07 December 2006

Slow news day

And she stinks, too.

18 November 2006

Oh, you're a king you say?

So it's been pretty well two months since I last posted. I figured tonight would be a good time to put up something new, since I won't be putting anything up again for a while. Tomorrow I will have my hands on the Wii, and my interest in putting anything up on here will significantly drop...at least until I finish Zelda.

These last few weeks working at a game store have been very...something. With the launches of both the PlayStation 3 and the Wii within three days of each other, prepping has been hectic, to say the least. Our store is one of the smaller ones in our district, and making space for the new systems was a hell of a feat. I mean, shit, it was nuts when we had the PSP and DS launches, and the back stock space required for those is relatively small. Two brand new consoles, one with few titles but a very daft shaped software case (PS3) and one with tons of launch games and full sized DVD-style cases (Wii), not to mention tons of other huge games coming out during the month, where the hell is it all supposed to go? Here's an example of what we have to deal with:

  • Final Fantasy XII
  • Final Fantasy III for the DS
  • Final Fantasy V for the GBA (man, come on.)
  • Gears of War for the 360
  • Tony Hawk's Project 8/Tony Hawk's Downhill Jam for like every system possible
  • Call of Duty 3 for everything
  • Splinter Cell, Medieval II, Sonic, Yoshi's Island DS, and tons of other crap
That's not counting any launch titles like Resistance and Zelda, even. Shit.

Then there's the assholes that think they can waltz right the fuck in and pick up a system:
Ugly lady: Hi, yes, I'll take a PlayStation 3.
Me: I'm sorry, we're sold out of preorders, and won't have any extras for the launch day.
Lady: What? You didn't tell me about any preorders.
Me: Sorry, we didn't know about the preorders either, initially we weren't going to do any, and then...
Lady: and then you did, and you fucked me over. You ruined my Christmas. What do I tell my kids now? Fuck.
Me: I'm sure if you're willing to look hard enough, you may be able to find one before Christmas.
Lady: But I fucking want one now! I need your name, your employee number, and the phone number for your head office. I'll get a PS3, you watch.
Me: I'm not obliged to give you anything but our 1-800 number.
Lady: You give me a fucking internal number, and...you know what? I'll find it myself, and I'll get one.
Me: I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help today, good luck in finding a system.
Lady: ...*smarmy glare* Good bye. *snatches phone number, takes off*
So, good thing I left my name tag at home, I guess. Seriously, what the hell? The lady honestly said I ruined her Christmas. Who the hell says that? Lady, I didn't take your system away from your shitty children. God forbid you have to spend some time away from watching Desparate Housewives and actually take a shot at learning about your kids, instead of turning them into misbehaving, Spongebob-worshipping, loudmouthed little shits. But you know what? Maybe I did ruin your Christmas, and if you're going to act that way about it, then I'm proud. I am the goddamn governor's son.

My few qualms about the launches aside, it's pretty exciting to be in the industry right now. For a while there it felt like "man, why am I still even into gaming?", but now, as new launches will do, it feels revitalized.

As far as the PlayStation 3 goes, I'm not impressed with it at all - for the time being. Yeah, it's an amazingly powerful system, but where are all the good games for it? I don't care about Resistance. I don't care about Untold Legends. Everything else on the system that could be good I can get on my 360, so what's so great about it? There's been a ton of problems with the system (firing out discs, as though disgusted by them; entirely unplayable games (NBA 07); menu breakdowns, etc.), not to mention the general screw-up with the launch (our store got five units, and we were told to expect for ten preorders. Thanks, Sony.) The problems are great, in a sense. Every jackass scalper on eBay who's got a system to resell will either not get one yet (and by the time they do, potential buyers will have one already), or the systems they sell will have defects, and in turn, very pissed buyers. Then again, if you're dumb enough to buy a potentially broken system over the internet for more than twice what it goes for at retail, then you don't deserve any pity. Idiot.

I'll hopefully post what I think about the Wii in a few days, other than that it's awesome and it will hopefully bury the PS3. In all honesty, I want a PS3 at some point. Not now, but later, much later. I'm more than pleased with my 360 (Xbox Live is the shit), my DS, and at 9:00am tomorrow, my Wii.

Alright, enough about gaming, I think. There's not much new going on, really. We painted the bathroom, so that's nice, I guess. I saw the trailer for the new Harry Potter movie, which is slated for July. Not that I care about the movie, it's just that there's ads for things coming out after I get married. It really puts some solid ground under the fact that, yes, I'm getting married, and it's soon. Crazy, man.

