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And in this month, the following events occurred:

Mar. 18th, 2009 @ 01:07 am The post history historian

Where were you when Diana died in a car crash?
Where were you when Yitchak Rabin was assissinated?
Where were you when Barak Obama was voted in as a president of the United States?
Where were you when Nelsom Mandela was released from prison after 27 years of incarciration?

When Diana died, I was sleeping in my bedroom (formerly Brad's bedroom) and my friend Moshe had slept over. We woke up. I turned on the TV (probably to see if there were any cartoons on) and instead there was the news: Di had died in a car crash. Pictures. Video. Images of the crash scene. Analysis. Shock
When Rabin died I had slept over at Moshe's place. It was in the morning. His mother came into his room and informed us that Rabin had just been shot (his mom was Israeli). No pictures. No video. Just shock.
When Obama was elected president I was at home. I had been following the election from work, refreshing websites so I could get the latest in results. I was following with anxious anticipation. The outcome seemed certain. This was it. History. A step forward. Jubilation. Videos. Audio. Streaming live. Instant comments.
When Mandela was released from prison, I was getting an order at a Steers fast food restraunt. I was 8 years old. I didn't look at the pictures.

When I was 9 years old, the National Party called for a referendum. The choice was simple. "Yes" or "No". The question to those answers was "Do you support continuation of the reform process which the State President began on February 2, 1990, and which is aimed at a new constitution through negotiation?"
What this basically meant was that the president, F.W. de Klerk, was in negotiations with other parties (ANC, IFP etc) about bringing an end to apartheid and looking for a unity government or a way to move South Africa forward. The question was put through to the (white) citizens. The options were simple. Yes or no.
I was in std. 1 at this time (grade 3 for you non-English styled school types). I was in Mrs Scop's class and i think it might have been Std. 1-13, but don't quote me on that.
I don't remember the weather on that day. I don't remember the time. I really don't remember much of that day. It was a March day, so it could have been a cold day (getting into Autumn there) but I don't remember.
I don't know how we got there, if the teacher instructed us to (she most likely did) or what the signal was to do it, but we all were sitting on the floor, far away from our desks. We had paper and pens in our hands, and we were writing out slogans about voting yes (voting yes for what, probably didn't matter).
Then, over the intercom, a disconnected voice began to read results. Cape Town. Yes. Durban. Yes. Johannesburg. Yes. Which each city that voted yes we cheered. I remember only 2 voted no. I couldn't understand how those places could vote "no" when so many voted "yes". In the end, the "yes" count far outnumbered the "no" count, and this paved the way to a democratic South Africa. I was 9 at the time. The world was changing all around me and I didn't realize it. History was happening right in front of me. It was not in a far off land. Not watching tanks stop for a man in Tiannamen Square on TV. Not seeing the Berlin wall fall piece by piece by Germans who were taking it down piece by piece. This was history at home. This was a shift in my life beyond me, and I was too young too know it.
It is amazing to think about all the changes that happen in our lifetimes, and how sometimes we are too involved in ourselves to notice them. Something like the release of Mandela, or the first democratic election, I can blame on being too young to know about, but others, more recently, it is on naivity and self-interest. Maybe it would be good to take a look from the outside every once in a while, look at the world and its current path. Notice all the status quos, and take real notice of when something happens to those status quos that changes them forever

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Nov. 3rd, 2008 @ 10:30 am Watch it burn

Noise: All I want - Skunk Anansie

Tags: rantology

The American election is tomorrow, and it cannot come fast enough. After watching months of McCain attacking Obama for knowing someone who blew up buildings when he was 6 years old, talking about how he a socialist pig who will start using quotes like "In America, dirty tricks drive you" and will be good for the enemies of decency while being bad for everything else because he is too inexperienced to run a country and have I introduced you to my VP, her name is two tits and a smile, I mean Sarah Palin. Smile for the camera, Sarah, and tell the good people that Obama will eat their children. Tell them that you wet yourself when you see a guy with a beer belly and personally get off every time you fire a gun at a wolf.
And now that the election is about to engulf the world as no sporting match that matches wits could, the outcome will have a profound effect on all of us.
And this is the point where I get to tell you what I want.
I want either Obama to win, or Sarah Palin to win. Yep. It will go one way, and there can be only one winner. Barack or Sarah. And at this point, either one will be just the bestest.
Let me put it this way. If Obama wins, it will be great because hey, he is someone I believe will bring about change. He is someone I think will be good for the country. He is someone different to every other president who seemed to share the similar characteristics of being
A. Old
and
B. White
but here is Obama getting people excited again. He isn't preaching the same old gospel, and know what, if helping out the middle class by taxing the 5% richest in the States instead of sucking their collective dicks makes me a socialist, well call me Canadian (by the way, I love how the Republicans have used socialist to to become synonymous with terrorist). And hey, steps towards universal health care, finally Americans can feel what its like to not be screwed by insurance companies while still having long waiting times.
So yes, if I could vote, I would vote for Obama and feel proud of it.
And speaking of being proud of my imaginary vote, I wonder how proud the people who vote for McCain will feel when Sarah assumes the role of President. Will they be glad that the same person who watches Russia for us from her bedroom will now have the finger on the button? Maybe if she does she can protect real Americans (ie those who voted for her) from the fake Americans (those who didn't vote for her). I love her for it though. She doesn't even pretend to be a uniter of people.
So yes, if she is voted in, then the American people will just have to suffer. Think about it as a collective raping for their voting sins. And it will be glorious.
It will be like watching some idiot getting their comuppence. Of global proportions. And then the American public will know what its like to have a president they can have a beer with. And if the most ignorant of the American public ever wondered what it would be like if they became president, they will soon find out.
So really, there is only one choice for America right now. Saving themselves, or giving one collective "fuck it" and saying to hell with everything. Really, its a vote for hope vs. the vote for extreme nihilism. Both will be fun to watch.

