitment sessions? You know it. A help group for those coping with nightmares from that time they were mauled by a big bear in the dark forest?

Too far?

Pens, highlighters, notepads and squeezy-spongy-juggling-balls are now all considered "small fish". I've moved on to the Internets. Where putting in time really isn't an issue. And it's all really legal! No longer do I have to experience that guilty feeling I got in my gut that time I snuck out of the ping-pong-enthusiasts club I never intended to join right after they handed out free ping-pong balls (that never happened).

I like free stuff and now you can too. You're welcome.

(Maybe I'll blog more often too...that thrill still hasn't worn off, but the thrill of spending time away from my beloved computer is the new and shiny toy in the drawer...if ya know what I mean ya dig? (what?))

I Turn To You

2008-09-17T23:13:00.004-04:00

To settle differences going on in the workplace.

What is the absolute correct way to pronounce the word 'process'? PROcess or PRAWcess? No sitting on the fence answers. Pick a side.

Do you know the difference between an acronym and an abbreviation?

I play a game of even or odd (made popular by an episode of House we watched during lunch break) with the guy next to me whenever the phone rings. The loser answers the phone. Should I be even or odd?!!!!??

Work Isn't Really Just Work

2008-09-11T20:22:00.002-04:00

I was going to write a post a day this week, but thanks to the hot water tank that sprung a leak in my basement, I spend all my free time draining water from my carpets. Therefore, I'm going to have to amalgamate all my thoughts into one really un-thought-out post.

These events, conversations and quips all took place within the past week and a half at my first "real" job. And I like putting things in quotes. "See". Try to keep up, but if you can't, it's okay. Second place isn't all that bad.

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

Our trainer, let's call him Dan, cause that's his real name, was discussing his childhood as a Jewish boy

"Yeah, my parents enrolled me in judo lessons. I was really good at it. And it only makes sense, after all, it's spelled J-E-W-D-O."

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

Sitting in the back row of the room are three guys. The guy to the left is named Tony. The guy to the right is named Tiger (Woods! not). The guy in the middle's nameplate now reads "the".

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

Bowling, at the ghetto Bowlerama located on Yonge near Cummer. You know, the one with bowling balls that have cracks in them, and tilted bowling lanes. The "characters" involved are Chris (white dude) and Conrad (black guy that reminds me of Dave Chappelle.

Conrad: "Chris is kinda good, but he (Chris) sucks."
Myself: "...What?"
Chris: "Chris...is kinda good...but he sucks..."
Conrad: "Well yeah, compared to me."

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

This has nothing to do with anything. But 82-0? That's more than a goal a minute. That's just cruel. Bulgaria probably shouldn't have fielded a women's ice hockey team. You could put me out there by myself, as a goalie, and I probably wouldn't lose 82-0.

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

During one of our many breaks from work, we happen across a list of the top 100 songs of all time. You know, those lists that don't make sense to anyone because the songs on top of the list all suck?

Conrad: "Is 'I Like Big Butts' on that list? That song changed my life."

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

Trainer Dan: "I highly recommend the white hot chocolate from the coffee shop next door."
Myself: "Oh yeah? Why don't you go get some now?"
Trainer Dan: "I told you, It's way too hot to be drinking hot chocolate. I'll drink it when I'm cold."
Myself: "Good thing you're already cold...hearted. Go get yourself a hot chocolate."

Trainer Dan gets up off his chair, and whips the squishy mini soccer ball type thing we've been tossing around the room directly at me. Luckily, I had already gone into turtle mode. It glanced harmlessly off me.

^
|
|
Turtle Mode

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

So, work has been swell. Way more swell than a 3 day bruise. Does that last sentence even make sense? Does it make too much sense?

I Like My Intersections The Way I Like My Eggs

2008-09-01T00:43:00.001-04:00

You know, with all my traveling adventures this summer, there was one thing I didn't come across until I got back to Toronto.

If you guessed the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 ad in the top left corner of the picture you'd be absolutely correct!!!! YOU ADVANCE TWO SPACES!!

*shakes head at the seriously stupefying stupidity*

Yes, Toronto's first (and hopefully not last) scramble intersection (Dundas & Yonge). Don't know what I'm talking about? Do you still think I'm talking about Traveling Pants? Do you spend an abnormal amount of time figuring out how to put on (put on...eastside! *ahem* word to Jeezy) pants in the morning? Wikipedia it. And you probably need this too.

(my picture sucked, but you can click it for the full size, or click here for a better depiction of scramble in action)

Mark it on your calendar folks. August 28th. The day Toronto finally embraced everything the United States constitution stands for, everything that Braveheart stood for and everything this Tower will one day stand for. The freedom...(dramatic pause)... to walk from H&M to Futureshop without having to unnecessarily cross over to another corner and stand in front of a Forever 21!

Been Gone So Long, Even Blogger Changed It's Layout

2008-08-19T14:05:00.003-04:00

I do not think Michael Phelps is the best Olympian ever (best swimmer, yes, but Olympian? Nah...), but I'm at least open to the possibility that he could be. But for that to happen, I don't think 8 gold medals in one Olympics is enough. At this point, he should probably throw on a Redeem-Team USA Basketball jersey and go for 9. Hey, if I could basically do nothing for half a semester and come close to winning ~~gold~~ an intramural volleyball t-shirt, what's stopping him from being a "sub that never gets into the game" for Team USA Volleyball? And, how could he not be good at Water Polo?

Album Review: Scarlett Johansson - Anywhere I Lay My Head

2008-07-29T15:03:00.000-04:00

This is going to be a grueling 44 minutes. And I won't lie, like most of my "reviews", I give up about 1/5th of the way through.

Track One - Fawn
Reminiscent of Sufjan Steven's work, but a lot slower, and with a lot less creativity. Throw in a cheesy baseball-game-sounding organ, and a cheesy saxophone going over it, and you have the underwhelming introductory track! Welcome to the music business Scarlett, may your stay be short lived.

Track Two - Town With No Cheer
Finally! Scarlett decided to show up on her own album! And then proceeds to drone on over a track entitled "Town With No Cheer". This is way too emo for a "successful" Hollywood celebrity.

Track Three - Falling Down
Picks up where track two left off. Seriously, the gap-less playback option worked so well that if I wasn't so on top of my album review game, I wouldn't even know the track changed. Scarlett is still droning...

Track Four - Anywhere I Lay My Head
Scarlett Jo digs deep and comes up with a slower sounding intro that made me run to Youtube because I thought she was going to drone over this beat.

Track Five - Fannin' Street
This is my favorite track. Not because it's any good. Not even because David Bowie is featured. No, it's because the premise of the track is to warn you not to go down to Fannin' street. Nevermind the fact that she replaced the 'g' in 'Fanning' with an apostrophe (totally gangster) but with an opportunity to say something of significance, for instance, an opportunity to warn kids not to do drugs, or talk about the dangers of being consumed with fame or power, she chooses instead to call out Fanning Street. The lyrics reveal no particular reason why. Brutal.

Track Six - Song For Jo
A song for herself. Probably should've kept the entire album to herself.

Track Seven - Green Grass
True story. By this point of the review, I had lost track of how bored I really was. I looked down into my Windows bar thing that goes across the bottom (it really shows that I studied computers doesn't it?) and noticed I was simultaneously in the middle of two Freecell games. I eventually won both.

Track Eight - I Wish I Was In New Orleans
I also wish I was in New Orleans. Back to the actual song, it sounds like a bedtime song with the chimes and dreamy effects. If you're going to attempt to listen to this album, use this track as track one. It'll get you in the mood. And by that, I mean put you to sleep, sparing you from the other ten tracks.

Track Nine - I Don't Want To Grow Up
Is it possible for someone that has a vocal range spanning five pitches (not octaves...PITCHES) to release an eleven tracked album? Who green-lighted this project? And, according to the track title, she doesn't want to grow up. That's very mature Scarlett, very mature.

Track Ten - No One Knows When I'm Gone
E.M.O.

Track Eleven - Who Are You?
YOU, madam, are an actress. A borderline one at that. Should've asked yourself this question before making this album.

Recap - Good riddance. Look, if you're not gifted with multiple talents, there's no need to force yourself into avenues that you probably shouldn't wandering down.

Rappers, you are not country stars. Jessica Simpson, you should have been a country star all along. Dane Cook, just stop it (it = everything). Britney, get back to being a fake music star, leave the parenting to K-Fed (I know, even that's ridiculous, but that's the best I could do with a no-win situation). The driver in front of me that decided to only use half of the left-turn lane and remain halfway on the lane I was driving in, acting as a danger to everyone around, buy yourself some public transportation tokens. Vegetables, stop showing up in my favorite foods, go back to being the dish I try to neglect but my mother will forcibly serve to me anyways. Canadian Basketball Team, just strap on a pair of skates and pick up a stick. Ernie and Bert, well you twos is just ridiculous.

I'm Such A FB Newb

2008-07-24T14:59:00.002-04:00

Hi there.

Anyone else experiencing an inordinate amount of folks trying to add you as Facebook friends since the switchover to the new, ugly and hard-to-use layout (first pointed out here)?

What's the protocol here? Make new friends? Or am I (once again) a real big jerk for forgetting people?

Don't Forget 'Em, Don't Don't Forget 'Em

2008-07-18T11:33:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I'm an OG and I O-G spelled backwards.

