First off, I hope everyone in university had relatively rape-free exams/after-parties and are enjoying the beginning of their 4 month (!) summer vacation. Woopah!

Okay. That being said...

A few days ago, my mother approached me and asked if I wanted to see a lovely play in the chinese language. Now, there are two ways to answer a request to see a chinese play:

THE WRONG WAY: Yes.
THE RIGHT WAY: No.

As simple as this process seems, I somehow managed to fuck it up, and accepted the invitation. To be fair, though, there was some foul play in getting me to accept...

Mom: Hey, Aaron. Want to see a lovely play this Saturday?

Me: Hmm. What's it about?

Mom: It's called "Love in a Fallen City." It's about two people who fall in love during World War II.

Me: Okay, sure. Sounds good.

Mom: Great! Oh, and it's in chinese.

Me: What? But I don't speak-

Mom: TOO LATE YOU SAID YOU'D GO NO TAKEBACKS!

So yeah, next thing I know I'm sitting in a theatre next to a dozen or so Chinese relatives, and I just know I'm in for the most trying 4 hours of my life. To be fair, there were subtitles displayed on one of those LED boards (is that the right word?) hanging over the stage. However, this posed two problems. The first was that the board was so far away from the actors that I was able at any one time to know what was being said or what was happening, but not both. The second problem was that whoever was in charge of displaying the subtitles was obviously fucking the director. I mean, like, when they should have been managing the subtitles. Because let's face it, if your job is simply pushing a button so that what's on the board matches what's being said, you've got it made. Fucking this up requires talent. But for some reason, an actor would say something, then something else, and the subtitles wouldn't change. Someone else would say something. The subtitles wouldn't change. A new scene would start. The subtitles wouldn't change. Then all of a sudden the person realized what they should have been doing and ten minutes worth of subtitles fly by before you can read them. Which I guess was okay, because I was like the only person there who wasn't (completely) Chinese, with the exception being my dad, who I now have newfound respect for. I suspect either:

1) The person in charge of subtitles didn't speak english, didn't know what the subtitles meant, and therefore didn't know when to display them.

2) The person in charge of subtitles didn't speak chinese, didn't know what was being said on stage, and therefore didn't know when to switch them, or, more likely,

3) All of the above

The whole experience could pretty much be summed up with the following diagram. On the left is my brain before seeing the play. The right, after.



That's right. I seem to have developed fetal alcohol syndrome, which really sucks.

I'd go on, but I seem to have downloaded 406 David Bowie songs today, and it's really hard to stay mad when all you can hear is love in music form (For a good idea of what my face looks like right now, see "current mood.").

P.S. In the time it took me to write this, I have received six friend requests from those "hawt babes" whose profiles turn out to be one giant link to a porn site. It's been bad in the past, but has anyone been finding this to be getting out of hand? I wouldn't be surprised if this "Moniquehot" (the nice young lady who's diddling her chatch and tits alternately in the link) becomes more well known than Tom.

Okay, I had so much fun doing the last one that I just needed to do it again. However, I realize that there are only 2 artists that I know well enough for this to work, David Bowie and The Beatles. Unfortunately, Gillian beat me to the punch with an intimidatingly awesome Beatles one, so I figure rather than just copy hers, I'll try something a little different and limit myself to just one Album. Naturally, they won't work as well, but hey. Points for effort.

Here goes...

Pick one band, use their song titles to answer the questions.

(01). Choose a band / artist: The Beatles WHITE ALBUM

(02). Are you male or female: Mother Nature's Son

(03). Describe yourself: I'm so Tired

(04). How do some people feel about you: Long, Long, Long

(05). Describe your last relationship: Wild Honey Pie... okay... Honey Pie

(06). Describe your current relationship: Martha My Dear

(07). Describe future relationship (s): Julia

(08). Describe where you want to be: Back in the USSR

(09). Describe how you love: Cry Baby Cry

(10). Describe something you love: Birthday

(11). Where do you Live?: Bungalow, Bill (okay yes I took a tiny liberty here)

(12). What would you ask for if you had just one wish: Piggies

(13). What's your favorite food?: Savoy Truffle

(14). Describe your childhood: Everybody's got something to Hide Except for Me and My Monkey

(15). Something you're afraid of: Revolution 1

(16). Describe your ideal job: Sexy Sadie

(17). Describe Your current job: Helter Skelter

(18). Describe your dreams: Glass Onion

(19). Describe your car: Why don't we do it in the Road? (originally my response to 12)

(20). What is the meaning of life?: Happiness is a Warm Gun

(21). Now say goodbye: Goodnight

*Phew*

Okay, not everything here is true. I'm not seeing a Martha, although how freaky would it be if I started dating a Julia (hmm, do I know a Julia who isn't my dead great grandmother)? Also, I'm faaairly sure (4) isn't true, as much as I'd like to think so.

