Cult of the Sierra Lima - Mr. Bhig and Beaumont

Adam approached the building with hesitation. These meetings always made him a little nervous, the not knowing what to expect, and the thought of being the next one chosen for a mission always a guaranteed an onslaught of anxiety producing endorphins. A quick glance at his watch revealed he was a little early, which was just the way he wanted it. Adam was hoping no one would be here yet accept for Mr. Bhig and Beaumont, getting a feel for what the meeting would entail prior to the arrivals of the others was a great benefit to him, and he used this to his advantage more than once.
Adam walked up to the doorman. "Please come in, They are expecting you," he said. Walking through a kitchen, down some stairs and through a hallway he was ushered into the meeting room, and shown the table where Mr. Bhig and Beaumont sat.
Beaumont looks up, "Adam, have a seat. First again I see." he says.
"I try! So.. what do ya have in store for us tonight?" Adam asked, trying hard to hide the look on his face that undoubtedly looked nervous.
Mr. Bhig didn't really smile. Before he began to speak Adam already knew what he was going say.

Cult of the Sierra Lima - Brett

One thing Brett couldn't stand was not knowing what was going on. Brett was an information junkie, always needed to know everything about everything and everyone to a point of almost being interventional. He had two internet feeds into his house just incase one might fail, and one did once for 22 hours and that, he thought, justified the twin feeds for years to come. Brett just happen to be sitting in front of his dual 27" LCD monitors, taking a big bite of his PizzaPop when his MSN messenger popped up a window:

You said you wanted in? Now's your chance. Don't ask questions, get your ass over to my place we'll go the meeting together, but you better hurry. If anyone asks, you're meeting some friends for a beer.

It was his good friend Dirk. Brett couldn't contain his excitement and was out door before he was done chewing. He overheard a few cryptic phone calls between Dirk and some others in the past, something about a Cult. He had to know, nothing could stop him from getting to that meeting. Nothing.

Cult of the Sierra Lima - Kevin

Kevin woke up suddenly from an early evening nap, he would have probably slept through the night had it not been for the vibration of his blackberry still holstered to his side. The TV was still tuned to CNN, talk of more imminent hurricanes was the topic of the hour, with replays of Anderson Cooper being tossed around like a rag doll during a live transmission of a category four hurricane landfall somewhere in the southern states. Pictures of leaves being violently torn from trees, trees being torn from the ground, ground being torn from the earth. His blackberry vibrates again. On the screen is a message:

Congregating under large trees or finding the home entertainment service can only reach cold headless endorphin drenched lackeys encircling a fire. Be at the meeting place in 15 minutes.

Kevin puts on his shoes and leaves without turning off the TV.

Cult of the Sierra Lima - Tony

Tony looked at this watch, it was a remarkable time piece and a constant reminder of the success in his life as an entrepreneur, and through the sapphire face of the Rolex, the gold hands told him it was time to go. Tony left his downtown suite, pulled out a cigarette and began to walk down 1st street, making his way toward the railway underpass.

Thoughts of the meeting brought on some inescapable anxiety, but he knew what had to be done, there wasn't much time left. The leaves were almost falling from the trees and days were becoming shorter..

Cult of the Sierra Lima - Adam

It was a little colder out that night than it should have been being the summer wasn't even officially over yet, it wasn't even the end of August. Adam was not the best at remembering things, but he did remember his jacket, based on the earlier recommendation of his over cautious but always caring girlfriend. He was going for a walk, "meeting an old friend for a beer" was the line he told her.

Adam noticed that a few leaves on trees had already started to turn yellow and brown, preparing for the inevitable separation from the tree which gave them life. Much to soon for the Fall, I hope we'll have enough time, he thought to himself as he began to pick up the pace walking down 17th Ave towards his destination, a small little hole in the wall where he would meet the seven others.

The Legend of Shen Nung

One day about 5000 years ago, China Emperor Shen Nung and his company were travelling to the far edges of his great empire. During his travels, Emperor Nung, being quite paranoid of becoming ill, required all water be boiled prior to drinking. While his servants boiled pots of water, some dried out leaves from nearby bushes landed in the pots causing it to be infused it into a brown liquid. Instead of throwing it away, the Emperor's curiosity got the better of him and upon tasting the brew was refreshed by it. This is the legend of how tea came to be.

One day about three weeks ago, Blog writer Alex found tea.

I was told about a place in Calgary called "Steeps" which is conveniently located on 17th Ave in downtown. Steeps is a Tea House, devoted completely to loose leaf teas from around the world. In Steeps is a stack of tea tins, with over 75 varieties of teas allowing you can open the cans and smell the aromas from each tea prior to choosing one for purchase. This is very beneficial, cause teas taste just like they smell. (One could argue that you are actually using your nose to taste being that the tongue can only detect four tastes; sweet, sour, bitter and salty) This is how my tea addiction began.

I was quite surprised to learn that all teas, yes, every single one of the teas offered around the world, all come from the same plant. The plant is the Camellia Sinensis. The location of the tea and it's fermentation processes are what give different teas unique characteristics. Black tea, the most common, is made black by fermenting the leaves to 100% oxidation. Green tea is just the same as black tea, but without fermentation oxidation, Oolong tea allows about 50% fermentation and white tea is young tea leaves picked and then processed very quickly with steam. Flavoured teas like Earl Grey (one of my favorites) is simply just black tea with Bergamot orange rind, and English Breakfast tea is just a combination of four black teas from various areas around the world. Orange Pekoe is not a tea flavour or a combination at all. Orange Pekoe is simply a grade of the leaf used in the tea, it's the largest leaf.


