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Saturday, May 19th, 2007
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8:46 am - "Ton pipi y sent la bière."
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Contrarily to what you may have heard, my urine does not smell like beer.
current mood:  nostalgic
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7:25 am - Smell-o-vision.
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| Wednesday, May 16th, 2007
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4:03 pm - Climax in log(n), where n is chemistry.
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I learned about lovemaking algorithmic theory from Donald Knuth's "The Art of Computer Programming". One day, I will utilize this knowledge to conceive practical implementations likely to shock and amaze.
In the mean time, my knee is swollen and spongy due to an accidental twisting, which also put an end to my short-lived career as an amateur ballerina. I'm taking some chalky pills that are managing the pain at the expense of mild dementia. We're deploying tomorrow morning -- my favourite part is when everybody gets kicked off the site mid-session. My mum donated a mountainous container filled to the brim with her delicious macaroni, also some of her inimitable unpaprika'd egg salad mix (in a separate, much smaller container, mind you.)
Why can't I muster the patience to renew the music selection on my iPod? The Bear has Vedder on auto-repeat, and I have Verdi.
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| Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
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2:08 pm - A square too far.
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From http://www.sherylcrow.com/news.aspx?nid=7786I propose a limitation be put on how many sqares (sic) of toilet paper can be used in any one sitting.
...
I think we are an industrious enough people that we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except, of course, on those pesky occasions where 2 to 3 could be required. My ass may be exceptionally spacious, but I can't imagine how anyone can get by with ONE SQUARE and keep their underwear neat. Unless she's arguing that mud-stains are a sacrifice worthy of saving trees. As for:When presenting this idea to my younger brother, who's judgement (re-sic) I trust implicitly, he proposed taking it one step further. I believe his quote was, "how bout just washing the one square out." Well, as long as we're washing our shit-stained undies, I guess it doesn't really matter. :-)
current mood:  distressed
current music: Chopin - Polonaises (Pollini)
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1:15 pm - Zelda: The Ocarina of Inuendos
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I've noticed over the years that Zelda: The Ocarina of Time contains numerous sexually implicit bits of dialogue. Observe:If I looked as good as you, I could run a different kind of business... heh heh heh... -- Ghost Shop OwnerI want to ask you a favor... Will you go through this tiny hole and get a treasure that's inside? [...] If you can successfully get the Silver Gauntlets... I'll do something great for you! -- Nabooru (to kid Link)Instead of keeping the promise I made back then, I give you this Medallion! Take it! If only I knew you would become such a handsome man... I should have kept the promise I made back then... -- Nabooru (to adult Link)With this mask you can see into other people's minds... It's useful, but scary! Why is it scary? You may find out as you grow older and discover the true meaning of life... Ho ho ho! -- Happy Mask Shop OwnerHey, you! You've got the talent to be one of the world's best cowboys! How'd you like to marry Malon? -- TalonThis is the Sacred Forest Meadow. It's my secret place! I feel... This place will be very important for both of us someday. -- SariaWell, anyway, you saved me, so I guess I'll reward you. What do you wish? Just tell me... Heeheehee... Don't be shy.
I can tell what you're thinking... -- Ruto
Ruto is, by far, the biggest slut in the game, closely followed by Naburoo. Other than that, most characters seem fairly chaste, although I suspect that the girl who watches over the Bowling Alley tricks out during the day.
current mood:  contemplative
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10:03 am - A few dollars more.
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I've been carrying some overtime checks in my pocket for the past months. Since the ABM situated inside l'Esplanade was shut down, the prospect of a forty five minute trek across downtown to deposit 'em didn't appeal to me that much.
Ingenuity prompted me to click on the ABM Locator link from my bank's website this morning. Who knows, maybe my vast knowledge of this city's facilities is outdated and/or partial? Lo and behold, there's a 24-hour ABM located in the building right across the street from here.
Otherfuckermay!...
Thanks, Internets. I look forward to eating human food, once again.
current mood:  geeky
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8:34 am - Going the extra mile.
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M-A: Je ne pense pas que c'est comme ça que ça fonctionne, mon gars.
Serge: pquoi técris bien en chat? c po un cour de français
M-A: manje dla mard
current mood: wet
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| Monday, May 14th, 2007
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3:26 pm - Jedi Mondegreen
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From The Empire Strikes Back:Luke, you can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together, we can rule the galaxy as father and son. -- Darth Vader
For the longest time, I misheard Vader saying "... we can rule the galaxy as far from Sun", which left me perplexed and a bit worried that the Empire would someday tighten their grip 'round our little rock. Fortunately, all my worries of an Imperial invasion were laid to rest after I watched Return of the Jedi.
P.S. (for those who haven't seen Empire): Sorry for revealing the planet-shattering surprise that is Vader's fatherhood! :-/ But at least you'll get the giggles in Return of the Jédaïlle, when Kenobi tries to sidle his way around his stinky LIES by overwhelming Luke with sophistic verbiage about people's points-of-view, etc.
