sang: So I met these girls tonight that have just moved to the city...
sara: are they cute?
sang: sara, they're like 16.
me: are they cute?

Sara and I were checking out the night market in chinatown after seeing Dirty Pretty Things at tinseltown (review: smooo) when we came across some freaky looking cat figures someone was selling amongst the other tables full of junk.

Sara was feeling the fur when she asked if the fur was real. The seller said it was and when we asked what kind of fur it was, he replied that it was cat.

We both just started backing away slowly at that point.

A few weeks ago, eric and I were on our return trip on cypress when we saw a family ahead on the same trail. The area was quite rocky with a moderate downward slope which kept me watching my steps as to avoid any unwanted interactions between my face and the jagged earth beneath my feet.

The kid in the family ahead (whom I would guess to be around eight or nine) was moving about rather frantically for no good reason and then decided that he would run downhill. Because of my advanced understanding of physics (inertia + rocks = funny) I kept a close eye on the child as he picked up speed and found himself unable to slow down. He went down in a modest tumble and fortunately for him (but quite unfortunately for the evil inside me), his pride seemed more hurt than his body when he got back up.

Once we had hiked out of range of the family, I started laughing out loud and expressed my disappointment that he wasn't hurt more severely since a lesson is only as good as how badly things go.

The point of this story is that kids are dumb and that I am a bad person. Can anyone disagree based on this anecdote? I doubt it.

Swords are cool!

white modern samurais are cool too!

Is the only point of multigrain bread just to make you poop?

Back in highschool, my friends and I would go hiking on various trails along the sea to sky highway and sometimes hit the taco bell / kfc combo shop (also known at the time as heaven) in squamish to finish up the day.

On one such visit, I was standing well away from the counter trying to decide between the meatless but fantastic seven-layer burrito, or the equally fantastic chicken burrito supreme (note: fantastic is a completely relative term after a six hour hike). While pondering my pseudo-mexican options, the washroom door flew open and a young child of unknown age (I never asked) came tearing out of the washroom at considerable speed only to collide with my still standing form.

As frightening as such an impact between this small child and myself may seem, he had the great luck of having my genitalia act as an airbag for his head as he plowed into me. I on the other hand reeled from the impact, clutching my nuts and cursing the small child as he quickly shook the impact off and continued to run off in his original direction.

I can't be the only guy who has thought about having sex with another man just so that when people roll their eyes at me for using the phrase "that's gay", I could say "hey, I would know."

Heard over a meal of tuna sashimi For the record, never tuna.

Sadly and prematurely, schizophrenic rock and roll legend Wesley Willis has passed away.

Rock over London
Rock on Chicago
Burger King, it's your way right away.

You could really rap your ass off.

Overheard:

I'm thinking that dropping the soap in the communal shower really shouldn't be that big of a problem if you learn to bend at the knees rather than the waist.

Have you noticed how people speak loudly when they have headphones on?

Well have you also noticed how those people sometimes fart because they think you can't hear it just because they can't hear it?

I was just thinking, that the grossest thing I could ever find in my slurpee would be someone else's tooth.

Seems the coaster pic was such a hit today, that I've decided to do a director's cut with commentary.

And yes, this is really (sadly) what was being said or thought during that drop.

The PNE turned out to be more fun than I expected, but I really didn't have very high expectations.

The food stands are just typical mall food fair stalls found elsewhere in the city but with reduced portions and jacked up prices. There's even less of a chance they wash their hands here though which raises the excitement factor.

The showmart was depressing; An entire warehouse of garbage being peddelled to an adoring public. Fran and Jo said the grilled cheese sandwiches made in the "toast-a-bag" tasted like the bag. I don't think they meant that the bag tasted like real butter though.

The ladies were puzzled by the odd cameltoe sported by the dude in Wave. After they pointed it out, it was hard to focus on anything else on stage.

I can understand why the animals in the petting zoo seem so unenthusiastic. They get molested by strangers twelve hours a day (particularly the sheep).

The PNE is also surprisingly ugly. I don't think I've ever seen such a high concentration of unattractive people in the lower mainland evar.

The coaster never gets tired. Of course, I say that after riding it only once this year while under the influence.

As expensive, depressing and crappy as the PNE is, it can still be quite the adventure with some cool friends and a plan just to get out there and give'r.

I really don't have a good explaination for why we're going to go see wave at the PNE tonight.

Maybe those little donuts, the hotdogs and the chance to buy household products (like a super chamois) that will revolutionize my life is enough.

As fun as summer bbqs are for most people, they usually end up being a fairly tiring experience for myself.

At almost all bbqs that I attend I invariably end up manning the grill because:
1. I am good at grilling
2. Most people are not.