I'm so OG (urbandictionary it), I recently realized that I had kept Christmas & birthday cards dating back to the year 2000. They were piled nicely in a bedroom drawer, and I had not once taken them out to enjoy since their initial stashing. Yup, they were right there, along with pretty much any letter big or small ever written to me. Every thank you card, every encouragement note, every warm fuzzy, basically anything anyone has ever put down on paper for me.

I decided that it was finally time to rid myself of these leaflets. Of course, I had to sift through everything to determine which cards/letters/notes could actually have lasting value. As opposed to the cards that were purchased from the closest Hallmark and simply signed.

At the end of the messy sorting job, I had an item I did not know what to do with. And you, the reluctant readers of Seriously Stupefying Stupidity should feel free to suggest how I should proceed in the comment section below!

But before I get to the item of interest, I must mention that I found an encouragement card given to me and created by a friend. I found it in an envelope, a church offering envelope no less, and in my excited haste to figure out exactly what was inside the envelope, I neglected to pause and ponder as to why said card would be in the envelope in the first place (because who keeps boring envelopes, much less unmarked church offering envelopes).

And then the glitter started pouring out. And even after two intense hand washing sessions, I wasn't convinced I had got every last bit of it.

The card was a beautiful disaster (Kelly C!), however many years later (: Moving on.

So I have this card that was MAILED to me. From FRANCE no less. Which, I assume took some amount of effort. The problem is, even with the address and name of the person that mailed it to me, I have NO IDEA who this person is. The card itself contains a simple handwritten seasons greeting, along with a Bible themed encouragement. Other than that, there are no other clues as to how I would know this person, or of any common memories we would've shared.

I asked my moms, and she was able to determine that the last name was Vietnamese. And that it was a girl's name (thanks cpt' obvious).

I even looked through old photo albums from the year the card was sent, and the year before that, to look for familiar but forgotten faces. Nothing.

Did I mention that included on the card is an email address? So now you see that I have options!

Do I a) email and explain the situation in hopes of reviving a long lost friendship or b) throw card away and save myself the ultimate dry situation of completely forgetting a person....like completely... c) internet stalk this person (nothing turned up for a quick google search)?

This Post Is, Like, 5 Bazillion Hot-Dogs Long (You'll Get It After You Read)

2008-07-13T23:06:00.000-04:00

The other day, as I was narrating my Vancouver hot dog stories, my friend remarks that I am so well traveled this summer. Of course, the semi-sarcastic tone of voice was not lost on me, but I hope I haven't come off like I'm better than you because I've been to a lot of places around Canada/America in the last two months.

(I'm better than you because I'm aawesome with two a's, and you can't tell me nothin'!)

In actual fact, I am not very well traveled. The places I have had the honor to visit these last two months, for the vast majority, are places I have already been before. So, to be more accurate, I'm very well re-traveled. Or just plain redundant. It's like going to see a movie in theaters, then two years later, buying that movie on DVD, not because you liked it so much, but because you forgot everything about the movie, including whether or not you liked it.

Nevertheless, I went, I saw, and I conquered. Twice. Because I like to be extra-sure.

Can we please get back to Vancouver hot dog stories? That sounded much more interesting than anything you've written since. Why do you do that? Put in so much filler that is? Are you intentionally trying to be a bad writer?

I'd tell the story right now, but you'd be a fool to stick around long after that. So I'm going to bumble (bee) through a few stories leading up to the hot dog story. I personally believe context is extremely important, and for you to properly understand the meaning of the hot dog story, you have to come with me on this journey. Or not. You could just skip down to paragraph 16. It's teh internets, what am I going to do?

This, is Vancouver. (Such a compelling introduction! Seriously, paragraph 16. Hot dog. Story. Why are you still here?)

And if you don't believe me, as with most pictures I tend to put up here, you can click to see full size, not that the full sized picture would make you believe me more. Now, to get a picture like this, you probably have to ~~have some amount of google skills~~ be elevated above sea level.

Allow me to introduce you to Grouse Mountain. Grouse Mountain, these are my readers. I'm just going to get the hors d'oeuvres por vous, so mingle a bit, get to know each other, and I'll be right back!

*awkward silence ensues, eased only slightly by that Scarlett Johansson album (to be reviewed here on Seriously Stupefying Stupidity another day, stay tuned! And yup, I'm probably the only person you know that will promote later posts and later parts of posts all at the same time) playing in the background*

Hey! Did you know that Grouse Mountain offers a free climb, not to its peak, but somewhere really far up? Yeah, it's true! They call it they Grouse Grind, and according to the most absolutely accurate encyclopedia to date, Wikipedia, the Grouse Grind takes you up 2,800 ft! You want me to put it in terms that'll make it a bit clearer?

It's about 2,800 consecutive foot-long hot dogs if you place them end to end.

Of course, being that I am human and cannot fly (yet), I had to climb the hypotenuse of the mountain. I included that Wikipedia reference just in case you're not as well-schooled as me. Because you're definitely not as well re-traveled as me. I'm not even bothering to connect my thoughts anymore, let's move on.

The actual climb, or the distance I traveled on the Grouse Grind, was 2.9km. It took me almost 2 hours (apparently the average time it takes is an hour and 30 minutes, I'm lame-sauce). And that's right, that's pretty much 9,500 foot-long hot dogs strung together. If there actually were 9,500 hot dogs strung together, I probably would've ran up that mountain a lot quicker. Like, literally, going for my dreams. Or going with. I'm not sure which one at this point.

Actually, being the trigger happy camera person I was, it probably would've taken me twice the amount of time to get up the mountain because I would've stopped to take a picture of every segment of hot dogs. Then, I would've excitedly come home and stitched them all together for one crazy final product.

Welcome to the Vancouver hot dog story of the post. To summarize (or inform those that skipped down here), I had climbed the trail of a tall mountain. Slower than the average folk. I had never felt so out of shape my whole life. But I also felt suspiciously victorious. Like I was on top of the world or somethin'. And there is no better way to celebrate a "fantastic" showing of physical endurance by making up for the weight lost during the exertion.

Cue, the hot dogs.

But not any old hot dogs. These exotic dogs, fell under the Japadog kingdom (biologically speaking). From there, there were three subdivisions, or, biologically speaking, domains.

The Terimayo, the Oroshi, and the Miso Mayo. All priced about double what you would expect for an average hot dog. All tasting about four times what you would expect from an average hot dog. The people behind the stand were all shipped straight from Japan and sent to work, to keep up with the authenticity of the dog shop, and the overall tourist aspect of the stand. And it did. The borderline amateurishness of their English made me giggle. Then I realized I was asked for money, so I anted up.

And it's Ice Cube endorsed. ICE. CUBE. This was a guy was so scary back in the day, you'd fly yourself halfway around the world just to get away from him. If you went to school with him, and he took your lunch money, you'd say, "Thank you Mr. Cube, I have more coming for you tomorrow!" He's so gangster, he could probably get over by police and give them the speeding tickets, and they'd say, "Sorry for troubling you sir, have a good night sir. Keep on rapping those derogatory police songs Mr. Ice Cube sir." And now he's endorsing hot dogs. And shooting, not guns, but family friendly films.

As you try to digest all this information, allow me to digress.

My last day in Vancouver was spent on a rental bike. According to Google Maps, the route we took was approximately 81, 038 foot-long hot dogs in length. You can do the conversion yourself, but I don't see why you'd have to. I'm making serious improvements to the metric system. I think it's an under appreciated and understaffed field. Plus, who wants to talk in ambiguous "kilometers"? I say, "hot dog" and you instantly know exactly what I'm talking about, and probably can put your two hands in front of you spaced exactly the size of a hot dog. You probably just tried it right now! See what I'm talkin' about? Cutting edge, the things I do.

Dr.McOysty, 81,038 is too big of a number for me to imagine. Could you simplify even further? You know, common factor some stuff up a bit?

I appreciate the fact that you acknowledge my PHD in alternative mathematics, so I will try, for your sake. Let's say you're in a hot dog eating contest, and you have 81,000 hot dogs in front of you. Now, being the champion you are, you manage to eat 3 at a time. That leads to 9,000 eating events over the course of that contest. Now, let's also point out that you can fit in about 10 eating events a minute. So now we're at 900 minutes. 900 minutes, is the equivalent of watching 30 half-hour episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Which naturally happens because once you start watching, it's impossible to pry yourself away from the television. 30 half-hour episodes of that great show is just a little over 1 and 2/3 seasons of that show.

So, in conclusion, the 81,038 hot dogs is roughly 1 and 2/3 seasons of How I Met Your Mother. You're welcome.

Anyways.

You know, I really didn't know how to end this post. I hope it's not too obvious.

The Problem With Reality Television

2008-07-10T21:48:00.003-04:00

I'm watching Last Comic Standing right now, and I've run into a bit of a mental snag. You see, there is a reality show component to this, in that the comics are couped up in a house with one another during the course of the competition. As such, hilarity often ensues, usually in the form of catty or immature rivalries and hatreds between different parties.

Now, herein lies my problem.

Three comics just competed, and two of them have to go home. To me, there is an obvious winner in terms of the funniest act.

But, the least funny of all the acts also happens to be the person I most want to see back in the house just because of the trouble she inadvertently stirs up. And obviously, this is how reality show casts are put together in the first place, not based on the merits related to the competition as the general public (that's you! or not) would believe.

I'm paralyzed with indecision here, and I don't even have a vote. I hate reality television. But for different reasons than before.

