Bauer: “I have a suitcase bomb.” 16-year-old kid from India: “Allo sir. Yes sir. Please note that this call will be recorded for quality assurance purposes. My name is Akbar. How can I help you sir?” Bauer: “There’s a bomb that's set to go off in 3 minutes, and I need to disarm it.” India: “Ok sir. I understand your problem and feel your frustration. Give me a second while I key this into my computer... Now, please unscrew the plastic box sir.” Bauer: “Ok.” India: “Ok thank you sir...*pause*... now please tell me what you see.” Bauer: “A goddam bomb.” India: “Ok sir, thank you. Now I want you to…
| b | get off the streets. says: hold on | b | get off the streets. says: as soon as the nail polish on my one hand dries then i can start typing w two hands again, i shall respond...... hold out.... | b | get off the streets. says: no | b | get off the streets. says: NO | b | get off the streets. says: STOP | b | get off the streets. says: JUST WAIT FOR IT AHHHAHAHA | b | get off the streets. says: HOLD ON | b | get off the streets. says: ALMOST DONE | b | get off the streets. says: JUST HOLD OUT | b | get off the streets. says: 45 MORE SECS | b | get off the streets. says: hahahahaha | b | get off the streets. says: i just applied a second coat | b | get off the streets. says: lol
Realizing that this blog has been a little uninspired lately, I seized an opportunity that will, hopefully, liven things up a bit.
So far, I've only committed to posting on 5 of the topics of the wonderful readership's random choosing, but there really isn't a better way than to kick things off with suggestion number 13.
You may accuse me of being a little rusty in the area of urban mythology, specifically bad luck charms, but if my birthday is good enough for the 13th, then that has to balance out any evil powers the number 13 intrinsically contains doesn't it?
Without any further ado, I present to you, suggestion number 13 from Margaret Mason's book, No One Cares What You Had For Lunch - 100 Ideas for Your Blog.
13 - Act On Ceremony - What are the family traditions or personal rituals you practice, or new ones you've always wanted to introduce? I choose to answer the latter, and I hope to implement this tradition come the annual Chinese New Year dinner with friends and/or family. My brother and I will inevitably be asked the same small-talk questions year-in, year-out, now that we're on the same course of life, or relatively the same in that we're both university students.
You know, the same boring questions surrounding our subjects of study, our living arrangements, our love lives, our supposed missing-of-home (myth!), and our personal hygiene, just to name a few.
On a side-note, I've always considered making a flyer that would contain all the important information that a relative/acquaintance would want to know about. I would hand them out at all events I am forced to attend, then sit down on the most comfortable looking sofa/chair, sipping on cheap champagne or sparkling apple juice the rest of the night. Oh, I'd be smoking a cigar too. If anyone dared breach the realm of conversation with me, I would merely tap the pamphlet, smile, and look away.
But that's not what I want to implement. I propose to randomly pick 16 of the potential questions either my brother or myself would be asked, and randomly arrange them on a 4x4 table/chart. Then, as the event wears on, any question asked with a corresponding box in the afore-created table/chart would be checked off. The first person to line up four in a row, either vertically, horizontally, or diagonally, and scream "BINGO!" at the top of their lungs, would be declared the winner and would be granted the right to decide the consequences for the loser.
If I win the Chinese New Year round, I'm taking 50% of his red-pocket money. Or I would take his braille dog-tag, like a sniper takes from his/her victim in the world of war.
Before the obligatory SuperBowl Sunday thoughts, here's what's going down. I need you, the wonderful readers, to comment on this post with nothing but a number between 1 and 100. And to make this more interesting, I will only be accepting the first five unique numbers. That means if a person already picked a number, don't pick that number again, or I will ignore you. Feel free to continue commenting after that, the comments will still be read and snickered at.
What for, you ask? Well, I'm not telling you until I get five random numbers between one and one hundred. This tactic is commonly known as building suspense, and involving the readership, and to an extent, frustrating the readership.
Superbowl Things, In Point Form Because I'm Lazy Like That
- You know that point in the Star Spangled Banner when they're proclaiming "the bombs bursting in air"? That portion can only be properly conveyed through sign language.
