Lost in thought while making dinner tonight I realized that since my site viewership had extended beyond people I knew personally, there might be quite a few people who don't realize that my tales of sexually assaulting the neighbor's pets (and other tales of mischievous urban life) are purely fictional.

In reality I tend to think I'm fairly well adjusted and wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless of course, that fly were wearing sexy glasses and a skirt, at which point anything goes.

While grabbing some lunch at the crystal palace near metrotown yesterday, my mind was blown like a dick with $40 by a shirt this chinese was wearing.

A grey longsleeve with a large red rectangle containing a white circle, a perfectly tilted black swastika in the middle. I shit you not, this dude had a full on nazi flag on his back, and a red swastika on the front.

Now I'm aware that all chinese generally love hitler like rice and pork, but I couldn't believe this saturday afternoon delight. Luckily I had my trusty (well, it's actually kinda shitty and semi-broken) lomo on me and started my well practiced stalk and snapped two pics. It might take a little time before I finish this roll and get it developed, and they might be kinda blurry (the lack of auto-focus is a drag when I'm taking upskirts as well) but hopefully when you see them, you'll be inspired to get one of those shirts too.

Hasbro is using Britney Spear's 11 year old sister Jamie Lynn in some new ads where she sings and dances and shows that america is just catching up to Japan in the pre-teen masturbatory idol concept.

Not more than twelve months ago I was reflecting on Britney's slutification of young suburban teenage girls but now we get to start before they even have breasts (unless they've been drinking lots of hormone laced milk and meat).

Time to get a tivo and some lube.

Eric sent me some web strokage in the form of an archive of all the playboy centerfolds ever and maybe it's the whopper with cheese I just had or the residual feeling of disgust I have after hanging out with ryan, but these playboy pics aren't really doing it for me.

Some of them monstrous titties are downright scary and the overly teased hair just isn't my thing. Maybe they just look too plastic to even create the illusion of a real woman.

I think I'll stick with honey and pass on the aspartame.

I'm a stat checking web geek and having people link to this site is a particularly cool thing for me. It justifies my life's mission and qualifies amoral and reprehensible online behavior as something worth wasting minutes, hours or days of your life reading. It's a nod of approval that this display of stupidity and wrecklessness has a place in our society alongside drinking and driving and unprotected teenage sex.

I'm really glad you're all here to wallow in my mental filth. It makes me feel warm and tingly inside. Actually, it feels more like a burning sensation.

I'm ten pages into Tony Bourdain's book 'A Cook's Tour' and I'm already regretting all the sociology and physical and cultural anthropology courses I took in college. What the fuck did I learn about anything checking out baboon asses and homo erectus (haha) skeletons? I should have been in kitchens and restaurants stuffing culture into my piehole, learning the history of peoples through their food.

For something you do three +/- times a day (eating, not masturbating), it's a shame not to love doing it (you can love masturbating too though).

Wanna know a little secret of mine? Watching a good show on the food network really, really turns me on.

late night addendum: I've devoured another 50 pages and I'm blown away. This is one of the best books I've read, possibly due to its unflinching authenticity. No bullshit, just food and feeling laid out like an open wound. Bourdain's writing is fresh, avoiding excessive wordsmithing, providing a real, raw and honest account of his food fueled travels.

Maximum respect to sang for lending me the book.

Marisa Tomei is on conan tonight. smoo!

I thought my kitchen was on fire.
But it was just my neighbor.
Having a barbeque.
In late september.
At 9pm.

further to this: My room now smells like smoky meat and while I love meat, I don't generally like me or my room smelling of it. I usually find myself needing to bathe after consuming korean bbq or a perfect bowl of pho (thang long, 3388 Main St) washed down with a moan inducing vietnamese iced coffee with condensed milk. I'm sure stinking of meat would be a turn on for american girls, but silly me lives in assault rifle and terrorism free canada.

Currently riding high on my list of surprises not really worth experiencing: Finding someone else's used band-aid stuck to your bare foot.

Maybe I'm just the king of anality to get all riled up over spelling on the internet.

A piece of spam just got through my mail filters because they couldn't spell mortgage properly. Kids these days can't differentiate between 'your' and 'you're' and no one can spell rediculous [sic] correctly.