I Forgot To Call When I Visited Seattle ):

2008-07-09T16:51:00.002-04:00

Watch closely, and you might even catch a glimpse of me! But it's not about me. That day was about them. And if I push this video enough, and enough of you push this video to all your friends, then we can take this viral in no time! TOGETHER! YES WE CAN!

Kidding. And in no way does posting this excuse me from not giving them a shout when I was in Seattle. It was my bad.

Clarissa & Kenneth Wedding Highlights - May 31st 2008

I was in the middle of writing a post of epic proportions, but now I'm too teary-eyed to continue.

I Don't Mean For This To Become A Photo-Blog

2008-07-05T01:11:00.003-04:00

I know I know, it says "Oyster Cafe". But upon my first glance at the restaurant sign, I definitely read "Oyster Care". And first impressions are all that matter to me.

Okay that's not true.

But either way, here at Seriously Stupefying Stupidity, I, Buttug McOysty, do care. That's why I share. Even if I haven't really been there (which is here) recently. But scroll down a few inches and witness that I am indeed back in black (word to AC/DC).

You Knew I Would Be Back (Soon), Stronger Than Ever

2008-07-04T13:02:00.001-04:00

I'm Not Always There When You Call...

2008-06-10T13:09:00.000-04:00

...but I'm always on time.

It's one of my favorite activities, being on time. In fact, I enjoy it so much, I even try to avoid being early, but my eagerness to be on time usually leads to that anyways. It helps that I'm a drummer, I'm naturally on point with everything happening around me. Therefore, it doesn't need to be said (but needs to be written) that I loathe being late.

So when the coach bus I was traveling on got delayed for an extended period of time at the border yesterday, meaning I would be late arriving to the bus terminal on the other side, you would probably wonder why I was doing a victory dance that I usually reserve for finishing the last exam of a school year, or when I listen to my theme song.

Before I get to my seemingly inexplicable joy from being late, let me tell you how two American chicas held up l'autobus for an hour. Apparently, they tried getting back into America from Toronto, but were caught with receipts from a vacation in Cuba. And if you didn't know, an American going to Cuba and spending mucho dinero is a big no-no. Anyone caught, even if you are only a resident and not a full fledged citizen, can be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

In case you were wondering (you weren't), the women were definitely of the Mexican decent, hence the Spanish. "l'autobus" was something I threw in for flavor.

So back to me now.

The next stop for the bus, and where I was supposed to have a one hour layover to go grab some food and use restroom facilities, was Detroit, home of your 2008 NHL Champions. Also home to the sketchiest population I have ever witnessed (I haven't been to Compton). The last time I was passing through Detroit, I was clutching onto my bags like a toddler holding onto their mommy in a scary situation, so tight that blood circulation almost didn't exist. The black folks were tall, intimidating and staring at me, the white folks looked like those from 8 Mile (missing teeth and didn't smile), and there were no other Asian folks because (I assume) they were probably chased from town. I have to think that anybody with any sense and money from Detroit would avoid taking coach buses in and out of the city.

Now you see how I was excited at potentially reducing the amount of layover time I would have to spend in Motown. The whole bus ride there, I was mentally preparing myself in the event that I was to be mugged. I was even hiding money in different compartments of my backpack so I would have a stash for a "rainy day". I didn't take out my iPod (a bus ride without music is torture), or anything that would suggest I would yield a good harvest if I were to be robbed.

Now the stories merge.

The bus was held up for an hour, and by that point, my celebrating had ceased. The reality was that the scheduled layover time in Detroit was one hour. I had missed my connection to Ohio. Meaning, I would probably have to wait for the next available bus in Detroit, you know, the city the scariest people on earth call home. I bet Osama is hiding out there. Did George Bush think to check there? No way George would be smart enough to think that Osama would pick the last place on earth to hide out, and by that logic, Osama should very well have picked Detroit as his hideout city. If I were ~~Barack Obama~~ president, Detroit is the first place I would've checked for B. Laden.

This is besides the point.

Turns out, the next bus was another hour wait. The lesson is, ~~throw away your receipts if you don't want people to know you've traveled somewhere~~, premature celebration never works out for the celebrator. Alicia Keys said it best, I'm going to call this a lesson learned.

I'm still alive and blogging You haters need to read that explanation of my graph from a few days ago. Then maybe you can call it a lesson learned.

How Could You Guys Not Understand Exponential Decay

2008-06-09T23:40:00.003-04:00

The less trivial your problem is, the more it is mocked.

Think about it.

Especially pertaining to relationships.

That's just how it works! Trivial things are no fun to make fun of.

And.

How dare you all question me, in my house, the house that I built. How dare you.

Official Address

2008-06-06T15:38:00.000-04:00

This is my very first post as a certified University graduate. I can no longer claim to be a nerd computer science student. Nor do I have to put up a front of being a nerd computer science student anymore. What are the expectations heaped upon a nerd computer science student that I no longer have to live up to? I thought you'd never ask.

A nerd computer science student will be able to fix your computer ad infinitum.

A corollary to this rule is that a nerd computer science student knows what ad infinitum (look it up, scholar) means. However, he or she may not always use it in the correct context (possibly see above, even I don't know for sure).

"Buttug McOysty, my computer is really slow, is there anything you can do about it?"

"Buttug The Great McOysty, ", why thank you, "I spilled a can of Coke on my keyboard, and then tried to use a whole bottle of water to clean it up, can you help me?"

(no)

"B McDiddy, my dog ate my computer. Can you please perform complex dog surgery to excise my computer completely intact so I can check my email?"

"Look, four-eyes, my laptop is making this whirring noise, followed by a honking noise that vaguely resembles that of a Canadian goose. Could you recommend the equivalent of a gun silencer for my laptop?"

(but I don't even work here at the Best Buy...go ask that guy with the vest on...)

No longer must I listen to stories of inhumanly treated computers. Now, the only thing I'm a major in (and a hearty salute to Major In) is cleaning up after myself.

Thanks to my education, I can now understand and appreciate nerd comics. And for that, I thank you, Queens University School of Computing.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still help you with your computer problems. And yes, I'll still mock your computer problems in an exponentially decaying fashion.

However, my framed diploma demands that I be compensated for any "help" I provide. It also demands amazement (yes we can Barack, but we don't necessarily believe it all the time). Amazing cupcakes would suffice. Thank you in advance.

It's Like Taking Advice From A Baby

2008-05-28T20:05:00.000-04:00

But not in the taking candy from them way. I'm about to drop some knowledge, but just like my previous post, I really know nothing ~~but a G thang~~ about what I'm going to say.

But yet you keep coming back.

You know, I didn't even intend for this to happen, but what I'm going to say actually ties in with the introductory paragraph. This post just got a lot more complex.

When deciding between two restaurants in unfamiliar territory (think traveling, because I am now a pseudo-travel-expert), always choose the one that is celebrity endorsed.

What's that? You mean neither of your choices are celebrity endorsed? Please, do some research.

*Extended Sidenote* Speaking of celebrities, check this, fast forward to the 40 second mark, and listen for the, "please". That one word singlehandedly made the entire song for me, and blew up sassy scales everywhere. Go ahead and take a bow Rihanna. *End Sidenote That Wasn't As Extended As I Thought Would Be*

I make my statement after experiencing both celebrity endorsed and non-celebrity endorsed restaurants. When I say celebrity endorsed, what I really mean is that on there exists a picture on the wall depicting the celebrity posing half-heartedly with the eatery's owner. Any restaurant fulfilling such a requirement has proven, and may I be so bold to say this, will always prove to serve good food.

Don't believe me? Here's my scientific backup. It worked 3 out of 3 times for me on my past roadtrip. That's statistically significant methinks (actually, me only guesses). Publish me!

No? Well, let me tell you a story about the time we walked into a Chinese restaurant in downtown Washington that was not celebrity endorsed.

You mean there ARE celebrity endorsed Chinese restaurants?

Please.

*Sidenote Alert* Rihanna actually overemphasizes "please" again at the 1:47 mark! Amazing! What a show! Has me really going! *End Sidenote*

So we walk into this restaurant and we notice that the only people in the restaurant are the husband/wife duo who run the shop, Casper the ghost, and us. At this point, our minds aren't working because of our insane hunger coupled with a need to desperately evacuate our kidneys (you dig?).

When we finally came to our senses, we realized the whole place reeked, AND, we had to turn on the lights to the hallway housing the restrooms ourselves. The restroom itself was poorly designed, and the toilet was up on a platform. So much so that if you sat down, your feet would probably be dangling. On hindsight, we should've noticed the Casper the ghost factor and never walked in. But the damage was done, and the wife owner had already started pouring tea for us.

Have you heard of dine and dash?

Well, what happened next, I will call pee, tea, and flee.

We took one disapproving look at one another, and the message was clear. No words needed to be said. We chipped in 3 dollars (no easy feat because we're all cheap Asians), then in a coordinated fashion that would've made most military units proud, we up and left ~~Iraq~~ the restaurant. On of our braver souls blurted out, "Thanks for the tea and the washrooms, here's three bucks, sorry we can't eat here."

I was the first out the door. And first in the restaurant next door.

To wrap up, if a Chinese restaurant is endorsed by Michael Douglas & Catherine Zeta Jones (no joke!), you're probably safe. I implicitly and explicitly trust celebrities with the finer details in life. Just like you, my readers, trust me to to tell you about traveling.