Again, exam soon. You know when you have that dream where you have an exam you don't know about (you may not even have been aware you were taking that course), and start freaking out? That's pretty much what this exam is right now to me. The fact that I wrote this instead of studying does not speak well of my IQ.

I found this on Kim's blog, and just couldn't resist.

Pick one band, use their song titles to answer the questions.

(01). Choose a band / artist: David Bowie

(02). Are you male or female: Shadow Man

(03). Describe yourself: The Prettiest Star

(04). How do some people feel about you: Queen of all the Tarts

(05). Describe your last relationship: Soul Love

(06). Describe your current relationship: The Loneliest Guy

(07). Describe future relationship (s): Sorrow

(08). Describe where you want to be: Fantastic Voyage

(09). Describe how you love: Hang on to Yourself (ha!)

(10). Describe something you love: Andy Warhol

(11). Where do you Live?: Suffragette City

(12). What would you ask for if you had just one wish: Bring Me the Disco King

(13). What's your favorite food?: Diamond Dogs

(14). Describe your childhood: Chant of the Ever Circling Skeletal Family

(15). Something you're afraid of: I'm Afraid of Americans

(16). Describe your ideal job: Cygnet Committee

(17). Describe Your current job: Big Brother

(18). Describe your dreams: I Took a Trip on a Gemini Spaceship

(19). Describe your car: She'll Drive the Big Car

(20). What is the meaning of life?: Never Get Old

(21). Now say goodbye: Ashes to Ashes

Exam in four hours. I'm an idiot.

I woke up yesterday afternoon after a refreshingly terror-devoid nap, and was greeted by most of my housemates sitting in the main room (the living room, if you will), obviously in the middle of a discussion. Pat turned to me.

"Hey Feldman, what's your number one guilty pleasure?"

"Neopets," I replied, without having to give the question much thought.

"No, no," corrected Pat, "I mean, out of music you listen to."

"Oh, okay. Well, lets see..."

"Wait... Neopets?"

"Well, I guess I listen to a lot of Crowded House..."

"Neopets?"

"Um. Ah," I stuttered, trying to steer the conversation away from where it was no-doubt heading, "I also like the soundtrack to Hedwig and the Angry... Inch..."

"Neopets. Are you the biggest fag in the world?"

"Ha ha ha."


Sigh. It's true. No, not the fag part (fuck OFF). The I-like-Neopets part. While I don't view this as a particularly maladaptive behaviour, even I have to admit that there's not a lot of guys in University who've even been on the site. But what can I say? It's fucking addicting.

Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of this, but for some reason I still feel uncomfortable having other people know this about me (though I guess the fact that I am posting this is proof that I am a dirty liar). I mean, these days it's cool to like comic books and own action figures in a Seth Cohen sort of way (though I maintain that I was doing these things long before the OC), but I still feel Neopets is kind of... Taboo. Kinda like getting enjoyment out of watching Teletubbies (which I don't. Oh God that show is terrible) or drinking from a juicebox in public (which I... um). But there you go. It's my guilty pleasure.

But hey, I didn't write this blog for the sake of writing a confessional. No, there's a story attached to this. And the story goes a little something... a-like this:

So I went home to Toronto over the Easter weekend. Sure, I'll be going back up in just over a week, but I figured I had the time, so why not? Besides, my family just got a new dog to replace our dead one with, and I wanted to meet him (pictures likely at a later date).

Another advantage Toronto has over Windsor (besides the geographical accessability of nuclear relatives) is the availability of Neopets Trading Cards (like Magic: the Gathering, only with adorable Pokemon instead of wizards), which for some insane reason they don't carry in Windsor. Naturally, I saw my visit to Toronto as the perfect opportunity to acquire some packs of said cards.

