Pre-2010 Resolution(s) - a work in progress

(1) Develop an uncanny habit of trying to make an attempt at staying in slighty-better shape. Layman's terms: run 20 minutes every morning.

(2) Shoot fire from my hands.

What My Friend Thinks of Me on my Birthday (today)

What my friend Angela says: (in response to me asking for a pony for my birthday)
"A pony? That's lame. I thought you'd be more of like an man eating fish type of guy."


What I thought:
"A pony? That's lame. I thought of you more like a MAN-EATING FISH type of guy."

TOP LIST BIRTHDAY PARTY WHOOOOOOAAAAAAAAA BOIIIIIII

"I'm Back, Babydolls!"

I'd like to point out that the title of this post is a quote from my personal favourite episode of How I Met Your Mother (Season 1, Episode 10). Unlike HIMYM, however I will not spend the next 8 months of your lives needlessly baiting and switching. Grumble Grumble.

Readers, please take note of some new stuff from wa-a-a-a-a-a-ay back in June and July that I've only recently gotten around to posting just just now now.

School starts up again in about a week's time, so look forward to a full-fledged year of reading about Alley Icemen (Here). Be back in a bitty.

Impractical Theme day: Awkward Ninja Day!

(To the whimsical jingle of the Apple Autoglass ads): Awk-ward Nin-ja Day!


AT THE OFFICE PARTY:
"Dammit, Dave wore exactly what I wore!"

DURING HIDE AND GO SEEK
"I can't find anybody!"

ON A SUNNY DAY
"Black was a bad choice"

CAREER DAY AT NINJA ACADEMY HIGH SCHOOL
"What are YOU going to be when you grow up?"

ON INTERIOR DESIGN
"Why is my house soundproofed?!"

June 21

Grumble.

As much as it would seem I hate to admit it, it is as though Hamilton is my "natural environment" when it comes to keeping my loyal readers (who are, admittedly, in dwindling, dangerously low numbers) satisfied. No song aptly - at the time - named "Of a Week". No more poetry from a yesteryear Me, one full of envious, boundless energy and enthusiasm about the most juvenile things and convoluted romanticized visions of "love". There's actually this one where I compared love to skating. I know, right? Ridic. And this other one? It was about how many different varieties of the colour green there were. Da-dum.

I've posted two videos on facebook in the meantime (well, three, but two of them are just version 1.0 and 2.0 of the same...'unique skill'). But vlogging - wait, that's what the video blogging Portmonteau is? That is weak - is not my sort of thing. Especially not with the limited filming space my laptop gives, i.e. a room that resembles a 7-year-old's nursery, complete with poster of the original 150 Pokemon, as well as a ludicrously expensive Transformers Optimal Optimus on my shelf, adjacent to now-dusty and forlorn houseleage soccer trophies of a once-former glory...and next to a toy car playset of, of all things, a parking garage. How exhilarating.

But wait, who am I honestly trying to kid - my FisherPrice Parking Ramp Service Center?
It is The Shit.

Of Plating (of a meal. not, like, armour-wise.)

Coincidentally, I was at my friend Laurel (see last post title)'s birthday party, where, upon reading the appetizer menu, an idea burst forth into my brain -- one of intra-plate food placement.

Please turn your attention to Figure A, the chicken finger.

Figure A: ordinary chicken finger

And now, please turn your attention once more to Figure B, the chicken FREAKIN' HAND.


Figure B: EXTRAordinary chicken fingers

Wonderful. Wonderful wonderful. The dipping-sauce 'palm', by-the-by, is a mixture of three parts ketchup to one part mayonnaise, as demonstrated by my dear friend Adrian. Who sadly is no longer with us. Because he is in Halifax. Away.

Also, those blue and red lines are supposed to be veins and arteries. Because when I began this crude and thoughtless MS Paint job I started sketching my right hand, despite having to use it to control the delicate Paint mouse handling. Unsurprisingly, this plan went completely FUBAR almost instantly, when I realized that drawing the back of a hand is really boring. So really, this is a juxtaposition of 'a right hand, but if the palm of the left hand was instead replacing the ex-palm of the right hand'. That's right. Ex-palm. Outer palm? It's a good thing I'm not studying physiology.












Teehee.

Enough of me idly sitting on the laurels of my 50th post...

Back to 'work', it seems.

Lots's beens happening the last month or so. I have a girlfriend now (!), so that's pretty neat-o (easily the biggest understatement of 2009, but I just feel like mincing words today). Have a job for the upcoming summer months. shrug.

I guess this impromptu time to re-begin blogging again came at a bad time. I'm supposed to be studying (a-ha! driving lessons, right, forgot about that) right now, using my poor man's version of a homemade steering wheel to simulate -- a broken extension cord as the wheel, with rolled up newspapers criss-crossing through it acting as the 'spokes' and the horn. Yes, it is as diobolically crappy (yet crafty) as they come, and I've had to rebuild it once already.... but it'll do for the moment?