I Tried To Edit This, But Gave Up An Eighth Of The Way Through; Sorry

2008-05-24T22:09:00.000-04:00

"Slow down, I just want to get to know you".

There are some things in life that just need to be eased into. Like this blog post, for example. I'm not here to talk about relationships, but that's what the above lyric led you to believe I was going to talk about.

But I'm not. For me, this topic is a much more difficult topic to discuss than relationships. And that's sayin' something, you know what I'm saying?

No, because even I don't.

Flashin' flashin' flashin' flashin' lights lights lights lights.

Also not what I'm writing about, but flashin' kinda sounds like fashion, which brings us to the lecture at hand. You see, anybody that knows me (if you're reading this, you comprise just about 24.3% of that specific subset of the world) knows that I know not a worthwhile thing about fashion, about matching colors, about what's hot (MIMS!), about pricing and in general, about style. Which is why the following should make for such a ~~painful~~ fun read.

Now that you've clicked the magical read more button, I should probably warn you this is going to be real long.

It was recently brought to my attention that I'm turning twenty three in the near future. Yet, I insist on donning outfits fit for ~~sweet~~ sixteen year olds. Pretty sad.

Pretty comfortable, but pretty sad.

Once again, I am far from an expert on issues regarding clothing, but I'd like to think I have some not-so-common sense. Conventional social pressures would probably lead you to believe that if you ever wanted to change your fashion style, you should probably walk into the new style brimming with confidence. Don't just buy one new outfit, switch up your whole wardrobe to reflect this new style.

Nobody try this with polka dots. I don't care how much confidence you have, trust me, that confidence make like Casper and disappear.

Sometime during the roadtrip, Beyonce decided she would do her whole Upgrade U thing to my clothes and accessories. Except it felt getting one of those pieces of paper that's supposed to be a temporary placeholder until your real drivers license arrives in the mail in 4-6 weeks.

I might win some, but I just lost one (you).

My wardrobe now consists of all articles previously owned (I have a problem throwing things out, word to my TTC transfer collection, just kidding, that collection doesn't exist like Santa Clause), an Ecko United hoodie and a green NY Yank's hat. It's kinda like evolution (you know, the way the world wasn't created). I'm trying to fit in these new articles of clothing with my existing style, to gradually, seamlessly, and invisibly shift into a new style. Nobody will even notice.

Unless they read this. Or point out that I grew up in a predominately white suburban neighborhood, and that wearing even a single article of "urban-ish" clothing makes me stand out person of middle-eastern decent unfairly biased against in an airport security line.

Does anybody wonder where I get this stuff sometimes?

Either way, I'm slowly migrating my dress code from a 15 year old, to that of a 20 year old white rapper. It's called progress, and Barack told me that yes, I can.

You Know What Day It Is

2008-05-15T00:54:00.003-04:00

Flippity flops are one of the worst inventions ever. They aren't comfortable for walking (unless you spend unnecessary amounts of money for the "good" ones), and when you want to lounge around, you end up taking them off anyways. I will not buy another pair of flip flops.

Of course, if you, friend, want to give me a pair, I'll find use for them.

Did you get that? Get your shop on. Thanks.

In Atlantic City, you have to be about 65 or older to gamble during the month of May. If you are under the age of 65, you are NOT IN ATLANTIC CITY BECAUSE IT IS TEH GHETTO.

What in mysteries of mysteries happened to Clay Aiken? How do you go from that to this? And how did he go about accumulating all this middle-aged women as a fan base?

Snakes on a plane.

I can live off the dollar menus offered by fast food chains. Just today, I ordered 5 of the 8 possible items off a McDonald's dollar menu. For lunch.

Unfortunately, they don't do "sweetened" iced tea. Or as I call it, ICED TEA. Here, it either has to be unsweetened, or sweetened, but with a raspberry flavor.

Raspberry is so not the flavor of love.

That's it. I have to go to sleep in preparation for a long day of lying under the sun on Virginia Beach tomorrow.

Flashing Lights

2008-05-14T10:05:00.000-04:00

I'm in America, boy, living as an American boy. Hitting up Broadway, chilling out at cafes, on my way to Philly (pronounced Phil-lay, just so that the words rhyme a tad). I credit this entire paragraph to Estelle.

I have much more to say, but no time to throw up pictures that make my words make sense.

So either sit tight and wait for my update (might want to go grab a book to read in the meantime, because the more you read, the less you age...according to some ad), or, on the off chance that you might be a genius or extremely lucky, go invent yourself a time machine, fast forward into the future, and enjoy my vacation babbles.

Parting Words

2008-05-05T02:15:00.000-04:00

That title could've had double meaning if things turned out differently tonight. But that part comes later in this story.

Any graduation road trip must start with a bit of confusion. Complete disarray is then gradually achieved over the course of the excursion, but I'm getting ahead of myself with the anticipation of getting lost, violently turning on each other, awkwardly sitting in silence, emotionally reconciling, and then continuing on the path of "fun".

My precursor to the trip started with a realization that I did not have enough boxer shorts to last 15 days. My mother, in the spirit of trying to skim some money off what is amounting to be a very expensive trip, suggested I try disposable underwear. It'd save room (they come packaged as tiny little rolls) and came six for $1.49.

Don't try disposable underwear. 20 minutes into the trial run, I disposed of my first pair due to the uncomfortable paper feeling against my lower body regions.

And you thought that was the good part of this story. Welcome to the utter breakdown of the precursor to my trip. And the rest has nothing to do with underwear. Instantaneous transitioning period. My specialty.

A quick 2 hour car ride brought us safely up to Kingston. Here, we were supposed to get a good nights sleep, and then set out early morning for New York.

Big apples are delicious.

A send-off package was being concocted for us, consisting of mocha chocolate chip cookies. Lots of them. Batches were prepped, pans were greased and ovens were preheated.

Then.

(you may want to sit down for this next part)

The oven caught fire. And Ryan didn't start it (this is foreshadowing for tomorrow, but only I know it; including inside jokes for myself on my own internets space is slightly ridiculous).

Turns out, the preheating oven contained two greasy pans, and 3 oven mitts. Oven mitts = extremely flammable when grease is in play. Who knew, huh!

I did.

Two brave souls (not me) managed to pull the greasy pans out, and toss the oven mitts into the sink (the walls almost caught fire...which probably would've been very bad) and douse the flames with a big bag of flour. By that time, the white smoke was up to our waists. With our eyes starting to tear up from the smoke, we set up 5 fans to push the smoke out of the apartment unit.

THEN OUR FIRE ALARM RUNG.

You know, after the fire was good and out.

So, I'm considering this day one of my adventures. Who knows what happens next.

Parting words. Get it?

Wow, This Is New

2008-05-01T22:38:00.003-04:00

The second toe on my right foot fell asleep while I was watching television earlier on tonight.

In the history of medical science, has that ever happened? Just one toe? Am I on track for a half-heart attack? Do I need to stop eating my mother's home baked desserts? Am I developing minute spidey-senses?

I don't even require medical explanations. Please, someone, just tell me something that'll make me feel better.

In the meantime, it's back to demolishing this tiramisu.

This Was Written A Day Ago (Figure That Out)

2008-04-28T23:48:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I emerged from Kingston a free man after 5 years of institutionalization. I also finished off my university education. You know what I'm sayin'?!

That not-so-obvious reference to my local surroundings was so ridiculous in my mind, I concocted a post just to make sure it was written. And it was.

I Salute You, Captain Planet

2008-04-22T15:20:00.002-04:00

Everybody, happy ~~earth day~~ free-coffee-at-Starbucks-if-you-bring-a-travel-mug-day.

I plan to celebrate this occasion at least three times.

It's Kinda Like Casual Fridays, Where I Don't Proof-Read My Work

2008-04-20T17:54:00.006-04:00

I've been busted for exaggerating a bit with my story telling. Truth be told, the scenario in my last post really wasn't awkward at all. I just needed to insert "I know. Awkward" for dramatic effect. We were all grownups. That chose to laugh really hard at the situation, and crack joke after joke for the rest of the night. Seeing as how only women comment on this blog (Mike included roflz (the z is silent and unnecessary in case you were wondering), I was wondering if you inform your guy friends that "blood is currently oozing out of my body". In a non-emergency situation.

Now.

Today's episode features me, Buttug Lee McOysty, with Lee not being my middle name, being thrust into two situations where I felt bad for my actions, but probably shouldn't. Either way, you decide. Because, you know, I can be completely swayed over by Internet blog comments.

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

Scenario One

I walk into a "convenience store" to purchase a small, but necessary, product (let's just keep it at that, it's more amusing for me if I force you to wonder what I'm buying, if you're wondering at all). I asked the clerk if it was okay if I got rid of my spare change. After a half-hearted, "yeah sure", I took out two dollars worth of dimes, and another two dollars worth of quarters. The clerk quickly and sarcastically quipped, "Thanks for making my life easier buddy."

As I left the store, I felt like a big dirt-bag. Until I thought about it some more, and while the customer isn't ALWAYS right (that's just dumb business sense), the customer was right in this instance. Or was I? Is there a limit to the amount of change one can use in a transaction? A sliding scale, if you will, but sort of inverted? At any time, would an store clerk be justified to say, "Nope, that's five dollars worth of pennies. Either take out some paper money, or put the bubble gum back on the rack and get out of my store"?