Now, the problem here is that there's only one place where I know I can get these cards, and it's at Paradise Comics, the old place I where I used to work. This is a bad thing, as I naturally know a lot of people who work there, thus making buying Neopets Trading Cards a hassle. Imagine having to buy pornography from your grandmother. That's sort of how I felt (to clear up confusion, there is nothing pornographic about Neopets [oh god]. The comparison was merely meant to highlight the awkwardness and subsequent judgement that would arise from making either purchase).

Nonetheless, I decided to buy my Neopets Trading Cards like a man. I hitched up my trousers, and walked into the store.

"Hey, Pete," I said to the owner of the store, in as gruff a voice as I could muster, "how's it hanging?"

"Hey, Adam," he replied, "Long time no see."

"Yes. Well," I continued, "Might I trouble you into selling me one pack of the latest Neopets Trading Card Game Expansion?"

"Neopets? Are you some kind of fag?"

"Ha ha ha. No, I am obviously joking," I replied, and added, "Well, goodbye."

Fuck! I thought on my way home, I MUST get one of those packs! I considered my options. Suddenly, I had an idea.


The next day, I approached Rachel, my 15 year old sister.

"Rachel," I said, "How'd you like to do me a favour?"

"What do you want, asshole?" she replied. It's this thing we do.

"I need you to come with me to Paradise Comics."

The plan was simple. We'd enter the store and look around a bit. Then, I'd turn to her and ask Is there anything you want to get? to which she'd reply I would like a pack of Neopet cards. Then I say well, we should probably get a pack for Laura (other sister) as well, don't you think? to which she replies yes. We buy the cards, she pockets them, then she gives me both packs when we get home. Game. Set. Match, baby.

So we get to Paradise Comics. As I'd hoped, Pete wasn't working (the scheme might have looked mighty suspicious with the events of the previous day in mind). I chat with Doug, the assistant manager, for a while, then as I'm ready to leave I turn to Rachel.

"So, Rachel," I say, with a wink in my voice, "Anything you want to get?"

"Huh? Oh, no, not really," she says, seemingly surprised by my voice. I stare silently at her. "I mean. Oh wait! Neopet cards!"

"That- yes. That's a good idea. Well, we should probably get a pack for Laura," I continue. Rachel stares at me blankly. I mentally slap my forehead.

"Yes. We should do that." I turn to Doug.

"Two packs of Neopets, please." Doug turns towards the back of the shelf, where the cards are located.

"We have two expansions," he says. "Do you want 'Regular' or 'Revenge of Doctor Sloth?'"

I want Doctor Sloth. I turn towards Rachel. "Well, which one do you want?" Doctor Sloth. Say Doctor Sloth. Rachel stares at me blankly.

"Um." is all she can muster. I look at her imploringly, trying to mime the words "Doctor Sloth" with my face, which is much more difficult than it sounds. Then my sister goes and says "Well, Aaron, which do YOU want?"

Doug and everyone else in the store look at me. Fuck.

"Ha ha ha (Doctor Sloth). Oh Rachel, (Doctor Sloth) I don't care. (Doctor Sloth) These are YOUR cards, right (Doctor Sloth)?"

"Yes. That's right. Sorry. These are my cards." She winks at me. Everyone sees this. Doug looks uncomfortable.

"How about 'Regular' expansion?" he offers. I miserably accept 'on my sisters' behalves.' When I ask him how much they cost he says "You know what? Don't worry about it." although judging by his expression I could have sworn he meant to add "it seems you have enough problems in life."

As I leave the store with Rachel, I swear I can hear the very start of an explosion of laughter behind me, just as the door closes.

...and that's the story of why I may never set foot in Paradise Comics again.

10 Things I'd rather Jam into my Eye than Write one more Fucking Assignment

A poem by Aaron Feldman

I sit amidst a heap of books
Completing essays due tomorrow
And wish instead they were rusty hooks,
That I may gladly end my sorrow.

Don't get me wrong, I like my eyes
And wouldn't want them mutilated,
But if it got me out of work I despise
In that case, well, sight's overrated.

I'd poke my eye out with a wooden cane
An envelope opener, a sewing machine.
Those cleaning detergents that take out stains.
A syringe needle full of gangrene.

