Many years ago, we (probably ren, jim and I) paid my friend ted a few dollars (couldn't have been more than ten) to apply tiger balm to his scrotum. (this is what guys do when the ladies aren't around)

For those unfamiliar with chinese therapeutic ointments, tiger balm is a jar of napalm that brings so much more burning pain where applied that you forget about the original milder pain that you were encountering.

Seeing how ted's balls were fine in the first place (I assume. I didn't check personally), the burning sensation enveloped his nuts and replaced only the normalcy they had been experiencing previous. He spent some time doubled over and I felt satisfied that my money was well spent.

While clucks and greens (chicken fingers and salad) with a groovy smoothy is par for the course whenever fran and I manage to get to red robin, it's always the cock rings that still get the most attention.

How many years were these assholes able to fool children into believing that the toy laser blasters they sold them could really affect a linear broadcast?

I'm glad now that my parents weren't proserous or stupid enough when I was a kid to buy me that crap, since I'd feel all stupid for admitting that I thought I could change the way a cable signal or VHS tape played out because I was shooting lasers beams at my tv.

Did the kids with captain power on VHS even realize that no matter how good they were at shooting the baddies that the episode would always end exactly the same way?

him: i wish i had a camera right now. the hottest chick ever is at my house.
me: the hottest chick evar is at your place and you're talking to me on icq?

While the movies I usually attend at the film fest almost always attracts smoo asian girls, they also seem to attract an equal number of tall people with huge heads who particularly enjoy sitting in front of shorter asian dudes (a la me).

With the low screen and necessary subtitles, I feel like I'm in the speeder level of a bad star wars game.

Chris and I got along well from the beginning because he's a nut, and I have a thing for big english hands.

I've always liked his work more than him as a person though, and it seems his best pieces are usually a result of his injuries through him being a careless twat. I seem to have missed this particular piece though which is gorgeous, and really shows what a dumb shit he is.

It was a relief to find that brent owned a copy of legends of the fall, since i thought I was the only guy to like that movie.

I received a piece of spam tonight that started out with "your job sucks".

Spammers know everything.

I was tricked into buying a big gulp instead of the smaller and more reasonable regular gulp at the sev today. All I really wanted to do was taste diet vanilla pepsi and that I accomplished, but I got back to my desk with 32 ounces of soda in front of me.

Who the fuck needs to drink 32 fluid ounces of soda? (not to mention the 1.8 liter size available as well). I stared at this abomination of good sense, relieved at least that had I switched to diet sodas months ago (which rene assures me will give me cancer (colo-rectal no less)).

Western excess will kill us all.

I think I could watch Top Gun a hundred times and not get sick of it.

That said though, I really don't know how kelly mcgillis was cast as the hot instructor that mav would fall for.

Sang commented on the bags under my eyes last week which are a result of sleeping ~6.5 hours a night. It's not that I don't have time to sleep, but I'm cursed with a mind that races a million miles (or is that kilometers?) a minute upon waking.

Unfortunately, my mind racing is much like a car; I'm not really getting anywhere, I'm just burning gas and going around in circles (with blog content being one of the few useful side effects). When I get over my cold, I'll get back into wearing myself out physically or maybe just play with a plastic bag until I suffer brain damage enough to put me to sleep easier.

Hopefully though, I'll just find something worth staying in bed for.

While having dinner at the edge of chinatown, I saw a mouse scurrying across the floor in front of the massive tv situated as the showcase of the restaurant. I pointed out its presence to vic and he bent down for a look, seeing it pausing briefly before disappearing underneath the entertainment center.

It provided for a moment of amusement but didn't interrupt our dinner as we both have come to accept unsanitary kitchens as a fact of life and don't let them slow us down at all given that the food is good. The places I actually have gotten food poisoning from aren't the ones that seem problematic on the outside and I've seen vic pull a half inch bug out of his fried noodles and continue eating without incident.