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

Scenario Two

I'm just about to pay for my food at the local grocery establishment, but I notice that my bundle of asparagus came out to $2.13, when the flyer clearly advertised a bundle of asparagus for $1.49. So I casually (smooth like butter) mentioned it to the cashier, who, with the most exasperated voice ever, asked, "would you like me to go check for you?"

And with that, I once more felt like a dirt-bag who just made things difficult for people. How did that happen? Did I do something way out of the ordinary here? Do I need to revise my life strategy? Do I need to put together some apology baskets, or demand some apology baskets for the attitudes I've encountered today?

I'm An Institution

2008-04-18T18:16:00.001-04:00

Thanks to my ability to disappear off the face of the Internets whenever I want to, I have decided to institute casual Fridays here at Stupefying Stupidity. I links to myselves just in cases you forgots the addressies. And plurarlizing words is so hip-hop. So is making words up.

I should probably explain what casual Fridays means before I go about it.

Every Friday, I'll swing by, type for a few minutes without caring if the topics are important or if I even have a point. You want comedy? Maybe Monday. Political punditry? Come back on Wednesdays. Homer-ish sports rants? Tune in Saturday. Fridays are for me.

Here....we go!

This is a true story. Matta' of fact, it went down just minutes ago. A couple of us went out for a drive down to the lake. Three men and one female comprised the group. While at the lake, the guys were informed to take it easy on the obligatory ribbing and jesting thrown at the female because it was ALMOST that time of month for her (I know, awkward), and apparently right before that time of month, she gets overly sensitive.

On the drive home, we were then informed it was actually that time of month. Not almost. As in, please drive faster, because fluids are leaking.

I know.

Awkward.

How many female friends do you know that would inform males of such an occurrence? Is it socially acceptable? Where are we supposed to stand on things like this? How does a sundial really work? Is this really one of the greatest sport stories of early 2008?

Welcome to casual Fridays.

I Really Didn't Think Soulja Boy Would Be Relevant in 2008

2008-04-14T01:31:00.001-04:00

Wondering What The Software Industry Is Up To?

2008-04-11T02:30:00.002-04:00

It's good to know what's happening in the potential job market one is getting themselves into. Microsoft is taking on traffic jams. Or at least they plan to introduce a tool that will theoretically minimize the chance you get stuck in traffic, based on complex machine learning models.

Which is totally cool, considering I've been thinking about solutions to avoid traffic jams. And I think I may be one up on Microsoft.

A teleportation machine.

(there's a reason I don't have a job yet)

"Are You For Serious"

2008-04-10T16:02:00.005-04:00

Today, I managed to fit the above phrase into a phone interview.

Now, I've been watching a nerd show that already makes me feel intellectually inferior on so many levels, but this really takes the cake.

And then I had to painfully hear the interviewer slowly repeat the phrase, "Yes, I am .. for ... serious" ...

You May Not Get Most Of It

2008-04-07T01:45:00.002-04:00

But fast forward closer to the end...

I Know It's April Fool's

2008-04-01T14:39:00.001-04:00

But this is no joke.

*Preface - Kids, don't take this too seriously. The character-to-be-mentioned will be staying with me sometime over the summer. You know, if I don't hurt his feelings too much. Plus, only the closest of friends can express their feelings like we do.

mikeK has boldly called me out through his carefully crafted post (seriously, he takes days to construct a post...I'm a personal witness to a few). You know, there was a time when all this blog was good for was subtle shots at my ex-housemates. That all ended when they thought they were too good for blogging. But look who came crawling back (they always do).

"There are so many people with cool names out there, and yet, somehow, my friends have all managed to pick the worst and ugliest names."

mikeK, your attempt to establish yourself as a blogging star by taking on the current Internets-celebrity-nobody-knows-about (see: me) is understandable. Knowing I'd respond (and probably link to his blog) on this high-traffic (even I can't type that with a straight face) blog was borderline genius. But his formulaic (broad introduction, diss some fools, seal the deal with a semi-random picture, leave you with an underwhelming punch-line) approach to blogging perplexes me. Despite the fact he took a good one year break, his online style hasn't changed at all. Some would call it consistency.

I say it's a lack of personal development.

Oh. Scroll down all the way to the bottom to find his "Blogroll", consisting of WordPress.com and WordPress.org. It screams of professionalism. And care.

"Just the other day, a kid came up to me and told me I'm his hero,
So the value that I place on your opinion is approximately zero."

I just quoted my own self. And linked to my own blog. A move that is legend..

...wait for it...

...wait...

...still there?...

dary.

Hey...hey mikeK. Remember that time you got sacked so hard, you couldn't even get up to feed yourself? Yeah...

I Cover A Lot Of Material Here

2008-03-26T20:19:00.004-04:00

*Preface - So pay attention. I should probably research the proper methodology and usages of a title and preface. But I'm too busy being aawesome. Sue me (please don't).

A month ago, an opening for a position in the endoscopy unit at the hospital I volunteer at was brought to my attention. I instantly considered it an upgrade over pushing around a snack cart. Not only did it fit into my schedule much better, but patient-care > food services in my books. I didn't even have to think twice about switching over.

But let me tell you a lil' sumthin' sumthin' 'bout 'ndoscopy.

That last apostrophe was totally unnecessary. But for consistency sakes, it had to be done. And what's done is did. You dig?

No? That's okay too.

Endoscopy.

Viewing the insides of your body by sticking a flexible camera tube apparatus through a bodily orifice. At least that's how I loosely define it. Contact a real doctor if you really want to know more. Just don't talk mention pediatrics. It makes him cry like a girl.

The aftereffects of an endoscopic procedure include feeling bloated. Really bloated. We ordered too much at an all-you-can-eat Japanese food restaurant and don't want to pay per piece so now we must all eat 10 pieces more than we would've liked, bloated. Like you just inhaled so much air that you could float in the sky for about five seconds before coming down to unleash an amazing barrage of smash attacks on your unsuspecting opponent(s)..., errr, bloated.

Endoscopy.

The patients are asked to stick around for 20-30 minutes after the procedure is performed, to ensure that the procedure did not cause any unintended side-effects, and so the patients can pass that gas.

I wouldn't describe the aroma of the endoscopy unit as horrible, but it's definitely got a different flavor to it than the rest of the hospital.

With that said, I still relish the opportunity I get to volunteer with that unit. Simply put, the ~~pretty nurse that smiles at me~~...no I had it right the first time, the pretty nurse that smiles at me makes Tuesday mornings very bearable.

Oh. And the fact that I think I'm helping people.

But back to the pretty nurse that smiles at me. We had our first disagreement this past Tuesday. I sent a patient to the waiting room because their procedure did not require the use of a stretcher. She disagreed and wanted me to go bring the patient back. Of course, because of my volunteer status, I complied with her request and went to go grab the patient without second-guessing her decision. And then it happened.

She walked briskly out after me to call me back.

It was like one of those emotion-ridden break-up moments where one person starts to turn their back and walk away from the other, but then the other person steps up and says, "Wait."

It wasn't long before we were making glib remarks at what just happened (a volunteer pwning a nurse). And you know what they say about getting past the first fight?

No, really, do you? Because I don't. But I'd like to know.

Conventional wisdom leads me to think that it would be about moving onto bigger and better things. Or bigger and badder fights. Ye' would say it made him stronger.

Too bad she doesn't know my name.

Remember When

2008-03-23T21:39:00.000-04:00

It's nearing the end of my university career. As such, creating memories is the name of the game at this time in life. Which is understandable, but an inordinate amount of "formal" dinners won't turn the trick.

Rabbits and hats will.

The way I figure, I'll either be too busy making sure I don't get any nasty stains on my nice clothes, or tugging at an uncomfortable tie all night long, to take in the moments passing me by.

Someone once said, "It's funny how time flies, I'm just having fun watching it fly by".

I also don't understand why we leave it till the last moment to dress up in nice clothes. Wouldn't it make more sense to do that as a first impression? Because the lasting memories won't be from a night out at the end of an era. They'll be all the things that happened in the middle (hopefully my memory will comply).

Few tell stories of how things end. Beginnings are much funner. You love the start, but really it's just to begin. It's going to be really hard when it gets to the end. Word to Kevin Drew and his whole crew.

Watch, Watches, Watching

2008-03-17T20:22:00.000-04:00

The volleyball majestically soared over the net, rotating slow enough to make out the different colors painted on. For a second that seemed like eternity, it froze at the apex of its climb up the trajectory mountain. Then, as if infused with a ton of rocks, it dropped and thudded on impact.

Ever been mesmerized by the motion of the ball at a sporting event?

You have?!!?

*blush*

Aww shucks, look at us. We have interests in common. And I'm not talking about Common. However, hopefully everyone is interested in common sense, but sense isn't so common these days. Luckily, I was blessed with six.

Not really. But still, that whole last paragraph is mind blowing. You might want to go read it again. I'll wait.

*Doop dooby doo*

Hi, welcome back to the lecture at hand.

Ball watching. It's almost a sport in itself. Whether it's watching a football spiral through the air, or rapidly moving your head back and forth in futile attempts to follow a tennis ball bounce back and forth, I'd gather that most people do it.

I just don't know why I tend to ball watch while being an active participant in the game.

Le sigh.

Inaudible Whispering

2008-03-11T19:24:00.002-04:00

If you are a male, you probably are not capable of acting out the title of this post.

(I know you just tried, like, right now...)

See, somebody once informed me of this, that guys were actually incapable of whispering. To which I angrily rasped back in a quieter voice, "Yes we can" (pre-Obama, so no word to Barack Hussein). It was not a whisper.