It's been about a year since Elaine and I got engaged (the official date is the 25th), and the ensuing time has been surreal. Elaine's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I've had the best time of my life since I met her, she's my best friend, she's my motivation and my muse. I'm lucky to be with her and even luckier to be getting married to her.

That's about enough for now. Goodnight kids.

12 September 2006

The Coin Roll Cable Holder Thing

So instead of going to bed like a normal human being (indeed one who has class at 8:30am), I decided to dick around on the internet, looking for something that would tame the mess of cable extending from my headphones:

Upon measuring I concluded that the length of the cable was approximately 30km.

I came across a few things, no more than moulded plastic things in the shape of an 8, which you wrap your cables around and weave through. They were neat. I did not think the prices were neat though. One by Belkin costs something like $15, and it looks like they just glued two milk bag openers together. So I said "bollocks to this," and I went about the apartment in search of junk that I could use to make my own. I gave up and looked for a beer instead, but just as I was reaching for one I noticed something on top of the fridge. Elaine, having worked in the restaurant business for half her life, has amassed quite a collection of coin holders. You know, the cardboard roller things...these:

Found: most exciting picture on the internet.

Yeah. You know them. I took the pennies one ($0.50 g-g-g-g-UNIT) Anyways, at work I'm pretty much the man when it comes to wrapping cable up (I think I have OCD about it there, which is weird if you know me and cables), and I figured I could get my cables into this sucker. I looked at the prospect below and wondered, is this even possible? Perhaps!

Rumours whirl about the "is it/isn't it" affair between headphones and coin roll thing

The following are instructions on how to make my really awesome Coin Roll Cable Holder Things:

First, take the plug end of your headphones (using the other end would be both stupid and impossible) and pass it through the coin roll. Now, the rolls have one end already rolled, so pass the plug through that end first, and out the unrolled end. This helps with the cables sliding out:

"HISS! HISS!" said the Cable Snake.

Weave the whole thing through. Now, slide the roll down to somewhere comfortable: your pocket area, your hand area, your whatever area. Just make sure you have enough lead on your headphones up top to allow for movement.

This is Pocket Country.

Now that you've got it at a comfortable distance, take the plug-ended length of cable and wrap that shit up. Fold it so it's just about the same size as the coin roll. Dig it:

Thumbs up for odd gestures!

Make it super compact, then slide the coin roll up around it. It should go in pretty nicely:

They throw these at nerd weddings.

Now, all that's left is to basically cram the rest of it right the hell in. In the end, it should look like this:


And that's pretty much it. I tried making a case for my iPod shuffle out of it, considering they're pretty much the same size, but Short Round (my shuffle) was having none of it. Too bad, that would've been so money.

Anyhow, that's enough nerding for me.

Good night, children.

07 September 2006


I've got school in the morning, so you get facts from our friends Copy and Paste.

Since our last check-up we've had an improvement! The browser breakdown for visitors here is this:
  1. Firefox (56%)
  2. Netscape and Internet Exploder - tie (21%)
  3. Ask Jeeves (2%)
First off, I'm so happy you kids are using Firefox more. Second, you're still using IE, oh 21 percent? What do the five fingers say to the face? Slap. That's correct. I wasn't sure that Netscape still existed, so either people are using computers from 10 years ago or I'm just trippin'. And Ask Jeeves? What the fuck.

Next is the operating system:
  1. Windows XP (46%)
  2. Linux UNIX (24%)
  3. Unknown (23%)
  4. Windows ME/2000 (3%)
  5. Windows 98 (1%)
Windows XP does not surprise me, Linux does. And Unknown? Holy shits there are mystery OSes about! And to whoever is using Windows 98: My cell phone can run Windows 98. Get a new computer.

Other neat-o facts:
  • 7.25% have your screens set to 800x600. Either your monitor is from the Crusades or you're just content with blinding headaches. Oh well.
  • 1.45% have your screens set to 1600x1200. I am jealous of 1.45% of you.
  • I have people (apparently) reading from Sunnyvale, California; Houston, Texas; and Glendale, Arizona. Hello to you. (I question the accuracy of the location machine, it thinks I'm from Nova Scotia.)
  • It is possible to find my site by searching for "mulholland drive, bon jovi". Wow.
There you have it.

Good night.

04 September 2006

Are Danishes from France?

It has been brought to my attention that some people are confused by my last post about The Vestaloynes. The band in the article I found and the band I linked are indeed one and the same. Blows your mind, eh? Mine too. They are a real band, just like MC Premium Plus.