P.S.S.: I submit that lying should be against the Jedi code. Because a rule must be enforced by severe punishments, let's say ... any Knight caught in a lie would be mandated to attend a dinner date with Jar-Jar Binks. Masters, due to their seniority and thus the heightened desirability of making an example out of 'em, would be sentenced to the domestic care of that ugly bird that sits next to Jabba (poop scooping, breast feeding, wart-popping, ...)
current mood:  relieved
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3:13 pm
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What's the point of all this documentation, use cases, class diagrams, data models, and time reporting?! Who in their right mind would ever want to voluntarily read all of it? And if nobody reads it, then what good is it? This brings to mind my favourite Day of the Dead monologue:We don't believe in what you're doing here, Sarah. Hey, you know what they keep down here in this cave? Man, they got the books and the records of the top hundred companies. They got the Defense Department budget down here. And they got the negatives for all your favorite movies. They got microfilm with tax returns and newspaper stories. They got immigration records, census reports, and they got the accounts of all the wars and plane crashes and volcano eruptions and earthquakes and fires and floods and all the other disasters that interrupted the flow of things in the good ole U.S. of A. Now what does it matter, Sarah darling? All this filing and record keeping? We ever gonna give a shit? We even gonna get a chance to see it all? This is a great, big 14 mile TOMBSTONE with an epitaph on it that nobody gonna bother to read. Now, here you come, here you come, with a whole new set of charts and graphs and records. What you gonna do? Bury them down here with all the other relics of what once was? Let me tell you what else; you ain't never gonna figure it out, just like they never figured out why the stars are where they're at. It ain't mankind's job to figure that stuff out. So what you're doing is a waste of time, Sarah. And time is all we got left, you know. What I'm doing is all there's left to do... Shame on you. There's plenty to do, plenty to do, so long as there's you and me and maybe some other people. We could start over, start fresh, make some babies and teach 'em, Sarah, teach 'em, never to come over here and dig these records out. -- John (Day of the Dead)
Now, ain't it more fun to quote Day of the Dead? You betcha.
The London Pride will wash away...
current mood:  bored
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10:44 am - ( * ) ( * )
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I embedded some ASCII art depicting a topless girl (I think it's Shirley Booth, but I can't say for sure) within the code due for the next release. Will it go through the production chain undetected? Only time will tell.
Down with code reviews, for they encumber our childish freedom to amuse and offend.
Who's with me, other than the crickets?
current mood: evil
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8:52 am - Covered with booboos.
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My head smacked against a seat rail when I dozed off on the bus this morning, prompting me to let out a loud girlish yelp. Bus manufacturers should pad the seat rails so people don't crack their skull on 'em, or involuntarily expose their wussiness. In fact, buses would be a lot safer if the interior were made entirely of rubber.
Last night's dreams were haunted by intermixed episodes of unusual carnal endeavors, car chases involving automatic riffles and grenades, moments of temporary flight, and being mugged by a street gang. I'm sure you can understand why I constantly get reality mixed up with my imagination. They're not that different.
Did you know that the late Richard Wagner would often dress up as a Valkyrie on his yearly vacation retreat in Hömenburg, and chase the villagers around on a horse (which was actually a monstrously obese donkey named Wotan)?
current mood:  chipper
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| Sunday, May 13th, 2007
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8:07 pm - Ariane Moffatt sometimes makes an appearance on my iPod's shuffling.
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After deliberation, La Maudite remains my favourite Unibroue brew to this day. It's smooth and velvety, and comes with a strong flavor but barely any bitterness. It also gives makes great head. I only wish it didn't trick me into getting so hopelessly drunk.
Off to the excitement of laundry and dishes I must go, a glorious week is upon us all!
I can really identify with these words from Ariane Moffatt's Imparfait (Le Coeur dans la Tête):Or, que tout est bête,
Tout est vain et inutile,
Lorsqu'épuisé, fatigué,
Le corps n'est plus qu'un autre projectile
Propulsé depuis matin,
Jusqu'au soir en bus, en train.
Je sais qu'un coeur peut s'arrêter pour moins. Melodramatic? Perhaps. But daily commuting really does drain on a person's joie de vivre.
Every day, morning and night, you stand under the pouring rain, waiting for an overcrowded bus driven by a grumpy man, in which you inhale revolting body fragrances, keeping your eyes shut to shield you from the indescribable visual horrors, unaware of the foreign germs silently invading every pore on your body.
Physically trapped within this man-made hell, you daydream about lying naked in bed with your beautiful plastic wife...
current mood:  drained
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7:56 pm - Back from the woods.
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My butt hurts a lot. Probably on account of sitting on it all weekend.
PS: Black flies are surely a godly plague of some kind.
current mood:  good
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7:33 pm - Le Bloc.
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Duceppe's faux pas is a lot like going into a public restroom with the intention of dumping a massive load, but being interrupted by someone walking in the stall next to you, forcing you to stop midway, and the smudgy mess that ensues, etc.