My first loose leaf tea purchase was a white tea called "Leopard Snow Buds". White tea is rich in antioxidants, low in caffeine and presents with a very light color. It has to be brewed at about 77 degrees C for about 2 minutes. This makes it a little finicky, dumping boiling water (95C) on a white tea leaf will result in off tasting bitter tea, but trying to infuse the tea below 77 degrees C can give watery results. I've purchased a thermometer for my teas. Green teas follow these rules as well, but black teas need boiling water to infuse.

Since the white tea purchase, I've also obtained a few green and black teas. Yamamoto Green which is Japanese green blend flavoured with orange and lemon grass, and Geisha Green which is high quality Japanese greens flavoured with strawberry and red currents. My black teas are Royal Earl Grey, flavoured with Bergamot and Jasmine and my current favorite Steinthal FTGFOP, which is from a 150 year old tea farm in the Darjeeling district of India. FTGFOP means Fine Tippy Golden Fannings Orange Pekoe, and that translates to good stuff.

I haven't been to Tim Horton's for a coffee in three weeks, not that I don't drink coffee anymore. Cathy picked me up some great coffee from the Shuswap district which I enjoy as well. I'm a little concerned that she bought me a coffee bean called "The Prince of Darkness", not because of the name but because she said it reminded her of me.. (insert evil grin here).

If you come over, ask for a cup. I'll brew you up 5000 years of history. If your planning a trip to Steeps on 17th, please take me with you, we'll call it a date, unless you're a guy then it'll just be a get together. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Cheers
Alex.

Wine

Over the last couple of days I've had the privilege to experience wine in a whole new way by visiting the wineries and vineyards of the Okanagan Valley. This is an amazing experience. I speak in the tense of the present, being as it is still ongoing in the form of the excessive consumption. Chris, Missy, Leona and myself have visited five wineries in the last two days, sampling from each of them. We started by visiting Arrowleaf and Gray Monk yesterday, then Mt Boucherie, Quail's Gate and ended with the best, Mission Hill. Mission Hill is amazing. The owner has created something most spectacular here, creating the illusion of stepping into a Tuscan painting. We opted for the tour and were taken into the belly of the winery, a cathedral of the grape preaching the religion of wine. 800 barrels of wine are stacked two high in a cellar framed by 30 foot archways, which could only have been inspired from old European churches. At the front of cellar stood a large stone table they called "the alter" where wines are tasted, celebrated and sacrificed to the lucky few who are invited for ceremony. Exposed stone walls are wet with running water, keeping the humidity at 80% and the temperature at a constant 13 degrees. On the side of the cellar is a large metal gate, protecting the "vault", a large room with a priceless wine vessel collection on the wall, one dating back to the bronze age. Some of the most valuable wines from around the world are kept in this room, decorated by aging cobwebs and dust. Remarkable.
As I draw a sip of wine, and as it brushes the palette of my mouth I can't help but think of wine as art, art for the soul and mind. I think of the passion, the dream, the history and the inspiration which led to it's existence, and I am grateful.

Kelowna Day One - It Sucks Here

So I'm in Kelowna today, yesterday, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. It sucks here. It's just Leo and myself here with Chris and Missy.. and no kids. When we got here, we had a sucky dinner made by Chris, with a few beer, which sucked cause beer sucks the big one. We then took a walk to the sucky beach just outside the sucky condo. Man does the condo SUCK! It sucks so bad, friggen tornado. Anyway I took my suckyass kite to the beach and flew it bad. I mean, it was real bad. The wind was sucking bigtime. I didn't have the needed 85 feet of beach for my lines so I had to stand in the sucky lake. Sucked, cause the sun was on my back and the choppy warm water was lapping up against my legs while I was flying my kite like a sucky champ. I made a bunch of people nervous with the violence of the air being torn and cut into a chop-sui of submission and domination all rolled up into one big fat sucky show of pure suckiness. Nervous people suck. I then had to go back to the condo to change cause my sucky shorts were wet.
What we did next really sucked. We went for a walk down the boardwalk to suckyass Rose's patio down the way, shared a large plate of nachos and had some sucky beer. The nachos sucked so bad, they were the suckiest nachos i've ever had, I mean they put jalapenos in the melted cheese. Who does that? Sucky people do. Then we went for more walking and stopped at a french bistro for a coffee and dessert. Usually I think french restaurants drip in 100% pure grade 1A awesomeness but this one sucked huge, it sucked like a vacuum on steroids. I had the Crème Brûlée and man, holy man, did that suck, but not as much as the cappuccino that accompanied it, we reached whole new levels of suckiness with that one.
Back at the condo, we play a game of Ticket to Ride, which kinda sucked, then went to bed.
I am now sitting on the balcony, the morning of day two, and the weather is looking like it might suck again.
I have to leave on friday. Man.. is that gonna be awesome, like Vanhalen concert awesome. I've never looked forward to something more in my life!

Couch Games

One of my all time favorite activities is getting together for socials with the great group of friends I have. Everyone has a few drinks, eats snacky type food, and the tolerance for stupidity is relaxed somewhat. I am made for the social activity. I love laughing with people, and making people laugh. I love Mark's one for one challenges, (although I'm sure this game was invented by Joylaine) and other games involving pain. I do however, truly hope that I am never considered an active participant in Mark and Chris's friggen sacking game, which should never be considered a game at all but an act of war. Horsing around aside, I love the group games we play, these are the games I like to call "couch games" .

The first couch game that comes to mind is "Things..". This is an ingenious little game which makes for a good time guaranteed. It's a very simple recipe, yet so devilishly delicious. One person reads from a card with a "thing" idea such as "Things which would make an opera more exciting", then using little papers the room writes down a "thing" that would make operas more exciting, all the papers then get placed in a hat, the reader then reads all the responses twice, followed by guesses of participants who wrote which Thing. This is one of the only games where winning doesn't matter. I have laughed myself to tears in this game, and think missy had contractions while we played once, man was that funny. You will find current themes in this game keep coming up based on tipping the laughter scale. This is the ingenious part of this game, what is funny in one situation is funnier in another. There's Gord's famous "thing", a vending machine, those of you playing know what I'm talking about. This special vending machine which performs a very special task has shown up everywhere, and it's over two years old! "Things.." good game.