The thing about blogging is that I choose to refrain from using emoticons to directly showcase how I'm feeling while I'm writing this. As I'm sure many blogs do...the ones I read, at least. Suffice it to say, it's safe to assume that most of the time there is a stellar, handsome young man with a world-wide smile on his cheeky (in terms of behaviour, not cheek-size) face. But you can't see that I'm currently sick. Blargh. It's the flu, I think. I've displayed all the listed symptoms that those handy public transit buses have displayed to me: sore throat, loss of appetite, runny nose, fatigue, sore joints; more, or less.

Nobody likes being sick (2nd nominee for biggest understatement of the year), and I wholeheartedly agree. T'were it a physical ailment that I could see with my own eyes? Yeah, sure, okay, I guess this voratiously lobotomized left kneecap sticking out at a -23 degree angle could stop me from going up and down stairs. But anything that's making you sick from the inside out (save the flesh-eating bacteria, that is the polar opposite of the 'bee's knees', bar none. relatedly in the 'would-literally-go-crazy' bin would be 'having words tatooed to the inside of your eyelids'. imagine seeing something forever, indefinitely? it must'nt be too hard to picture, just close your eyes, clear your head and....oh wai- YOU DON'T SEE BLACK (your eyelids, duh) YOU SEE WRITTEN TEXT. how utterly messed up must that be?! forgetting for a second the procedure itself of tatooing legible things on the inside of an eyelid, just, just....wow. didya want to go to sleep, and rest those weary eyes? n'uh uh. crazy.) I feel is much worse, particularly for morale and psyche.

Oh, and I re-activated my old neopets account from 4-plus years ago. To nobody's surprise, my griffin pet is "very very hungry".


Listening to: Jenn Grant's Echoes.

50th Post

Wow. What a journey it has been.

There are roughly 365 days in a year. Why do I bring this up?
Because at the current velocity of posts per day, I am going at a measly 50 (published) posts per 310 days, which works out roughly to 1 post per 6 days.

For SHAME, AIH, FOR SHAME!

To commensurate this being the 50th's post, I shall strive to indulge you, my loyal (if imaginary) readers with a more accurate, more up-to-date, and more riveting account of my life if at all humanly possible.

ADDITIONAL INTERESTING INFORMATION ABOUT ME

This evening was my first-ever time of wearing contact lenses, a feat which is significant in itself because I have been one of the most staunch supports of the Toronto Chapter (or, at least, within my meager 700 or so friends on and off of Facebook) of Glasses are Awesomer Than Contact Lenses Or Laser Eye Surgery.
GATCLOLES.

*<Mandatory Musical Interlude>
Nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah
nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah
nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah
nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah
GATCLOLES!!!!!

Anyways, they're a set of monthly disposable contacts that I'm to begin wearing today for 3 hours, and increasing my dosage by an hour every following day to get myself used to them.

Not going to lie, having lived my entire glasses-wearing life (so, the past 11 or so years?) with glasses, it's....it's pretty mesmerizing; in particular, looking into the mirror and realizing you can see yourself clearly without anything on your face?

It's something, I tell ya.




*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P46bQNssQWQ
A timeless piece of TV Mastery. Wooooo.

Hups! Last Post was a Lie

So it turns out that my life might actually involve more than just mindless job-hunting (read: have a job interview soon, so that 'hiatus' was a) a load of bullshit, and b) a self-proclaimed omen of near-immediate future awesomeness. in the job world. not so much elsewhere.)

I was milling about the house today trying to hook up my wireless internet when I realized I was missing a rather key piece of the puzzle, the elusive power cord. I figured the bigass black power charger thingy for it was in my now empty-garage (my brother having since taken possession of the 'family' car, which I guess provides a reasonably stupid excuse for why I haven't learned how to drive yet. other than my chronic laziness, laissez-faire attitude to driving and my adoration with public transit. actually this past week more than ever I've been agitated that I can't drive yet, for numerous reasons, the most pressing of which is 'I want to go places by myself when I want to'). Anyways, I happened upon one of those ridiculous door-frame-supported chinup bars my friend had lent me (......for an indefinite period of time in exchange for no money. like what my friend THE_REAL_ADRIAN does with the magazines in his high school library) and in true 'what-the-hell' shoulder-shrugging curiosity, I thought I might try me some P90x.