Whispering, as demonstrated by the two nurses in the endoscopy unit I currently volunteer at, is when you speak in such a way that a person standing a mere 3 feet away cannot hear a word you say.

No vocal chords.

(I know you're still working on that whisper, and some of you may have it!...that's okay...keep it coming)

Not that I was offended by the nurses whispering away 3 feet away from me. They almost have to to deliver outstanding patient care (the quieter the better whilst recovering from any invasive procedure). They even go so far as to answer the phone, walk over to the person being asked for on the phone, and whisper, "it's for you". This dumbfounded me, as I'm much more used to yelling from the basement to the upstairs kitchen, "hey, HEY, pick up the phone".

There wasn't much action happening in the endoscopy unit today. I studied how the nurses operated instead.

Speaking of. The mere fact that I'm back volunteering at a hospital four days after checking into one myself is not lost on me. I love my appendix and hope to keep it. Nurses and doctors have my respect not only for how they act, but how they acted towards me.

Uhm.

*hugz*

You didn't read that.

Was Photoshop The Better Way?

2008-03-04T18:02:00.005-05:00

I can't decide which version of a photograph I snapped in the Dominican I like better. Authentic (with power lines), or Photoshopped (word to Jeff for the quick tutorial). Please vote. It's been bugging me for an entire day now.

OR

Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring

2008-03-03T03:37:00.005-05:00

Some folks up on the third floor got into an argument at 3:00AM, and one person decided to storm out of the building, but not before pulling the fire alarm, you know, because when you're angry, anything goes. The building attendant person hasn't been able to turn off the fire alarm yet, so...

...time to blog!

I've recently self-confessed to writing a mock GMAT exam for no good reason other than to keep my mind sharp mathematically. Similarly, I sacrificed 2 hours of my past Wednesday night to attend a music lecture.

*I hear fire trucks coming...this is getting out of hand*

My instincts are rather nerdy/geeky/book-loving, however you want to label it. But after a good number of years of institutionalized education, one of the greatest things I have come to learn about is myself.

That's good, because I don't really want anyone to know me better than I know myself, right?

Right.

*Sidenote - Have you heard the unplugged version of Rihanna's Umbrella? At first, I wasn't that excited that she was a part of the Glow In The Dark Tour, but you know what, I won't be offended if she gets to hog the stage for a second. And, this song that was once soooo 2007 has now become a big part of my 2008. And I will forever add "ella ella" to any word rhyming with umbrella. Forever never ever seems that long.

Anyways, the alarm is off for good. Stammering on would prove futile anyways.

I don't want to say goodbye to you, so I'll just say goodnight to you.

Boom Head Shot

2008-03-01T18:03:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, the local nerd squad booted me from a school computer lab as I was completing work for an assignment because they needed to prep the room for a LAN party. While I found the lack of forewarning a little ridiculous, the notion that school property would be unavailable for the next 24 hours due to a LAN party was hesitatingly amusing.

With my newfound (forced) free time away from the lab, I went and wrote a mock GMAT exam today, with no intentions of writing the real exam in the future.

Now who's being ridiculous.

But it reminded me of those high school math contests that I eagerly signed up for (cut a period of class AND do math? win-win). Remember those? Those were so fun, until you were informed that you didn't end up in a top percentile.

The Return of the McNificent

2008-02-25T22:13:00.001-05:00

Awwwwwwwww you know who it is. It's Buttug McOysty. If you ain't know, you betta Google me baby. Word to Teyana Taylor.

If that last sentence left you in the dust, it probably means you haven't heard the song. And if that is really the case, you should go sit on the toilet and ponder long and hard about where you are in life.

Then click here to listen to it.

As this is a reentry-to-the-Internets post, this'll be shorter and sweeter than a dwarf cupcake. That doesn't even have to make sense to sound delicious.

Quick Shots from my Vacation in the Dominican Republic
- locals consider all Chinese people "Jackie Chan's brother/cousin"
- locals are also blatantly sexist to the point where the girls had to ask for everything because the guys were being ignored
- ingesting too many local foods/liquids containing coconut leads to diarrhea (known as Puerto Plata splatter, with splatter pronounced splatta...like the gangsters say it)
- "Oh my mother" is the equivalent of "Oh my God"
- "I like your mouth" is not only one of the worst pick up lines ever, it has the ability to creep the heebie-jeebies out of a girl
- the sun burns
- just about 70% of the DR claims Catholicism as their religion
- the other 30% believe in rum! (badaboom CHING!)
- I seriously thought this dance was their national anthem because of how many times the resort folks performed it
- then, as we got addicted to performing it with them, I reconsidered, and thought of it more as their SouljaBoyTellEm
- what else...what else
- all men over the age of 50 that insist on wearing Speedos should be summarily tried for crimes against humanity
- I am a fantastic para-sailer (sailor?), the Muhammad Ali of the recreational activity if you will (and you will), if only parasailing was an Olympic sport
- if you can't respect that, your whole perspective is wack, maybe you'll love me when I fade to black

Ketch'ums

2008-02-16T10:53:00.003-05:00

Should I worry about my friend (ex-housemate), if one of the first things he says to me after maybe a month of little communication is, "I put my Psyduck in the nursery and it grew levels and forgot to learn things ):".

He didn't actually "):", but that was to convey his tone of voice.

On one hand, I felt the need to slap the inner-elementary-school-aged-kid out of him. Instead of being a working man that's looking to support a wife and kids, he's a working man leveling up Pokemons!

POKEMONS!

Pokemen? Was there ever a consensus on the plural of Pokemon? Does 'i' really have to come before 'e' except after 'c', and also when you recite the alphabet going forwards?

The other side of me felt the desperate need to get the Pokemon game for myself because I felt like I was missing out on something.

Maybe 30's the new 20 after-all.

This post that made no sense was brought to you by the sunny beaches of the Dominican Republic. It was mailed in because I should be catching a plane right now. Bye blog. Bye blog readers.

Don't miss me too much thanks.

If I Had A Million Twenty Dollars (insert echo)

2008-02-14T15:20:00.002-05:00

I spent last weekend having fun in the snow. I will be spending this weekend, and the next week for that matter, floating in the pool of a resort, or floundering on the coastal waters of the Dominican Republic.

The stark contrast is not lost on me, and I am thankful for the opportunity to experience such different lifestyles. One of the bigger things to wrap my head around are the differences in preparation.

Last weekend, I had to worry about which pair of pants would provide the most protection against the cold and at the same time would be the sacrificial pair that would suffer many a tumble as I tumbled down the hill on various objects. That pair happened to be the pair of jeans I'm wearing. Still intact, and possibly more comfortable before thanks to the "working in" provided by the workout.

Neither here nor there.

This week, I'm scrambling to get my immunizations in order so I don't come back to Canada as a bearer of very bad gifts. And here's where the story (I was telling a story? I'm not very convincing, even to myself) gets, uhm, one notch above 'kill me this is boring'.

I wake up this morning for a 9:40am malaria consult with the part-time campus doctor. Turns out, the area I'm heading to (Puerto Plata - for my online records, you don't really need to know) does not present much of a risk of malaria. Furthermore, the malaria prevention pills were to be taken two weeks prior to the trip and would have minimal effect, unless I took stronger ones with potentially adverse side effects.

So I walked out of the clinic with a prescription for diarrhea pills (you can't ever be too prepared) and a bill for TWENTY DOLLARS.

Things You Can Do For Twenty Dollars
A) Eat 10 pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken

B) Download "Bad Day" 20 times from iTunes and wonder what in the world Daniel Powter was thinking, and then question your own motives (20 times? seems excessive)

C) Talk to a doctor for five minutes

And just like any responsible University student that guesses on multiple-choice exams, the answer should never ever be C.

Ever.

I Venture Where I Have Not Yet Ventured Before, At Least in 2008

2008-02-11T23:56:00.000-05:00

If you close your eyes and ~~read my posts, wait that doesn't make any sense, I should strike this out~~ have my posts read to you, there are times you would mistaken me for a person that currently resides in the greatest nation on the face of this planet, the United States of America.

Please. I'm kidding (about the greatest nation thing, not about the mistaken identity thing). I am not trained to quantitatively (or even qualitatively) compare countries to each other (bachelors, computing, coming soon, thank you). But, I heart New York. Moreover, sometimes I like to exert my authority over others through military dominance (projectiles and verbal barbs). It rarely works, but that could be seen as another thing I have in common with the US.

So please, take the time to remind yourself that I, Buttug McOysty, am a Canadian. Whisper that to yourself in front of a mirror. I'll wait...

...tables.

With that all said, I now turn my attention to American politics, specifically the ongoing horse-race happening within the Democratic party.

And let's not twist things that aren't twist-ties. What it's really come down to is whether the people are more comfortable giving a white woman (Hilary stand up) or a black man (yes Obama can) the chance to, well, get a chance to reside in the Oval Office.

Let's face facts (that are really my opinions). These two people, running for the exact same party, will shade roughly the same on most issues, provided they ever become President. And even then, it's not like they can storm in there and change. There's a bureaucratic process that tends to water down most election promises and force compromises.

What you have left is this. Female vs Male. White vs Black. What interests me is that we get both gender and race weighing in at the same time. Meaning that one will ultimately prevail. And the other gets to go home and eat an ice-cream cake. And all their "*insert eventual loser's name* is YOUR 2008 Democratic candidate" t-shirts get sent to remote areas of underprivileged countries, never to be seen again.