The "Name Game" is a group get-to-know each other mixed in with some memory. Everyone writes a name of a famous person and places it in a hat. Then a reader reads them all out loud and it becomes a who-wrote-what game after this, but the names are never repeated. There's a few things I don't like about this game. It's hard to be creative, and the winner is the one who usually chooses the most forgettable name. It is quite sanitary though, it stays at a G rating for most of the time. Until of course Ray mixes it up a little and throws in the names "Heywood Jablowme" or "Dick Izinya" There are only a few times I laughed myself to a near stroke, that was one of them, mostly because my mom was reading them at the time, "Now.. vat de? Haary Paritesties? Now.. who is dat?" Crazy.

There's this other couch game we played once at Darren and Julie's introduced by Mark. I can't remember the name of the game but what I do remember is a whole lot of rules, and a crap load of laughter. We had to visually draw a pop culture slogan, pass it to the person beside you who would translate the picture into words, and then the next person would draw that slogan and so on.. very difficult for me cause I couldn't draw if my life depended on it. Trying drawing "Where Fresh is the Taste".. What made this game filled with aneurism inducing hilarity were Darren's renditions of the slogans. Holy crap, I actually couldn't look at his drawings at one point fearing that I would literally die from laughter. This is a definite do again.

Missy introduced another great couch game to us once called "Mafia". I've only played this game once, but from what I remember I can't wait to play again. It involves a story teller, and participants lying and acting, all without having to get yer butt out of the seat. I think I'm going to host a Mafia night where we do nothing else but play Mafia and of course drink wine and eat cheese. Who's in?

 

 

 

Cruise Control

Continuing the theme of stupid crap I've done in my life (and believe me I've just begun), I'd like to share with you a story of when Ingenuity took a ride with Curiosity, and Curiosity brought his best friend Stupidity. Ingenuity is a good friend of mine and he helps me out everywhere, the solver of my problems and the maker of my money. But when you invite Curiosity, you usually get the tag along, Stupidity. The problem with him is that you never know when he's around until.. well.. Stupid happens.

I was employed by a Langley based fireplace installation company at the time. I worked on a crew, we called ourselves "The Fart Duckers". It was because one of us had some serious gas issues, and utilized the upward motion of air through a fireplace vent to test out the draft with his ass. Of course he would wait until we were up on the roof screwing on the rain caps to the vents. The draft worked every time. Funk aside; it was a temporary stepping stone in my convoluted career path to where I am now, but a necessary one. This being the largest company I have worked with up to that point, I learned a few lessons about dealing with bosses and crazy ass schizophrenic kleptomaniac co-workers.. I'm hesitant to mention names cause I'd be scared my life would be stolen, then given back just to be stolen again. Seriously, I learned about how screwed up one can be and still manage to get a pay cheque, and how much methane gas a plate of onion rings can give to one over indulgent fireplace installer with a sick sense of humor.

I was on my way home after a long day of work, and it was hot outside. There's my disclaimer. It was hot, whatever. In my back seat was a clothes hanger, the standard wire clothes hanger. I would like to say the hanger was there because of all the dry cleaning I had to with my expensive clothes, but such was not the case. The hanger was there cause like a dumb ass I had an issue with always locking the keys in my car. Before you start to pass blame on my stupidity of keeping the clothes hanger IN my car, please know that it was there due to the fact that I had already used it, and not for future use. I'm not that dumb. Yea, I became an expert at breaking into my car, and at one point I had three or four hangers in the back seat of my car all stretched out and untwisted. When people would ask me about them, I would just tell them I loved smores, shut up.

So where was I, I was on my way home and it was Hot with a capital H, hot enough to turn on a nun. I get a little bored while I drive sometimes and I like to pass the time thinking of ways to make things better, or easier. As I go through life, I realize my life's goal is to make things easier for myself and for those who pay me to. I get paid to make other's life easier, but in the business world they like to call it "more efficient" cause efficient.. that's a money making word. My car at the time was a 1991 Honda Civic. A great car it once was, and if you ask Kupes from Cochrane, it still is. OK, that's a lie. He hates the car, apparently it blows more smoke than a gay locomotive, but it was once a great car. Honda Civics have a quirk however. The gas pedals take no pressure to activate. When I say no pressure I mean a well placed fart would get that thing moving. That got me thinking, why did my foot have to be what pushed it? Hello Curiosity. A smile grew on my face. I could possibly make a working cruise control system just by using the hanger in the back seat, welcome back Ingenuity. I grabbed the hanger. Knock Knock, who's there? Stupidity.

Engineering a cruise control system is not a simple task. Engineering a cruise control system while driving 80kph was a feat worthy of award, but I did it and when it was complete it worked like the hot damn. The basic design was the stretched hanger having enough rigidity to press the gas pedal, was rigged between the pedal and the steering wheel. Honda Civic steering wheels have three spoke design so I opted to use the bottom spoke of steering wheel and wrapped the hanger around it once. The excess hanger I just bent back into the dash. I could adjust my speed by simply moving the hanger through my steering wheel, and when I had to stop just pull it back enough to release all pressure off the gas pedal. I had it arched enough not to get in the way of the brake pedal. Safety first, one must be able to brake. I was so impressed with my design I was already thinking about the patent process. How would one patent this? Why hasn't anyone patented this already? How in the heck would I spend all that money?

