I know, pretty n00b of me, but hey, I didn't know I could put up my neat custom graphics into the headers 'n stuff. (eh? eh?) yeah, pretty awesome I know.
...future posting kind of makes this make a little less sense, eh? You're all used to the spiffy graphics now - but its only May 14th, for me.
Let me know the winning lotto numbers eh?
Showing posts with label rambles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rambles. Show all posts
Its your fault I'm fat, but popular
Turns out, being fat is based on your social network.
You become that which surrounds you. Its true in zombie movies, and its true in life.
So, get those fat, poor zombies away from you and gravitate towards more awesome fields.
I'm only slightly kidding. I mean, imagine going to the Best Martial Arts School in, say, Richmond BC (heh, a little SEO for Shinka) you'd be surrounded by positive people, in positive environments, with positive goals.
Naturally, you would "conform to the norm" of positivity.
Meaning, it may not be so much the effect of a great martial arts institution, but rather, the effect of the positive social group it creates, that has the impact.
Meaning, an amazing martial arts school might be amazing because of the positive culture, not the fun physical activity.
You become that which surrounds you. Its true in zombie movies, and its true in life.
So, get those fat, poor zombies away from you and gravitate towards more awesome fields.
I'm only slightly kidding. I mean, imagine going to the Best Martial Arts School in, say, Richmond BC (heh, a little SEO for Shinka) you'd be surrounded by positive people, in positive environments, with positive goals.
Naturally, you would "conform to the norm" of positivity.
Meaning, it may not be so much the effect of a great martial arts institution, but rather, the effect of the positive social group it creates, that has the impact.
Meaning, an amazing martial arts school might be amazing because of the positive culture, not the fun physical activity.
Ice cream tastes better when you eat it with a spoon
Seriously, try it. Grab yourself some ice cream and eat it with a fork, then, grab a spoon, and scoop yourself a mouthful.
It tastes different. Different texture. I swear, one is simply... barbaric. Like stabbing a baby.
Yes. Eating ice cream with a fork is like stabbing a baby.
So just don't do it.
It tastes different. Different texture. I swear, one is simply... barbaric. Like stabbing a baby.
Yes. Eating ice cream with a fork is like stabbing a baby.
So just don't do it.
Auto hassles. Better than auto-tazes
So, you're saying to yourself: "Self, I don't get hassled enough"
Well then, look no farther than auto-hassle m'lad! Yes indeed, with the click of a few keys, you too can get hassled on any increment of days you choose.
I, for one, sent a 200 day reminder to Renee which I think every person in a long term relationship should set, just to keep things interesting.
Fairly useful thing. Granted, I use my itouch
for the majority of my reminders, but still.
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
Well then, look no farther than auto-hassle m'lad! Yes indeed, with the click of a few keys, you too can get hassled on any increment of days you choose.
I, for one, sent a 200 day reminder to Renee which I think every person in a long term relationship should set, just to keep things interesting.
Fairly useful thing. Granted, I use my itouch
for the majority of my reminders, but still.How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
9/11 Responsible For
Barat, an employee of Google, was inspired to develop a technique called "clustering", by 9/11. This, combined with Barat's passion for news, led to "Google News"
So, indirectly, the terrorist bombings of the twin towers increased the information flow across the globe.
Ah, butterflies and thine wings, how subtly thee influence thine world.
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
So, indirectly, the terrorist bombings of the twin towers increased the information flow across the globe.
Ah, butterflies and thine wings, how subtly thee influence thine world.
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
Pubic Crabs for sale
Revenge is a crotch best served itchy.
Forget angry text messages, forget smashing their car or throwing their clothes on the lawn, and instead... Buy them a mild STD.
Urban myth? Afraid not.
You can officially purchase pubic crabs for the use of revenge (unless you want pubic crabs for yourself for some horrific reason, I suppose) at crabrevenge.com.
While the disclaimer says the website creators "do not endorse giving people lice," and the lice are for "novelty purposes only..." let's face it - the site is CALLED crabREVENGE.com
"Make that bitch itch," the website says. (but, not in an evil, revengey kind of way, apparently) - interesting how they assume it'll be guys doing it to girls. I would actually assume that girls are more the vindictive crab-givers.
"We sell you crabs to give your ex-girlfriend or whoever has pissed you off enough to make you seek revenge on them. If you want a method of revenge that doesn't involve permanent damage or risk of personal injury or jail time, you have come to the right place."
