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Monday, September 26
Do you know what this is?
This is what I got this weekend. What is it, you may ask? Well it might be a crapload of electrical stuff from my faja. Hoorah closet space! What is their use, you ask? Twofold: presents for pretty girls and WDR's (World Domination Robots). Go Me!
This is what I got this weekend. What is it, you may ask? Well it might be a crapload of electrical stuff from my faja. Hoorah closet space! What is their use, you ask? Twofold: presents for pretty girls and WDR's (World Domination Robots). Go Me!
Sunday, September 25
And now it's time for:
Jokes with Fil! (applause)
Now... If you expect grade A humour, you're not getting it. This isn't even paid. You're lucky to even have me! Bah.. stupid crowd. Let's get this over with.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pool?
A: Bob.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a hole?
A: Phil.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pot?
A: Stu.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs on the floor?
A: Matt.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs with a pen in his mouth?
A: Drew.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs holding up a car?
A: Jack.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs hanging on a wall?
A: Art.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pile of leaves?
A: Russel.
Horrible? Yeah that's what I thought. But you probably wanted an update. So there you are.
Jokes with Fil! (applause)
Now... If you expect grade A humour, you're not getting it. This isn't even paid. You're lucky to even have me! Bah.. stupid crowd. Let's get this over with.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pool?
A: Bob.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a hole?
A: Phil.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pot?
A: Stu.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs on the floor?
A: Matt.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs with a pen in his mouth?
A: Drew.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs holding up a car?
A: Jack.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs hanging on a wall?
A: Art.
Q: What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pile of leaves?
A: Russel.
Horrible? Yeah that's what I thought. But you probably wanted an update. So there you are.
Sunday, September 18
So I was just minding my own business, reading my fan mail, when I notice an ad on the side. Most ads are pretty stupid, and therefore ignored. But this ad was so stupid, so blood-curdlingly annoying that I had to write about it.
It was an ad for date.ca. That's pretty much all I ever see in hotmail anymore - ads targeted towards balding middle aged men who have no luck with the ladies. Honestly - how hard is it to get yourself your own date? People have been doing it for centuries. Did I meet the greatest girl in the world through an electric box? No - I met her in this place called reality. You see, in reality, you don't get to sit at home on your ass safe behind your computer screen - you're there, with people. You have to deal with acceptance and rejection both. You have to show people who you are, rather than just (graciously) tell them.
So I have to wonder - how many people worth dating go on those sites? If they're not capable of getting a date on their own, chances are that nobody wants to date this person. So why would you go looking for your soul mate on the internet? I conclude that that is not the purpose of internet dating.
It was an ad for date.ca. That's pretty much all I ever see in hotmail anymore - ads targeted towards balding middle aged men who have no luck with the ladies. Honestly - how hard is it to get yourself your own date? People have been doing it for centuries. Did I meet the greatest girl in the world through an electric box? No - I met her in this place called reality. You see, in reality, you don't get to sit at home on your ass safe behind your computer screen - you're there, with people. You have to deal with acceptance and rejection both. You have to show people who you are, rather than just (graciously) tell them.
So I have to wonder - how many people worth dating go on those sites? If they're not capable of getting a date on their own, chances are that nobody wants to date this person. So why would you go looking for your soul mate on the internet? I conclude that that is not the purpose of internet dating.
 | This is the ad that roused my ire. Why? Because it's a perfect example of what I've been saying. What do you think this person is on here for? Probably because she was kicked out of the bar for good and has to get her lovin' elsewhere. Maybe she's being paid for it. But what bothers me most about this ad is the "Real People - Real Love" slogan. This honestly makes me want to nuke earth - that we seem to think that we can find Real People (needless to say, real love) over a site that's out to make money. And take a look at the picture of "Tamara" - she's probably accentuating her two "best features" right there. If you don't know what I mean, then I'm not explaining. But anyway, why do you think she is on this site? I'm pretty sure, by evidence of the picture, it's safe to say that she's looking for someone's pants to get into. I really don't like that they're using the cover of "Real Love" for this, so I've gone to the liberty of making a new ad. |
 | Now this is a little more along the lines of truth. Why don't they just publish mine? There seems to be no moral qualm with it. Why have the bullshit front? In fact, they'd probably get more customers this way. I can honestly say that I am thoroughly sickened by these kind of ads. Ads don't usually bother me in general - our economy depends on them. But why do they have to cheapen society like this? Why do they have to show just how low humanity has gone? Oh yeah, I forgot - it works. |
Friday, September 9
Ahoy all! I have boldly ventured to the land of Toronto. Hooray.