(but please, let Obama win)

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Sep. 20th, 2008 @ 10:31 am H is for Hatchett

10 things I am gratefull that begin with the letter H

1. Helium - That makes the baloons float

2. Haloomie Cheese - fried to perfection with a dash of lemon

3. Help! - Hey, its a Beatles song

4. Heros - More specifically super heros. I like me some comics

5. Heavens - sometimes the skys can look so pretty

6. Hard heads - because sometimes getting hit the head hard can hurt

7. Hands - don't know what I wouold do with out them

8. Health - Who doesnt want to be healthy?

9. Hearing - Heard a good song lately

10. Hindsight - Always tells me what I should have done

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Jul. 17th, 2008 @ 04:10 pm The future keeps on happening (in the future)

Richard,
I shouldn't be telling you this, but it is important that i reveal to
you what I (the 35 year old Gary of the future, not the 45 year old Gary
of the future) am doing in the future, in the vain hopes that you can
stop it from happening.
After a disastrous affair with a famous model/actress/president who
turned out to be a Russian Spy, I develop deep depression, which, aided
with a new addiction to peyote seeds, dog urine, and "pixie juice"
extracted from the gums of weasels, I threaten to kill myself in
magnificent and yet very stupid ways. I send my self-inflected death
threats to various publications such as "Modern Bride", "Rotweilers
Weekly", "Stormfront" and various baby and young children magazines. But
my statements of jumping off buildings and landing on the fat people go
unheeded, so I eventually abandon these extreme suicidal tendencies
(extreme because the way I was to kill myself would ensure that half the
planet would have to take a lot of drugs to even forget that I existed,
nevermind how I died).
Relieved that I am alive, and now off the pixie juice, I inexplicably
start donating all my money into cults, new age religions, and various
presidential campaigns of none madmen. This could be attributed to the
lawn gnomes of the order of the One Nut appearing to me and speaking in
a backwards language only I could understand (which might have been a by
product of going off the pixie juice cold turkey). I even managed to
sponsor I-34Lx5, the first Robot to run for president. It would have one
too, if those sex tapes never surfaced. Instead mankind had to vote for
the Dasher, the first female dog president (the first dog president
being assassinated 2 years prior thanks to a mix up mistaken him for the
Chinese President).
Finally my battle with substance abuse, depression, and public indecency
was completely put to an end. I went and lived in the caves of
Kerrisdale, where I wrestled with my inner demons (as well as some lawn
gnomes) and came out a better man, swearing to never again donate my
money cults, new age elections, and robots whose presidential platform
is to "end the reign of fleshy organisms and whose motto was "Fall of
Man, Rise of Machine, free Dairy Queen Blizzards for All.

Oh and in 6 years time man makes contact with aliens from Jupiter.
Months later, Man forgets to return calls from Jupiter, leading Jupiter
to think man is having an affair with another planet. Jupiter is very
sensitive and just needs to get over herself. Sheesh. She is sooooo
clingy. Doesn't she know we need our space. And what is all this talk
about "our future"? What future? Can't she take a hint.....

Madkal (FROM THE FUTURE)

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Jul. 17th, 2008 @ 04:08 pm More (brought to you by the future)

Tags: futurelese

Richard,

its Madkal from the future here, again. I remember writing this email
while i was walking down the drug addled sidewalks 9 years from
now....IN THE FUTURE.
I have to tell you this vital piece of information. 8 years from this
very day, dinosaurs will rule over mankind with a violent fist. also,
france will cease to exist and no one will know why.
that is all

Madkal (from the future)

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Jul. 17th, 2008 @ 01:10 pm Future tense

Noise: Play the game - Queen

Tags: futurelese

The following is an e-mail I sent to Richard, my co-worker:

Hey Richard,

This is Madkal from 10 years in the future. I have a message to deliver to
mankind and all that, but first let me tell you something. I am not 25
years old as I should be in the year 2008. I am really 35 years old,
because I am FROM THE FUTURE (10 years into the future to be exact). In
10 years time, I will be 45 years old. THAT BLOWS MY MIND.
That is all

Madkal (from the future)

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Mar. 19th, 2008 @ 08:30 am Swimming with the Dolphies

Where you would have found my body: Rotoura, New Zealand
Noise: Movie Script Ending - Death Cab for Cutie

My trip is nearly at an end (except for a brief stay in Auckland and a 6 hour lay off in LA) and I am probably non-the-wiser.
As I sip my morning Red Bull (one per morning for the last 3 weeks) and pump money into the internet making machine, I look back at all that I have done in New Zealand. Oh I have done plenty. I have swum with the dolphins, I have gone caving, I have drunk with the Irish, I have walked, I have had forgetful epiphanies, I have loved (not really), I have lost (my dignity) and I have worn woman's silky undergarments. I have done all, and perhaps it is time I explain some of these events.