I'd jam a fucking jagged rock
In my eyes if it meant I was done.
A corroded tack, a rubber cock,
Hell (why not?) a real one!

I hope I'm not coming off as a jerk
When I say enough's enough!
You can't expect us to do so much work
Come on, guys, we're just not that tough.


Sorry if it's a little rough, but it was written at about 5 in the morning yesterday, sometime in between completing my first and fourth assignment due later that day, while I was hopped up on Red Bull. Otherwise, the details are kind of hazy.

I'd say sorry for the 3 week lack of blogs, but guess what? I've been busy. I'll try to post at least something proper before exam crunch time.

So today marks the one year anniversary of my forays into myspace. Oh yes, oh yes. 365 days ago I put my fingers to the keyboard to begin my first blog. Now, 50-ish blogs later, I've surprised many people (especially myself) by remaining alive. Even more surprisingly, I'm still blogging... well, every now and then.

But how has this year changed me? How has this year affected me as a person? How has it prepared me for the (hopefully) several years to come? How am I different from the person I used to be so many months ago? How am I the same?

I'm sure that many of you are curious about these questions and more (actually no, just these questions), so in order to shed some light on them, I shall now revisit a blog I wrote in early April 2005. The use of italics means Aaron: One Year Later (i.e. now) is talking. Warning: this is a long one. I cut out a few questions, like the entire childhood section, but it's still long.

Monday, April 04, 2005
fun with surveys!
Current mood: Self-Conscious

First off what is your name?: Aaron.
One year later: I suppose not much has changed in this regard. My name remains Aaron, and I suspect it will for many years to come. Next question.

Have you ever fantasized about getting yourself cloned (either a same sex or opposite sex clone) so that you could date yourself?: No... well... no...
One year later: Okay, so apparently it's illegal to date your own clone. Now what the fuck am I going to do with all these stem cells?

Are you a good liar?: no
One year later: I am still a shitty liar. Thankfully, I haven't been in many situations where I've had to lie, so it's all good. Or... or is THAT a lie?

Do you like the girl/boy next door type?: yeah
One year later: Okay I'll admit it. I didn't even know there was such a type as the girl-boy next door when I took this survey. It was all a lie. But trust me, now I know better.

Have you ever dated the girl/boy next door?: no
One year later: What the fuck's a girl-boy anyways?

His/her mom/dad is pretty hot though, right?: What the fuck are you talking about?... yeah, kinda
One year later: No, even one year later I do not understand this question.

Do you believe in revenge?: Like, do I believe it exists? Yeah, I've heard of the concept
One year later: I recently discovered that revenge is, in fact, a myth used by parents to frighten children into, um, not scorning people.

Are you someone who believes that there is one true love for you somewhere out there in the universe?: nope
One year later: I'm not quite sure exactly how many true loves there are, but so far I've narrowed it down to no less than 5 but no more than 12.

And when you make decisions, would you would rather be fair or correct?: Don't get it
One year later: I think I kind of get it now.

At a restaurant, do you send food back if it's not what you expected?: No, cause I'm a pussy.
One year later: Yes, I am still a pussy. If you don't like it... well that's your opinion and I respect you for it, and will try to do better.

When you spend a lot of time alone with someone, you begin to think of him/her as: unconscious
One year later: haha oh man that was funny. I stand by that.

Lots of people fall in love for the wrong reason. Do you have dental insurance, hotstuff?: nice try, but that line only works on a fellow once.
One year later: Apparently, that line works on a fellow at least twice.

Give me your best pick up line: Do you have dental insurance, hotstuff?
One year later: It seems "I'm Ryan Malcolm" works just as well. Or "Wanna see how quickly I can solve a sudoku problem?" but that's a blog for another time.

Is love just A BIG FAT LIE?: could be... I'm a shitty liar, and I'm a shitty lover... Coincidence?
One year later: Another zinger from the Feldmeister. I'm liking me from one year ago.

Do you believe in love at first sight?: Nope.
One year later: ditto

For Blind People?: ha. I would never date someone who's blind. It would leave me open for too many insults... like "You got a girlfriend? Well she must be blind"... and I'd be like "Yeah.. yeah she is."
One year later: Just so you know, I saw Arrested Development AFTER filling this survey out.