I was nearing my destination, and disengaged the cruise control, the smile on my face like permanent ink. I drove almost the entire way home without using my right foot. I pull up to the intersection where I had to turn left and my smile quickly disappears. Stupid happens, and happens swiftly, without warning. As I started to turn left the hanger began to twist around the steering column and my steering became impaired. The pressure of the hanger quickly took away the ability to steer and I began to panic. I was turning left through traffic and couldn't stop, but I couldn't steer my car left enough to make the corner either! I decided I had to make the corner at any cost, and for a second I thought I could use the leverage from the steering wheel to break the hanger, but it just became tighter, tight enough now to trigger the horn. I was taking an unnaturally wide left with my horn blaring away. At first I thought I might be able to miss the curb, but I didn't, and it wasn't a small curb either. Anyone who has taken that left onto 88th from Glover in Fort Langley knows what I'm talking about. The curb is about eight inches of unforgiving 300 year old concrete. I smoked the curb and my car took a flying jump and came crashing down about three seconds later. I stopped. People were watching, and I can't help but wonder what must have been going through their minds while I was frantically trying to unwind the hanger from my steering wheel in a car half way propped up on a curb with horn blaring. I tried hard not to make any eye contact, but my ears were burning in embarrassment. About 23 seconds later, I got myself out of the jam and drove off the curb and went home.

When I got home I pulled Ingenuity out of the car, and told Curiosity to take a hike. Stupidity who was no where to be seen apparently left on his own. I wish I knew where he went so I could tell him not to come back, but he always did. Sneaky little bugger.

Why I don’t like Bowling

Several years ago, five I think, I bowled the last ball of my life. We were at a party for Julie C and decided to go bowling, and I hate bowling with a passion that could kill elephants. It was the 10^th Frame, I was playing the all time worst game of my life. I held up what was my last ball (it was the kind where you stick your fingers in… those are unsanitary sess holes in my opinion) I turned around to the party and asked for their attention. I then spoke, and the people listened. I saith "Attention all… This ball I am holding will be the last ball I will ever bowl in my life. I hate bowling with a passion that can melt steel. I hate the freaky shoes, I hate the balls, I hate the stupid slippery chairs you have to sit in, I hate the little yellow reset button, I hate the pins standing there laughing at me as one ball after the other misses them in the gutter. I hate cream soda. I hate the fact that I have to wait for the ball with the big thumb hole. I hate the fact that everyone seems to like this game but me. I find no reason to continue this ridiculous activity. THIS BALL I AM HOLDING NOW WILL BE THE LAST BALL I WILL EVER BOWL IN MY LIFE. THIS IS MY PROMISE TO YOU AND TO THE PEOPLE BEFORE AND AFTER YOU. "

I then bowled the ball.. only it didn't go down the lane, it slipped off my thumb and went backwards in a six and half foot arch. It came about 2 inches from Ray's nuts. Realizing the burden released from me, I took a bow and departed the lane. Ray then took the ball and threw it down the lane for a strike, it was poetic. I removed my shoes and spat in them, then placed a curse on the next wearer, man pity that guy.

I have been asked by many people why it is I don't like to bowl. Well, I used to be a good bowler, averaging 7 strikes per game, yea I fricken rocked the casbah baby.. rocked it all night long. Then Something happened.

It was when I was about 19 years old. I was bowling the game of my life, nine strikes in the 9^th frame. I was on my way to a perfect game. I remember women and men but mostly women from all around gathered to watch Alex "The FireBall" bowl the game of his life. I was decked out, totally in the zone. I had the black shirt with the flames on the bottom, and had my nickname embroidered on the chest. I had the glove and wrist support custom painted with flames. I was cooler than the other side of the pillow baby… yea.. the other side of the pillow.

I'm ready to bowl my third and last ball in the tenth frame for the perfect game when someone from behind me says.. "HEY FIREBALL". I turn around. The music stops, and in some dream like sequence everyone around me disappears. The place goes dead quiet, and I am standing alone with a ball in my hand. The lights go dim and a strange fog appears around the bowling lanes. The only light seems to be a spotlight on me. "HEY… FIREBALL" I hear from behind me. I turn around and nothing is there except the set of pins I was just about to crack down for strike number thirteen. "Bowl the ball Fireball!" I turn again, and now standing by the reset button is a tall man. He is wearing a black suit, his shirt was un-tucked and he was not wearing any shoes or socks. He had on a tie, loosened and wrinkled. On his face an evil grin, his teeth yellowed by what could have only been from thousands of years of smoking, and his eyes were opaque windows to a soulless void.

"Excuse me?" I asked ears half cocked.

"I said.. BOWL THE DAMN BALL FIREBALL" he shouts. I swear I saw a fire in the back of his throat when he opened his mouth.

"I don't think I understand what's going on here.. who in the hell are you?" I asked, quickly realizing the irony of the question.

"You think you're all the shit don't you Fireball.. Don't tell me you forgot our deal"

Knowing full well what he was talking about I attempted the back spin of ignorance, "Um.. so, yea.. can't say I do."

"YOU BOWL A PERFECT GAME AND I GET YOUR SOUL…" he replies, then proceeds to pull a piece of paper out of his jacket. It's The Contract.

"OK Ok, ok ok ok.. look.. this is stupid. I wrote that as a joke back in grade 8 with some buddies at a sleepover.. this certainly isn't legal.. or whatever law.. look.. I'm sorry for the confusion, It won't happen again, where the hell did you get this.. anyway.. don't answer that.. ok so..what, what happens now?" I ask

"YOU BOWL THE PERFECT GAME AND I GET YOUR SOUL, SIMPLE AS THAT."

"Well that's a crappy deal seriously.. I bowl like a perfect game and you get my soul, that's like trading shit for gold"

"HEY, I GET EM WHERE I CAN, you have to understand, this isn't an easy job, I busy 24 / 7 in the soul collection business. Besides, we have a lot of busted computers down there and could really use someone like you."