(But, again, don't use it for revenge, okay?) pfft.
But wait: How do they harvest these crabs, you ask? A particularly deplorable house of debauchery perhaps?
The company says it has a facility in the British Isles (insert British joke here) "where we do all of our parasite husbandry and carefully considered selective breeding."
(right, because you wouldn't want to use some bargain basement crabs or something...)
The website says the company was started "by a group of fellows who happen to know a thing or two about biology and revenge."
There are three options to choose from when ordering the lice.
...Options. On STDs. What a world.
The green package includes one colony, which can have as many as 30 eggs. "This package is great for one person." -- the other packages are either for multiple people, or multiple uses (though you have to freeze the leftovers.)
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"Dude, can I have some ice... crea... jesus what the hell is that stuff in your freezer, man?"
The blue package includes three vials, each with about 30 eggs. "Use the first one straight away and you can freeze the other two batches for over 160 days, or you could get revenge on three people at once...Maybe your friends want in on the action and you'd like to take advantage of the discount pricing," the website says.
I just like the idea that you'd think ahead long enough to freeze your revenge package. "Yeah, I'm planning on getting pissed off at some other people in the near future, so..."
The red package includes one vial of "shampoo resistant F strain crabs," which can "take up to two weeks to get rid of and apparently bite so much they cause the victim to scratch themselves raw."
Shampoo resistant super crabs. You heard it here first, folks.
And, to quote commissioner Gordon "You've started something." in reference to the Joker... crabsites are popping up all over the place.
Forget angry text messages, forget smashing their car or throwing their clothes on the lawn, and instead... Buy them a mild STD.
Urban myth? Afraid not.
You can officially purchase pubic crabs for the use of revenge (unless you want pubic crabs for yourself for some horrific reason, I suppose) at crabrevenge.com.
While the disclaimer says the website creators "do not endorse giving people lice," and the lice are for "novelty purposes only..." let's face it - the site is CALLED crabREVENGE.com
"Make that bitch itch," the website says. (but, not in an evil, revengey kind of way, apparently) - interesting how they assume it'll be guys doing it to girls. I would actually assume that girls are more the vindictive crab-givers.
"We sell you crabs to give your ex-girlfriend or whoever has pissed you off enough to make you seek revenge on them. If you want a method of revenge that doesn't involve permanent damage or risk of personal injury or jail time, you have come to the right place."
(But, again, don't use it for revenge, okay?) pfft.
But wait: How do they harvest these crabs, you ask? A particularly deplorable house of debauchery perhaps?
The company says it has a facility in the British Isles (insert British joke here) "where we do all of our parasite husbandry and carefully considered selective breeding."
(right, because you wouldn't want to use some bargain basement crabs or something...)
The website says the company was started "by a group of fellows who happen to know a thing or two about biology and revenge."
There are three options to choose from when ordering the lice.
...Options. On STDs. What a world.
The green package includes one colony, which can have as many as 30 eggs. "This package is great for one person." -- the other packages are either for multiple people, or multiple uses (though you have to freeze the leftovers.)
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
"Dude, can I have some ice... crea... jesus what the hell is that stuff in your freezer, man?"
The blue package includes three vials, each with about 30 eggs. "Use the first one straight away and you can freeze the other two batches for over 160 days, or you could get revenge on three people at once...Maybe your friends want in on the action and you'd like to take advantage of the discount pricing," the website says.
I just like the idea that you'd think ahead long enough to freeze your revenge package. "Yeah, I'm planning on getting pissed off at some other people in the near future, so..."
The red package includes one vial of "shampoo resistant F strain crabs," which can "take up to two weeks to get rid of and apparently bite so much they cause the victim to scratch themselves raw."
Shampoo resistant super crabs. You heard it here first, folks.
And, to quote commissioner Gordon "You've started something." in reference to the Joker... crabsites are popping up all over the place.
If we take the lateral leap of Scarecrow to Joker, then I can only assume "AIDS in a vial" is next. Maybe with handy-dandy pin-applicator? Herpes in a super soaker?
Sigh.
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
Holy Shit Purple Yam
Save your judgement. Purple Yam Ice Cream is !@#$ing insane.
Its really... really good.
Holy crap, seriously. I mean, who the hell would think yams would be good blended up and frozen, right?