You didn't know about MC Premium Plus? Shit, he's the best rapper this side of our dimension, and probably the other side too. I mean, check this out:
badass mutha
there ain't no other, this woman-lover, not Danny Glover, he makes 'em hover.

P.R.E.M.I.U.M. is how you spell pandemonium
P for the power
L for the love
U buy the records
and Ssssssssmell the glove.

Busting dope rhymes in jackalope times
deking fines and passing on the blue lines
Pass the puck, cross the 401
make it to the T-Dot before the night is done

In his Focus Wagon he brings the hos
And up in shotgun ride the pros
Sorry kids, that's just how it goes
in the land of ice you gotta play before it snows.

Man, seriously. Dope.

You know it!

Get your ticket for the coolest concert in the history of time, kids.

School tomorrow. Good night.

The Way I See It #122

I start school tomorrow. I honestly have no idea what the hell I'm getting myself into.

It's weird, I've had a 2-year summer, and the idea of going back to school is, amazingly, an exciting prospect. No dread, no looming grey cloud, nothing. I can't think of a good reason as to why though, because if you've ever met me, you'd know that I'm not the biggest fan of the educational establishment. I suppose you could chalk it up to my competitiveness ("Elaine's going, why the hell can't I?"), my desire not to resign myself to a lifetime of retail, or maybe the fact that it gives me an excuse to get a MacBook is enticing enough.

I realized (this evening, quite conveniently since everything is closed) that I'll likely need more than a currently non-existant laptop and fancy empty laptop backpack in order to go to school. Hopefully I can find some, you know, lined paper. The first week will be, in short, awful. If you've seen my handwriting, good Christ. No one will be able to borrow my notes, at least.

I'd like to touch upon an item I mentioned a few posts ago:
"If I don't get in, I expect one solid week of binge drinking and sandwich eating, and you should too. You know what? Even if I do make it in, I will do it anyhow."
Well, as promised, even if I made it in, my binge-week begins...now. Shit. Yes.

Drinks of choice this week are many (many - thanks Sean) Molson Canadian Cold Shots, which taste like water but don't function the same. And the cans, they're so small! Quite effective, these.


22 August 2006

Ladies and gentlemen, The Vestaloynes.

Hey kids, I was wandering around in the bad end of town when I came across a old, weather-worn magazine. Because I'm a fan of good ideas, I decided to pick it up, and 'lo, an issue of Rock Gods and Hot Rods from January 1973. The cover story was about a band that, although I'd never heard of them, they (this is going to sound stupid, but bear with me) played for me in a dream. So now I'm Neo and shit. I was able to copy the article, which I'm going to post below. I have no pictures or actual clippings from the magazine, because a hobo ran up to me, grabbed the magazine, hit me, and told me to stop courting his birds. Yeah.

Here's the article:

Music Is Complete: We Have The Vestaloynes.
The first in a three part series heralding the end of times, and the coming of The Vestaloynes
By Marshall "Hot Pockets" Blalock

Thunder roars, the skies part, music is heard above the din. Raw, delicious riffs; hard, throbbing grooves; pounding thrusts of percussion...and The Voice. Descending down to Earth with a secret agenda, only to be fulfilled by rocking, they are The Vestaloynes. The Vestaloynes want your mind, your eyes, and your ears; they know your thoughts, your hopes, your fears. Straight out of Dr. Hook's "Freaker's Ball" come the Vestaloynes, the audio paradox. Smooth and gritty; country and city; right up front but they sneak up behind; you see them and hear them, but they live in your mind. You only turn them on once, because you can't turn them off. This is The Vestaloynes' nefarious scheme.

Ancient stone tablets mention them, though recorded human history is but a blink in the eye of the Vestaloynes' epic journey through the ether. Inexplicable by means of science or faith, the true story of the five space troubadours is incomprehensible. It has been said that their Earthly forms were raised by she-wolves (the Romans paid homage to the Vestaloynes with the story of Romulus and Remus). As for their name? An excerpt from the Official Vestaloynes Biography and Colouring Book:
"Fatty, Sir Royal, Old Man, Big Jim, and Bosco P. took their surname from the vehicle of their conception, a '62 Vestaloyne."
Visionary, luminary, pulmonary. Don't bother hiding the women, such an effort is futile.

Here come The Vestaloynes.

And there you have it. When I woke up from the vigourous flogging which I received from my homeless aggressor, I found I was next to three dead seagulls and a pelican (how it got to St. Catharines is beyond me). So, sure, I got beaten senseless by a bum (seriously, I haven't been able to smell for three days), but I've become enlightened by the Vestaloynes. They even have a site. Check them out.