Probably the most memorable thing I have done has been the swimming with the dolphins. I had attempted to swim with the dolphins before (on the second day that I was in New Zealand). I was in Kakoura which is something like the dolphin swimming capital of the universe or some other boastful claim like that. I had booked on the second day to go look at dolphins. Notice I said look at, and not swim with. This was because I was too late to get to sign up for the swimming with part and it was all taken up, so all I could do was sign up for the look at part, which was fine with me back then, as long as I got to see some freaking dolphins. I didn't. When we went out the waters were "heavy" which is to say wavey, bumpy, and sure-fire way to get sea sick. I didn't get sea-sick (took all my effort not too) but I did kind of enjoy the bumpy ride. Was like a rollercoaster on water with more bumps and less turns. I survived it, but alas, no dolphins.
With this knowledge around, a week later I was back in Kakoura and I was determined to see me some dolphins. I signed that sign up sheet like a motherfucker, pushing anyone who was in my way out of my way, and being the first to sign up to swim with some dolphins.
I got to the dolphin swimming centre, fearing the dreaded words of "heavy water". I asked them in my my innocent "hey nice pretty lady, is the water heavy today?" to which the nice pretty lady replied "well you good boy, I will tell you that they are not. In fact they are the perfect conditions for seeing dolphins. Now have a lolly-pop and be on your way" Woot!
I got suited up in my wet suit, along with 5 other people, and got the whole thing explained to me. We would go in a boat, look for dolphins, and when we see them, you jump in, snorkle up to them and have them swim around you. Don't touch them though. Got it, chief.
So we get in the boat and drive out. And keep driving. And keep driving. And driving.
Anxiety was setting in. What if there were no dolphins? What if they all went away? What if I was too ugly for dolphins? Eek.
But then....we saw it. It started with a splash. In the distance. A small wave. Something sticking out of the water. Could it be? No. It was a bird. But look, just out in the distance. Over there. Can you see it? There is something near the surface. It looks like it is moving fast? It looks like a fin? And....something just jumped out of the water there...and there....and there too. What could it be? Is it....yes it is. Its dolphins!!!!
We caught up to the dolphins and got ready to disembark. Now let me tell you that outside of a swimming pool, this was my first time snorkling. So it was going to be quite a weird experience for me.
We got the go-ahead and jumped into the water. One of the workers on the boat kept telling us to look down into the water. Why would we want to do that, I thought. I wanted to look up to see where the dolphins were. Nope, she said to look down. Whatever crazy lady. So I started looking down in the ocean like the crazy lady told us to, and what did I see? Blue murky water. Wow. Water. This certainly was amaz....wow, what just swam past me? And something out of the corner of my eye...coming straight for me. Its dolphins. Dolphins were swimming under me. Not just one or two, but 5 or 6. All around me. Darting past me, to my left, To my right. Some circled me. And I circled back. It was like a game. They circle you and you have to maintain eye contact. If you don't they think you suck and swim away. If you do they keep it up. They were so close to me and I wanted to touch them. Really, just a few centimeters away from me. I could reach out and touch, but I remember would the lady said. If you try touch them, they will swim away. If she was right about the looking down then she was probably right about that.
We soon boarded the boat after 10 minutes. This couldn't be it. Oh no it wasn't. We drove some more and jumped back in with the dolphins. Yea. More swimming with the dolphins. Dolphins are so beautiful. They were doing jumps and whatnot. In and out of the water. So freaking playful. I want a dolphin. We got in and out of the boat about 3 more times to swim with them. This was truelly what an amazing experience was.
After the final jump in, we got on the boat and drove up while drinking hot chocolate and eating cookies, taking pics of the dolphins jumping in and out of the water like the joyous beings they are. Some swam under the boat tried to keep up with the boat. I tried to take pics, but the dolphins were too fast. However, their synchronized jumping was like they were putting on a show just for us, to show us how beautiful life could be, and how amazing the world is.
After about an hour or so, we got back to shore. The day had ended. Take that heavy water. The dolphins love me!!!!

My time on this computer is nearly up and I refuse to put any more money into the internet machine for now. I will write about the wearing of women's silky undergarments, caving, drinking with the Irish, and all other tales at a later stage.

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Feb. 24th, 2008 @ 10:13 am Upside down under

mood spelled backwards is doom:

exhausted
Noise: Stonecutters theme

My time in Sydney is nearly at an end. I have swam in the waves, kayaked my way around boats and ferry's, jumped from rock to rock at cliffs, drank litres of beer at a beerhall, rocked out like it was 1991 and then rocked out like it was 1984. I have drunk alcohol out of teapots, been to dodgy stripclubs, gotten burned by the sun, eaten delicious delicious meat pies (delicious) gone to animal exhibitions and seen a wallabee, koala, and poisonous spiders (many of which are living outside my door). Eaten steak, shnitzel (shnizzzzel) gone on ferries, and drunk a lot of coffee. And now it comes to an end. But never fear, I am heading to Byron Bay soon (on a 12 hour bus ride). Will I do all the things I have done here at Byron Bay? Dunno. I have no idea what is there. I will look forward to finding out.

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Feb. 22nd, 2008 @ 06:48 pm Conversations with a higher power

Me: Mighty lord of the oceans, tell me. How many creatures in the oceans around Australia can kill me"

Neptune: Dozens upon dozens

Me: Wrong! I am INVINCIBLE!!!!!!! Muhahahahahaha. Suck it Posiden

Neptune: Jerk

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Jan. 22nd, 2008 @ 09:50 am Spur of the moment

mood spelled backwards is doom: tired but smiles
Noise: Friday night Saturday morning - Nouvelle Vague

Tags: cambie , skater beau

On both my days off, I have been woken up early. Yesterday it was some stupid fucking telemarketer who has been phoning me every second or so morning at 8 telling me to please phone some bank I have never heard of. No reason. Nothing. Just a "please phone butt-fuck bank at 1-866-youllneversleepagainfool". And today I was woken up by mom telling me to take Robin to the airport. Not even Robin knew I was to take him to the airport.

On Saturday I went to the Cambie to have drinks and watch the game with Kev and Mike. Mike was being a lazy arsehole, but Kev was there and he brought his classmate named Bronwyn. Anyway, needless to say the Canucks were sucking. Its been a trend for them this January. To suck. Kev said in a very spur of the moment kind of way that we should ditch the Cambie and go to some Irish folk dancing event and we haggled about going. Kev said the game sucked and we should leave as soon as possible. While it was true that the game sucked I was still happy to drink my beer and get depressed with every missed opportunity. However, it eventually got to painful to watch, so I agreed to go (very spur of the moment) to this Ceili's with Kev and Bronwyn.
We caught the skytrain and bussed up to the place, but kev didn't know where the place was. So we were standing outside on a corner while Kev mad some calls. I engaged in a epic battle of thumb war with Bronwyn in which i gained a battle scar, but still came out victorious. Eventually Kev found out that the place we were supposed to be at was right in front of us.
We get to the community center where the Irish dancing is being held and there were lots of kids. Apparently it was some 10 year olds birthday. Regardless, we paid the cover (7 over what Kev said it would be) and Kev seemed to know quite a few people there. It was beginning to look less and less like a spur of a moment thing. More of a "I will tell Gary that we will go see the hockey and then convince him to come dancing" thing. He's lucky that the Canucks have turned up the suck this month to 11.
Anyway, the dancing was lots of fun and I had a good time and I am pretty sure Bronwyn had a good time too. We jigged and skipped and linked arms and whatnot. After the dancing Kev and I enetered a tug of war of how Bronwyn should get home (catch a ride with whoever was giving Kev a ride or bus it with me). I won out due to sympathy for bussing. I even agreed to wait for her for her bus even if mine came first. We chatted on the bus and I sure enough waited for her bus and mine did not come first.

On Sunday I was supposed to go skating but I was rather tired from the dancing so I just spent my day indoors and did absolutely nothing.