But yeah. Try it.
That is all.
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
Its really... really good.
Holy crap, seriously. I mean, who the hell would think yams would be good blended up and frozen, right?
But yeah. Try it.
That is all.
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?
$40,000 Tickets to the UFC!?
It has come to my attention that the UFC tickets can sell for as much as forty thousand dollars each.
Aye, yai yai, reeeeally? McJeebus that's insane! What I want to know, is, is that the scalper price, or is GM place actually selling the tickets for that much to begin with!?
Yikes. How rich do you gotta be before that even makes some semblance of sense?
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Aye, yai yai, reeeeally? McJeebus that's insane! What I want to know, is, is that the scalper price, or is GM place actually selling the tickets for that much to begin with!?
Yikes. How rich do you gotta be before that even makes some semblance of sense?
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Hey, let's build a star on the earth
Didn't these feebs see Spiderman? you're going to make a horrible Doctor Octopus!
No, yeah, seriously. These sciencey fellows are pointing a football field and a bit's worth of lasers all at the same point in space - the theory being that, around 2012 (poor conspiricy theorists, yes, that IS when it is scheduled to be operational) the combined effect of all these zappy zappers will create... a star.
ON EARTH.
(but my beloved narrator/rambler, why the FUCK would they not do this out in SPACE at the very least... someplace far away...?)
Great question bracketed tiny mouse - I DO NOT KNOW. (But, I'm guessing oxygen is required to make it work)
So yes. We're building a freaking star on the Earth with a trillion degrees hotness.
Oh, yeah, so, if this doesn't burn us all alive or nuke us in some horrific explosion, the upside is... when stars die, they create supernovas, black holes, that kind of thing. (also, on Earth)
The good news is, if it works, we can make star destroyers, as well as power the freaking EVERYTHING with it, as it will be a nearly limitless supply of power.
(which makes me wonder if some day we'll all be jackin' in to nearby solar systems...)
No, yeah, seriously. These sciencey fellows are pointing a football field and a bit's worth of lasers all at the same point in space - the theory being that, around 2012 (poor conspiricy theorists, yes, that IS when it is scheduled to be operational) the combined effect of all these zappy zappers will create... a star.
ON EARTH.
(but my beloved narrator/rambler, why the FUCK would they not do this out in SPACE at the very least... someplace far away...?)
Great question bracketed tiny mouse - I DO NOT KNOW. (But, I'm guessing oxygen is required to make it work)
So yes. We're building a freaking star on the Earth with a trillion degrees hotness.
Oh, yeah, so, if this doesn't burn us all alive or nuke us in some horrific explosion, the upside is... when stars die, they create supernovas, black holes, that kind of thing. (also, on Earth)
The good news is, if it works, we can make star destroyers, as well as power the freaking EVERYTHING with it, as it will be a nearly limitless supply of power.
(which makes me wonder if some day we'll all be jackin' in to nearby solar systems...)
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Batman's Dead Parents
Y'know something that's never really touched on, as far as I know, in the Batman universe?
What about the REST of his family? Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, illegitimate half brothers... I mean, is he the LAST of the Waynes family tree? Was everyone else even remotely related to Bruce ALSO gunned down?
Its never covered. Ever.
I mean, on Christmas time, we see Dick and (so hard not to write Jane) Alfred hang out with the guy or Joker blow up some babies... but what about his Aunt Bertha who really wants him to try the Cheesecake she made?
I go to someone's house for some random holiday, and you can't throw a turkey without hitting SOME relative. So, where's all the bat-fam?
In fact, there's no extended family in any of the marvel or dc universe, with possible exceptions to Aunts/Uncles playing the part of families (ie Spiderman's Aunt May)
I just think someone should have noticed this before now.
What about the REST of his family? Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, illegitimate half brothers... I mean, is he the LAST of the Waynes family tree? Was everyone else even remotely related to Bruce ALSO gunned down?
Its never covered. Ever.
I mean, on Christmas time, we see Dick and (so hard not to write Jane) Alfred hang out with the guy or Joker blow up some babies... but what about his Aunt Bertha who really wants him to try the Cheesecake she made?
I go to someone's house for some random holiday, and you can't throw a turkey without hitting SOME relative. So, where's all the bat-fam?
In fact, there's no extended family in any of the marvel or dc universe, with possible exceptions to Aunts/Uncles playing the part of families (ie Spiderman's Aunt May)
I just think someone should have noticed this before now.