Having done the pre-warm-up training test thing they recommend (so you can't sue their asses when you tear or break something in your body during the actual workout), albeit several months ago, I started off with Part 1: Chest and Back in my basement. I used a:
-makeshift soft sorta-like-a-doormat mat (for the following Ab Ribber X workout. more later.), which I'll definitely need to replace with a professional one, if I continue
-bottle of water
-friend's chinup bar for push-ups (but not chinups, because I was afraid it might tear down one or more doorframes. and a wall. because my house is old. olde school.)
-lawn-chair type chair
-two bags full of heavy encyclopedias to simulate weights

To sum up my first real P90x workout?
"Holy what the incredibly painful bageezes sore sore sweating like a woolly mammoth did NOT want to believe I was that out of shape tired burning muscles slightly dizzy need a hot bubble bath in one of those Japanese bath houses or a nap but it would have to be an X-TREME nap"

That host guy is ridiculous, but he sort of grows on you in a cocky way, like you're directing all the anger of not having chiseled sculpted abs at him and his talkative sneering face.

All in all, one of the better workouts I've had the last couple of months, namely because this past year the focus had definitely been shifted towards academics. One thing to note is that the chinup bar works wonders for doing pushups, because without them my wrists began to become sore just pushing up off the floor.
Will update you all as things (hopefully ripped abs and muscles; and not muscle tears, a loss of self-confidence, and subsequent crying) develop!

On Indefinite Hiatus

...until I find a job and sadly, once again, become an actual contributing member to society. Darn.

Intermission

The outright best part of that word? Mission. Such is life. This, in particular, is the Intermission of the hiatus you all have been experiencing.

As you might be able to deduct, I'm on a bity of an unofficial unannounced hiatus, although it isn't anything to worry and lose your hair about.
Unlike the Great AlleyIcemen,Here Hibernation Hiatus of Winter 2008/2009, in which you, my precious readers, were caught in a 3+ month drought of the oh-so-essential, life-altering, perception-shifting blog posts from yours truly.

On a related note, it appears Springtime is in the air, and all around.
Indeed, it is time to, as they say, Soak Up The Sun.
A truly ample opportunity for Workin My Way Back to You.
(These pitiful excuses for Spring- and seasons- themed musical puns are brought to you by the absolute lack of songs or bands in my iTunes having the word Spring in them. Clearly, Winter and Summer kick Spring's rainy ass in Season Popularity contests, and it's no wonder why.)

In lieu of my posts, I am more than happy to redirect you all once more to my dear friend Stephanie's blog (http://www.fightthemasses.blogspot.com/)

I'll be back posting just as soon as my exams finish up.
BE EXCITED!

A 'Heroes'....rap?

And so we begin another session of Embarrassing Past-Mike Disgraces of poetry/rap-istry.
....Oh golly does that last word need some major fine-tuning.

This injustice of everything sacred about poetry came to me in a dream; although more accurately, in a Facebook discussion topic some time after Season 2 finished about what I can only assume is "how to rhyme something involving Heroes":



Oh Doctor S., Mohinder's dad, on your quest to save the world
Didn't think you'd make us have to save a cheerleader girl
Thought you found somebody special, and unique in their own way
Telekinetically broke a glass; presenting, Gabriel Gray
Just a watchmaker's son, not fixing watches for fun
Thought his parents were so boring, he wanted to be someone
Intuitive aptitude, was Gabe's original power
But he took Brian Davis' life and TK within an hour
It was only just beginning for this villain to arise
He stole abilities, decapitating people in disguise
Inspired by a watch, like Zodiac, he's insane
Sylar's got a twitchy finger, like a bullet with your name

At Kirby plaza, a day after Petrelli's landslide
New York's going radioactive, with nowhere to hide
Peter's about to go Ka-Blamo, Sylar just smiles wide
Suddenly Hiro stabbed him; "Yatta!", it looks like he died
But before he kicks the bucket, he flings Hiro in the sky
Life flashes before him, sees all the people he murder-fied

'Save the cheerleader, save the world' was the point of Volume One
And Volume Two begins with another eclipse of the sun
Candace makes illusions, some that Sylar thinks are real
But twelve surgeries, and total loss of powers was the deal
He was picked up close to death in Claire's new stolen car
By Alejandro, Maya and the dude from California(r)
They made it to isaac's loft, all the way in New York
He stole Claire's blood but soon Elle made him abort
We preview Volume THree and see him lie in the alleyway
Homage to Popeye grabbing spinach and all he's got to say
Is, "I'm back."

Prideful (Opposite of Shameless?) Plug

As much as it would amuse me (and very likely, only me), I sincerely doubt Prideful Plug will grow into a catchphrase. Then again, I would hate it to be my gravestone legacy:
"Here lies Mike. He made up an impractical synonym of an already well-established phrase. I pity the Foo'"
Please do visit my dear friend's blog,
http://fightthemasses.blogspot.com/
It is an absolute delight.


music of the moment:
Glasvegas - Glasvegas, A Snowflake Fell

Homonym

In regards to my "What Good is a Wounder Cougar?" saga...