On Monday I went to work downtown and was to meet Estefania afterwards to go for dinner. After finishing work but while waiting for Estefania I went to a book store to kill some time. I ended up buying Brett Easton Ellis' new book Lunar Park. It was a genuine spur of the moment event as I was planning on actually buying nothing at all.
I met up with Estefania and we went to get some food at Mongolie Grill. I had my two bowls and Estefania outdid me and had three. After that we were going to split and go our seperate ways. I was going to go skating and she was going to go home. I was walking her to the bus stop and then she said screw it, lets go skating. Good choice.
So we went skating, and Estefania was pretty good so she tried showing me somethings like how to spin around. I think I can do it as long as there is a wall for me to crash into. In the end, we both had a good time and she said she might join me again. It is always good to have someone join for such things.

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Dec. 24th, 2007 @ 12:39 am Hows the chilli?

mood spelled backwards is doom: Drunken
Noise: Heart of glass - Blondie

Tags: cambie

I am drunk. I know so because i am unable to keep the laptop from slipping down my leg which prevents me from typing. I can still type perfect English though through sheer force of will and the really obscenely amount of use of a backspace button (of which I actually had to look at the button to know to spell).
I was at the Cambie tonight, supposedly to watch a hockey game. Mike and Kev watched the hockey game. I watched a blonde with really long hair. We lost the game. I lost the blonde, although to be fair, I did find out that she was from New Zealand and here on business before she got excessively flrity with a bar tender, wishing that I was a bar tender, then wishing people would get overly flirty with people at circulation (drunk with too) and then coming to the sad realisation that people dont become drunk and flirty at libraries. I fully support the action and the idea that they should.
So next time you are in a library, buy the circ person a drink, especially if that person is me.

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Dec. 16th, 2007 @ 05:51 pm Misogynthropy

mood spelled backwards is doom:

cranky
Noise: Galaxie - Blind Melon

Tags: cambie , doors , ugh!yuppie!

I hate night clubs. I do. To be more specific I hate night clubs that play shitty top 40 dance music and turn out to be giant meat markets. My vision of hell would be these kind of places sans booze. But perhaps I should start at the beginning.
So Saturday was the day of birthday parties. Two of them. One for Estefania and one for Kelly. Estefania's was first. The original plan for hers was that we would go to some nice Mexican restraunt downtown which had a basement section to do whatever you want in. It was supposed to be very Mexican with a pinata and everything of the sort. However, due to some weird as booking, or lack of simple booking, we ended up not going to the Mexican restraunt and the gettogether was moved to Bonnita. Now I have never been to Bonnita, and I know absolutely nothing about the place, but whatever. I am game. While walking there from the other restraunt I met Estefania's folks for the first time.
So now we get to Bonnitas. Its a swanky restraunt. I look around at the clientelle inside. Oh my God! Its young people. And the menus which is projected on a wall shows that there isn't a meal under 20 dollars there, so that means its young people eating expensive meals. Shit. I am in yuppie paradise. Ugh.
Anyway, we sit down and the waiter/host/fuckwit/whatever takes our coats and gives us pieces of paper with items on them for consumption. I guess when you pay to have your fucking menu projected on a wall you don't have to pay for an actual decent looking menu, and a piece of paper is okay. But that is okay, as seeing as the pieces of paper was probably the most unpretenscious thing in the restraunt. Bare in mind that I am not saying what was actually typed on the menu's, just the paper, as the things typed on the menu were the most pretenscious things I could think of for such a swanky restraunt. And whats that you say? 9 dollars for a cocktail? Well just fuck me intoxicated because I sure as hell won't be able to afford to do it any other way. Other signs of pretensiousness, mirros hanging from the ceiling at angles, crappy artsy paintings, and metro-sexual waiters.
We sat at a long table and I was at the end where Estefania's parents were sitting. They didn't like the place either. I felt kind of bad for Estefania though as this wasn't what she planned for and she knew that her folks weren't really into the place, but she put up a brave front. So anyway I was sitting with the folks and we were going on about how expensive things were and why we would never set foot in the place. When the waiter came to take orders for drinks I asked him what beer they had. Thinking that they would not be able to screw up having beer by having something domestic and therefore cheaper then the import stuff, they pleasently surprised me by screwing up by having no domestic beers but a shitload of beer from Europe that I have never heard of (I would have settled for a bloody Heinekins you jerks). So instead I settled for a shitty Italian brand of beer. Estefania's mom did the most impressive thing that I would see that night by getting a glass of tequila to drink. Not to take shots of or anything, but to drink. She was even telling me the difference between good tequila and bad tequila (the one that they gave her, she informed me, was bad tequilla).
I progressed to a gin and tonic not feeling like having the waiter list a bunch of beers I have never heard of because I am not Euro-trash-arific. He asked if we wanted some food. Estefania's folks got a "steak" to share. More on that later. I was just happy having drinks. I talked to the parents some more, mostly about hockey and sports (and how there was no TV at the restraunt showing the game).About 40 minutes after the food order was made the food came. I was reminded of what my parents say about expensive restraunts. "The more expensive the restraunt, the longer the wait, and the less food that comes". True to form the steak was about the size of between the tip of my thumb to the tip of my index finger when stretcehd part. Now I am no expert in cow anatomy, but I am pretty sure that a cow's penis is probably bigger then the piece of meat that came. Another thing. Now I am no expert in restraunt policy and whatnot, but what the hell is the point of giving a meal that is smaller then what they give at caffeterias and placing it on an oversized plate. Is this done to purposely make fun of patrons. A little Ha ha, just so you know how small your meal is we will put it on this big plate to make it look smaller. Loser. I mean, the meal looked like i would be vastly unproportionate and tiny on a side plate, but to put it on a big ass plate, thats just insulting.
When the food came around I figured it was about time to get out of there. I did promise Estefania that I would buy her a shot of tequila, so I bought us both a shot, downed it, paid the bill for the four drinks which came to forty dollars and left. Luckily I was near to the Cambie and I seriously needed to wash off the stench of classiness of the restraunt with something that was not classy. Yea for Cambie.
I get there to see what the score was. I was trying to figure how long I should stay there before I go to the Royal for Kelly's birthday. Silly me I decided to make my stay at the Cambie short. I was about to leave when I bumped into Megan from Sanctuary. This was a pleasant surprise as I hadn't seen Megan in a long time. We said hi and our whatnots. I got us some shots of Jager and we exchanged details so it wouldn't be a long time before we see each other again. And then I was off to the Royal.
Ah the Royal. I should thank the Royal for reminding me why I hate night clubs so much (but not all night clubs). Now let me tell you about a place in Johannesburg called the Doors. The Doors is a nightclub that has been running for good part of 20 years. It is a dive. A very nice dive. The music there ranges from rock to metal to everything in between. The people who hang out at the doors go for the music and they know what to expect. Its kind of like a like minded congregation. I love the Doors. I miss the Doors. The Royal is not the Doors. This became really really obviously apparent when the crowd started to form indoors. Let me see what we have here. Wow. Lots of really good looking girls. There is nothing wrong with that. Wow lots of guys with muscles, greased up gel hair and looking good. Well golly jeez, everyone is just looking soooooo good. This might as well be the Yuppie hell nightlife contingent of the restraunt i was at. Alright. I will deal. I am sitting at a table with my friends. At the table right next to us is Kelly and her physics super smart socially stunted friends. Lets drink!!
Turned out Mike Duff knew some girl there at another table and she came to sit next to us. Alright. She is pretty cute. I bet she is also smart too, oh wait, she is mistaking "talking too much" for "being interesting". Nevermind then.
Now a giant pet peeve of mine is when I am sitting at a table next to a complete stranger and I try do the friendly thing and talk to them and say hi and whatnot, and they completely ignore. Alright. I get it. I am the equivilent of the visible hemaroid hanging out of some monkeys anus but at least acknowlege the attempt at friendliness you stupid cow. So yes, I was being very annoyingly ignored by the girl. I mean we were sitting at a booth and it was me, then her sitting at the edge. I was right there. I felt bad. Mike asked her if she wanted to go dance. She looked hesitant. I shoved her off her seat and she fell to the floor. I no longer felt bad.
There was another girl there who was chatting to Kev about ancient Greece and whatnot. At least she was friendlier (and probably drunker) as she didn't ignore me and I talked to her about cage diving and paragliding. Its nice having someone there who wants to listen as well as talk. I didn't feel compelled to push her off her seat. It was all good as Kev ended up making out with her for most of the night.
So there I am in the meat market. At least the music was good. No. Wait. It wasn't. Think of the top 40 for the past 3 years. Now I don't mind some dancing get down music, but you want to know what else is dancing good down music? Goldfrapp. Chemical Brothers. Fuck even some 80's new wave would be different. Nope. I really need to here "Hot in hurr". Thank you very much.
It eventually got more then I could take, and the booze was no longer helping, so I decided to get out of there. Kev was still making out with the girl. Mike was somewhere about. I braved the dancefloor to say goodbye to Kelly and I was out of there.
So much for a good drunken fun weekend. It was just a drunken weekend. And a good drunken fun weekend without the fun is just plain sad.