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Sloth Lady
Driving like a bat out of hell, which, if you think about it, is doubly bad (due to the fact that bats from just about anywhere would be horrible drivers) I made it to the airport nearly exactly too late to be decent and speak slowly.
This, it would later occur to me, was not helpful nor the best way for me to project an air of "not a terrorist" to someone working at an airport.
"friggin won a trip and only have 20 minutes because of the god damn phone police airport parking!" I screamed urgently to the half woman, half sloth creature which seemed to be entirely fixated on things involving not-me as it slowly chewed the mass of what I could only hope was gum, within its mandibles.
"Congraaaatulations on winnin' that trip. What are the odds of that?" She asked, clearly misunderstanding her position, as it was I, who should be asking her, the questions.
"I haven't the slightest idea, maybe we can look it up when we have more time - about that confirmation code, what would you suggest I do to show that I've won these tickets?"
"Tickets?"
"...YES!"
"So you're takin' somebody with you then?"
Again, she seemed to have taken on the roll of the inquisitor verses the interrogated. But, the sloth had an excellent point. The conversation with the lady slowly came back to me, and I realized that she had, in fact, said "tickets", plural.
"...possibly, yes!" I replied, taken aback.
"Well, maybe they know your confirmation code." She offered, entirely unhelpfully.
"Th... they don't EXIST yet! I don't know who I'm taking to Cancun, I don't even know how to get my tickets thanks to god damn Albert!"
"Who is Albert?"
"Look, I don't have TIME to tell you all these things, I need to find my tickets!"
"Why do you need two tickets, if you aren't going to be taking Albert with you?"
"I suppose I only need the ONE ticket, but I've technically won tickETS, so, I would imagine that they'd be in some kind of envelope... prize... station, thing, would they not!?"
She paused, clearly isolating a particular flavor out of her hopefully-gum, "That's an interesting question."
I twitched, and hissed through my teeth as I watched the minute hand upon the clock tick forward. "Yes. I thought so."
"Who would be in charge of your tickets?" The sloth queried aloud, clearly not recognizing the irony of an information desk clerk asking such a question.
This, it would later occur to me, was not helpful nor the best way for me to project an air of "not a terrorist" to someone working at an airport.
"friggin won a trip and only have 20 minutes because of the god damn phone police airport parking!" I screamed urgently to the half woman, half sloth creature which seemed to be entirely fixated on things involving not-me as it slowly chewed the mass of what I could only hope was gum, within its mandibles.
"Congraaaatulations on winnin' that trip. What are the odds of that?" She asked, clearly misunderstanding her position, as it was I, who should be asking her, the questions.
"I haven't the slightest idea, maybe we can look it up when we have more time - about that confirmation code, what would you suggest I do to show that I've won these tickets?"
"Tickets?"
"...YES!"
"So you're takin' somebody with you then?"
Again, she seemed to have taken on the roll of the inquisitor verses the interrogated. But, the sloth had an excellent point. The conversation with the lady slowly came back to me, and I realized that she had, in fact, said "tickets", plural.
"...possibly, yes!" I replied, taken aback.
"Well, maybe they know your confirmation code." She offered, entirely unhelpfully.
"Th... they don't EXIST yet! I don't know who I'm taking to Cancun, I don't even know how to get my tickets thanks to god damn Albert!"
"Who is Albert?"
"Look, I don't have TIME to tell you all these things, I need to find my tickets!"
"Why do you need two tickets, if you aren't going to be taking Albert with you?"
"I suppose I only need the ONE ticket, but I've technically won tickETS, so, I would imagine that they'd be in some kind of envelope... prize... station, thing, would they not!?"
She paused, clearly isolating a particular flavor out of her hopefully-gum, "That's an interesting question."
I twitched, and hissed through my teeth as I watched the minute hand upon the clock tick forward. "Yes. I thought so."
"Who would be in charge of your tickets?" The sloth queried aloud, clearly not recognizing the irony of an information desk clerk asking such a question.
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!@#$ing Albert
So now, thanks to Albert, my plane is delayed for the trip I'm late for and don't have enough time to procrastinate packing.
Still, at least I got to go to Cancun, and my phone worked. All 'n all what did one really need to pack to a place like Cancun, anyway? The trip was all inclusive, which, to me, means all the food and beverages I need will be provided. I could always buy a pair of touristy Bermuda shorts when I arrived, after all.