- You DO NOT KICK TO DEVIN HESTER.
- Is there anything more humiliating than watching the ball bounce off your helmet? I guess it could be argued that it'd be more humiliating if you're watching the ball bounce off a lower region in your body, but both are equally and unintentionally funny.
- Adam Vinatieri missed a field goal. Seriously, this guy is as money as the sun coming up tomorrow morning. The world as I know it, is over.
- Prince KILLED IT. And I wasn't even a fan of his work before. I am now. Just curious, is it actually dangerous to play electric guitar in the rain? Common sense tells me yes, keep babies away from electric guitars in the rain, but after Prince's performance in the rain, I'm not as convinced.
- The NFL prints up "SUPERBOWL CHAMPIONS" hats/t-shirts for both teams before the game, so right at the conclusion of the game, the winning team can be crowned immediately. The LOSING team's hats and t-shirts apparently get sent to Africa, thanks to World Vision. I'm just wondering how long before they show up on e-bay, and how much I have to pay to get one. And did anyone think about the poor kids in Africa that will be receiving bad information? They could be running around all their lives thinking the Bears (and freakin' Terrible Rex Grossman, T-Rex as I call him) won Superbowl XLI*. That's unacceptable.
- You may remember me calling the Bears to win, even while cheering for the Colts. Well, I like to think I did my part in jinxing the Bears. I put myself in a win-win situation. Either way, I knew I could only come out shining**. And I sure did.
- K-Fed making fun of himself. Give him a chance everyone, even K-Fed laughs at K-Fed.
* Wow! Asterisks are back! If Justin brought sexy back (which he didn't), then I'm going to get my resurrection game on too. I know this point is rather insensitive to the actual major issues that they face. I'd like to think I use my sarcasm to underline the general apathy the western world (myself included most of the time, no singling out here) exudes on the issue of AIDS and famine relief and tribal wars. ** If you mail me a crow sandwich, I will eat it.
*Preface* Take that midget Kwan, who decided to bet on me being unable to commit to 12 or more posts titled with spam email. This is post number 13, the last of these inaptly, and inappropriately, titled series of posts. Why/when did we start calling him that anyway? Somebody needs to tell me, not that I'll stop calling him that in the meantime, but it'd be nice to know. I thought I had exhausted the vault of short-jokes over the years, but clearly we have not moved on. I'm not completely opposed to this nonsense.
The powers that be over at Tambo001 discussed two big "holidays" this month. I'm happy to be the first to inform you that the groundhog didn't see it's own shadow this morning, meaning that spring is just around the corner, or that Wiarton Willie is blind (although, I don't know if they test the groundhog for blindness, which is just bad science in my opinion). And not to be outdone, as I type this, or as you read this, cupid is being injected with high dosages of epinephrine so he can go berserk with his cute little love arrows a little later on this month.
But the biggest holiday in the month of February, the one that usually leaves everyone devastated the day after (either from too much celebration drinking, or from too much "I can't believe we lost" drinking, but always from the overdose of chicken wings, pizza, and nacho chips), and has a different name every-year (albeit, only slightly), the day that brings out the best of commercials everywhere, and recently has been known for Nipple-gate, I present to you, Superbowl XLI - the one with two black head coaches. Common and Kanye even made a song about it.
You'd be lying if you say aren't excited for the K-Fed commercial. I have my VCR set just for that, and don't worry, I'll probably post the YouTube clip (that's already available) of it here another day. I've also had quite enough of the "Deal or No Deal Canada" commercials, but that's neither here nor there.
And because everyone is calling the Colts to win, and I mean everyone, seriously you could dial up my grandma who may or may not know how to use the telephone, and even she'd tell you the Colts are going to win, you just know the Bears (and freakin' Rex Grossman) are going to take the cake. That's just how the wonderful world of sports works.
In honor of such a fabulous weekend, I, Buttug McOysty, offer a super-sized post, a buttugly-lengthed post if you will, so feel free to break out the delicious finger foods you had reserved for the weekend and get your party on with this post!