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Dec. 10th, 2007 @ 04:40 pm Democracy: Because every moron should be heard

After thinking about the possibilty that Zuma will probably become the next president of South Africa (yes, that Jacob Zuma who raped a woman because of the way she was dressed [case thrown out by judge who said the woman was probably asking for it], that Jacob Zuma who raped the woman who was HIV positive and he did not wear a condom but that is okay because, as he told everyone he took a shower afterwards [he was also head of some ANC AIDS commission, whatever that means], that Jacob Zuma who has had several corruption charges put against him in the last two years or so [he was vice-president until he got fired because of said corruption charges], and yes, that Jacob Zuma who has legions of supporters who will follow him blindly [and rapingly] to their demise while he takes the riches) I have come to the conclusion that democracy is stupid because it allows every moron a say, and there is nothing more dangerous then a bunch of stupid oxygen thieves with the power to vote (just look at the last American election).
Here are some quotes to further push my view that democracy is great if everyone who could vote could at least make an informed decision about who they were voting for and not just vote blindly for the dipshit corrupt raping homophobic piece of trash:

Democracy consists of choosing your dictators, after they've told you what you think it is you want to hear.
    Alan Corenk

The great thing about democracy is that it gives every voter a chance to do something stupid.
    Art Spander

Democracy substitutes election by the incompetent many for appointment by the corrupt few.
    George Bernard Shaw

Under democracy one party always devotes its chief energies to trying to prove that the other party is unfit to rule - and both commonly succeed, and are right.
    H. L. Mencken

Democracy is a process by which the people are free to choose the man who will get the blame.
    Laurence J. Peter

The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter
    Sir Winston Churchil

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Dec. 4th, 2007 @ 08:03 pm Electric Cricket

I just took out a dvd from the langara library about cricket, and it got me thinking about the good old days when I used to play backyard cricket (in my case, it was the front yard) and the various rules and regulations that came with the backyard cricket - some of which are international and some that are local. As a point for all those who care about youthful rules and regulations, here is a standard set of backyard cricket:

Six and out

Because backyard cricket happens to be in a yard that is not connected to the neighbours yard, the fence separating the two dwellings forms a "forbidden boundary". Hitting the ball straight on to the fence/wall without a bounce produces a "6". Hitting the ball to the fence/wall with bounce produces a "4". However, for the inconvinience of having to retrieve a ball hit over the fence an immediate "six and out" is called. It is uncontested as both batter and bowler understand that the delay of game that is the product of smashing the ball over the fence is really sucky, and the batter should be happy that he got 6 runs added to his total and not be a dick about it. It is the ultimate rule of equivilent exchange.
Electric Wicky

Because backyard can be played by a minumum of 2 players, positions on the field can be very limiting. With a yard and limited fielding, even if there are other players, no-one wants to play behind stumps as that allows the batter to hit all over the place with only the bowler to defend. To combat this the "electric Wicky rule" is put into play, meaning that any edges or snicks that go behind the stumps leads to an automatic dismisal as it would be assumed that if there was a (compitent) wicket keeper behind stumps, he would have caught the edge. There is a bit of a grey area to which surrounding area behind the stumps constitutes the wicky's area. What about slips? Is the ghost wicky able to do flying catches? What about stumping? In most games, it is taken that the wicky is not superman, and therefore if the ball is hit behind the wickets into the slip area, the batter is free to run.
One hand, One bounce