I decided to wing it. To take a plunge and not look back. I decided that I didn't know how to convey that I'd won any trip to anywhere to anybody who would be responsible for letting me on any plane to anywhere.
Shit.
Due to my curtness with the lady on the phone, due to the uninterrupted sleep due to Albert fixing my phone (again, it all came back to Albert) I had no actual data of which to provide. No "coupon code" or even a secret handshake.
Shitballs.
I checked my caller ID. It wasn't working. It HAD been working before, but the phone had not. Albert had screwed me yet again. I couldn't call this lady back, and I had about a half hour to solve this situation before my delayed flight would arrive and find me there, Bermuda shorts in hand (I certainly wasn't going to wear them to the airport - no self respecting New Yorker would ever go anywhere in Bermuda shorts)
I decided to try the help desk at the airport. After all, it was their job to help irresponsible, irrational people just like me.
Still, at least I got to go to Cancun, and my phone worked. All 'n all what did one really need to pack to a place like Cancun, anyway? The trip was all inclusive, which, to me, means all the food and beverages I need will be provided. I could always buy a pair of touristy Bermuda shorts when I arrived, after all.
I decided to wing it. To take a plunge and not look back. I decided that I didn't know how to convey that I'd won any trip to anywhere to anybody who would be responsible for letting me on any plane to anywhere.
Shit.
Due to my curtness with the lady on the phone, due to the uninterrupted sleep due to Albert fixing my phone (again, it all came back to Albert) I had no actual data of which to provide. No "coupon code" or even a secret handshake.
Shitballs.
I checked my caller ID. It wasn't working. It HAD been working before, but the phone had not. Albert had screwed me yet again. I couldn't call this lady back, and I had about a half hour to solve this situation before my delayed flight would arrive and find me there, Bermuda shorts in hand (I certainly wasn't going to wear them to the airport - no self respecting New Yorker would ever go anywhere in Bermuda shorts)
I decided to try the help desk at the airport. After all, it was their job to help irresponsible, irrational people just like me.
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Master of Power Suction, Master of Stinking, and David Blane.
Kind of a niche market, isn't it? "The Master of Power Suction
"?
"?
And how would that be effective, cobatitively? I understand he kind of leeched out people's life essence or something... but is that what would happen if you used a really powerful vacuume cleaner?
I heard some fellow sucked his wang right off his crotch with the Master of Power Suction understudy, once.
Still, as far as amazing abilities go, I suppose I'd take the master of suck over, say... the master of stink.
I mean really, seriously? They made a toy, that stunk. And, not just when you hit a button or something - it stunk like a stink bomb... like rotten eggs... all the time.
You take it out of the box and you're like "wow, cool... ugh! Umm..." and you look around nervously about where the hell you're supposed to STORE this freaking thing. Ziplock bag? Could he be master of the David Blane impression?
"Behold! My magic! I can sit in an air tight container for a long... long time!"
..."Keep beholding. It gets good in a few hours."
..."Come back! Behold!" Oy. When did magic start being about hanging out in semi-public places, and sucking for long periods of time?
...Maybe they were vying for that Master of Power Suction spot?
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Blame Albert
So I go down to the phone company so I can talk to the phone lady - not that I would assume it was a lady, but, I happen to know the rest of the story, so piss off - and, I'm nervous, because, well, I'm pretty sure there's aliens in there.
And, she says "what kind of trouble are you having with your phone?"
And, I answer that, its pretty much the only type of phone trouble that I was aware a phone could have, really.
I mean, its still the same color, and same mass and everything - it just wasn't, y'know... working in a phone-like capacity.
Now that I've passed the "I'm not holding the wrong end of the phone to my ear" test, she informs me that she'll be sending a guy right out.
Although, this whole exercise did make me wonder a little. What other complaints about phones could people have?
MY PHONE IS NOT BEAR ENOUGH!
(apparently)
And by the way, saying someone'd be "right out" is just a lie.
Its not like there was a big line of guys just waiting to go out there; aliens or not, these people have lives)
And, its the phone guys' (also likely aliens, by the way) job to get to the house when I'm not there - and, just so you know, those buggers can friggen get in through the toilet if you're not careful.
I mean, they can slither up through the pipes like some freakishly inverted shit-covered Santa Clause or something.