"I don't work with computers"

"OH YOU BETTER BELIEVE YOU WILL, NOW YOU WILL BOWL THAT BALL"

In a flash everything came back. Hell Dude vanished along with the fog and I was left standing with the 13^th ball in my hands, people all around me watching, hoping to be witness to The Fireball's first perfect game. I bowled the ball.. only it didn't go down the lane, it slipped off my thumb and went backwards in a six and half foot arch. It came about 2 inches from Ray's nuts. Realizing the burden released from me, I took a bow and departed the lane. Ray then took the ball and threw it down the lane for a strike, it was poetic. I removed my shoes and spat in them, then placed a curse on the next wearer, man pity that guy.

I never dared throw another strike after that day. But just to be on the safe side I thought I just better call er quits all together.

And that's why I hate bowling. Hey, you would to.

Whatever.

The Fireball

Sour Cream and Onion

I was twelve. If I was any younger I wouldn’t be smart enough, and if I was any older I wouldn’t be dumb enough. It was the perfect age to do something that in hindsight was pretty stupid, though at that age was considered nothing less than duty.
In the early 1980’s there were always two things more on the mind of a twelve year old than anything else, toys and food. Girls are still in the annoying category and school was a torrential sucker of all that was fun, but nothing was better than sneaking in that new Transformer toy into class, or hiding a pack of Black Bart ® licorice chewing gum in your desk to be used for a recess trade or to share with your friends in some game to see how black you could make your tongue. In grade six, the search for the meaning of life ended at toys and food, and all other things were non essential.
As far as I remember it, it was the perfect day. I was on my BMX bike making my way to the Consumer’s Distributing to spend some paper route money on one of my favorite things, a GI Joe action figure. After the purchase I would make my way over to the corner store and buy a bag of chips, not just any bag of chip, heck no. It had to be Old Dutch Sour Cream and Onion.
Sour cream and onion chips were, without a doubt, the best flavor of chips ever. When in school you’re asked that stupid question about what you would take on a desert island if you only had one thing? It had to be sour cream and onion chips, every single time. Fishing trips? Sour cream and onion. Sleepovers? Sour cream and onion. Birthday parties? Patio hangouts? Tree forts? Sour cream and onion. The two flavors if consumed on their own, not so good, but some Einstein put the two negatives together and out came a positive.
At that time there were two brands of chips, Hostess and Old Dutch. Both chip brands made the SC & O, but Old Dutch did something Hostess never did, they rippled the chip. Rippling the chip does two things, it helps the pursuit of world peace AND helps the chip hold more flavor, the latter being the most important of course, world peace be damned. The precious ripple held far more flavor than the standard flat chip. Simple science could prove that with friction zones, contact zones, static electric bonding and the Pythagorean theorem. Yea, A squared plus B squared equals more flavor. It was all that mattered. The more flavor, the better.
So I was on my way to the corner store, GI Joe in my hand. I remember never being able to wait to get home before opening my toy packages, and risking life and limb I would unpack my GI Joe while riding my bike, discarding the package material without stopping. I arrived at the store and parked my bike against the outside wall of the store and went inside. GI Joe and I fought our way to the chip isle in a show of sheer bravery, fighting off nothing but time really.
Scanning the rows for the SC&O in Old Dutch brand of course, my trained eyes found the familiar white bag I knew so well, the little cartoony sour cream dude and the onion guy in some kind of strange embrace. They were in this together. They were brothers in arms. I picked up the bag, but something was wrong. It felt heavy. I grabbed another bag for comparison, and it was certainly lighter. I couldn’t help but wonder what would cause a chip bag to be heavier? I knew I was on the verge of a major discovery. Could it have been a prize? A chopped off finger? A dead mouse? I decided that good or bad, I had to know what it was. Worst case scenario I’m out a quarter and curiosity gets another notch on the bedpost that is life experience. I paid for it and left the store hurriedly, almost forgetting about my new GI Joe comrade. We were in this together after all, him and I, brothers in arms.
I biked to a nearby park, set my bike up against a trash can and ignoring the bird crap, quickly sat down on the park bench. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the bag, still feeling a little heavier than normal. Grasping the sides I slowly pulled them apart until the top seal broke open and the familiar smell of good ol’ sour cream and onion wafted upwards. I looked into the foil bag and realized quickly what the source of the weight was. What I had here was a bag of chips with more flavor than chip, the chips were literally stuck in an immense amount flavor powder awesomeness! What I was looking at was the Holy Grail of the potato chip religion. A bonafide factory screw up! The bag was probably worth millions at a potato chip auction, but there was no way that it could be saved. We had a situation there that had to be dealt with swiftly, I had my orders and it was my duty. I had to eat that bag of sour cream and onion chips proudly, and in so doing mark it as a major accomplishment in my life along with the others such as taking my bike over a five foot ramp without crashing, or walking several kilometers under Calgary in the sewer system without dying. So I began to eat those chips and powder ad it was good, very good.
I was over half way when good started to turn to not bad, and then not bad to a turn to gross. I started to feel a little nauseous, and I could feel my stomach presenting me with the possibility of a full refund. I stopped eating, hoping the feeling would go away. It didn’t. I sat there on the park bench now swaying back and forth, attempting to slow what now seemed to be inevitable. I didn’t want to puke, I hated puking.
There is a window of time before one vomits, it’s that time where the cold sweat breaks out on the forehead, the dizziness starts up and the saliva starts to crank into overtime. It’s that time where you feel the worst. It’s puke imminent. I can’t remember how long I maintained puke imminence, but it couldn’t have been for long. I stood up and made my way over to the trash can which up until that time was used only as a holder for my bike, was about to be used as a container for my guts. The gates opened, I puked wildly, and with violent heaves the meaning of life and I parted ways.
When I was finished and the aftershocks had settled, I opened my eyes and through my puke induced tears peered down into the garbage can. There, in the technicolor of my funk, I saw my GI Joe. He was holding out his arms in hope to be saved, but it was too late. He was covered with chemical blast and I could not get myself to save him. I turned my head and biked away.
I learned two things that day. One, too much of a good thing is not good at all. Two, I could never be a US Marine, but being a Canadian made me feel somewhat better about the latter. I ruined something in my life that day, I could not get myself to eat sour cream and onion chips for a long time. Even to this day, 23 years later, it’s my last choice of flavor. Sometimes life presents us with these tests of indulgence, and we learn from it. It would take seven more years for my next test to show up, this one in the form of Southern Comfort, but that’s another story, if I can remember it.

