I'll be enroute to china as of tomorrow morning so things will be slow around here for a while. Entertain yourself with the links to the lower right, the old head kick video, and your own genitalia (Nature put it within arm's reach for a reason). I'm going to try and make a post from each city I visit but I may be too drunk on my own western arrogance to take a break from abusing the locals.

Watching Mean Girls last night, I couldn't help but think that the increasing use of growth hormones in our meat products is only doing good for our entertainment industry.

OMGWTFBBQ! NO YUO!

How am I supposed to take the RIAA's argument that we're all hurting the artists seriously when I'm watching Blink 182's drummer buying quarter million dollar cars on cribs?

Soon after noticing that my running shoes are in need of replacement, I considered once again how much I actually hate running. While I thank it for trimming numerous pounds off me and improving my health, I've lost the mental focus and will it took to wake up 3 mornings a week and run until I became lightheaded and found breakfast television on citytv the least bit enjoyable (I kid. I've never found it enjoyable. Ever).

So I'm now in need of a new cardio activity to keep my body from returning to its genetically predisposed fatass state. The options?

Yoga - I cringe at the thought of being a lululemon wearing yaletown asshole toting a yoga mat around. I'm probably just being unreasonable, but my ability to stick both feet behind my head when properly lubricated with alcohol is yoga enough for me. That I can kick myself in the head with both feet at the same time should have me teaching specialized classes, not taking them.

Tae Kwon Do - Some korean dude will teach you how to fly through the air for the purpose of breaking boards. If I were any angrier at trees and their thin rectangular offspring, I'd be down with this. But the slim likelihood of walking down a dark alley and being mugged by a 1'x 2' pine board makes me think I could learn something more useful elsewhere.

Spinning - Not seen often in vancouver but you get on a fake bike, pedal as if your life depended on it and go absolutely nowhere. Cardio inside a gym sucks compared to the outdoors and it's tough to get the same sense of accomplishment on a stationary bike. Pass.

Aikido - The japanese martial art of harmony? Oddly enough, the most appealing option I've looked at yet. I'd get to wear the totally sweet looking hakama and constantly recite a heavily accented "I'll flip you. I'll flip you for real".

Last option might be to go ahead and set up a small inflatable pool in our nell carter sized dining room and have weekly wrestling events in different asian desserts. I can already taste mango pudding night but I'm even more excited about the things we could do with tapioca.

I was suddenly hit by the absurdity of the 80's anti-drug slogan "Winners Don't Do Drugs". Even more specifically, I recall not being able to play the arcade game Golden Axe without having the FBI remind me that drugs were bad (mmmkay?) while they let me run around chopping up skeletal warriors and hobgoblins alongside an axe wielding dwarf wearing a cute green little shorts.

You can't even begin to reason that Super Mario Brothers 2 wasn't a product of LSD.

It's with some sadness that I'll be missing halloween here this year. The idea of handing out boxes of raisins and those shitty licorice "goodies" always brightens up my day since I couldn't ever stand getting those as a kid.

Nothing else quite brought up that "thanks for nothing shithead" feeling than receiving either of those vile non-treats.

I've also spent 2 minutes installing a third party commenting system on the site since blogger's own was horseshit and I'm too lazy to port the site over to Moveable Type. The last thing a web developer wants to do after work is more work, so suck it.

I should note that the commenting system is only for you to tell me how funny or hot I am or for you to offer up your self, girlfriend, sister, daughter, mom, etc up for sordid encounters.

Despite just having started my one month sabbatical from work this weekend, the thing I'm most excited about is trying out the new Charmin Ultra Super Mega 2 ply strong and thick toilet paper I just picked up tonight.

My ass means the world to me.

Also sighted at T&T tonight was a package proclaiming "Peanuts - Smelling in Beef Juice". Despite my great adoration of meat, this wasn't the most enticing description of peanuts I've seen.