Does the meaning of the poem change if, instead of referring to 'a member of the Felidae family' (thanks, Wiki), I was talking about 'an older woman who seeks relationships with younger men' ?!

Discuss.

Story with a Moral

So my friend 'Kraal En Mu'* is currently in a transition phase in the aftermath of her turtle being microwave'd (spoiler alert. but not really.).
EDIT: She's also in a transition phase with her name. So stay tuned.

In light of such recent traumatic events, she has been given due sympathies from both friends and strangers alike. Unfortunately the latter has been much more prominent. Namely upon the prospect of "maybe we could hang out some time and make s'mores....in Chatham" by one particular man with an affinity for lightning bolt symbols. (Side note: lightning bolt CYMBALS?! How intruiging. How drole. How banal. Further research is warranted.)
Now I don't even know where to begin to guess where Chatham is. Thankfully Wikipedia can help cirsumvent** this process and was able to give me an idea where it really is: in the middle of Nowheresville.

Being the dedicated, handsome, charming, responsible, witty, excessively hot friend that I am, I relayed my concern to her about how remarkably remote and far away it was from where she lived. Horror upon horrors, she exclaimed the now-ingrained-in-my-mind phrase, "he could like, [assault] me in a.....FIELD and no one in like a 500km radius would know!"

This soon thereafter dissolved into an intense follow-up along the lines of:
"bringing an [assault] whistle would be pointless...because no one would hear it"
"stray dogs might hear it?"
"but only if they happen to be in the field you're being [assaulted] in?"
"that's pretty much the only chance then isn't it."
"and then the dog has to hear it and interpret it."
"and then run to its master..."
"but it's a stray. it would have to be captured and housebroken and such."
"right."
"and that's 500km away."
"what is?"
"the distance from the [assault] to the to-be master of the former-stray dog."
"the master himself probably lives on a separate farm another 500km away."
"by the time the master understands what the dog is barking about, and gets to you, it will have been several days of you and him alone in a field."
"entire days and nights and numourous passings of the moon will have already occurred by then."

I think the moral of this story, when you boil it down and tenderize it after several hours of marinating, is:
DON'T GO TO CHATHAM.


*very Indian Jones-y. on a related note I am Jonesing for some twizzlers and/or red vines.
**well done, Arrested Development. you are now part of my daily vocabulary.

This Is.....CAKE TOWN!*

So I've been coming down with what I thought was a fairly serious case of Inappropriate Timing Sore Throat, immediately before a job interview, and less than a fortnight before my final exams.
But, hark, alas, visa-vie, concurrently, carpe diem, ergo, ergo ergo, this morning I feel perfectly fine! Such a false sense of health security lead me to undergo the only logical option: eat cake for lunch, before I get even sicker.
Thankfully, my mother does an excellent job of misinterpreting "could you maybe get some Cinnabons on the way home?" for "I would like a large variety of several different types of delicious cakes that look way too expensive for their per-gram value".

There was an interesting show last night on SpikeTV (unfortunately, I had to settle for 1am showing. which obviously does wonders for my lack of sleep, as it is.) called Deadliest Warrior. In this series premiere, top-notch military/combat and ancient-weapons-experts (this has since taken over my #1 spot for In-Theory coolest but In-Real-Life most impractical unless-they-do-crazy-historical-or-Discovery-Chanel-esque-specials-on-it-every-single-week jobs ever. but I digress.) and a UFC doctor serve as judges while experts on two great historical warriors try to out-prove that their warrior was the deadliest of them all.
The promise of violence, as well as historical/technical/scientific influence in the show will keep me watching for a long time....or until they invariably run out of warriors and end up having to do a Deadliest Living Thing spin-off, featuring Grizzly Bear vs. Viking vs. Velociraptor (that's right. 3-way battles, bitch. freakin The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly sorta stuff.)


*http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNqiSkd1M6k

A La-dee-da Day

Today was somewhat of a wash.
Woke up at 11am, and in the process, missed my one, only, and last-of-the-semester class of the day, phooey.
Followed closely by an always-grueling 3ish-hour commute back home, because of a job interview tomorrow.
I'm rather happy that there's snow outside, as well as forecast for the coming week. It's a very light layer outside, with just a bit of wind, which translates to my kind of Walking in a Winter Wonderland. I would like to draw that kind of distinction - walking in winter is nice, but at the same time, I don't exactly have a fancy shmancy good-looking pair of winter shoes/boots that I wouldn't want to be coated and ruined in road salt. Indeed, walking in either a Winter/Autumn wonderland (what would the latter consist of? would that kind of imagery involve walking on a leaves of brown, yellow, orange, all crunching under your feet? and certainly there wouldn't be a Spring version. becaues when I think of Spring-walking, there's usually a lot of rain and a lot of mud, which obliges you to wear those magificent monocolour rainboots. my friend actually has a silver pair of those boots; because, predictably, all of the ever-popular-throughout-the-history-of-not-only-bootmaking-history-but-time-itself YELLOW ones were sold out. And summer walking? well that's obviously for bare feet.) would be something pretty special.