Also, it's black history month. You know, the month where we remember Rosa Parks for her defiance, yet when I try to pull a similar stunt on others, I just get labeled as "the jerk who wouldn't give up his seat for the pregnant lady". It is kinda nice that both head coaches (one of them is named Lovie, how spectacular is that!) of the Superbowl teams are black, although I've heard/read about it all too much.
On an unrelated note, I'm going to go drink a Coke Black now. Blap blap.
Things I Have Learned From Using Spam Email Being As My Post Titles
1. I'm a tremendously lucky individual when it comes to Internet prizes. I have stockpiled about a katrillion of the yet-to-be-released Apple iPhones, on top of already impressive collection of unclaimed airline tickets, e-bay stuff I didn't buy, Rolex watches, and pharmaceuticals.
2. Spam emails are actually notes from the future from myself, either warning me of some sort of impending doom, or future-me is bombarding me with useless information for the sheer amusement of future-me. Sorting my mailbox by date reveals that most spam emails are sent from the year 2037. There is no other plausible explanation. I refuse to be convinced otherwise.
3. There's spam for just about anything, and when it hits really close to home, even the cleverest of humans can be temporarily fooled. It was no secret that I was in the Queen's University housing lottery in hopes of landing 2-minute walk from campus accommodations for next year. I was forced to open every single one of the "Congratulations, You Have Won" type emails just in case it was accidentally delivered to the spam mailbox. I had to read over the one from the "housing lottery board" twice. It only served to get my hopes up before sticking a pin in them and laughing.
Some have labeled this approach, the "shot-gun" method. One of my future housemates (can't be bothered to look for the link, he never updates anyways) has taken it upon himself to use this approach when playing match-maker for others. And just like spam, it fails miserably. This method should strictly be reserved for DNA sequencing.
4. Global warming is real and growing! This needs to be talked about more because while everyone is distracted by the threat of nuclear war, the Arctic is melting and soon the penguins will have no choice but to move southward and invade us, enslaving the human race, and living in our country (no Chevrolet). Us Canadians really aren't prepared for any invasion, even if it is by penguins.
I know this has nothing to do with lessons I learned from spam. But six points just seemed like such an odd number, even though the number six itself is even. And I know it feels weird reading this at point four, but I'm aawesome with two a's and a red squiggly underline that informs me it's not yet an accepted word in the English language.
5. The word "dimpossible" proves that somebody needs to be fired for a poorly written spell-check system. Either that, or spam is written by kids, and y'all know how I feel about kids these days (myself usually included) and their misuse of the English language.
6. Take Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Lindsay Lohan. For better or for worse, they've all had semi-successful careers doing something (respectively, music, saying "that's hot", and acting). But once you get past their supposed day jobs, you realize that deep down, despite their different "talents", they're all just rich, spoiled, snobby, and what I generally like to call, trailer trash!
Spam is just like that. Different titles are slapped on, but they're the same message repackaged over and over again.
7. I may be aawesome with two a's, but I'm still an Idiot with a capital I. By post number seven, I already wanted to run myself into a brick wall for thinking up such a ridiculous idea that seemed good at the time but reared its ugly head rather quickly. I'll never try this spam email titling system again. And, I've enlisted help for ideas. Come back next week and see how Stupefying Stupidity has changed! In the meantime, I'm off to attend this weekend's festivities (insert your snide remarks in the comment section if you will, I still reserve the right to edit them in whatever way I see fit)! Go Colts!
*Preface* Can't? Or won't? The picture from two posts ago was supposed to be contemplative, not depressing. Since when was a serene lake-shore environment depressing? Thank you, HVM, for hitting the nail on the head with your comment. As a result, your blog gets free promotion!
Speaking of depressing, today I wore a pair of blue jeans, a matching blue jacket, and put on a matching set of blue mittens. I only realized this ON MY WAY HOME from work. The diagram below would've been an accurate representation of me had I opted to hold my breath until my face turned blue:
Every time a plane flew by overhead, I ducked down and covered myself for fear that it would mistake me for clear skies.