Of further interest? You get fantastically outrageous stories about how Obama would be assassinated too quickly (because he's black) and should therefore not win.

Canadian politics have never make me LOL Zed out loud before.

*Post-Emptive Disclaimer* - I readily admit that it's not 100% about race and sex, but c'mon, that's where all the real interest is generated from.

Dichotomy?

2008-02-06T01:20:00.002-05:00

Please click to read the fine print. Despite your first impressions of the statement in red, it really makes sense.

Nobody wants to be used, but everybody wants to be useful.

**Edit**

My apologies, I should have properly cited the work above, not that the Internet po-po come around this abandoned place anyways.

The above image is an excerpt from Thank You And You’re Welcome!, a soon-to-be-released(?) book authored by Kanye West.

ALSO.

Turns out, this black and white motif was taken one step too far by Internet Explorer. I have discovered if you view this blog using that browser, all my images are transformed into b&w. So. You're missing out, and I'm much too busy to investigate at this point! But as John Mayer once sung, "I know the world is black and white". I don't know where I'm taking this.

Forgetting

2008-02-04T00:34:00.000-05:00

The New York Football Giants.

World. Champions.

OMG, THEY KILLED MCOYSTY

2008-02-03T00:51:00.000-05:00

*Preface - Footage for this video was taken Friday night (Saturday morning?) after the fantastic snow day.

Puh-lease, Like That Was An Accomplishment

2008-01-30T15:10:00.000-05:00

The cold winter months provide the chance for everyone to break out their fancy winter jackets. And there's this one specific group of people with "special" winter jackets.

You know, the ones adorned with lift tickets from different ski/snowboard resorts.

And they wear those lift tickets as if they were gold medals. Because that's what they are. Pretend gold medals for people that aren't actually good enough for actual gold medals.

So with that said, check out my lift ticket:

That's right. I went into the past to battle Muhammad Ali, and then went to the future to slide down a hill - Mount Everest.

So to all those people wearing lift tickets, yes, I am better than you.

On the internet.

"It's Like Tinkerbell Vomited All Over Her"

2008-01-27T23:24:00.000-05:00

Post title was uttered by a friend I label "ultimate hater of everything" at the sight of a overly sparkling wedding dress.

Who. Says. That.

And for something completely unrelated:

M Bison Destroys Mario World 1-1

Heh.

Hehe.

People Will Try Anything

2008-01-24T17:15:00.000-05:00

Students get paid to learn?

I know, most of you won't even bother clicking on the link because the story originated in Atlanta (but how would you know that without clicking?), so let me quickly summarize:

"Forty students from Creekside High and Bear Creek Middle schools in Fairburn will be the first to try the "Learn & Earn" program, where students will get paid to attend after-school tutoring programs."

You see, the students that enroll in the program learn how bribery works!

More importantly, who's going to do all the random chores like shoveling snow and mowing the lawn for a cheap buck now that kids could earn $8 an hour sitting in a tutoring session?

I Didn't Say This...

2008-01-23T17:31:00.001-05:00

...but it's t-shirt worthy.

"I hate emo kids more than they hate themselves."

Little Lols Part Two - Little Big Lols

2008-01-21T01:51:00.000-05:00

Remember my post, "Little Lols"?

Of course you do. You're avid fans of my blog. You know everything there is to know. Go get yourself a reward cookie (try an Oreo, there aren't much better reward cookies than Oreo's. Seriously! It's been proven by pseudoscience. Which means absolutely nothing). I'll wait.

*humming Cher's "Believe" (don't ask)*

Delicious?

I told you so.

Back to the subject at hand. In that video, the baby was conditioned to laugh when paper was ripped. Now, a couple of you were outraged at the child exploitation going on in the video.

I took it one step further.

Witness below, as I condition my friend to laugh (outrageously) at the sight of a baby laughing.

What's this "other one" that was mentioned near the end of the video by the gentlemen sitting up front? Well, that was the video that set the tone. I showed a different but equally funny baby laughing video just before the above video took place, but you can click for that yourself, if you're still interested in my pseudo-science experiment.

Classroom Anecdotes - To Prove I'm Not Fast Asleep During Lectures

2008-01-18T13:44:00.000-05:00

Class Number One - Databases - In the middle of diagrammatically representing a simplified version of Facebook's database structure, a discussion breaks out on certain requirements between student number 1 (an annoying man who sits up front and slows down the class by asking questions, making comments, and being too friendly with the prof) and student number 2 (an annoyed student happening to sit in the same row as yours truly)...

Student number 1: You don't need friends to have Facebook. It's not a requirement.
Student number 2: We're not talking about YOUR Facebook account.
The rest of us: Did he just.......OHHHH BUUURN!!!!!!!! BOOM HEAD SHOT!

Class Number Two - Medical Imaging
The funny professor randomly inserted an American Gladiator analogy to explain Ultrasound techniques. American Gladiator. How often does a prof use CURRENT pop culture references, much less a show I happen to watch (and a show a bunch of us have attempted to adapt for ourselves here in our lowly apartments)? It was legend-that-thing-you-find-on-a-map-to-help-you-decipher-the-symbols-dary.

Apple: Slimmer Is Better

2008-01-16T14:59:00.000-05:00

*Preface - An interesting discussion between two of my more avid comment people broke out in the comment section of this post. It doesn't particularly pertain to today's post, but I found it amusing how they were putting in harder work on my blog than I was.

Apple is once again out to attack people's self esteems. The previously endorsed message, "it is not enough to be useful, you have to look pretty at the same time".

This time around, it is not enough to be skinny, heck it is not even enough to be anorexic, you have to be as thin as the air surrounding the tip of Mount Everest.

McOysty, what does that even mean?

Well you see, class, earth's atmospheric pressure has an exponential inverse relationship with natural elevation. Meaning, the higher up you go, the less weighty, thinner (ding!), the air gets.

That unofficial science lesson was brought to you by the crack research team at Seriously Stupefying Stupidity. Our motto is, "if it's on Wikipedia, then it's got to be true, right?". The question mark in our slogan provides intrigue missing from so many other corporate slogans.

Introducing, the Macbook Air, weighing in at 3 pounds, 0.76 inches (at the max point), for a 13.3 inch display:

Frankly, it does not sit well with me that Apple would promote such sickly slimness in a culture that already idolizes size 00 stick figures. Think of all the other laptops that will read about this new Macbook, and the accompanying insecurity that is bound to creep in. The buckets of ice-cream and boxes of chocolate they will then ingest.

Think of the humiliation when a laptop's owner sets their desktop wallpaper to an image of the super sexy Macbook Air. Better order some more ice-cream and chocolate.

And then, that day finally arrives. When the laptops are cast aside for that package that arrives in one of those intra-office envelopes.

Just writing this post made me feel so bad about myself and my excess weight that I grabbed a pork chop out of the fridge and went to town on it. Without heating it up, and without using a fork and knife.

A big part of me (that was in no way a reference to my weight) is just bitter that Apple decided to come out with this product now, 6 months after I bought my laptop.

Then again, I could care less. Secretly, between you and me, getting past the uber-thin frame, the Macbook Air is

Meet The Robinsons

2008-01-15T00:37:00.000-05:00

This is currently set as my desktop wallpaper. Inspiration found in the most unlikely of places, an altogether thought out movie, so if you ever get the chance.

Now that I think about it, when was the last time a time traveling movie made sense?

Coupled with The Game Plan starring Dwayne The Rock Johnson, the second National Treasure movie (that I haven't seen but assume to be good), and Enchanted (again, I'm going by hearsay), Disney appears to have really done their thing in 2007.

Disney movies. Procrastination tool for the foreseeable future.

That, and homemade American Gladiator challenges. I'm being told not to post any videos up, but I don't know if I can resist much more.

Beating Your Inner Little Hater - J Smooth

2008-01-13T18:54:00.000-05:00

"Procrastination - when you confuse being busy with being productive."

2007 - A Look Back At The Music

2008-01-11T00:57:00.000-05:00

I would do this, but I'm about 11 days too late, and the two things I remember about 2007's year of music are:

ella ella ella

AND

Souljaboy tellem'.

Sorry. I meant...

...Grammy Nominated Souljaboy tellem'.

*shudder*

Who has not faded into obscurity and is back with one for the kids, "YAHHH".

*shudder*

Uhm. I Probably Should Not Have Watched An Emotionally-Charged Season Premiere In My Current State.

2008-01-09T02:29:00.000-05:00

Hi, it's Peyton. Yeah, I, I'm sorry, I know it's late there. I just...

...what happened to us, you know? I don't know who I am anymore. Or how I got here.

I miss who I used to be.

I want to have a home again, you know? And real friends, you know the kind of friendships we used to believe in. I missed that.

And I missed you.

I guess I just miss all of it.

This articulation of some of my current fears for my future by the writers of One Tree Hill was uncanny. Like, I-can't-go-to-sleep-right-now uncanny.

New Term, New Profs

2008-01-07T16:50:00.000-05:00

*Preface - I don't know how I'm supposed to take my medical imaging prof seriously for the rest of the term. He abused the subject-matter authority automatically attributed to a professor by a student on the very first day by conning us. AND, he's short, chubby, balding, four-eyed, and has an accent. Read on...and remember, it's accented, so it was ten times funnier in person.