On top of my simple understanding of food science, I'm also a picky bastard when eating anything. I have an innate inability to stand by while burgers and steaks are overcooked and chicken is burned beyond recognition. (good food = good times)

I really only have myself to blame though when I find myself sweating in front of a woefully maintained and inadequately hot hand-me-down grill with burnt fingers from using a fork as my only grilling tool.

Truth be told, I don't actually like sluts that much.

Some might disagree, but I generally think of myself as a fairly generous person (time and effort mainly, but financially as well).

For much of my life, I've said yes when I wished to say no and attempted to do well for others but things are changing now. I've started to slip comfortably into a skin that denies people their requests within my power and to put myself at the forefront of my energy expenditures.

What's worse than this newfound selfishness is the fact that I think I like it.

I've now officially seen enough zombie movies to know that I don't like zombie movies.

Plot is sketchy at best and i can't seem to get over the fact that people seem to love fighting the undead who cannot be killed (again).

Unless I were armed with a totally sweet sword and a neck brace (to prevent infectious zombie bites), I think I'd just try to outrun the zombies and let someone else deal with them.

Does anyone know of any gun ranges near vancouver irresponsible enough to let the nuge and I rent some guns and shoot the shit out of some targets?

A few beers, some beef jerky, and I can just feel a good ol' time coming on.

Particularly high on my list of thoughts currently, is the odd popularity of the toilet as a vomit receptacle.

I myself have hugh reservations about sticking my face in the toilet to puke, mainly because I'm very aware that the toilet is also where my ass goes to work. But the sink is likely to get clogged, and the bathtub is no place for vomit, so where in the home is the best place to puke?

My favourite location so far has probably got to be over a short brick wall I was able to lean over, keeping all the vomit splash well away from me while supporting my spasming body.

Upon realizing that dinner tonight had become more foe than friend, I decided on the unpopular but very wise idea of intiating a front side ejection of the meal.

Since I didn't have a bottle of Sunny Delight around to induce the vomitting, I had to rely on my trusty right index finger to pull the handle.

Despite the evasive maneuvers though, I could still have a long night ahead of me.

One morning last week I realized again how much I'd still like an ipod while waiting for a bus with a blue rodeo cd in my player but fountains of wayne looping through my head.

So I found myself at london drugs with ren telling me not to, but my heart unable or unwilling to let go of that sexy little mp3 player.

This was probably the best use of too much money evar.

Probably because I'm a huge geek (I really want a nintendo power glove), I've got a soft spot for DEVO.

There's just something ultimately cool about synth driven geek angst.

Arnold runs for governor.

To quote Conan the Barbarian:

Some of the best advice I've ever gotten:

[13:11] Sheena: here's some advice
[13:11] Sheena: girls don't like to be called "big boobs"
[13:11] friendster slut: what am I? an idiot?

I called her sweetpants

Fran and Tracy are back and we went to Red Robin to celebrate the return of the now married couple.

Almost the entire table ordered clucks since they seem to be the only truly fantastic thing on the menu but unfortunately, we didn't order the cockrings this time around.

Fran and Tracy got me a pack of meat stickers and a "Sex In Progress" lamp/sign from amsterdam. I'll post pics when I get em.

We managed to catch Snoop Dog's doggy fizzle televizzle on the tele last night, and fo shizz, its fuckizzle terribizzle.

I've had a chance to get back into the local hills for some hiking lately and it reminds me again of why I think so little of the Grouse Grind.

The grind is an overcrowded, overhyped fitness trail. It's boring, ugly, expensive ($5 to ride the tram down vs free), and unrewarding unless you can improve on your last time up the hill. What's worse is that people bring their unprepared young children who struggle up the grind.

The grind is a popular benchmark for fitness bragging rights, but it's a poor training ground for the sedentary. There are less painful and smarter ways to get fit than a once a week trip up the grind.

For some good, beautiful local hikes check out virtualvancouver and bcadventure.

Call me crazy, but I've been wanting to try Olestra based products for years. The FDA has finally dropped the requirements for olestra products to tell you on the package that your ass might leak from consumption, but health canada had already rejected olestra as an addititive, leaving me olestraless (and with a relatively stable ass).

With modern society's current obesity problems, less harmful alternatives seem to be the only way to counter the lack of will power or control people have over their diets or lifestyles. Considering the increased costs of healthcare for the unhealthy (I'm canadian), I think it's fair that if a lazy fatass can't control his/her greasy chip habit, he/she should have to contend with weeping anus syndrome.

On the other hand, running 20km a week says I can eat fried chicken whenever I feel like it. But then again, I would surely try olestra fried chicken given the chance, especially if I had to do so while wearing a diaper.

I'm sore enough all over today that I'm really craving a massage.

Some peeps I know find it too weird to have a stranger touching them in their special places and while it's a little weird for me, as long as they don't try to slip me any roophies, fingers, or penises, I think can deal.