For the sake of archiving some old poems (and to give more ammunition for public ridicule from you all, the readers), here is:

The Powdered Snow I Know is Cotton Balls
The powdered snow I know is cotton balls.
Choir boys pass door-to-door outside, singing Deck the Hallss
Busy mothers, fathers, children, crowd and overstuff the malls
How soon we miss the colour changes of the leaves of Autumn, Fall;
Or, at least, I do.
When green turns yellow, orange, red and brown (but not a hint of blue).
Brisk strolls along sidewalk paths, winding down through public parks
Having the sun set so much sooner, daytime stolen by the dark
Shut your eyes when you walk outside, treat softely with your feet
Soft crackling, crispy, crunching leaves; potato chips between your teeth.

A Thought, and a Discussion Topic

The Thought
How do stalkers make a living?
Like, those uber-professional, not-working-for-tabloid-or-People-magazine stalkers that manage to evade said stalkee's security guards/expensive alarm systems into their homes?
That said, how do you even attain those skills in the first place?! Surely not all security can be bad.
So now we're accounting for a) the stalker's tools; and b) the stalker's crazy army marine corp -level skillz (that, indubitably, do not pay the billz).

And they say we're in a 'recession'.

Topic
Would you rather have a girlfriend named Meady, or Meaty?
Con for both: they both rhyme with "needy", and "greedy" which is a joke that practically writes itself and needs no set-up
Pro for both: ....(coming soon)

Discuss.

Extension of a Barney Stinson HIMYMism

So recently, my friend 'Kraal En Mu'* has been going through some rough emotional stuff (think along the lines of 'my annoying little brother put my favourite pet turtle into the microwave'. although I shan't reveal if that's what actually maybe might likely have happened. moving on...).

A rather famous and oft-quoted expression from an episode of How I Met Your Mother is Barney Stinson's uplifting quote:

“When I get sad, I stop being sad and be Awesome Instead. True Story.”

So; my friend has been feeling pretty bummed out, and while I tried in vain to relate this message of Awesomeness to them, I mulled it over, and thought that there must have been a better, clearer and more concise way to project it. Maybe in a sock-puppet, Lite-Brite, or otherwise visual form?

In a bold move (bold in such that, I will likely never get physically around to it, but I'd like to at least put this idea out there, you know? just cuz? anyways...), I thought, 'why not a POSTER!'

A-ha!

And of course, it had to be original and new and unique-- no offense, of course, to the brilliant minds behind HIMYM's poster featuring Awesome fighter jets. Big Ups to that. Here is my idea thus far (if you're reading this, a drumroll is mandatory):

i) A 2-panel comic-esque poster
ii) First panel: there's a cat, hanging ever-so precariously off a tree branch that's about to snap under the cat's weight, and the cat is damn scared shitless; how in the world do you not feel Sad for this cat?
iii) Second panel: there's the same cat, and you see him falling off from the now-snapped tree branch, into a......(Wait For It).....PILE OF TUNA FISH BELOW, because you know, cats love tuna fish; how could any sane person in the world not feel Awesome for this cat?
iv) Conclusion: Sad transforms seamlessly into Awesome

*oh, I wish

Quotational

"Are you saying I'm a buzzkill?"
"Oh, nonono! You're like the total opposite! You're like the buzz....ness......generator"
"More like the Buzzness 3.0 Galactica"

Stay tuned for a rendition of Marvin Gaye's Ain't No Mountain High, likely inebriated.

What Good is a Wounded Cougar (first draft)

Found it!
Criticisms, cynical laughs, put-downs, hootin' and hollerin', and comments are very welcome; NAY, they are...encouraged.
A comment I myself would like to make is that it appears (again, I haven't looked at this poem in months) that I became stuck in an infinite loop of asking endless silly questions, in some sort of the-half-brother's-cousin's-transvestite-college-roommate's-neutered-stepfather's-hypoallergenic-cat's-former-owner's-twin-sister of Shel Silverstein...style.


What Good is a Wounded Cougar
What good is a wounded cougar?
What good is a hole-y boat?
Or a midget giraffe, or fingerless gloves
Or a castle's one-foot-three-inch moat?

What good is a polar bear without the white?
What good is a driverless Mercedes Benz?
What good are the moons and the skies and the stars
If cracked, broken, and smashed is my telescope lens.

What good is a beaver without his sharp teeth?
What good is a gardener without his grass?
What good is sand, heated, thousands of degrees?
(Well actually, then, you've made glass).