Moment of Zen: Pelican hats!

19 August 2006

Four point zero?

I joined the Blogger Beta, you'll find some differences. The fact that this looks nothing like it used to is one. You're not allowed to edit the HTML yet, so I'm buggered in terms of making a title image, for now.

Also, I've switched over to the Blogger comments system, so any old comments don't really exist anymore. I might save a backup of them for kicks/blackmail.

I may post something for real later on.

Moment of Zen: I'm 'swell?' I'm large, bloated, and hefty? Does my being swell amuse you?

13 August 2006

From anywhere to anyone


I currently wait for my lady to arrive home from work, and since it is now technically her birthday, I wait to bestow gifts. What a goddamn sweetheart I am.

So, I bide my time.

If anyone still reads this, you've either talked to me today or live with me, and you also know that my computer, well, is garbage. I had trouble with it a few months ago, as I had chronicled; after a "repair", it's even worse off. Perhaps putting a brand new 300gb drive on a five year old motherboard may have pissed it off. Maybe it overheard my nefarious scheme to have my music collection ripped at the highest possible rate so I can hook it up to my home theatre and enjoy it. Also we must consider the fact that one cannot polish a turd. In the coming months, I hope to go from brown box to white box, as shown below:

Yes, I realize the unintentional creepy blackface freaks you out. It freaks me out too. We're in this together, don't worry.

Either way, I'm hopefully getting a MacBook. Sure, I don't need one, but I'm bored of the whole PC fiasco. Sick of updates, sick of viruses, sick of crashing hard drives and blue screens of death. On top of that, I actually have valid reasons: I want a laptop for travel, such as to Europe or class; I want to become more familiar with other platforms; I want to have blogging/editing/music programs that all jive together. I'm pumped about the damn thing and it's not because of the neat-o "I'm a Mac, I'm a PC" commercials. They're not pandering to me.

"Wait, hold the phone," you say, "did that hip cat say 'class'?" Yes, I did, and thank you for the compliment. I will (tentatively) be going to school in September...again. This time at a different institution, different program, shit, different city. Continuing my trend of "going to school in cities in which I have never been", I'll be taking the Journalism course at Niagara College. Why I said "tentatively" before is because I'm currently on a waiting list for the program, which makes sense considering I applied less than a week ago. I apparently have a 99.9% chance of getting in, so I'll just say I'm going to school. If I don't get in, I expect one solid week of binge drinking and sandwich eating, and you should too. You know what? Even if I do make it in, I will do it anyhow. That, friend, is my gift to you.

Some quick things to note:
  • Dead Rising for the Xbox 360 plays like the longest demo ever. It is fun until you realize you don't care about the people you're supposed to save (and they slow you down anyhow), and you also find out that commanding them into a crowd of zombies is very helpful. I will say this for the title though: the weapons are some of the most satisfying in any game I've ever played (you haven't lived until you've scalded a zombie's face with a hot frying pan, or knocked off a leg with a bowling ball). 6.5/10.
  • Read Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss. Quality book, really cheap at Wal-Mart too.
  • Listen to Sounding a Mosaic by Bedouin Soundclash. I know lots of you may already have, but if not...well, hey.
  • The cat ate part of my fucking sandwich when I was in the bathroom. I was gone for like a minute, and the fat loaf decides to go to town on my ham. Cat, if you are intelligent enough to know that the worst possible thing you could do is involve yourself with my sandwich, then you're intelligent enough to read and peruse the tubes of the internet. So I say this once with clenched teeth: you're lucky Elaine likes you and that it is her birthday. You are on thin fucking ice with me. Enjoy your kibble. God damned cat.
I should probably go, and, you know, wrap Elaine's present.

Good night, oxygen thieves.

Moment of Zen: Dinosaur parties and the legend of the gay biscotti.