The staple. Doesn't matter if you are a young 6 year old learning to play cricket for the first time with your mom in the backyard, or a drunken teenager looking to kill some time with his buddies, this rule is always there. The rule is so simple that all that needs to be explained about it is right in the title. If the ball bounces once, you are allowed to catch it with one hand. That's it. No arguing about it. This adds to a level of certain skill needed to, as catching balls with one hand aren't as always as easy as it sounds and yet catching a person with one hand after the ball bounces will still make certain players feel like untalented twits.
Electric Wicket

As explained with Electric Wicky, electric wicket is added because of the lack of amount of players playing. The rule employs the assumption that even though there is often one batter, when the batter runs between the wickets there will be "two" batters - the physical batter and his "ghost" partner". In this case, the fielder/bowler/whoever is allowed to throw the ball at either wicket, regardless of which one the batter is running to. It is then decided whether the batsman was in the crease when the ball hit the wicket or not. This is quite hard. This is actually absurdly hard. Think about. If batsman is running to wicket B, and fielder throws the ball to hit wicket A, how is he to know where the batsman was when the ball made contact with the wicket. Unless it is blatantly obvious that the batsman was no-where near the crease, the bowler/fieldsman is just depending on the batsman hearing when the wickets were hit and decided if he should still bat or not. Also making the decision hard is the vague and sometimes no existant use of creases
Stump substitution

Other items may be substituted for stumps. Items may include trashcans, bushes, childhood wickets from long ago etc. Bails for wickets are not essential

Misc.

For the rules to take effect, they must be stated at the beginning of the game, even the obvious ones. Rules can be introduced during the game, but a player cannot be given out to something like "Electric Wicky" if it was not stated before that the rule would be allowed during the game.

The person who decides the rules is the person who's backyard is being used for the game. Others may suggest rules, but the end decision falls on the owner of the backyard

The size of the field may determine the style of bowling allowed in the game. If the pitch is small, then fast bowling may be disallowed.
The game needs the following:

At least one tennis ball (although more is advised as tennis balls get lost very very easily while playing the game
One cricket bat. If there is more then one batter at time (assuming that there is enough people playing to justify having two batters, then it is allowed for the facing batter to drop his bat when running between wickets)
Stumps, or items that can constitue as stumps. There must be two.
At least two people, making up for one batter and one bowler
A yard (or street etc). It should be big enoug to constitute playing a game of cricket though. It does not have to be huge, but if you can't fit a stretch for a pitch then it is too small.

There are no teams. None. if there are 4 people playing, each player is playing for himself with the simple goal of trying to get the batter out so he can go and bat
Which brings us to the rule that the only way a person can go and bat is if he gets the current batsman out.
And the final bit is to have fun, and try not break any windows

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Nov. 28th, 2007 @ 10:49 pm New Genre Formula Superhero

mood spelled backwards is doom: recuperating
Noise: She's lost control - Joy Division

I originally sent this to Laura in hopes that she would take the reigns and start writing some awesome new fiction, stuff to blow the world up to. I don't think she took to some of the ideas here, but I think they are still exactly what the literary world needs right now.

I just figured out a new genre of fiction that i think you should write for. it will sell stupendously well and you should really think about it. its called ":Librarian Fiction" and it encompasses a whole bunch of different sub-genres, for instance
1. Librarian Horror
2. Librarian Romance
3. Librarian Erotica
4. Librarian Sci-Fi
and so on.

I have already thought of some ideas for stories, so you should see if you can do anything with these.

BLOOD FOR THE LIBRARIAN

Marsha McCauly was just a regular librarian working in a very boring library in a small town. One day, whilst shelf reading, Marsha came across the Necronomicon Alexandria, a book of evil cantations and spells used by ancient druid librarians to raise the dead and summon the daemons of hell. Using the book as well as the Millenium operating system, Marsha goes around seeking patrons with late fines and overdue books, the evilist of patrons, and sacrifices them to the daemon Dewes Maximus, the evil daemon of torture, matricide, and acquisitions. How many victims must fall before Marsha is able to unleash the Daemon?

LUST OF THE LIBRARIAN

June Weathers was just a regular librarian working in a very boring library in a small town. One day, whilst shelf reading, an overloaded shelf filled with biographies fell and hit June on the head. When June woke up she found that she had an unsatiable desire. A desire for bad patrons. Using the Millenium operating system, June goes seeking patrons with late fines and overdue books, the horniest of patrons, and seeks to quench her desires for good. Gone is the shy timid librarian, replaced by the raunchy and sexy June. How long can June keep this up before her lustful deeds catch up with her?

BLOODLUST OF THE LIBRARIAN

Rose Kelly was just a regular librarian working in a very boring library in a small town. One day, whilst shelf reading, Rose came across a book about chainsaws. While browsing through the book, a shelf filled with owners manuals for Chevy trucks fell and hit Rose on the head. When Rose came to, she discovered that she had unsatiable desire, a lust to sleep with patrons and then kill them with a chainsaw. Using Mellenium operating system, Rose goes seeking patrons with late fines and overdue books, the evilist and horniest of patrons. She sleeps with her patron-victims and then disembowls them with her chainsaw. The bodies pile up. How many lives will Rose take before she Rose is satisfied?

Those are just some examples of what can be done with this genre. I am telling you, you will make millions off this.

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Nov. 26th, 2007 @ 08:35 am Sich. Sic. Sick (Don't resist)

Where you would have found my body: bed sweet bed
mood spelled backwards is doom: cough.Splatter. Cough. Dead
Noise: Ready for Drowning - Manic Street Preachers

Being sick certainly does suck. Here are some observations made while being sick on being sick.

It makes you suck at tournament styled poker games, but strangely enough good at cash games
You don't take part in conversations, you just observe them
Despite a beautiful blonde girl, who is dead drunk and getting drunker, being sick makes you want to not dance with her
You can load up on three different medicines with the same result (that being no result)
You procrastinate sleep
It's a great excuse to be anti-social

I went to see a doctor who informed me that I am not dying. Apparently I had one cold, got better, then proceeded to catch another one. aren't I just so lucky.