So, I'm waiting for the guys (with my toilet seat down, just in case) and, my phone rings.
Which, honestly, was kind of scary, because, well, it was supposed to be broken, and I hadn't seen any guys enter the house.
My mind starts racing as I answer the phone. "How did they get in? Are they still in the house right now? Should I be answering the phone or, if I was watching this on TV, would I be the one yelling at the idiot answering the phone to get the crap out of the house???"
So, Albert is on the other end, and informs me that he's outside my appartment. Which, is a new thing for me, because, well, I'm on the 3rd floor.
"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!" is definately what I'd be yelling by now.
This sort of height would challenge even the most determined stalker, so, I admit, I got a little excited about the premise of someone taking enough time to be out there, for me, and to have taken the time to inform me of this.
(very unprofessional if this person turned out to be a ninja or spy)
So, I look out at the phone guy who is, in fact, outside my window, (friggin' aliens) and, well, waved at him.
(I mean, how often does one get to see such a site, really. An alien phone guy waving at you from outside your window.)
So, now that Albert has fixed my phone, I can get woken up the next morning at 4am, about 5 hours before I'd intended on getting up, so that I could be informed that my plane is going to be late.
I informed them that, as far as I was aware, I didn't have a plane, but, after some clarification it turns out that I'd won a trip, but hadn't been informed of it due to the broken phone, and, now I was early, due to the plane being late.
(Alien logic, if you ask me)
Its odd to be pissed off about winning a trip, but there you have it, I was pissed that I'd been woken up, pissed that I now had to wait, for something I previously didn't know that I wasn't on time for.
So, I tell her I'll need to get luggage, and she says that I should have done that sooner - to which I replied that she should have spoken quicker.
So, she's a little curt with me, understandably, and, I'm a little curt with her - mostly due to the shock and sleep deprivation; though the aliens could have put something in my house to disrupt my thought waves for all I know. Maybe Albert was just a diversion for the real alieninjas.
So, now, due to my plane being 2 hours late, and me having to arrive at the airport 1 hour before departure, and me being about a half hour drive from the airport, I'm about a half hour early; except I need to figure out what to pack, and where I'm going, so, really, I'm about 6 hours late, as I tend to procrastinate those sorts of decisions.
"Jesus this is a complicated day," I thought to myself.
I decided to blame Albert.
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And not the cute ET kind, but, the face-ripping, how-do-we-make-our-faces-look-so-human kind.
And, she says "what kind of trouble are you having with your phone?"
And, I answer that, its pretty much the only type of phone trouble that I was aware a phone could have, really.
I mean, its still the same color, and same mass and everything - it just wasn't, y'know... working in a phone-like capacity.And, she says she'll have to send somebody out.
Which, I kind of assumed because, well, let's face it, there was nobody at my house right now who could fix phones, or I would have asked them for help, and, I didn't have the phone with me, and I assumed that the aliens wouldn't expose themselves via the use of any sort of teleportation mechanisms.
Now that I've passed the "I'm not holding the wrong end of the phone to my ear" test, she informs me that she'll be sending a guy right out.
Although, this whole exercise did make me wonder a little. What other complaints about phones could people have? (apparently)
And by the way, saying someone'd be "right out" is just a lie.
Its not like there was a big line of guys just waiting to go out there; aliens or not, these people have lives)
And, its the phone guys' (also likely aliens, by the way) job to get to the house when I'm not there - and, just so you know, those buggers can friggen get in through the toilet if you're not careful.
I mean, they can slither up through the pipes like some freakishly inverted shit-covered Santa Clause or something.
So, I'm waiting for the guys (with my toilet seat down, just in case) and, my phone rings.
Which, honestly, was kind of scary, because, well, it was supposed to be broken, and I hadn't seen any guys enter the house.
My mind starts racing as I answer the phone. "How did they get in? Are they still in the house right now? Should I be answering the phone or, if I was watching this on TV, would I be the one yelling at the idiot answering the phone to get the crap out of the house???"
So, Albert is on the other end, and informs me that he's outside my appartment. Which, is a new thing for me, because, well, I'm on the 3rd floor.
"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!" is definately what I'd be yelling by now.
This sort of height would challenge even the most determined stalker, so, I admit, I got a little excited about the premise of someone taking enough time to be out there, for me, and to have taken the time to inform me of this.