If you like someone, do you usually ask them out?: Hell no. That would ruin the fun.
One year later: I need to work on that.

By Friday afternoon do you usually know what you're doing on Saturday night?: Warcraft
One year later: Needless to say, I've matured since then. Now, it's Web-sudoku all the way.

Suppose a girlfriend or boyfriend that you were really into said one day, "You and me just aren't right for each other," and dumped you right there. Did you notice the poor grammar?: Yeah, that's probably what brought the breakup about in the first place.
One year later: Now, I haven't had a chance to put this to the test, but I have noticed shitty grammar when people have messaged me, stating they were going to kill themselves. I'm a shitty friend.

Do you have an easy time talking to strangers at parties?: Yeah. It's getting them to respond that's tricky.
One year later: To be honest, I'm no longer "that guy who sits in a corner saying nothing." Well, sometimes I am, but I'm more often "that loud jerk who keeps trying to show people how quickly he can do sudoku problems." But that's a blog for another time.

If expense weren't an issue, would you want a cell phone?: yes and no... I'd want a cell-phone cause it'd be convenient, but I'd want something cooler. Maybe one of those Dick Tracy wristwatches.
One year later: Whatever. I got a cell phone.

Someone tells you you have great nostrils, you: Fall in love with them, but instead of telling them, agonize over them for years.
One year later: Sigh. I'll never forget her.

Do you talk to yourself?: hold on, I'll ask
One year later: Oh Aaron, you were a funny fucker.

If someone offered you a chance at the thing you wanted most in the world, but in exchange you could never tell anyone about it, would you take it?: yeah
One year later: You bet your sweet ass I would.

What do you do after sex?: wake up
One year later: fall asleep.

Would you rather shop for clothes with friends or alone?: Preferably with a naked woman, but realistically I'd probably do it alone. Hey! Just like sex!
One year later: Don't do it. Shopping with a naked woman is NOT all it's cracked up to be. Seriously, everyone gives you weird looks... oh no wait, that's shopping FOR a naked woman. Nevermind.

Do a lot of people know the real you?: no, they actually only know my stunt double
One year later: I showed a few people the "real me." They slapped me.

What kind of movies do you like best?: Ones that end in "-in City," or "-ar Wars," or "-ebbie does Dallas."
One year later: I'd like to humbly add to the list movies that end in "-ing Kong," but only the Peter Jackson versions.

Do you best express yourself through talking or writing?:both
One year later: Sorry, that was a cop out answer. I'm going to go with talking.

What's your orientation, big shooter?: straight! I'm straight!
One year later: No, I haven't gone gay yet. Fuck off.

Do you like someone taller or shorter than you?: depends. Usually shorter, or at least not freakishly taller. Or smaller. I guess anyone between three and seven feet is fine by me.
One year later: I change my answer to between two and eight feet. I'm getting desperate.

Now describe the perfect body for a mate: Pass
One year later: Still pass.

And be honest here. How often do you masturbate?: I'm a guy with no girlfriend. How often do you think?
One year later: I'm a guy with no girlfriend AND a lot more time on my hands. Look out world.

How many people have you had sex with?: Do I count?
One year later: I sure was good at evasion back then.

How many people have you performed on or received oral sex from?: ... Do I count?
One year later: Um. I sure was good at evasion back then.

Have you ever engaged in a sexual activity with more than one person at the same time?: no... and not at different times, either
Have you ever had sex with more than one person in the same day?: no
Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?: I think it's fair to say no
Have you ever been involved with someone who was married to someone other than you?: no
One year later: Still no

Do you believe it's possible for two individuals to have an emotionless, healthy, sexual relationship (i.e., sex like rabbits, but without all those lovey-dovey bunny emotions)?: Friends with benfits? nuh-uh.
One year later: Stand by that.

This pie tastes like my bird: man, that was lame.
One year later: You tell that survey.

On a scale of 1 to 10, please rank the importance of love during sexual intercourse: 6
One year later: 5.5. No, there's no significance to that. I just wanted to be different.

In a relationship what is least important; good looks, personality, or sex skills?: Oh for the love of God, I HOPE it's sex skills
One year later: Damn, still applies.

Do you own a midget who serves you sex in the night?: No, we had a fight over the dental insurance, hotstuff
One year later: A) That wasn't funny. B) We made up.