06 August 2006

I'm no Superman


I shall rip off an idea from a random blog:

Four Jobs I've Had
  • Slacker at a small-town video store
  • Fire-avoider (and occasional "Oh, shits, you mean your truck doesn't take diesel?"-er) at a gas station
  • Discontented alphabetizer at Blockbuster
  • Customer Relations and Sales Associate (read: retail slave) at EB Games

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over
  • Raiders of the Lost Ark
  • Jurassic Park
  • Empire Strikes Back
  • Dazed and Confused

Four Places I Have Lived
  • Nobleton
  • Brock Residence
  • Thorold (Yeah!)
  • St. Catharines

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch
  • Scrubs
  • Lonely Planet/Globe Trekker/Pilot Guides (depends on the carrier)
  • Restaurant Makeover (Shit, I don't know)
  • Futurama (Which, thankfully, is returning in 2007)

Four Places I have Been on Vacation (and would like to return to)
  • Provence
  • Paris
  • Morocco
  • Spain

Four of My Favourite Dishes
  • My delicious grilled sandwich: stale baguette, olive oil, salami or dried ham, and love. Don't even attempt to create it, you can't.
  • Any time Elaine makes anything (I know it sounds expected, but seriously, not bad for a caker. It tastes great, and I am also lazy.)
  • Street meat in Toronto (fun fact: do NOT Google "street meat")
  • Paella and pastis with my family in France

Four Favourite Drinks (I will narrow this to beer)

Four Favourite Drinks (This one is liquor! HOORAY)
  • 007's martini (dry vermouth/gin, shaken...)
  • Pastis (cut with lots of water. Otherwise, she induces the vomiting quite rapidly)
  • This crazy orange stuff my cousins make (one shot makes you warm, two knock you on your ass, likely due to the medicinal alcohol in it...)
  • Grey Goose, straight (Stolichnaya will do in a pinch)

Four Websites I Visit Daily
  • digg.com
  • joystiq.com
  • en.wikipedia.org
  • various friends' blogs (which, admittedly, I do not read as much as they deserve...sorry)

Four Things I Should Be Doing Instead Of This
  • Finding Elaine a birthday present (shit!)
  • Dishes
  • Sleeping
  • Writing a proper post, rather than a cop-out list thing

I choose number three, and you get this.

Good night, children.

Moment of Zen: You got your love online, you think you're doin' fine, but you're just plugged into the wall.

09 July 2006


Zidane, I don't know what the hell you were thinking, but I hope you had a really good reason to do what you did.

I hear out my window the honking of Civics and Accords, Italy won. I still maintain that they took tons of bitch falls, are huge cowards who can only get the ball by mobbing, and cry faster than a baby dropped in the onion bin. Otherwise, they did play well.

My word to Italians not listed here: you are not on the squad. You did not play in the game. You, most likely have never even played soccer. The first time one of you says "WE won", I will bitchslap you so hard that your only Italian ancestor who came to Canada 80 years ago will turn over in their grave, coughing up leftover meatballs that their nona made.

So, Italians, revel. So, Canadian Italians, shut-uppa-you-traps, and take those fucking flags off your cars. Watch out, though, when you're high-fiving each other, you might just hurt your ankles.

Moment of Zen: "Malone: Ah, I knew it. That's all you need, one thieving wop on the team."

28 June 2006

Allons enfants de la Patrie, le jour de glorie est arrivé!

So, children, it is time for the World Cup. I'm sure there's a billion and a half bloggers out there spouting garbage about this or that or the other thing to do with their teams, so I won't get too into the fanaticism. Well, not my fanaticism; my problem is with others' fanaticism.

First you have the Italian fans. Not necessarily the Italian fans, but Canadians of Italian Descent. I'm talking multiple generations. People called Jeff who find one tiny shred of their heritage ("Hey, that's a spicy-a-meat-a-ball-ah!") and holy shit, watch the fuck out, here comes Il Duce. Suddenly their clothing becomes a certain Pantone which is invisible to dogs and their cars have flags and stickers and people honking and hollering "IIIITALLLLIIIIAAAA" out the windows of their cars upon days which no game occurs. Consider this, majority of Italy fans: You are not on the pitch; you are not in Germany; you are not in Rome, for that matter; you are not going to acquire more fans for your team by honking your Civic's horn like an autistic goose. Seriously, calm the fuck down.

Next you have the Brazilian fans. We know you had Pele. We know you have a monopoly on people whose names are prefaced with Ronald-. We are aware you have nice beaches and sun and decent beer. And yes, you're pretty flipping good at soccer. What drives me nuts about you is that you're trying to be nonchalant about this superority complex you have, and won't admit it. Basically, you're the Italian fans - unplugged. You also speak Portuguese. Five points lost for that.

Mexican, Argentinean and Spanish fans: I hold no quarrel with you. Yet.

Finally, you have the English fans. Everyone who is not covered in the above classifications are English fans. Everyone needs someone, right? Not necessarily bandwagoners, but at times just as rowdy as the Italian fans, the English fans love their Beckhams and Lampards and Chelseas and Manchester Uniteds (but not both, good God) blindly. Fair enough though, as what most of them exhibit is what I call the Leafs Effect. You know your team will make it far, then choke. Once they do, you will quickly scramble for another team to latch on to and claim that you were always a supporter of them from day one. Then, when the whole thing is over, you're back to cheering your original favourite. Never mind that no player on England was alive when they last won the Cup...