The one time I remember being terribly shaken was upon finding a long black hair inside of a cake donut (noticed while already finding its way down my throat). I spat out what I could and had to reach deep into my mouth to extract the hair (which belonged to no one I knew). Having a strangers hair in your throat, simply said, is a violation of oneself.

The vancouver film fest starts off next week and I'm lining up the films to see. Send me a communiqué électronique if you want to join me.

A Tale of Two Sisters - I'd hit it. (oct 7, 6:40pm)
Zatoichi - blind samurais, Beat Takeshi and Asano Tadanobu are awesome. (oct 9, 7pm)
Gozu - Miike Takashii is nuts and I dig it. (sep 27, 2pm)
Save the Green Planet - disturbing? perfect.
Memories of Murder - I have a terrible history with korean blockbusters, but that isn't going to stop me.

Take something cute, then make it really weird, and I'm sold.

With Gloomy Bear, Domokun, and those schoolgirl uniforms, japan really is the greatest place on earth.

Being the anime geek that I am, I sometimes pick up bootlegs when legit releases aren't available locally yet.

One of the funniest benefits of bootlegs tends to be the horrible quality of the subtitles on many of them, especially when there are english subtitles coupled with english audio tracks.

While watching Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust, the line "you don't know, put it down now you old fool" was beautifully simplified down to "stop. shit."

I really should be teaching english in asia.

Near where I work, there's a street cleaner who looks a lot like sammy hagar.

I was quite excited mainly because if it was sammy, I would just be relieved that he was still able to find work.

I stared at the shelf in front of me which displayed two packages (actually there were more but I only cared about the two) of basic dental floss. Fifty meters each and both for $1.99. One mint flavoured, the other plain. The decision should have been simple; I like mint flavour. I like mint flavor in my mouth. I even like mint flavour inbetweeen my teeth. Because I don't particularly enjoy the taste of emergency candles, plain floss is rarely found in my bathroom.

The problem I faced though was that the plain dental floss by Oral-B had a compact container with a rounded top while the mint Butler floss was housed in a rectangular kit out of the '80s. I stood staring at the shelf for several minutes, plagued by the dilemna of what my dental floss container should look like. This would be for use in the office to get those damned bits of apple skin I sometimes get stuck between my teeth out, so my coworkers would likely be witness to my dental floss choices.

I weighed the options for much longer than any sane person would have and ended up walking away with the cuter looking floss despite its lack of minty goodness. I understood at that moment that i had deviated well away from the path of practicality and had succumbed to cheap marketing tactics.

addendum: do scorpios always go for the wrong thing in the prettier package?

On another recent trip on the skytrain, I noticed how much of a turn on seeing a girl wearing white fleece was.

Realizing this, it suddenly made much more sense why new zealanders are so into dicking sheep.

While driving past a graveyard with a friend one night not too long ago, the topic of our own demises came up.

I figured cremation would be a good start, since the idea of taking up real estate while dead seemed like a selfish and egotistical idea. That people would have to take time out of their schedules to visit my rotting corpse buried underground added to the ridiculousness of it all as well.

Being cremated in my favourite jeans, t-shirt and shoes also entered the equation. If I'm wrong (I rarely am) and there is such a thing as an afterlife, I'd rather be comfortable for eternity (or until reincarnation) than be a suit wearing asshole in shoes I've never really liked but had to wear because it was appropriate.

I'm not sure if I've told my best friends this yet, but I want them to hike my ashes up somewhere along the coastal mountains of BC and spread me like butter on toast. If they're too lazy for that though, I'd settle for my ashes being spread among the charcoal briquettes for a bbq at dawn's at which all of my friends would have to eat meat from my death pyre. That hike doesn't sound so bad now does it you bastards?

I noticed the usage of the creative commons license on dana's site (which will be linked when he's ready) and figured this might not be a bad idea to protect this wealth of intellectual (used loosely) property that I've amassed here. Using their form, I picked out a license which says you can't steal my stuff, but you can reprint it with my name on it to show other people you know how cool I am.