(very unprofessional if this person turned out to be a ninja or spy)
So, I look out at the phone guy who is, in fact, outside my window, (friggin' aliens) and, well, waved at him.
(I mean, how often does one get to see such a site, really. An alien phone guy waving at you from outside your window.)
So, now that Albert has fixed my phone, I can get woken up the next morning at 4am, about 5 hours before I'd intended on getting up, so that I could be informed that my plane is going to be late.
I informed them that, as far as I was aware, I didn't have a plane, but, after some clarification it turns out that I'd won a trip, but hadn't been informed of it due to the broken phone, and, now I was early, due to the plane being late.
(Alien logic, if you ask me)
Its odd to be pissed off about winning a trip, but there you have it, I was pissed that I'd been woken up, pissed that I now had to wait, for something I previously didn't know that I wasn't on time for.
So, I tell her I'll need to get luggage, and she says that I should have done that sooner - to which I replied that she should have spoken quicker.
So, she's a little curt with me, understandably, and, I'm a little curt with her - mostly due to the shock and sleep deprivation; though the aliens could have put something in my house to disrupt my thought waves for all I know. Maybe Albert was just a diversion for the real alieninjas.
So, now, due to my plane being 2 hours late, and me having to arrive at the airport 1 hour before departure, and me being about a half hour drive from the airport, I'm about a half hour early; except I need to figure out what to pack, and where I'm going, so, really, I'm about 6 hours late, as I tend to procrastinate those sorts of decisions.
"Jesus this is a complicated day," I thought to myself.
I decided to blame Albert.
NOTE:
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Video game logic
Have you ever stopped and thought about the logic of some video games?
Putting aside the 3d shooter logic best explained by Red vs Blue
and some of the older games, where all the units die because you jump on them (Mario's ultimate enemy would be 8 land mines in a row)
But look at Megaman. You gotta kill thousands of robots to go get Dr. Wiley, who's lost every freaking battle since the series began. You think, maybe, this Doctor might wise up and go mess up megaman while he was still acquiring his leaf shield, instead of afterwards.
Ah, but we love our simple puzzles, don't we?
We love to feel clever. "Guh huh, I shotted da red ting and it blewed up! I fuggered it out all byes myself!"
But even today, people love simple puzzles. The truly masterful game designer will give you hard puzzles, and be absolutely bewildered as to why people simply go online, get the walktrhough's so that they can say they've beat this hard game.
Shoot them right there, and they die. Cool, got it. But god forbid you have to think a sec.
Hm. Bitter today.
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Putting aside the 3d shooter logic best explained by Red vs Blue
and some of the older games, where all the units die because you jump on them (Mario's ultimate enemy would be 8 land mines in a row)
But look at Megaman. You gotta kill thousands of robots to go get Dr. Wiley, who's lost every freaking battle since the series began. You think, maybe, this Doctor might wise up and go mess up megaman while he was still acquiring his leaf shield, instead of afterwards.
Ah, but we love our simple puzzles, don't we?
We love to feel clever. "Guh huh, I shotted da red ting and it blewed up! I fuggered it out all byes myself!"
But even today, people love simple puzzles. The truly masterful game designer will give you hard puzzles, and be absolutely bewildered as to why people simply go online, get the walktrhough's so that they can say they've beat this hard game.
Shoot them right there, and they die. Cool, got it. But god forbid you have to think a sec.
Hm. Bitter today.
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Final Fantasy Sucks
I'm sorry, but that stupid freaking gunsword just is the most lame, retarded weapon I've ever seen.
And that includes gopher chucks.
___
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want you to think that I disliked Kung Pow
- far from it. Weeeiooo!
No, I'm simply saying that a spoof-movie's purposefully silly weapon is cooler than this retarded weapon which is supposed to be cool.Gopher chucks would actually work better (assuming rigor mortis set in) than the gunsword. And yes I can understand that its a FANTASY game.
It isn't so much the "logic" of the weapon itself that I'm debating. More the "what the heck were they thinking" type statement.
Like... how do those two things make each other better? The gun handle would make the sword nearly impossible to use effectively - and the blade would make the gun impossible to use at all.
Its like saying that duct taping a baby to your car's hood would make your dessert taste better. I understand juxtaposition is a part of FF, but weapons should at least... be...
Oh nevermind. Go back to your damn ball-of-death-throwing, knife-swording, stupid shorts game.
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