Keep in mind, all of these are horrible generalisations. I'm sure there are fans that break the mold: mellow Italian fans; loudmouthed Brazilian fans; Mexian, Argentinean and Spanish fans who are huge dicks; and English fans who stick to their team no matter what.

Oh, and what about the French fans? Well, I can't tell you flat out, but it rhymes with "mawesome".

Moment of Zen: Aux armes citoyens, Formez vos bataillons, Marchons, marchons, Qu'un sang impur, Abreuve nos sillons!

05 June 2006

She is an angel in a polyester uniform

Hello there.

I was digging through my old posts, and was feeling nostalgic...to a point. Consider this:

14 April 2005
...The Tea Party, however, are coming to town. This is a fantastic thing. I likely wouldn't have thought of going, as no one around here seems to like or appreciate them. However! A girl came to our house bearing cookies, red hair, respect for Akira Kurosawa, and decent taste in music. So, she comes over to visit Eric and we started talking about music, and I think we're going to see the Tea Party at the Moose and Goose next month. It shall rock, and it shall rock hard....
Two years and two months and a few days later - the redhead whose (admittedly terrible) cookies I ate almost all of - and I will be getting married. Currently the countdown is something like 363 days...there you have it.

Next on my clip show is my dissertation (dessert-ation?) on melons.
19 April 2005
So, I just ate some melon. I promised myself that I would never talk about what I've eaten in this blog to make filler, this melon is something else. Shit if I even know what breed of melon it is, although my money is on delicious. It is as if the finest melon in the world entered my very kitchen, laid itself upon my counter, and said unto me "lo, I am melon incomparable. You will verily eat me and be happy beyond description. Your euphoria will be equaled only by beating like level 15 in Tetris or something."
I was reminded of this post by, as luck would have it, melon. My thoughts on melon, any variety, remain the same.

Actaully, I've grown somewhat bored of the recap episode. Here, enjoy this and this.

For the time being I've lost the drive to write...I'm going to go read for a bit and see where that gets me.

Moment of Zen: La-la-la-linoleum!

20 May 2006

Get off my deck, you old queens!

Do not misread the title.

Two months, in the grand scheme of things, is not a long time.

My first order of business:

To everyone who plays NHL 06 on Xbox Live:
fuck you, let me play as Edmonton once.

Seriously. Just because you have one or two of the Oilers in your hockey pool doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it. You saw me highlight the jersey, you saw me choose the old-school logo, so why'd you have to go ahead and be the same team? It is wrong. Two of the same person cannot coexist, let alone at once upon ice. Maybe I'm just being weird, but it simply will not do.

Also, you're all cheap bastards. The wraparound goal wasn't sportsmanlike in NHL 94, and my thoughts on it have not changed in the past 12 years. For more than a decade, you've been a dick.

Elaine and I went to see The Da Vinci Code last night. It seems that pretty much everyone hates it, but damned if I can figure out why. Okay, it's not that great a movie, and it does take some liberties in explaining what's going on. For example, in the book (correct me if I'm wrong), Dan Brown never says what is under the Louvre, it's only implied. The movie, in one epic closing shot goes down and pretty much says "Hey! Look! Look what we found! GODDAMN IT LOOK!" I know why they did this, and I'm not offended by it in the least: summer film-goers have to be treated as idiots. I don't want to say that the movie wasn't for critics, but they're really getting the knickers all a-twisted for nothing. The movie, when it's all said and done, is a watered-down version of the book, dialogue-heavy with not much focus on action. So is that the problem critics have with it? "NOT ENUF 'SPLOSIONS OR DEM BOOBS!" Pretty much.

I will break it down as such: The book, while entertaining, was not an intelligent book. The way Brown wrote it made the reader feel smart, not unlike how first round Jeopardy! categories like "Letters starting with R" and "Shapes, Colours, and Animals!" make people feel smart. He took ideas from tons of Grail legends and, quite cleverly, strung them together using an old painter (and general wacko) as the glue that binds. Using the Coles Notes version of the Bible and a dog-eared copy of Holy Blood, Holy Grail, Brown made something that anyone who's heard of Jesus Christ and seen Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade can understand. The Da Vinci movie assumes that you've heard of neither, and works like a paint-by-numbers version of the book. It is simply an adventure movie that reads like a short story, and for critics to pan it as harshly as they have been seems like a waste of time. They go in expecting Citizen Kane, but with Jesus! and end up getting The Goonies Where Chunk Is Tom Hanks and the Old Lady is Magneto! (Which, come to think of it, would be fucking glorious.) My point is, they're letting the hype (that they themselves have wrought) and their expectations colour their opinion.