AS

I'm in the mood

to go home and sleep in my own bed.  ;-)
I'm writing this entry from science world in vancouver, it's busy here, so busy in fact there was no parking to be found, so i parked in staff parking.. I hope the van is still there when i get back... If i get back and not stomped to death by a million 11 year old kids vieing for position to the snot gallery called grossology. There's this woman here who scared the ever loving shit outta me when from 10 feet away screamed at the top of her everloving lungs directly at me... I jumped clear out of my skin... People thought i was a exhibit from the human anatomy show... Turns out she has touretts,  i think.  Anyway then it became funny and she pulled the same tourette-a-tete on sonya, caught her off guard to say the least.  She too became an exhibit.. Only in grossology cause she crapped right there.... On the floor..
Hope the van is still there.
ShaZZ*ppa

A Limerick

replace a bird with a plane
and a rope for a chain
then put them together
bind them with leather
people will call you insane

7,7,07 .. anyone need some luck?

Today is the seventh day of the seventh year in '07. I read on the news a whole boat load of weddings happening today.. for good luck. I think, if you need good luck to make a marriage work, it's not gonna. I predict a way higher than average divorce rate for those married today.

Pink Cowboys?

Lots of cowboys wearing pink here in Calgary. I know it's for hooter cancer support, but can you imagine all the real cowboys? "Tough Enough to wear pink" is the slogan. If you're a part time executive cowboy, and you think you're tough enough to wear pink then more power to ya'll.. but if your a grit eating, tabacco chewin, cattle ropin, bull back ridin, womanizin, red neckin, REAL COWBOY..... you probably don't wanna wear pink.

Goodbye Guitar Hero.... HELLO ROCK BAND

If you been to my place, you've probably seen or played guitar hero on the xbox. Guitar Hero is an extremely addicting "guitar simulation" where the player uses a special guitar shaped controller called an "xplorer", and follows a series of colored notes travelling down a neck of a guitar on the screen. The notes are in sync with the notes of the music being played, and if hit correctly, you'll be jamming with a band on a stage. Points are given for accuracy.
I have accumulated over 7,000,000 points in my band career, and I've barely reached the "hard" level. I'm embarrassed to say how many hours this has taken, but there are many out there on the "expert" level who have invested three times the amount of time I have. I take solace in that. Yea, I enjoy it, but I'm not obsessed.
As I play, I can't help but think how fun it would be to play the drum track. Well, it's coming. There's a new product soon to be released called "Rock Band". Not only do you get the guitar, but you get a bass guitar, a four pad drumkit with a kicker, and a microphone for Karaoke.. WHAT? no kidding.. a mic. But quite possible the BEST THING going.. is one song. The one song that will make this the best game ever. Included in this package.. is Blue Oyster Cult "The Reaper"!! Not included however, is a cowbell, but you can be damn sure I'll be getting one.
This my friends is gonna be the ultimate party game! I know I'm gonna cringe at the price, but I don't think I'll be able to say no to this. Rock Band with Cowbell... coming to alex's basement near you. ;-)

MMMmmmmm Subway.... again.

It's 11:30am, my stomach reminds me I didn't have any breakfast. I stand up and ask a coworker what he wants to do for lunch, "Subway?" is the inflected reply. I grimace, memories come back to me of the last time I was at this subway.
"Ya whatever." I respond.
"Let's got then"
10 minutes later we are standing in the Subway line and I immediately notice the absence of the sandwich terrorist. Perhaps she got a new job, or was fired.. or accidentally blew herself up. I didn't know, didn't really care to tell you the truth. I was hungry.
Pete notices a sign on the Subway, advertising a new sandwich called the "Lobster" sandwich. "100% pure lobster meat" it states. Sounds good.. real good. Pete and I being fans of the seafood sub opt for the lobster sub today.
Pete orders first. "I'll have a one of those lobster subs on 12" wheat"
I order second. "I'll have the same please.. whatever he's having"
So far so good. Our subs are coming together nicely. Something has to wrong, it always does here. I look over at Pete's sub. It's almost done, fully loaded with a little sprinkling of salt and in the paper, cut and wrapped. No spills, Bob's your freakin uncle. Lickity Split. the perfect sub. Mine is ready for veggies. After seeing the perfect execution of Pete's sub I know my odds are good.. or bad.. depends on which school you come from for probability studies. I ask for everything but no green pepper. It's not like I don't like green pepper, I just don't think it should be in a sandwich like a potato. The veggies arrive right on schedule and everything is looking perfect.
"Sauces? Salt? Pepper?" I am asked with a smile
"A little mustard, some salt and pepper" I reply with raised eyebrow.
I'm suspicious. A perfect sandwich? not here.. no way.
"For here or to go?"
"To go please.."
I am handed a perfectly rolled sandwich, handed to me in a bag with three napkins. I didn't even need to ask for an extra napkin. (I tend to spill a lot.. so what.. i said. SO WHAT?)
I have a grin on my face. I'm looking for the hidden camera. I'm sure I'm on a new TV reality shock show. This never happens. They may as well handed the sub over on a silver fricken platter. Something was wrong, and here's what happened. As best as I remember it.
We shuffle over to the cashier. Pete is first to pay.
Subway guy: "What did you order"?
Pete: "Foot long Lobster Subway"
Subway guy: "That will be 16.90"
Pete: "Oh sorry, I'm just paying for the one sandwich"
Subway guy: "Yes, one foot long lobster, 16.90"
Pete: (stunned silence)
Alex: (grin turns into laughter)
Subway guy: "Price for foot long lobster is 16.90"
Pete: "For a FRICKEN SANDWICH???"
Subway guy: "Yes, price over there see?" (points to a small price in far corner of menu opposite to line)
Pete: "do ya THINK you SHOULD HAVE ADVERTISED THE PRICE WHERE PEOPLE ORDER?"
Subway guy: "Prrrice 16.90"
Pete: "$^#& *#*$&#* Q*&#&@*( shit &$#*& !@#!& #&*@)! ~!(!@"