Indian Food for Dinner

This is an interesting observation that my friend J.C. regarding Indian food that I hitherto was not aware of: according to him, Indian food is different in that, when eaten, the food would appear to build up, rather than be semi-instantly broken down (thus, leaving more room for the oncoming all-you-can-eat madness to ensue) like with AYCE ribs or sushi or KBBQ. Suffice it to say, I was uncharacteristically surprised, but only probably because he was talking about food.
And lo and behold, he was right! Dead on! Hammer-on-nail, baby!
I pride myself in having a freakin supernatural metabolism, and I gotta say that this Indian buffet put up a formidable fight! With AYCEs I typically eat to about the 80%-full amount, but this food was just not going anywhere fast.
In fact, I can still feel it this morning, even right now. I woke up, and said aloud "Wow. What a horrible windy crap day it is outside. And daayum am I still full". True Story.
That being said, the food quality of said Indian buffet was a few steps above "solid but unspectacular", and $13 for a dinner buffet is not something you should pass up lightly. Once I find their name, I shall officially recommend them.

LC!

this just in,
"Los Campesinos! on April 1 at the Opera House completely blew my mind away"

Venue was small, quaint, and very...non-distracting-from-the-stage, I guess? I don't even know what I'm trying to say with that sentence. The show itself was outstanding, and was like experiencing a syringe being plunged directly into your heart full of air (with out the accompanying symptom of death) and GARGANTUAN AMOUNTS OF RAW UNMITIGATED ENERGY AND SCRUMTRILESCENCE. Despite having only roughly 80ish minutes of (official, anyways) music (that I myself have heard of so far), each song they played was full of energy and liveliness. As a parable analogy to my overall experience, to me it was like "ordering pancakes for breakfast, but instead, everything wonderful and amazing and spectacular that the depths of one's childhood imaginatino could possibly conjure happened isntead, followed closely by banana pancakes."

Rainy Friday*

Rainy Friday, get out of bed at seven A.M.
No umbrella; so like Slumdog, I think I'll phone a friend
To pass by my house and drive me to my classes
Carpoolin' is more VIP than backstage passes
He drives so chaotic, like a Mountain Dew rush
Takin' chances, getting messy, like the Magic School Bus
Yo, my name is Mike and I'm freestyle wrapping
-Up this week with some additional, repetitive rapping.

werd.



*a la Lazy Sunday...but too lazy to actually complete the song**
** how ironic

Viagra commercial theme song?

(Depeche Mode)' s
"I Just Can't Get It Up"
doo, doo, doo, doodoodoodoo
doo, doo, doo, doodoodoodoo
doo, doo, doo, doodoodoodoo
doo, doo, doodoodoodoodoo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiG2VeNkLuE

Note To Self

To appear normal under the pretenses of public social gatherings, never substitute the sound of regular laughter, with rambunctious utterings of 'LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL...'.

It's not as cool as it sounds in your head.



Signed,
LiFA

SO EXCITED that I could FIGURATIVELY crap my pants, and then have to LITERALLY clean it up!

My dearest friend S.G. managed today to procure us some tickets to the upcoming Los Campesinos! concert this coming April 1st (no foolin').

Perhaps one of my all-time favouritest bands ever (....well, for the moment at least), this upcoming event will probably eclipse even a Solar Eclipse on the list of Most Important Things I Have to Witness Live in My Lifetime. And yes, I'm fairly confident those sort of eclipses come once every 200ish years. IVE DONE THE MATH, ladies and gentlemen, and I've got to say: I'm pretty freakin pumped.

Also, thanks to a not-so-recent recent viewing of I Love You, Man (one of two movies I've had the unfortunate pleasure of having to pay money to see in the last several months), I've developed a tender, fostering adoration for Rush that I haven't felt in a long time. Just thought you all should know.

Listening to:
Rush - Moving Pictures, 2112, Snakes and Arrows

On hiatus until the weekend; busy finishing last term paper

Boy Poison = Boysion?

that is all.

An Aside

Re-reading my last post, I can't believe I didn't notice this the first time:

"Manly Feat Accomplished of the week..."

well, MORE LIKE

"Manly feat. Accomplished - Of The Week"

Be warned. This going-to-be-song is gonna be SIIICK.

Feeling very manly today. Also a little bit like my heart stopped (the bad kind, not the falling-in-love kind).

Manly Feat Accomplished of the week?

Eating....

Wait, no.

DeVOURING (yes, much more like it) a 5-patty burger at Wendy's. Affectionately known as "A Grand Slam plus a Single", I've pretty much dominated in Restaurant Food Chain Baseball Anecdote BINGO. I would absolutely love (my mouth says yes, but my clogged arteries and heart say no) to see, and of course, eat, whatever they make to be an In-The-Park-Homer. Funny but probably dangerous: my heart stopped for a hundredth of a second. True story. I feel as though it was a sign....that I should be doing this much more often. You know, under the "if it doesn't kill you, it makes your stronger" premise. That way, when your friends say "awh man, I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow", I can stand there and *beam*, because I know that:

YES, WE CAN.



listening to:
Billy Joel - The Stranger
Jamie Lidell - Jim

All-nighter. 'Bout time to try that 5-hr-Energy drink I've heard so much about...