I'd like to add an additional clause to this license that states that if you use my content to wow the pants off of some smoo chick, you must send me photos. No ifs or ands, but butts are cool with me.

If the VIFF organizers were trying to make me forget the lateness of the festival guide, the shitty website, and the small number and quality of the venues, they've done it by showcasing this film.

Friday night I found myself riding a 1:14am skytrain with a fellow who had taken all of his fashion cues from the wonder that is music television.

For the most part, It was a scene not unlike the horror of Samara stepping out of the televison in "the ring", except it was justin timberlake who had stepped onto my skytrain. While the whole white denim ensemble and beanie toque getup works while you're dancing and macking the fly honeys with flashy lights and glitz in a music video, it looked a touch ridiculous on public transit.

I don't seem to want the reality of tv seeping into my world. At least not when the programming is that awful.

There seems to be clear divisions between guys who dig scooters and those who think they're totally gay.

The vespa inspired yamaha vino totally does it for me (though not quite on the level of flannel clad baker chicks). Frankly, I'm too cool to care what you'd think of my faggy scooter if I owned one.

As well, scooters (well, cool ones) attract mod chicks (well, cool ones), and according to me and the scooter posse, mod chicks > club sluts.

While my fetish for flannel pajamas is well known (it is now if it wasn't before), i'm also oddly attracted to girls that can bake.

It's not that I have a particular affinity for baked goods; I would generally fill myself with more meat rather than save space for dessert. It's likely though that in my own failures as a baker (i lack the patience or discpline required of the art) lies the root of my passion for ladies of the dough.

I would warn now, that if any cute girls felt like doing some baking while still wearing their flannel pajamas, they'd do themselves a service to lock their doors and have a tazer handy.

Darwinism is grand.

Anyone willing to put firecrackers in their ass won't be helping out the human race by breeding anyhow.

I know there's a water shortage and all, but the bathroom at work smells like someone is making pee jerky.

As much as I love my ipod, it fails to satisfy on a few points, one in particular which annoys me to no end.

Despite being a rather expensive cutting-edge piece of technology, my ipod can't keep time worth shit. A $2 plastic rugrats watch from a Burger King Kid's Meal does a better job than this little white piece of the future I bought. It doesn't just run fast or slow, it'll just reset the time to midnight whenever it feels like it.

Knowing the technical powerhouse that is apple though, they'll be able to perfect the digital clock idea fairly soon. I would expect it to come right after they invent the wheelmouse.

While I usually stick to cooking shows, I caught Fox's "Stupid Behavior Caught on Tape" which turned out to be a highlight of my week.

Pieces in particular that I loved included one involving a dog at a funeral that knocks a burning candle into a occupied coffin causing it to burst into flames, and the one featuring a zoo worker who gets his head stuck in an elephant's anus. He proceeds to vomit once he gets his head out which seems to make a lot of sense to me.

While others may focus on realityTV based on people forming or ruining their relationships, I could watch stupid people on video all day.

It seems I'm approaching the second anniversary of this blog, and it feels like it. I've exhausted just about every good (and often embarassing) story I can think of, from airbag genitalia at the taco bell to peeing my pants at work last week (or did I forget to mention that incident?).

It's almost frightening how well twenty four years of being a stupid asshole has provided content for this here blog. It's also weird thinking how much I could have accomplished if I had used all this brain power for good and not evil.

Well, I wake up in the morning,
And the 'larm gives out a warning,
And I don't think I'll ever make it on time.

By the time I grab my books,
And I give myself a look,
I'm at the corner, just in time to see the bus fly by.

It's all right, 'cos I'm Saved by the Bell.

I had to do some calling around this morning to find the cookware set I was looking for and my first call went something like this... I didn't bother asking when they might get more as she didn't seem like she was in much of a mood to talk to me, especially since I sounded pretty determined to walk in and buy something from her if she could get it.

I was able to pick up my box-o-steel from ming wo in north van (what nice people they were too) for a great price (yes, it was indeed over $300) but it'll be a month until I get to fire it up.