If it wasn't clear, my take on the movie is this: It's alright, not the best. I will likely buy it on DVD, and watch it maybe twice.

I now bite my lip in anticipation for X3. Go Dr. Frasier Crane!

I mentioned above that people at the theatre are to be treated like idiots. I would like to support my claim by stating that they are idiots. Come on, you come in the theatre, sit the fuck down. I don't mind if you've got a DS or Game Boy or someshit, but just sit down. I saw one kid with a soccer ball. Was the movie to be a FIFA-sponsored event? I don't know. Put the goddamn soccer ball away. It has no place in the theatre. Besides, who the hell let this kid in? How, as the ticket-taker kid, do you not notice a SOCCER BALL entering your establishment? Aside from fucking Pele doing his thing in the front row, we were surrounded by the standard-issue university frat wannabe. You know the type: American Eagle/Old Navy rugby shirt with the collar turned up, shorts (usually khaki or cargo), flip-flops, spiked/highlighted hair, little toughguy goatee, and if they have a hat on, it'll feature the logo for some (usually football) team, usually from a college not located in Canada. Basically the main demographic for Madden games. I'm serious, what the hell is wrong with you guys? It is 13 degrees out. Flip-flops and shorts are not cool at this temperature. Every time you come into my store, I pimpslap you. With my mind.

Speaking of people I dislike in my store, parents: please stop leaving your children with me. It does not please me. I see the parents come up to the store, and say "Alright, Cody/Hunter/Other Manly Name So My Child Does Not Grow Up Gay, you stay in the game store, I'm just going to The Bay, Transit, and Shoppers. Mommy needs new clothes, shoes, and meds." Does your kid know that The Bay is at the other end of the goddamn mall? Even running, it takes at least five minutes to get there. What can we do about the parents? Well, we tried turning off the systems. The kids just beg us to turn them on, because they're so bored. They then flip through the hint books, throwing off my meticulous order of Brand/Letter/System (it's not OCD, but close). Then they go and look at GameCube games, carry them to the PS2 wall, switch the games around, and move on to Xbox. Don't get me wrong, as much as I dislike the children, I don't blame them in the least. So we've started to tell the parents that they can't do this to us. You can't imagine the indignant faces they make, as if to say "Hah! You are in a game store! You're here to entertain my child, with games." Sorry, lady, it doesn't work that way. When I was a young buck, my parents wouldn't come into EB, they would sit out front as I proceeded to nerd it up. But there's the thing, they could always see me. If they wanted to leave, they'd say "Okay Daniel, we're going!" I'd protest a bit, and they'd start to walk away. Not five steps away, I'd catch right the hell up. Why? Fear. Was I a sissy? No. Maybe yes for other reasons, but not for this. Oh, shit, do I ever love video games, but if your parents are walking away, you'd damn well better follow. There's none of this fear in parents now, which absolutely blows me away. As retail counter-jockeys we can't tell parents to watch their kids, now we have to scare them. As sad as it is (and yes, I'm aware I don't have to, but for what it's worth, I give a damn about the kids a little bit), I ask them if they've heard of Lake Gibson. They stare for a second, usually say "good point", and get on with not buying anything. When I'm in a poppier mood, though, I tell them that the ball pit was taken out of the store a few weeks ago, but if they come back next week and leave their kids in our store we'll be happy to have them taken on a ride to the security office, where parents get to explain how it's not child neglect!

I may just make photocopies of this and hand them to children to give to mommy and daddy.

As far as I know, I've not made mention of our Elaine's cat in the blog. It is a cat called Chewie, partly named for Chewbacca, but moreso named for her penchant for chewing on my goddamn hand. Right now, she's currently stoned on the catnip, and passed out on the couch. I firmly believe that although she is sleeping, she continues to watch me. With malicious intent. I may post a picture of her in due time, but instead, let this placate you:


Check this out: I'm so proud. Bloody great. You have no reason not to use Firefox, unless you enjoy using unstable and unsecure browsers. Come on, kids, get with it. "Oh, wahhh, it takes up too much of the lol ram". Fair enough, but there are ways around it. "OHNOES it does not support [media type]!" Yes it does. They're called extensions. "But I don't know how to use it"/"it's very difficult!" I have no reply to this. Probably because if you think this, you're unable to read what I'm typing right now. So I can say stuff like people who aren't using Firefox for that reason are the lepers of the internet and should be exiled.