Easily the most disappointing-based-solely-on-its-name Mac course ever: Sports Economics.

A close second place: a Gemstones course that doesn't feature any physical viewing or handling of gemstones.
Course-Name-Misnomer Fail.




listening to:
Raphael Saadiq - The Way I See It
The Rolling Stones - Forty Licks

she's a hooooOOOOOoooooooooonky tonk woman
indeed

Shameless Plugs! (but not of the hair variety)

http://swagbucks.com/?cmd=sb-register&rb=405022

do it

(this post is also a concerted one-man effort to keep the blogposts-per-day ratio at 0.5. hmmm. in brief retrospect, nobody likes decimal places. day-per-blogposts? day-per-posts? dpp?

RECONSIDERATION OF RATIO RENAMING'd in progress)

Prospective Summer Goals

i) Collaborate a series of raps/poems/general rythmicalities that I've concocted over the years.
ii) P90x. but only for like, half of it. but I shall refrain from calling it p45x. for all of our sakes
iii) go hammock-ing...for at mimimum of several weeks
iv) blog more

"More like Quotation!" - friend's yearbook Quotes page

M.Z., on entertaining guests to the house: "*sniffs* Goddamit, it smells like....CHILDBIRTH in here"

Vincent VanGoghPod

I just love saying that out loud.

Listening to:
Apples in Stereo
Neutral Milk Hotel
Dispatch

My Definition (of a Boombastic Jazz Style)

That title is wildly inaccurate, by-the-by. But it was the only spur-of-the-moment thought that had the word "definition".
My REAL definition I'm going to define is Cruelty

Cruelty (n.): Not, not being not physically able to 'not', no; but having the intention to but not the wherewithal or steadymindedness or prowess or time to drink merrily on St. Patty's day.

As it turns out, I have a term paper and 3-midterms-in-26-hour marathon [side note: I'm having a freakin field day with hyphens. hypen-orgy. THERE, I've done it again. they're so damn practical].

On the thought of St. Patty's day, in spite of the formidable workload ahead of me, I gave myself a one-beer Beer Allowance. Believe you me, were I a better man, I could have made that a Portmonteau and made it stick. Alcohollowance? Alcallowance? Ergh. 5/10 and 2/10.
As I related to a friend recently,

"I would love to have lived my life so, so gloriously, so epicly, so full of wonder and love and everlasting joy and excitement that people drank merrily on the day of my death. Or birth. Whatever St. Patty's deal was."

Listening to now

The Police
Beatles discography

'Just the Regular'

A near-the-top-of-my-list priority in my life is to visit any certain establishment (restaurant, coffee place, bar, sperm bank, etc.), see the receptionist/barkeeper/cute-coffee-girl, smile and maybe wave, and shout out "just the regular, ____".
Not only do I not think it's a sad reflection of me not going out and visiting new places, I think it really builds and cements that near-unspoken relationship that you, (me), of all the people who walked into that TimHortons/___&Firkin/St. Joseph's Sperm Bank inc. , you (you) would remember me (me).

But lo and behold, it happened to me today!

Today like just now!

I ordered my 'typical' morning breakfast from TimmyHo's, with a slight adjustment to be breakfast-in-a-bagel option (namely, the bagel); and almost as though it was second nature to her, the cute-cashier-girl said "I'm sorry, was that Sesame, or Cinnamon/Raisin [my regular selection]?"
I was extremely taken aback. Which is never a good feeling so early in the morning. Not at 'flabbergasted' level, but it was rising. My TakenAback-o-Meter 4000. Clearly.

Calmly, I picked up my breakfast from the end of the line and walked back home, to write this here post. I'm still, admittedly very mum about this whole ordeal...

MORE FEELINGS TO COME AS THEY OCCUR!


bonus quib:
(I have a penchant for leaving my house wearing my PJs with a pair of jeans over my notoriously this-is-obviously-pj-pants pj pants -- an act that I continued today, as per us..(ual). So, you now know: doublepants.)
Roomie: Hey, you heading out to TimmyHo's?
Me: Yessirree
R: Are you...are you wearing doublepants again?
M: Hey, shuttup, more like I'm wearing my Breakfast Efficiency Attire
R: Well maybe you should zip up your fly.
M: More like my doublefly

Sad

Much condolences to the family of Detroit Pistons' owner Bill Davidson, who died today at age 86. You had a helluva team out there in '03/'04.

R.I.P.