Now I'm laughing pretty good at this point, just cause I was expecting something to wrong. After pete's display of displeasure, they knocked 25% off our subs.. to top things off, they didn't even taste all that great, well not seventeen dollars great. Dumbasses. You know what you can get in downtown Calgary for lunch for seventeen bucks? Well, how about three sunny lunches, or one all you can eat Indian Buffet, or one all you can eat Russian buffet, I mean the list goes on. Idiots.

Apollo 20 alien spaceship debunked

Long story short, I was able to debunk the lastest apollo 20 video on my own by simply comparing the opening shot of the hatch to some stock photos of other apollo hatches. I most likely found the exact hatch the hoaxer used for the video, and that can be found here. Everything about these two hatches are the same INCLUDING the fact that the hatch is in the open configuration!! If it was closed (which it would be in moon orbit) the hinges would be clearly visible in it's closed configuration. (Look at this picture here for closed hatch configuration)
The video footage of the interior of the command module, the scene where we see the hybrid american / russian flag and the apollo 20 mission logo could have easily have been filmed inside a training command module. Where would one find one? Well, there's one available to the PUBLIC in Alabama at the US Space and Rocket Center. Check out these guys enjoying a sit in the trainer. The trainer is lying on it's back, and as a result the straps in the video which look to be "in zero g" are actually just hanging straight down. The video is being shot pointing up. It would be trivial to bring a video camera and faked logos on this publically accessible command module, shoot the vid and bob.. is indeed your uncle.
Alex.

Alien Ship on Moon - Update 2 ..And now this??

This video was released two hours ago from the same guy. Apparently he has 22 hours of footage that he's gonna be uploading to youtube. CRAZY!!!!

Alien spaceship on the moon? Apollo 20? what the..

Tell me what you think of this. I've been doing quite a bit of research on this one and by nature am quite skeptical. This one intrigues me.

From http://www.angelismarriti.it/ANGELISMARRITI-ENG/REPORTS_ARTICLES/Apollo20-TheFootage.htm

"A recent controversial footage of about 6 minutes (which seems a digital transfer from a film, and that we can call the “Apollo 20 footage”) released on YouTube is causing amazement inside the ufological public on the Web, all around the world. The footage would be the presumed shooting realized during a NASA classified mission, in the ‘70s: the “Apollo 20” mission or, as it is suggested by the subtitles of the dialogues between the crew and the Mission Control, the “Vandenberg 20”. I remember to everybody that the last official landing mission on the Moon was the “Apollo 17” (NASA), which took place in December 1972, and that the Apollo 20 mission was cancelled by NASA in 1970. For sure, if the footage is not a hoax or a fake, the purpose of that mission would have been to shoot close to a mysterious object for understanding its origin. And, maybe, to organize a secret retrieval if possibile."

I think it could be an ad campaign for the upcoming movie "Transformers"

O que me gira sobre..

Hello todos!

Eu estou escrevendo este em uma língua diferente às coisas da mistura acima de um pouco. Eu tenho um sentimento que ninguém está indo figurar para fora este assim que eu posso dizer que qualquer coisa eu quero. Deixar-me tentar. Algo que eu tenho sempre quis dizer mas pôde nunca admitir a inglês: As tartarugas giram-me sobre. Quando eu v uma tartaruga, eu começo tudo quente. Eu não sei porque este é. Pôde ter que fazer com algum processo que evolucionário eu não estou ciente de. Eu teria tartarugas do animal de estimação mas seria como ter mais de uma esposa. Nao bom. Long vivo a tartaruga.

I still win.

I win!

Okay, I won that last blog war hands down. Next topic soon..

Our blog war starts.. NOW

If you so choose to accept it.. if not, well, then I win. What is a blog war? Simply respond to the following statement in your own blog. Best response wins. (if there is one) Comments are disabled for this entry.

I hereby declare a blog war with the following situation: (we'll start with an easy one)

Situation: No Limit TexHE Tourney, stacks are lopsided, you have an average stack of about $2500 blinds are 100 / 200. There are eight players on the table, you are UTG. You are dealt "sigfried and roy" (QQ) and are first to act. You raise 3x the big blind. Position 4 folds, Position 5 folds, Position 6 raises $600, Position 7 folds, Position 8 folds, Dealer folds, SB folds, BB goes all in with $1400.00.

Intel: Position 6 is staring down at the table and avoiding eye contact. He is currently the chip leader at the table with $9000 in chips. He has brought gatorade to the table and eats cherry tomatoes. He has a reputation for finishing in the money, he is what you would consider to be a "good player". You did, however, find out that the night prior he was at casino and lost a wad of cash at the poker tables. He is single, and has no where to be at this hour, which is.. 1:30am. The BB (all in) position is fidgity. He is tired and had a fight with his spouse prior to the game. He keeps looking at his watch. He is however, known to you as a sneaky player, and a jackass. You want nothing more than to relieve this table of his presence.