On the bright side of internet stupidity, kids are still calling each other gay which cracks me up cos calling people gay is so gay.

on a totally different thread: Nigella likes her steak black and blue (charred outside, bloody as hell inside). What a magnificent woman.

Sang didn't seem very interested when I brought up the idea of going on a double date with him and sara. Seems I'm supposed to bring a girl too.

While taking Sara for her first clucks and greens experience at Red Robin, sang, fran and I were once again drawn to the phallic tower of onion rings and dip that we came to call "the cock rings" for obvious reasons.

I briefly considered how utterly juvenile we were as we giggled as families enjoyed the cock rings together, seeming not to notice the resemblance.

Just found out my resourcing at work next week is at 183% (meaning there's 73 hours of work for me to complete). Luckily for me, I've got a Total Recall-esque Kuato growing out of my chest who has also learned to code. We're going to make a great duo.

edit: fyi, I dress him in baby gap

extended morning remix: punk kittens and doll cats?

The observer has a great piece on Conan O'Brien whose self-deprecating geek humor contributes greatly to my late night posts and lack of sleep.

I must have been watching him since high school summers, loving Pimpbot and the masturbating bear for obvious reasons.

I like to think I'm a good enough writer to convey the emotions and feelings I pack within me fairly well through words, but the feeling that first taste of coffee (SBC tall double americano, sugar, cream) this morning gave me escapes my grasp.

Actually, maybe it's like a warm moist tongue dancing around my rim.

The viff is closer than I thought, and Miike is back with : You'd be amazed how many cute young japanese chicks come out to the Miike movies despite their over the top violence and craziness. Some even bring their moms, which leads to the most impure of thoughts.

So we're into our second year here on this blog, and it's reflection time.

My logs (on the site, not the ones in the toilet) say there's about 85 visits a day. Subtract 10 for my personal testing and updating, and we're at an incredible 75. Incredible because I only have about two friends, only one of which has an internet connection. So strangers come and maybe even return to my little site reading all the sordid details of my web persona's life, while I sit at my various desks wondering who those visitors are and more specifically, what they're wearing.

My nyquil shot is kicking in. It's amazing how something that tastes so horrible begs to be consumed by the bottle alone while sitting in a tub wearing nothing but your underwear. There's something to be said for easy cleanup.

[16:17] cnott: why are you looking at domokun asses?

It isn't always easy to explain to your co-workers with a sight line to your monitors what exactly you're doing.

The Urban Fare down the street from my place of employment is now selling coffee beans that come out of a cat's ass. The cat eats the coffee berries, and shits out the bean which is then collected and roasted for your drinking pleasure.

Asking price is $600 per pound and despite the fact that I'm pretty open minded about food, I don't think you'll find me drinking this particular brew. I'm going to have to find who's buying these beans so I can see if they're the sort that also enjoys giving cats rimjobs.

One of the many treats I miss from my childhood was the much maligned crystal pepsi. Sure, a clear cola is pretty crazy, but it had a crisp clean cola taste like no other drink at the time. It also prompted one of my favourite SNL skits ever, crystal gravy.

On a mildly related note, I had a bottle of cherry coke yesterday after scrunching my face to the sight of wild cherry pepsi and without doubt, a fountain mixed cherry cola from the templeton on granville is superior. You just have to hope you come in on a day that the coke mixture out of the fountain is spot on. Lime cordial & coke also is heaven on a hot day, and a vanilla cola made with a good vanilla extract and regular coke will kick the crap out of that foul chemical mixture released recently as vanilla coke.

Story of Ricky movie meets the Story of Ricky T-shirt.

Buy the Story of Ricky from cnl.com.

I like sushi and I like naked chicks, but for some reason the "eating sushi off of naked chicks" idea found in Showdown in little tokyo isn't the most appealing thing in the world to me.

Getting naked in an outdoor hot tub with Dolph Lundgren and then fighting ninjas sounds like it could be pretty fun though.

Some of my favourite restaurants have always been the tiny family run joints that serve up homestyle comfort food for only a handful of dollars.