Anywho, since I'm sure everyone is dying to know how my appartment looks, I thought I'd give you a virtual tour...
This is the kitchen. It rocks. It's got a lot of shelf space. And Sushi Jr. who isn't quite able to be seen. He's our pet fish. He's lived for about two years, apparently. Props to him.
This is a shot of our dining/living room-ish area. It rocks.
This is the other half of our living room. It rocks. And that is my housemate Sam. He is very hyper. And if you'll look to the right of the photograph, you'll see a portable kneeler. It also rocks. Get this - it even turns into a CONFESSIONAL!
This is Brad's room. It rocks. Since this picture was taken, he has decorated with much cacti.
This is Sam's room. It rocks.
This is Dan's and my room. It rocks. Since the taking of these pictures, I have decorated with Napolean Dynamite posters. They also rock.
This is my cosy desk where I happen to be sitting right now. It rocks. Check out the lava lamp. Oh yeah.
This is my bathroom. It rocks. I bet you wish you had your own bathroom. Bahahaha.
This is my closet. It rocks. This is where I keep my shoes, clothes, and unmentionables. Oh, and the bodies.
This is a shot from our balcony. It rocks. Basically, if you walk out onto our balcony and look right, this is what you'll see. Our neighbour apparently has stocked up in case of nuclear warfare.
This is the view from the 9th floor. It does, in fact, rock. Not too shabby if I may say so myself.
Sorry about the massive amounts of images here. Well actually, I'm not sorry. Get cable.
And one final comment I must add - a lament for Mr. Marbles, the gecko. You see, when we were talking to administration before we came here, they specifically said NO PETS. Like, it got to the point where we were worried about bringing Sushi Jr. However, upon arrival, who joins us in the elevator to the 9th floor but two old ladies with their DOGS? Whoever DID let the dogs out, anyway? Anywho, Mr. Marbles is Brad's pet gecko. By the time we realized that nobody cares about pets, Brad was already on his way. Poor Mr. Marbles.
Anywho, since I'm sure everyone is dying to know how my appartment looks, I thought I'd give you a virtual tour...
This is the kitchen. It rocks. It's got a lot of shelf space. And Sushi Jr. who isn't quite able to be seen. He's our pet fish. He's lived for about two years, apparently. Props to him.
This is a shot of our dining/living room-ish area. It rocks.
This is the other half of our living room. It rocks. And that is my housemate Sam. He is very hyper. And if you'll look to the right of the photograph, you'll see a portable kneeler. It also rocks. Get this - it even turns into a CONFESSIONAL!
This is Brad's room. It rocks. Since this picture was taken, he has decorated with much cacti.
This is Sam's room. It rocks.
This is Dan's and my room. It rocks. Since the taking of these pictures, I have decorated with Napolean Dynamite posters. They also rock.
This is my cosy desk where I happen to be sitting right now. It rocks. Check out the lava lamp. Oh yeah.
This is my bathroom. It rocks. I bet you wish you had your own bathroom. Bahahaha.
This is my closet. It rocks. This is where I keep my shoes, clothes, and unmentionables. Oh, and the bodies.
This is a shot from our balcony. It rocks. Basically, if you walk out onto our balcony and look right, this is what you'll see. Our neighbour apparently has stocked up in case of nuclear warfare.
This is the view from the 9th floor. It does, in fact, rock. Not too shabby if I may say so myself.
Sorry about the massive amounts of images here. Well actually, I'm not sorry. Get cable.
And one final comment I must add - a lament for Mr. Marbles, the gecko. You see, when we were talking to administration before we came here, they specifically said NO PETS. Like, it got to the point where we were worried about bringing Sushi Jr. However, upon arrival, who joins us in the elevator to the 9th floor but two old ladies with their DOGS? Whoever DID let the dogs out, anyway? Anywho, Mr. Marbles is Brad's pet gecko. By the time we realized that nobody cares about pets, Brad was already on his way. Poor Mr. Marbles.
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