Is sex without love okay?: Sure
One year later: Why not.

Have you ever fantasized about being or being with a prostitute or stripper?: Nope
One year later: I'm surprised I didn't tie that to a joke about my then-most recent ex-girlfriend. Ah well, I'll get her next time.

Do you know how to fire a gun?: I think I've figured it out
One year later: I've learned this is not true. I don't know where I went wrong, but it was emasculating. Literally.

If you could shoot someone and get away with it would you?: mmm... dunno.. don't think so
One year later: Apparently I'd fuck it up and blow my nuts off.

Do you find thunder and lightning erotic?: No. What? No
One year later: A bit.

Would you rather "make love," "have sex," or "f"?: None. I'd like to remain true to the lord, thank you very much
One year later: I take that back. Have sex! Have sex!

Now pick three adjectives that best describe how you feel about yourself: let's see... A) Human-shaped B) Skin-coloured, C) Aaron
One year later: A) Spindly B) Orange C) John

And, on a scale of 1 to 10, how sexually attractive do you find yourself?: 10. I've never complained.
One year later: 9. I've only complained once.

There you have it. One year later, and I'm still the same smart-assed retard I always was. God, this is depressing. I'm going to go play some Sudoku.

So today was our tournament. Our team: Handsome Aaron Feldman Plus 5. Our game: Dodgeball.

Now, you're probably saying, "But Aaron, you're scrawny! You don't have a chance to compete in a dodgeball tournament! You'll be murdered!" My response to that is "Thanks, now WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT SOONER?"

I thought I was relatively in shape. Oh my god I was wrong. I mean, volleyball's one thing. I thought it was pretty rigorous, and involved lots of running around. Games would sometimes last for halves of hours. But Dodgeball. Oh my god Dodgeball. Dodgeball's a whole new, um, ball game.

The five D's of dodgeball are dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge. They got it wrong. They forgot die. And despair. And, uh, drag your sorry ass to the hospital.

We didn't do terribly. Well, considering. It was a double-elimination tournament, and we won a game. And we almost won another game. And, well, we lost a game in 56 seconds to Globo Gym (yes, there was an Average Joes too). Considering I haven't played dodgeball in over 5 years, I'm happy just to have that one victory. Ooh, AND I won a nifty U of W bookstore mug in a raffle.

Right now, though, every muscle in my body is on strike. My right knee has been yelling "why, Aaron? Why!?" at me for the past few hours. I'm actually typing this now with my pinky, because it's the only functioning part of my body I still have left. And I don't know what it is I'm coughing up, but it's purple.

Games last no longer than 5 minutes, and are as short, as I've said above, as 56 seconds. However, they're intense. There's nothing quite like seeing 6 jocks charge at you, each with a ball in hand, chanting "Ball! Ball! Ball!" Still, it was the sheer exhaustion that did me in. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have had that Harvey's burger with fries ten minutes before the competition started, but hey. Those are good burgers.

All that being said, FUCK YEAH DODGEBALL. Seriously, what a rush. Next year, I'll definitely be entering the intramural dodgeball league. I may have been dying, but it was great. AND it was quite a workout, which means I won't need a triple bypass at age 22 after all! Hooray!

Anyone interested?

P.S. The little counter on the side is telling me that this is my 50th post, but I dunno. I seem to recall it counting posts I've deleted, as well as times I've accidentally double-posted. But hey, YAY 50-ish posts.

I was having a conversation with Genny a little earlier today, and while I may be paraphrasing a tad, it went a little bit... a-like this:

Genny: So what are you up to right now?

Me: Not too much. Getting prepped for 24.

Genny: I was not aware that one could "prep" for 24.

Me: Yeah, well basically I just stare in the mirror and yell "FUCK YEAH" a couple of times... it gets me ready for when something awesome happens on the show.

Genny: Haha oh Aaron. You're the coolest guy I know.

Me: I know.

... She went on complimenting me for a while, to the best of my memory. But yeah, it's Monday. Monday, otherwise known as "I have a reason to live day," is special because, well, 24 is on. And 24 is special. I've been a loyal fan of 24 since partway through the second season, and even through the overall shitty fourth season.