It was once suggested to me by a vegetarian that if I didn't have the will to kill the animal myself, I didn't have the right to eat meat.

If I were reliably informed that said vegetarian was the only source of bacon, pork chops and sausage around, I would have killed him where he stood.

If my company still did the old monthly employee held workshops, I'd do one on how to take a shit without breaking the toilet.

We have two single occupancy bathrooms that we endearingly call the bachelor suite and the safe haven where you can forget for a few minutes that you're at work and can unload your worries in secure privacy.

For months now we've had a failure rate way beyond what can be considered acceptable. Just about every week one of those two indispensible units is out of commision. How they are brought down varies; Recently the tank internals of one unit were destroyed (thanks to byron for the scouting), but I've gone in to find what looks like the wadded ass bundles from what must have been an entire kindergarten class lodged in the bowl unflushed.

The concept is simple. Enter, lock the door, inspect the seat for rogue pee, sit your ass down, give birth to a righteous creation of god, wipe your ass and flush. If your record company of a colon has just decided to release a greatest hits compilation, flush halfway or twice at the end. It's courtesy to glance down and see if another flush is needed (you'll be able to tell from the feces bobbing around in the water), then wash your hands and get the fuck out.

Believe you me, in my life I've had to evac these bowels my fair share of times and I've yet to destroy an industrial grade toilet.

Despite being the first to remind interested parties that buying a lomo means that you also will soon be the owner of a broken lomo, I ordered (and just received) a new one to accompany me to china.

They're horribly built, horrendously overpriced, and guaranteed to break but I couldn't think of a better camera to inaccurately capture all the sights I'll see there.

oh, if you have to buy one, don't buy from those greasy fuckers at lomo.com, buy it from those greasy fuckers on ebay for way less.

Am I the only one to ever think "I wonder if I could get away with touching her ass if I pretended to be retarded..."?

Ever wonder where it is that I lay myself to sleep every night?

No?

Well, here it is anyway.

Unrelated: I've found a new favourite drink in the form of cold green tea with a shot of green apple syrup. No pearls, no jelly, no crazy horseshit. Just tea, ice, and tart apple joy. Soy good.

I look like a mongoloid when I wear a ball cap.

Amazon.com's suggestion engine was able to come up with a list for me peppered with anime titles, david hasselhoff cds, ninja books, and Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers.

This makes me believe that the A.I. ruled future envisioned in the Matrix is closer than I had imagined.

How Bush is even close in the presidential race continues to baffle me, especially when evidence of US warcrimes continues to find its way into the media.

How does the US continue to justify its war on terror on the 3000 civilian lives lost on september 11 when the civilian death toll in iraq ranges from 13,000 - 15,000? No proof of WMD, no proof of saddam's involvement in the WTC attacks, yet so many are willing to bring his administration back for another four years of worldwide brutality.

How is commiting genocide in the middle east any form of justifiable action at this point? Hearts and minds indeed.

Nevermind. I found my appetite. It was in my other pants.

The worst thing about being sick isn't the congestion, the coughing, or even the tiredness. It's that I've lost my appetite.

She left me hollow like a spent shell; The wisp of smoke still hung in the air above me, drawn there by her own finger as her defiant exclamation. My mouth hung open in silence as my eyes looked up at her thin pink lips framed by pale skin. Like cream running slow with coldness it glowed in the light.

Her brown eyes like earthen fissures returned no reflections. There were only tortuous depths to fall through with nothing to grasp at but the still air; the empty gut feeling teasing me along the way.

The hard landing came when I could finally will it; a crushing weight slamming me into the floor of my own making. You can wonder if the repeated missteps are worth the adventure, but such pain only proves that you're still alive.

Is it unfair to sum up the US presidential race as "Retard vs Giant Robot"?

Miike Takashi's latest film 'Izo' which follows the adventures of a time travelling 19th century warrior who kills absolutely everybody in sight had me wishing he would leap off the screen and kill me so I wouldn't have to watch any more of it.