I hope you kids enjoy the new look of the blog. The new title bar is tastefully pretentious, I think. I would like to point out that I made the headphones on there from scratch in Photoshop. I think it looks pretty decent. I used my sexy Sennheisers as template. There are a few things I'm still trying to implement a bit better (new links, maybe a Frappr thing, also a Flickr box perhaps.) I'm open to suggestions.

I think I've done quite enough for this evening. Enjoy. I promise to post some more in the near future.

Moment of Zen: I'm afraid, Mocha Bear!

04 March 2006


Try this on for size, children:

Old school. Literally.

Edit: video is of my housemates from first year, not just random yahoos.

09 February 2006

How did I pull this off?

I've returned, with style AND substance!

Actually, marginally less of each.

So I just made some bacon and eggs for dinner. Somehow, I fucked it up. My bacon, which I microwaved, was undercooked. My toast, burned. My eggs? Oh, what a fine story the eggs have given me. Our stove has knobs which turn opposite to what I'm used to (they go counter-clockwise), so instead of nearly medium, I'm cooking at nearly inferno. If anyone has ever cooked with me (very few have), you'll know that watching me in the kitchen is no doubt hilfuckinglarious. The second the eggs hit the pan, they spat at me, horrible hot spits, not unlike the dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park. My reaction to this is quick and female, to book it and hide. Gaining some confidence (and a hoodie), I approached the eggs once more, with spatula in hand. I figure, 'alright, almost ready, good to go', and as I try to flip the eggs...I can't. Did I put any butter, margarine, oil, Pam, anything in the pan pre-egg drop? No. So, shit, my eggs, they're burning. I manage to chop around the edges and flip them, once again unleashing hell's saliva everywhere. Another squeal, dive, return, and my eggs are done. So I carry the pan to the counter to slide my eggs onto my charcoal toast, and don't I touch a plastic bag with the pan? Melts goddamn plastic to the outside of the pan. 'Oh, shits!' I think. I repeat this thought as I try to touch the plastic with my hand. Perhaps I've been out of school for far too long, but I'll say this here once and once only: plastic, when melted to a pan, is hot. Also, when plastic dries, it will take paint with it. Jesus. Our only pan in the apartment, ruined.

After all the hassle, what does the result of all this look like?

Just be happy that you didn't have to eat it. Fittingly, Dumb and Dumber is being shown on TBS. Oh, and Elaine is going to kill me for ruining her pan.

I'm in deep shit.

Well, as long as I'm alive for at least a few more hours, I might as well update you kids on what's up.

Let's see...

Oh, I'm engaged. Pretty much everyone who reads this already knows that, but there you go. Elaine, my fiancee, is probably the most tolerant, smart, beautiful, funny girl you'll ever meet. All I asked for was tolerance, and I ended up getting the world. 21 years of being unlucky karma-lized into Elaine, if you can make sense of that. See? Even when she's not here she's turning me into an incoherent idiot.

Shortly after the engagement, Christmas followed. There was much family, food, rejoicing, gift-giving, and the like.

Fast-forward to the 23rd of January, Bon Jovi Day. What a bloody awesome show. Since I was a brainwashed runt in the late 80s/early 90s (thanks to my sister and MTV), I've dreamed of seeing Jon Bon live. Well, maybe not dreamed, moreso really hoped. Anyhow, Elaine and I went. Apart from seeing Jon Bon and Richie make eyes at each other (perhaps the reason why Richie and Heather Locklear are splitting?), the show was nuts. Easily the best stage performance I've seen by a band in a long time, if not ever.

What really floored me was the opening act. Q107 ran a contest for local bands, four would be chosen and each band would open for one of Bon Jovi's shows. The band that came out for ours, Mulholland Drive, was nothing short of amazing. I hope they get a break, at the very least the lead singer should. He's 16, voice deeper than Jonny Lang and could probably give Richie a guitar lesson.

Ah hell, I think Elaine's arriving home soon, I'd better get some excuses together for ruining her pan.

(Afterthought: I am actually a decent cook, which is why the whole debacle drove me nuts. Not sure if I was clear about that or not. - Dan at 1:00am)

Moment of Zen: "The plot revolves around the Empress of Time, who lives on the Island of Time where the Sands (all together now) OF TIME were created."

07 February 2006