Present-Mike, in response to last post's Past Mike question of 'why not'

WHY NOT, INDEED

enlightning story. specifically LIGTNING!

so on the topic of friday 13ths, i would like to relate to all you ladies and germs (hah. old-school flashback laughs. up top!) of one of the strangest friday 13ths ive ever had.
i'm tempted to say "worst"...but i'll reserve that right until after today's friday 13th is over, lest it reads this post and exacts cruel, ironic revenge upon me, and make today the Worst Friday 13th Ever. because heaven knows it would be aching to have that titular title:


So a week and a bit prior to this particular Friday the 13th, I'd broken up with my grade 7 girlfriend
(more specifically: she thought i was planning to dump her, and avoided that awkwad confrontation from ever happening by dumping me first. there was this extremely sitcom-esque finale of her asking for 'an explanation', me looking dumbfounded, and her throwing my $10 Roots necklace gift to her into my face. very cheesy stuff. almost Parcheesy-levels. worst part? she broke the necklace before throwing it, so i couldn't even use it later on (can i get a hella yeah for Regifting Efficiency?). gawsh. and Roots necklaces are pretty half-decent. well, at least way back then.)

so; i was hanging aroud the school hallways with some friedns before a school dance, pretending to be cool, and hip, and fly, and oblivious to the fact we couldn't breakdance (oh, but you should have seen us fail). ex-girlfriend sidles [is that a real word? it soudns like one.] up to me and asked if i'd wanted to dance, for old time's sake or something. being the eager-to-get-anything-i-could-get teenage boy i was, i said sure, why not...

(intermission.)

nothing good ever happens after 2am

"SHE FUCKIN STOLE MY FUCKIN JOJB BITCH PLEASeee
LIKE WHAT THE FUCK MAN
I WANNA KILL TIHS DANNA BITCH
SHE WORKED WITH ME LAST SUMMER AT ACPERS
AND SHE REPLIED AGAISNT ME
and then i BLAAZED TONIGHT And i was TRIPPIN ballz
were you standing in the room the whole time??1 I AM FUCKIN HIGH
i havent blazed since september"

Found

80-gig black iPod with Van Gogh iPod skin and hot-pink headphones found along Spring Garden road in Halifax, Canada in or around February 16th, 2009.

Reply with WHICH Van Gogh skin print it is, and your address, and I'll mail it back to you, no jokes.
If only because this person's collection of artists is almost identical to my own itunes playlist.
Respecognize.

Best part of cupcake tuesday? The tuesday. Followed closely by the other thing.

Cupcake of the cupcake tuesday day: Skor
4/5
deeeelightful

Listening to: Sam Cooke, Portrait of a Legend

listening to right now:

Jacksoul's "Still Believe in Love"
followed closely by Jackson Browne's entire discography

i love you, speedy metabolism

so that last post was a nigh pretentious, and all wrong. but only because I have since misplaced my Cougar poem. so, until that gets found

I ate a considerable amount of food tonight, the details of which I am not at liberty to divulge, because of the onsetting food comaaaaaa
but if you ever go to the Bean Bar, in Westdale, Hamilton, Ontario, make sure to
a) order yam fries appetizer
b) order The German cake for dessert. you may or may not regret. advice: bring a friend

later today: my progress of What Good Is a Wounded Cougar, and Others

get excited!

back-ended much?

breakfast: nada, nothing, zilch
lunch: slice of bread
dinner: footlong Subway sub, 2x 2xcheeseburgers, 10pack of nuggets, chugging from my comically-oversized-water jug/bottle/tankard

Listening to: The Police
at the behest of my housemates, and the impending food coma setting in, I shan't sing+record+post my sing-a-long rendition of Roxanne. these are sad days, indeed

BACK, babydolls

Recently I've discovered the dictionary-official word to describe the otherwise unwieldy power of smashing multiple words together in a Frankensteinian fashion -- Portmonteau!
I'd like to highlight one especial Portmonteau that my friend 'Gate Sine'* so cleverly and unintentionally created:
PANADA

It was like my mind was exploding with a hundred thousand illegal Mexican firecrackers! The possibilities were.....actually, rather endless-less. Not 'endless', as you might think. Maybe the creative juices just weren't flowing that day. I could actually only think of one thing - Panda + Canada
And as such, in the michaeleese (a-ha) spirit of infusing rhythmical jibberjabber into anyandeverything, I made up a stirring little song (to the tune of O Canada):

O, Panada!

"O, Pan-a-da!
My black, white, foreign bear!
You're an endangered species, but no one seems to care.

Ailuro-poda melano-o-o-leuca,
Is your scientific classification.
You're so goddamn cute, when you eat bamboo
It brightens my day just like UV radiation!

I'm sure that you'll agree - let's update our toonie
O Panada, I want you on my currency (insteadofthepolarbear)!
O Panada, I want you on my currency!"

*I wish