Actually, come to think about it, every day of the week has at least SOMETHING going for it

Monday: I have a reason to live day (24)
Tuesday: I eat to forget day (Toonie Tuesday at KFC)
Wednesday: The pain is slightly less intense day (New Comic Book Day, AND Lost)
Thursday: At least I'm not the only one suffering day (Volleyball)
Friday: I don't go to bed wishing I had never been born day (TGIF)
Saturday: Escapism day (usually drinking and club of some sort)
Sunday: ...

Oh no wait. Sunday still sucks. Ah well. You gotta mix the good with the bad, I guess.

But where was I? Oh yes, 24. As I said above, I had been practicing my "FUCK YEAH" face for the better part of an hour, prepping for the show. But then I saw tonight's episode.

And here's where the spoilers start

It seems I had been practicing the wrong face entirely. I should have been brushing up on my "OH WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKERS" face, which is not dissimilar to my "SON OF AN ASS" face.

The OWTFYF face is complicated, but I think we can follow along with my step by step re-enactment.

Step 1:

"My what a lovely show. That Jack Bauer sure is a good agent."

Step 2:

"Hmm that's odd what's Tony doing with the-"

Step 3:

"Oh fuck no."

Step 4:

"OH FUCK NO! GET UP, TONY. GET UP! PLEASE!"

Step 5:

"OH WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKERS"

And voila. This should help you get through much of season 5 of 24, because holy shit, I've had to use that face a lot. Especially this episode, and I guess the last 30 seconds of last episode. Seriously, though. I guess one of the problems with season 4 was that nothing of consequence happened. Okay sure, the president got attacked and put in a coma and pretty much killed, but otherwise? Nothing. I suspect that Real Time productions or whoever got a lot of angry letters stating that they didn't kill enough people, because this time around they've gone insane.

This past season they've killed FIVE longstanding (as in, present in at least 2 seasons) characters (as opposed to the zero of last season), as well as the not longstanding but still important Sean Astin, who I was very sad to see go. Furthermore, this particular episode marked the demise of Tony, probably my favourite non-Salazaarian character of all time.

Of course, there's still some speculation as to whether or not he's dead. My main reason for thinking this is the fact that his death was so incredibly shitty that it could only be a fake-out. Sure, his character hasn't done much this season (he was in a coma for 11 episodes, according to Nate the former Roommate), but that only emphasizes my point. Why kill him NOW? Why did they have him survive the events of the season premiere, only to have him wake up and be killed? It stinks to high heaven, it does. Oh, and there's the issue of the lack of the "silent beep" if you watch 24 you know what I mean.

I guess now my favourite character is Aaron Pierce. He has the same name as me. FUCK YEAH!

Okay, first thing's first...



Anyone from Windsor interested? If so (you don't have to go to the U to play), drop me a comment. Or just talk to me, since odds are I see you regularly as it is.

Actually no, I changed my mind. Comment. The more comments I get, the more validation I receive as a human being and blogger. Oh, and include lots of kudos (alias profiles don't count, of course).

Speaking of alias profiles, there has been further development in the Petrina Situation. If you remember correctly, last we heard from her, my potential soul mate deleted her account for no apparent reason at all. I had abandoned all hope.

Well.

The other day, I received notification that I had a message from a "Kate." Hmmm, I thought to myself. Do I know a Kate? Well, actually, I know several Kates. But whatever. Here is what it read...

Subject: Hey baby
Body:
Hey Sweetie! What you doing today? Well, Your profile says your a pretty interesting guy and I would love for you to rate my picutures. Also I just put up my new Bikini photo shoot Pics!!! If u wanna check them out just click here wildcollegemodels.com/sandra so you can see my fotos!!!... Talk to u soon. luv ya

What's this? The two addresses are one and the same! There can only be one explanation. Petrina has for some reason created an alternate account with which to communicate. But why? Well, there can be no doubt that she is trying to reach me covertly. Perhaps her parents don't approve of our union. Perhaps she's been betrothed to another. Whatever the reason, I cannot allow that to interfere with our potential, nay, our inevitable relationship. Be strong, sweet Petrina! I "luv ya" too.

But enough about my love life, let's talk about hideously disfigured freaks (no, they do NOT go hand in hand). I'm sure you've all been assaulted by those annoying ads on myspace for that fucking movie. Yes, that one. I for one will be boycotting said movie (a remake, apparently) on the basis that it discriminates against nuclear radiation victims. And, more importantly, on the basis that it has made myspace really scary to look at.