Prof - Obviously, we've come a long way in the field of surgery. One time at a conference, a surgeon was telling me about this one surgery where they applied local anesthetic to the patient's arm, thinking he wouldn't feel a thing. Quite the opposite happened when they started cutting into him, and the patient started jumping up and down. The patient was such a big football player-sized fellow that they had to bring in a sledgehammer to smash him a few times to subdue him.

*a couple of gasps from the class*

Prof - I'm just kidding. They just zapped him with a more powerful anesthetic. You should've seen your faces.

*points at a student in the second row*

Prof - I mean really. Haha.

It's 2008

2008-01-01T23:08:00.000-05:00

And I still know what you did last summer.

2008. The year I start misusing titles from sequels to box office hits of years past. Here's to it.

Family Vacation

2007-12-27T03:47:00.000-05:00

This is what happens when a light-sleeping guy like me goes on family vacation. For a middle-class family of four, it only makes economical sense to pay for one hotel room.

One family member not named me is a giant of a snorer.

I have not fallen asleep yet, nor do I foresee myself doing so anytime soon.

Thanks to the wonders of wireless internet technology, I can blog about it! Not that anyone swings by here anymore anyways!

I'm wondering if I should continue to toss and turn for the next four hours. I may be forced to eventually do so regardless of my decision, as my laptop battery only lasts for two and a half more hours.

Family vacations.

A source of such great times, but such great stress at the very same time.

Maybe tomorrow night will be better.

Warning...Emo Ahead (But Have a Merry Christmas)

2007-12-25T00:56:00.000-05:00

That was funny, but the music was heart-wrenching.

Speaking of 98 Degrees, sometimes I feel like the Invisible Man, with invisible words.

Little Lols

2007-12-20T15:38:00.000-05:00

Television Talk

2007-12-16T13:11:00.000-05:00

*Preface - I haven't talked television in a while because television has become more of an excuse to straight chill with folks rather than being the event itself. I suppose it's for the better that way. But the upcoming holiday season tends to be accompanied by a look-back on things of the year past. For myself, it's much easier to review things that are way more fresher (that's right) in my mind, so with that said, here's some backward glances at television offerings of the year past! Allons-y!

I can sum up the past few months of television in one noun, which also doubles as a verb, triples as a tongue twister, and according to dictionary.com, quadruples as a British idiom! Seriously! The chance for confusion this word inherently possess is enough to make me chuckle!

(no pun intended)

CHUCK

Chuck - Geek employee (Chuck Bartowski) employed at a "Buy More" (think Best Buy/Futureshop) forced to double as a CIA agent. Is this a sign of things to come in my life? Probably not. Shows involving spies, covert agents and the protection of valuable assets usually turn out for the better. Plus, I like the character dynamics. And the fact that two life-long friends end up working at the same place and do almost everything together (reminds me of two ex-housemates of mine...the life parallels are uncanny). Two thumbs up for Chuck. Or, should I say, 10 binary thumbs up for Chuck.

Isn't she lovely? This character, Charlotte "Chuck" Charles, hails from the television series Pushing Daisies. Unconventional detective work (the male lead has special powers!) and a pie shop as a home-base put this show over the top. Add in some wit and some wacky characters and you have yourself one tasty pie. I mean, show. Pie is delicious.

Don't get me started on the finer points. If you watched Serendipity and it managed to incite violent anger from you every time the characters were oh-so-close to finding each other, but loved the movie nonetheless, this show should be right up your alley. The male and female stars are completely in love, but mustn't ever touch! WHAT A TWIST!

American Gladiators! They're coming back! The writer's strike means we, the audience, will be treated to a handful of horrible reality-based television shows, none of which I am more excited about then American Gladiators. For the "chuck" tie in, check out the 2:15 mark of the video. Fantastic.

Lastly, I know none of my readers watch the Sopranos (that I know of). Nor am I on that episode just yet. But I've got to wonder how many people chucked their television remotes at the cable box thinking that the cable companies screwed them out of the series' final scene, only to find out later that the show actually ended that way.

They Don't Tell You These Things in Textbooks

2007-12-12T02:01:00.000-05:00

Time is short.
Time is money.

Money is definitely short (unless you're Frank Lucas).
Short is money?

If there's one thing for sure, this post sure ain't short. Buckle your safety harnesses, you're in for a wild ride...crank that Kosha Boy...

...Hanukkah's a festival we celebrate it everyday, haters get mad cuz they got one and we got eight!...

...now let's get to the business.

What You Should Actually Do Whilst In University

You know, besides all the academic learning you're paying for. I assume that because you pay for it, you probably should be doing it. But you're not going to spend every living hour doing the academics. So what should you, the scholar-to-be, be doing with all your free time? I say that hesitatingly because time is not free. Read the equations above.

1. Train your immune system.
Rigorously and thoroughly. What's that saying, if you ain't using it, you're losing it? So while you're in your prime, push yourself immune system to the limit. Don't hesitate to eat food off the floor or to use a cup you haven't washed in a week. The oven-baked chicken wing looks a little raw after 20 minutes in the oven? There's only one way to find out, and that way goes through your stomach. Forgot to wash your hands before you eat? Don't stop now, if you go wash your hands your meal will get cold! And unless you're eating ice-cream, you probably don't want that.

*Sidenote* - Ice-cream for dinner? Why. Not. *End Sidenote*

You'll find that if you commit yourself to this, you'll get sick less often as the years go by, and you'll recover from any sickness quicker.

2. Evolve proper studying habits.

I say evolve because discovery is not enough. Sure, you may be a great owl, studying through insane never-heard-of early morning hours. You may even find that you work best with the pressure of an exam the next morning. Heck, you may find that on the day of the exam, you will drop everything to watch Evan Almighty (started off as a waste of time but finished nicely). And the absolute worst, you find that you calculate your mark prior to the exam, calculate exactly what mark you need on the exam to arrive at an acceptable overall mark, and then you study accordingly.

You will do well in academia. Really. Go on, give yourself a future round of applause if this is you. I'll wait.

pfft

But realize this. For the vast majority of us, in the (near) future, we will be taking jobs where we will not be able to dictate our working hours (at least not like we dictate our studying hours). We will not be able to rush work and get away with it, a 60% may be a pass in school, but 60% is a pink slip in the working world. We will not get to interrupt our working day to go and catch a movie or jump onto the non-existent beds for a power-nap-turned-full-out-sleep.

So this could go either way. Now that you realize your studying habits may not necessarily carry over to a successful career (it may open doors to it though), maybe you should look to study from 9-5 and then call it a night. I'm just saying. Or you could go the opposite way, and say that "this is the last time I'll ever get to live like a night owl" and take it the other extreme. But you need to know this.

3. For the music enthusiasts, go to concerts. For the eating enthusiasts, join a cooking club.

Don't just dabble in things you enjoy or may enjoy, commit to trying them out. Obviously this is within reasonable limits; I will not cover gray areas, but suffice to say, if you enjoy stealing, don't steal. Unless you're Derek Jeter.

Take some time to listen to different varieties of music or to taste different foods. Find a mountain and climb it!

This is getting too inspirational. Please watch this before continuing. In a year, I'll be 23. I'm going to need bigger shirts.

4. A french fry just fell on the floor. You better eat it.

5. Continuation of 3., sort of, but I lost my train of thought.

Enjoy the company of different people. Sometimes this may be born out of necessity. But if you find yourself running with a different pack of wolves (so to speak) every term, do not despair. You'll find that like most dynamic networks, you'll settle on a steadier group of friends (attractors) even if the peripherals keep changing.

But people are like snowflakes. No two are the same. So get to know some.

6. The list is getting too generic.

Yup. I went in with a full head of steam with my first two points, then 2am, coupled with the reality of my zero-creative-ability level, kicked in. This post ends now.

The point is, university is a special place. And I can't believe I only have half a year left (pending the passing of courses). This is one of the happier and sadder days of the year at the very same time. I need to stop putting myself in situations that confuse my mind.

This Can't Be Right, There's Only One Of Me

2007-12-08T23:59:00.000-05:00

*Preface - I hired trained bodyguards to protect the names embedded in this post. The guards are disguised as *'s. Don't make them angry, not only are they DYING to shoot, but they will shoot to KILL. The cleverness of that last statement warrants a moment of silence.

*moment*

Recently, a string of e-mails addressed to my e-mail address, but not to me, was delivered to my inbox. Some other A**** Y* seems to be feeding their friends faulty information. You may understand after reading the snippet pasted below:

"there are always fun and adventure when taking up a different step in life, without a doubt, you will find them around you in your upcoming new journey.

hope you will enjoy and make the most of it :)

will miss you for the special golf lessens :P .. and thank you for that :P

Good bye and Good luck !

Cheers,
M*** :)"

This "other-me" is departing for some new life experience and has already chosen to ditch his (or her, but hopefully his because A**** with two a's should be a guy's name 100% of the time) friends, cleverly dodging e-mails and unintentionally giving the guy who get surprised by increasing inbox counts something to talk about.

Win-win?

The other e-mails I received were along the same lines, with one special "group" e-mail informing me that I was invited to a "goodbye party"!

For the record, I totally debated leaving the "special golf lessens" alone, but decided that 'lessens' was too horrendous of a mistake. Never-mind (special) golf lessons, but I'd investigate English lessons if I were M***.

But don't worry, I've done the right thing, courteously replying back to inform them they have the wrong A****, which probably exposes their real friend as a ditcher, but I stand by my decision.