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Nov. 11th, 2007 @ 11:23 pm Epic (a poem of proportions)

mood spelled backwards is doom: Epic
Noise: Lateralus - Tool

I wrote this about 4 years ago while I was working at the Park. It was a particularly boring shift. I remember Gailen was there when I wrote it. Maybe I wanted him to rap it for me. At the time I was studying Beowulf at College and I wanted to write an epic poem, so I decided to give it a shot, and this is what came out:

EPIC (A poem of proportions)

Gone to the far off lands
beyond the toils of mortal man
lived the wonderous winged being
for which kings and warriors would be fearing

    Come for evil, come for pain
    come to the fear, the mortal kings bane

Sharp ragged teeth, and talons for claws
the hater of man, for hundreds of scores
Inflecting death, spreading hate
laying kingdoms to ruin in its deadly wake

    Come for evil, come for pain
    never to be bound by and man-made chain

Yet in the far off shadowlands
a mighty warrior and his son devised a plan
attack the creature in the darkest night
and forever end the monsters destructive blight

    Come for evil, come for pain
    by the break of dawn the beast shall be slain

In the darkest night, into the cave went warrior and son
bound by duty, determined that the deed shall be done
they crept and crawled, and the beast began to loom
saw the mighty warrior and delivered to him a mortal wound

    Come for evil, come for pain
    the warriors death shall not be in vain

While the warrior lay dieing, from below the son attacked
into the beasts belly, he slashed and he hacked
The beast let out a deafening shriek, and then collapsed for it was dead
In honour of his slained father, the sun cut off the beasts head

    Come for evil, come for pain
    the beast will never cause misery again

The son cracked out a bottle of the his best mead
found some cute Danes to preform the horizontal deed
rolled up a fattie, he inhaled and he sucked
and with the hot young Danes, he felt it was time to get seriously...(shut your mouth)

    Come for evil, come for pain
    off the dragons horns, the son did top grade cocain

________________________________________________________________________________________________

it kind of ends there. I wanted to add more, i think, but I got bored and left it hanging there. I wonder if Neil Gaiman would like to adapt it one day. I should ask him

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Oct. 28th, 2007 @ 02:45 pm Devil's Pre-perparation night

Noise: Wolfmen - Springbok Nude Girls

Tags: halloweenie

SPIDER BABY - L. Cheney
Screams and moans and bats and bones
Teenage monsters in haunted homes
The ghosts on the stair
The vampires bite
Better beware, there's a full moon tonight

Cannibal spiders creep and crawl
Boys and ghouls having a ball
Frankenstein, Dracula and even the Mummy
Are sure to end up in someone's tummy

Take a fresh rodent, some toadstools and weeds
And an old owl and the young one she breeds
Mix in seven legs of an eight-legged beast
Then you are all set for a cannibal feast

Sit around the fire with the cup of brew
A fiend and a werewolf on each side of you
This cannibal orgy is strange to behold
And the maddest story ever told

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Oct. 23rd, 2007 @ 11:16 pm Weekend drainings

mood spelled backwards is doom: recovered
Noise: Number 1 - Goldfrapp

On Saturday was the Rugby World Cup Final. The stage was set. South Africa versus England. One team was unbeaten. One team made it by the grace of Loki, low scoring games and unbelievable, and unbelievably low scoring games. The South papers were abuzz. This was the teams first final in 12 years. They hammered the English in the group phase. This was to be a whitewash. A blow over. A stomping. Were the Bokke going to win? Even asking that kind of question would get you beaten down by the laughter of that reserved for town drunks and social idiots. Of course they were going to win. It was hard not to buy into this. Call it cockiness. Call it unashamedly self-confidence. Call it Australian. Call it whatever you want, it wasn't going to change the fact that the Bokke would win the cup and they knew it.
On game day, the excitement was in the air. Even if you were oblivious to it, it was there, travelling on the currents all across the Atlantic from Paris through the planes and prairies. Over the great lakes, and through the Rockies, until it became the stagnent air in my brothers apartment. The turn up was less then for the SA v Arg semi finals. The others had decided to hold there own world cup parties. There were still about 9 or so of us there.
South Africa was playing in France to a predominantly English cheering crowd. England was the underdog, and everyone loves an underdog. After the formalities of national anthems were done, the game begun, and what a boring game it was. South Africa had a game plan and the stuck to it. The game plan......kick, kick, kick. Just like the English game plan. With blondie being good for it, it wasn't a bad game plan either as he nailed all of us kicks. England did come close to scoring a try once, but a brilliant try saving tackle ended that. The refs went upstairs and it was conclusive that the player was out when the try was scored. With every replay of the "try" we became more confident that it would not be rewarded, and when it wasn't a huge sigh of relief was released into the atmosphere.
The killing blow came in the second half when Steyn put away a 50 something meter kick, making the bokke lead over the English. 9 points. This was it. There was no way England was going to score a try, and penalties and drop goals would just equalise. Time was running down. The bokke went into defensive mode, happy to allow England to have possession, just as long as they didn't have territory. It was a fair trade off. As the clock ran down, the scrum half kicked the ball out and the final whistle blew. The Bokke had done it. World Champions. It was a day to be a proud South African.
Part me wished I was in SA just for the celebrations that would be going on there. By this time I was fairly drunk (on alcohol and pride). I decided to do some of my celebrating. I headed down to the flag store in Kits to get a nice sized SA flag to wear arround while walking around and shouting Ama Bokke Bokke. But lo and behold, they were sold out of the flags at the flag store. Apparently they were selling pretty quickly during the week. Damn my procrastination. I managed to buy a desk sized flag and stuck it in my took. I then went downtown, figuring I would get Mike in on the drunkeness.
On the way to Mike I popped into Doolins as I knew they had shown the game there and I wanted to go celebrate with my fellow South Africans. I get to the bar and see some blokes wearing English jersey's. I offered one my condolences and got shown the finger. That felt good. I then saw some South African shirts. One or two gave me a pat on the shoulder, but they all seemed to be talking to one another and not very inviting. I drank a pint and said to myself "fuck this". I left the bar feeling that while it would be good to celebrate with my countrymen, it would be even better to celebrate with friends.
I went ot the liquor store and picked up a bottle of wine for myself and Mike, and a bottle for Daniella. I went to Mike's and we cracked open the bottle and drank our wine.
Kevin soon came over and we were good to go out. It was Mike's birthday party that night at the Blarney Stone and we wanted to get a bite to eat. On the way we decided that since Arthur said he would come to Mike's party but Arthur was in China, we needed to find something to fill in the missing space. We came up with the best idea. We headed to one of the fine local shops on Granville street, the ones of the adult kind. We asked someone there for their cheapest blow up doll. The plan was to get a blow up doll, stick Arthurs face on it, and call it Arthur. Sadly the part with the face didn't work, but we did have our Arthur doll, complete with three love tunnels.
Daniella blew up as we walked to the Blarney Stone. As soon as she was done blowing it up, Mike started wearing Arthur on his shoulders. I took some pics, and we kept walking. On the way, Mike kept trying to get people to high five the blow up doll. We got some looks and giggles, and some hooting of horns. One the way there Mike manages to puncture poor Arthur on a steal linked fence. Luckily they wondered into a convinience store where they managed to get some tape to stick over Arthurs unofficial fourth love tunnel.
We get into the Blarney Stone rather early and get a nice spot on the side of the stage.
People came to our table to marvel at Arthur. We got a pic of him with some guy wearing a fox hat even. When more of our group came in, we started doing shots, putting the shot glasses in Arthur's love tunnels. Mike did a Jager shot from Arthurs "arsehole" and a tequila shot from Arthur's mouth. The band came on and I danced with Arthur and Mike danced with Arthur, and everyone on the floor tried to dance with Arthur. Quite a few cute girls even asked us if they could dance with Arthur, just like the good old days.