Those ads are a little excessive, don't you think? I mean, not only is it on EVERY adspace on the site, but it's also the featured profile. As if you'd miss any one of those ads. You know it's going to suck, because the only way they can make the movie at all enticing is by flashing images so quickly that you can't catch anything and as a result realize how stupid those "monsters" look. Oh, like what's the deal with that little girl? Is that supposed to be scary? Oooooh, she looks like a fucking Teletubby. I'm quaking in my booties. Hell, I looked like that as a kid. Big Whoop.

Okay sure. I'm just too big a pussy to see the movie, yes. That's not saying much. I was too scared to finish the Goosebumps book with the killer piano. But I still think it will suck, in a Deliverance-meets-Isle of Doctor Moreau kind of way.

Let's not see that movie.

To begin, I'm sure you're all wondering how my date with Petrina went. It didn't. I blog before you a broken man. Perhaps it was something I said. Perhaps it was my overwhelming sexiness. Perhaps it was the barrage of phone calls at three in the morning. But whatever the reason, Petrina has deleted her account. Not only has her profile been removed, but so has her message, and for that matter any trace of her. She has, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist. What is it with girls who like me and not existing?

Eh, I gueeeesss I'll bounce back. I suppose I always do. I'm like a cat in that regard.

A cat that bounces.

It's reading week for me, which is good because school was getting to the point where I'd sometimes have to spend HOURS doing work. Like, on Tuesday night I wanted to get drunk and watch Lost after my night class, but because of a certain Contemp Lit Theory essay due the next day I was only able to drink until like midnight before I had to go home and start it. COME ON!

Anyhoodles, the thing I don't like about reading week is, well, the reading. Though I guess I shouldn't talk, having not started reading yet. But I will. Oh yes. I will. Okay fine, maybe I won't.

While my RW hasn't consisted of much reading, one thing it has consisted of is watching a shitload of T.V. Which leads me to the following:

1) Lost rocks. Hard.
2) Arrested Development rocks. Harder.
3) House also rocks. To a fair degree.

I gotta tell you, though. I tried to get my family into Lost earlier this week, and man oh man was that unpleasant. I suppose I should have been less forceful in trying to bestow upon them the heavenly gift that is Lost, but it was for their own good. Basically, I totally degraded their favourite shows, claiming mine was the one and true show for all occasions.

"Fear Factor?" I said to my dad. "More like QUEER Factor!"

"Miracles?" I said to my mom. "More like QUEERicles!"

"Queer as Folk?" I said to my brother. "More like QUEER as Folk!"

"ER?" I said to my sister. "More like QUEE-R!" While this one didn't sound spot-on, I said it in just a way that she'd know what I meant. It was clever.

This did not go over well. My dad, being a doctor, kept on pointing out that Jack must be the worst surgeon in the world, and my mom wouldn't stop berating everything. Here's just a snippet of the experience:

Dad: What the fuck did Jack just do? That's so completely wrong!

Mom: Hurley? More like GIRLY!

Me: Mother? More like SMOTHER!

Mom: Leave you in my will? More like leave you in my WON'T!

We have an odd way of communicating. But yeah, let this be a lesson. When trying to get someone to like a show you like, be nice.

Oh, one more thing. It seems my skills of a poet (or rather my participation in a reading way back on Valentine's Day) have gotten me into the Lance (University Newspaper) as well as the Leddy Website. There's even a picture of me on the site, crappy bed hair and all (it was an early reading). Hooray!

The newspaper article, while not the most professionally written (I didn't even get a picture. COME ON!), was kind of a neat thing to see. It's a big school, and I have yet to do anything worth noting.

Oh, and for your information, that poem is an AWARD WINNING poem. If after reading that last sentence you assumed that the award is probably from something trivial, you are right. I won the first "Only Annual English 371 Prize for Humour Ever." It was for my North American Humour class. We had to bring something funny to class (funniest item wins prize) and I only used the poem because I had left it in my jeans from the aforementioned reading. My main competitions came from a script (which I helped read from) about nerds, a DVD that didn't work, and a Bristol board some old lady made dedicated to her cat. I wish I were making this up.

Fuck, I should write poems more often.