Oh, and don't tell me I'm the only one who can't go when someone else is in the room. There's dozens of us in this country alone. :-/
current mood:  cranky
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| Friday, May 11th, 2007
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1:51 pm - The Origin Story
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I don't want to jump to any ludicrous conclusions... but I think the contaminated water has altered my once average physique. You see, my legs have become stiff and solid, like pillars sculpted in eternal stone.
Some would use this blessing as a tool of domination and destruction. How could the world resist a man whose legs cannot break, with limbs that will not bend to external pressure? Fear not, normals, for I am gentle beneath my powerful exterior. In unambitious fashion, I opt to exploit my freshly acquired superpowers for the greater good of ordinaries.
Marc-André the Commoner is dead and forgotten, and reborn anew as a Superbeing of biblical proportions. From now on, I shall be know as... MARC-ANBÉQUILLE. With my non-articulated legs of steel, I (slowly) limp to the aid of those in need!
PS: Although I might appear invulnerable to the uninformed prole, I actually have a few terrible weaknesses. For instance, I can be tripped up or pushed down stairwells, both attacks which I am defenseless against. Treading through snow and mud is also hampered.
Hopefully, a useful sidekick (perhaps in the form of a walker, or snow plow) will eventually join me in my numerous adventures.
current mood: resolute
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8:38 am - They're a-peeling him off the sidewalk.
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For the second consecutive day, I've witnessed a vehicle almost running over someone who can't seem to understand that he shouldn't be crossing Bank St. and Laurier Ave. while the turn signal is on (and the crossing panel not yet lit). Brakes are slammed hard, because most drivers tend to give it some gas when they see the turn signal beckoning 'em in the distance. This morning's imprudent jerk gave the motorist the finger as he reached the relative safety of the sidewalk, not even questioning whether he might have been at fault. A quick glance at the lights would have shed.. err.. light, on the situation.
Conclusion: road entitlement leads to chaos.
PS: The signalization changed recently on that particular intersection because of the construction. That might explain why people are recklessly crossing the street as soon as the green on Bank St turns red, 'cause that's how the lights worked before. That's not an excuse not to be paying attention to one's surroundings. Signal sequence isn't set in stone, etc.
current mood:  discontent
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| Thursday, May 10th, 2007
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3:23 pm - Good cover letter for a federal work application.
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"I'm a misogynous misandrist with people skills."
Euh, OK. J'suis pas mal convaincu que c'étais une blague, cette candidature. Mais on ne sais jamais! Y'a quelques années, ma soeur avait interviewé un gars pour une job au Silvercity (Famous Players) qui avait commencé son entrevue par; "Chu pas un gars violent, sauf quand j'me fâche."
Parfois, c'est mieux d'être compulsivement menteur que d'être honnête. :-)
current mood: melting
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2:50 pm - So... this is what melting feels like.
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Apparently the decision was made to cook the Esplanade Laurier tenants in an attempt to appease the bloodthirsty Kyoto deities and/or the UAALR (Underwater Alliance for the Advancement of Lobster Retribution). There's no other plausible explanation for why we'd be encased in this fiery hell.
My socks are drenched with warm pedijuice, which I am tempted to drink in desperation of quenching this inhuman thirst. My tongue is dry, like a piece of gum stuck under a desk (perhaps for safekeeping until the next day?) and long forgotten. Steam streams out of all our bodily orifices in a cacophony of whistles, a veritable symphony of boiling human kettles.
Farewell, wretched world! I'm relocating to the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
current mood: boiling
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11:49 am - Unfortunate screensaver typo.
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8:45 am - Organic peg leg
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My sister and Jon are off to Vegas today for a wedding, which I presume is not theirs. I heard they have so many sluts in Vegas, ya don't know where to begin.
Second Cup's espresso machine is out of order, forcing me to drink regular coffee. I got a blend called San Agustin, it has a nice aroma -- hints of oatmeal, a whiff of wild-berries, a splash of (liquefied) banana peel and a whisper of hazelnut. I suspect there's a bit more caffeine in this large coffee than my regular triple espresso, but the absorption is so dreadfully slow. "... I just wanna screeeee-ee-yeem. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME-EE-EE!?"
I noticed something new this morning: the protective brace strapped to my right leg is binding with my skin. Synthetic fiber strands are entangled with my leg hair. I tried to clean some of the gunk in the shower, but I eventually gave up. If it gets out of control, I'll shave me pegs. I'm worried that I will find it impossible to remove my braces, someday. Like they'll meld with my flesh to spawn invulnerable limbs that refuse to bend.
Maybe I just drink too much coffee, and the stimulants are perturbing my brain.
The demo we've been working on is getting shown to the clientele today. Here's hoping everything goes according to plan. And, Gawd-willing, I will not have to do any more HTML mock-ups ever again...
PS: The garbage sitting on the balcony stinks to the point where I can't leave the door open without the foul stench of death overwhelming my abode. Seems like the waste disposal people aren't gonna come upstairs to retrieve it, so hopefully I'll gather the willpower to lug it downstairs myself tonight. Should the bin be full, I'm leaving the bags on the pavement, despite my property manager's insistence that all garbage be disposed properly.
current music: Prokofiev - Roméo et Juliette - Prévin
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