The next morning was raining. I was to meet Jessica to go the aquarium. I met her in a rainy miserable downtown. We bussed down to Stanley park and went to the aquarium where we looked at each animal for about 5 seconds. It was very whirlwindy. I did take beautiful pics of some jelly fish and lots of pics of dolphins, only a 1/4 of which came out.
After the aquarium we went back downtown and went to hamburger Mary's for lunch. Jess had a bison burger being the adventurous gal that she is, plus my egging her on to get it. After that we went to Staples as she was looking for something there. She didn't find it but I found a calendar with funny slogans and a bunny on it so I bought it. We caught the skytrain, both of us feeling rather drained to go searching other Staples and whatnot.
Sunday was fun but I was rather drained from the previous night of drinking and debauchery. It was still fun going to the aquarium with Jess and I hope to do it again with more people.

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Oct. 14th, 2007 @ 06:11 pm Shoshaloza

mood spelled backwards is doom: proud
Noise: Safari Music - Not My Dog

In 1995, the Springboks competed in their first Rugby World Cup. The tournament had been played twice prior to 1995. However, South Africa was disallowed participation in the previous World Cup due to sporting sanctions.
By the early nineties, with the release of Mandela and other changes being brought about to dismantle the Apartheid regime, the IRB (International Rugby Board) figured it would be a good oppurtunity to allow South Africa to host the 1995 World Cup, a year after the first democratic elections in the country.
The country was in a state of transition. The ANC had just come into power and their was great hopes in the horizen. The term "rainbow nation" was created to describe the country, conjuring images of a peaceful, multi-racial society.
WIth the world cup in town, their was a belief that this might be the sport to unite the nation into the ideals of the "rainbow nation". The South African was squad was picked, and for the first time in its history since apartheid was instituted, there were "non-whites" playing for the country. Chester Williams was one of the players. A black man who proved that he was a key player for the squad, despite skin colour.
The venues were set. The teams from all over the world (including Canada) were in the country. At this stage, I was 12 years old. I was in standard 4. On the day for the opening ceremony, the school let us leave early so we could get home and watch the ceremony. I really don't remember much about the opening ceremony though. I don't even know if I watched it. Still nice of the school to let us leave early though.
The first game of the world cup was South Africa against Australia. Host country versus defending champions. The bokke won.
Under the guidance of captian Francois Pienaar, the bokke managed to lead the group stage and do well.
They made it into the semi finals, which was no easy task. In the semis they played against France - a team I always thought South Africa would never beat just because they never had a track record of beating France. Sure they usually would lose to Australia or New Zealand, but they would win a game here or a game there. However, I could not recall the Bokke beating France prior to the World Cup. I thought we were surely doomed. The game was played at Durban which was sufferring through some monsoon-style rain storms. The decision was there to the refs. Call off the game, or play in the wet field and in the rain. If the game was called off, the Bokke would be out due to track record or some technicallity like that. Luckily, the refs decided that this kind of fate best suited the Proteas then the Bokke, and the game was played. The game was a scrappy affair, with players looking like they were walking on water more then running on turf. Water was splashing everywhere.
When the water on the field had settled into their puddles, there was only one team left standing with their arms in the air, victorious. That team was the Bokke. 19-15 was the final score. The Bokke were through to the finals.
The final was to be played at Ellis Park in Johannesburg, in front of a capacity crowd. I was to watch the game in the safety of my house, on 14 Rollo Street with my parents and Moshe Singer. Expectations were high that New Zealand were going to steamroll over the bokke. And by watching the game, this was probably going to be the case. The bokke were playing on the back foot, and playing a scrappy form of Rugby at that. They managed to hold off the All Blacks from scoring tries. By the end of regulation time, the score was 9-9. Into injury time, the All Blacks took a 12-9 lead. But a penalty had been awarded later on allowing the Bokke to equalise. And then.....a dropgoal by Stransky, it was good. The bokke were now up 15-12. And extra time was over. The bokke had won, against all odds.
In the ceremony at the end of the game, Nelson Mandela wearing a springboks jersey, handed Pienaar the Web Ellis trophy and Pienaar hoisted the trophy up to the heavens.
"In every corner of the country, from the tiny settlement on the edge of he Kalahari to the boisterous, bustling Waterfront, from the isolated game reserves to the smoky heart of Soweto, the people of South Africa Erupted in amazement and joy. For the first time in history they were everybody's Springboks"

Since then, the Bokke, just like the country, had gone through ups and downs. They won the tri-nations, and they fired their captains in a way that would be best described as disgracefully. They had years were they were the best team, and years where they were lucky to win games that the best team shouldn't have an issue winning.
In the last two world cups, they failed to make a splash. But now, in this years world cup in France, where England upsetted Australia, and France upsetted New Zealand, the Bokke beat the Pumas and they are now through to the Finals against England, a team they beat 36-0 in the group stages, and hopefully on to another Web Ellis trophy.
If they do win, it will not have the same cultural impact as the last time they won. But it will be a testament to the world. The bokke are the best team in the world. Ama Bokke Bokke.

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