One of those that I chose to have my birthday dinner at two years ago was a little korean shop where dinner for five was ridiculously inexpensive. We crammed into booths of aged orange vinyl and feasted on radioactive bulgogi, wonderfully translucent jap-chae, and bbq'd short ribs, savouring each bite that dared to overwhelm our tastebuds. That wonderful little shop closed down months ago which broke my heart. The place was named 'Home Sweet Home' and against all commercial cynicism, it offered a sense of that better than so many "finer" restaurants in town.

My surviving favourite in town is Mirasol, on 16th, just 20 meters west of Main st. The pumpkin interior of the place is the warm up for what lies in wait. The food is the south american comfort equivalent of oven baked macaroni and cheese; sweet potato fries, a blue fruit juice that screams of pumpkin pie, and assorted stews on rice that make you want to curl up in bed with a stupid happy smile afterward. They also make an amazing chilli sauce, one that I sometimes dip a spoon into to taste unhindered by an edible transport device.

There's no punchline this time. No reversal of fates. I just want you to eat there and keep another family-run restaurant in business so that I don't lose another piece of my history.

dhky had a vicious serve against fran as they battled it out in photoshop tennis.

Maybe not the most artistically groundbreaking match, but definitely hilarious. Don't forget to check out their last encounter.

There's something about smells that trigger memories like nothing else; the sweet scent of a girl's hair that brings vivid visions of her back to life, or the scent of oil popped corn in an overly warm old theatre. For a moment, you just disappear into the past and get to relive a few precious seconds of lost history.

On the other hand, the rotting bag of garbage I passed on my way home yesterday didn't really evoke any memories I had been missing.

I was hoping to avoid a 9/11 post because I try to keep this blog strictly about two things: jack and asses, but I caved.

It's tragic that civilians paid the price for their government's follies, but civilians around the world have been brutalized by american foreign policy for much longer and sometimes in much more frightening numbers than the 9/11 attacks.

Pharmaceutical factories destroyed to leave thousands of children to die of curable diseases is hardly any less barbaric than flying an airplane into a civilian structure. Maybe the only difference is that those victims are colored people who don't speak english, love their children, or love jesus. Maybe it's easier for us to sleep at night that they die offscreen.

While I certainly sympathize for those who lost lives, friends, or family in those attacks, those lives were hardly full karmic payment for America's economic and political prosperity.

I was given a movie pass for one after spending half of a long weekend in the office working on a project.

I think I'm gonna see if I can get to third base with myself while watching the country bears.

Dooce just got married. Despite the fact that some of my visitors openly tell me that this is their favourite blog only due to the demise of her site, I still like her lots.

A few years back in a cabin in mission, a fairly adversarial Jim and I were involved in a drunken fight that concluded after he responded to me biting him in the ass with a punch that just about liquified one of my eyes. The boys pulled him off and wrestled with him a bit, after which he went down to the nearby lake and threw up a bunch while I nursed my swollen face inside.

It's a little odd how that was the catalyst that made him one of my best friends.

A few halloweens ago, I was at a party where some of the guests had brought along a ouija board. They were outwardly convinced of the powers of the ouija and did their best to convince the rest of us, obviously pre-planning some of the answers the spirits would provide.

Ren and I, in a coup against the netherworld, used the opportunity to re-enact one of our favourite spacemoose strips. The crowd seemed rather unamused.

This week I've reached two years of employment in the web industry, which seems a long time considering the current economy.

I attribute my success to my ability to bend forward at the waist and my strong knees.

Summer is almost over, granting me cooler weather to sleep in and the promise of gourmet pumpkin pies to come.

There's something about that creamy spiced custard that spells comfort like no other in the autumn months while sitting around a kitchen table with friends.

I can also remember how my friend rob puked out a pumpkin pie and a half when he went flying in a cessna too soon after consumption.

One day during grade 4, I saw two horses having "relations" in the field next to the school.

That was pretty cool.

From this article: McDonald's isn't killing him, darwinism is.

Best t-shirt evar!

from spacemoose.com

Everytime I meet a girl, I tell myself "I'm going to marry this girl".

This way, if I ever show up on a TLC wedding story, I could honestly say "when I met her, I told myself 'this is the girl I'm going to marry'" and I'd look all sweet doing it.

The wonderful cleaning people at the office were kind enough to replace the greasy fingerprints that had inhabited both of my monitors with a beautiful pattern of greasy swirls.