Everyone waits for your call... what do you do? and.. why?

Check out these blogs for possible answers:
http://mkweening.blogspot.com/
http://strangershereourselves.blogspot.com/

----update-----
Dan has replied in his blog (click here)
Basically he says "it's the easiest call ever"
I disagree. I say.. the move is fold. Dan did however get a few points correct in my opinion, a crappy bet under the gun with 2500 should have been a push it in sally. But, NOW.. he knows he's beat, most likely with AA or KK by seat 6 there who if he was smart would not go all in, but attempt to pull an all in reraise by you. BB is a wash, he's on a hail mary at best. So, if you call your against AA KK or AK.. only the latter you have a 2% edge on, so it's a race. I say, chuck the cards. Finishing in the money is your only goal here. And, the fact that BB is all in allows you the satisfaction to see how your cards would have lost anyway. Keep in mind you are UTG. ANY Raise made by UTG at an 8 player table HAS TO BE INDICATIVE to a good hand. Number six is not an idiot, as stated in the intel... He has seen your raise, and knows it's not a good position to be bluffing in. HE KNOWS you have goods, and yet he is still willing to challenge it. He has you beat my friend.. he has you beat. Lay it down, lay it down.. then say "that was one hell of a lay down" but at least your still in the game.

Movies you have to watch..

Two movies you have to watch in the next few weeks:

"Office Space"

This movie was a recommended watch to me from Ray and Tan YEARS ago. I believe their exact words were.. "WHAT? you haven't watched OFFICE SPACE??" followed by this look of tharn and disbelief. After succumbing to the enthusiasm of R and T’s recommendation, I understood the justification for the outburst. This movie is ha-fricken-larious. If you have ever worked in an office environment, and even if you haven’t, you will be able to relate to the characters in this movie. The story is about a few office workers that hate their jobs. The office, the bosses, the TPS reports, the annoying no-one-knows-what-he-does guy, the super-duper happy receptionist, the fax machine, the copier, are all despised by the characters. Among the other great performances, the sympathetic character “Milton” played by Stephen Root, is delivered to perfection. Give the guy his stapler!!
I now own this DVD and keep it at work on my desk, next to my swingline stapler. Rarely is it there however, as I lend it to everyone that hasn’t seen it. If someone pays my desk a visit I’ll ask them if they’ve watched it, and if they haven’t I echo R and T’s enthusiastic question… “WHAT??? YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT??”

“Fight Club”

I tend to pick up on things pretty fast, I can figure stuff out quickly. It’s what I do. Yea, I might not be able to fix a damn car or for some dumb reason remember people’s names, but I can solve stuff lickity split. It’s hard to pull one over on the schaaper. “Fight Club” pulled one over on me and I instantly fell in love with it because of that. The author, Chuck Palahniuk draws you inside someone’s head, and builds this story written totally in the first person. An office worker (Ed Norton) and a soap salesmen (Brad Pitt) build a club which helps men identify who they truly are. The very interesting thing about this movie is the main character played by Ed Norton doesn’t have a name. He’s credited as “the narrator”, and his narration is unique and quite thought provoking.
This is quite a violent movie, but I wouldn’t consider it gratuitous. This movie is one to see more than once, and is much more fulfilling watching it the second and third times.

The corner grocery store.

I swear.. CO-OP is an acronym for Canada's Opressed Old People cause it seems to be the punching bag for the elderly of our community. Forgive me for my generalizations, I don't care, Something has to be said. Here are a few of my observations:

1. Old people can't count.

Excuse me for bitching, but the isle you're standing in says "EXPRESS LINE FIVE ITEMS OR LESS!" This means, look down at your little basket and count how many items you have. If you have more than you can count on one hand, YOU'RE IN THE WRONG LINE! If you can't count how many items you have, chances are you HAVE TOO MANY ITEMS ANYWAY. A senior's discount DOES NOT MEAN discount items off your total item count. NOW MOVE ALONG!

2. Old people have waaaaay too many coins.

Why the frigg do old people empty the piggy bank before they do groceries?

"That'll be $11.43 please"

"Oh my, i think I have that hang on.."

"Here you go.."

"That's only $11.00"

"Oh dear, I have some pennies"

"there you go..hehe..got it now.. hehe..oh dear I'm missing bob barker"

YEA PRICE IS RIGHT FINALLY! HOLY! EVER HEARD OF INTERAC? CREDIT CARD? NO? HOW ABOUT A TWENTY DOLLAR BILL!!!!???

Coins are meant for two things: Vending machines and Parking meters. NO ONE CARES IF YOU HAVE EXACT CHANGE! NOW MOVE ALONG!

3. Old people can't make up the mind.

PLEASE!! DECIDE IF YOU WANT THE ITEM BEFORE YOU BRING IT TO THE TILL! Although the checkers are very nice people, they are paid to smile and be nice and to make sure you pay for what you buy. THEY ARE NOT YOUR PERSONAL GROCER FRIGGEN THERAPISTS, THEY DO NOT WANT TO HELP YOU DECIDE IF YOU WANT THE ROMAINE LETTUCE OR THE..WHATEVER LETTUCE. What they SHOULD do however, is HELP YOU COUNT YOUR ITEMS so you can MOVE TO ANOTHER LINE!

4. Old people buy weird things

They come to the till with stuff like diet ghostberry prune juice and ectoplasmic powered jelly powder and bulk particle accelerated antacids. The friendly checker has no idea resulting in probably one of the biggest fricken time wasters of all time, THE PRICE CHECK!

Checker: "I've never seen this before, it's not scanning"

Old person:

Checker: "I'll get a price for you, hold on"

Checker: "It's $4.23"

Old person: "Oh dear, I can't pay that, I only have about $3.00 in change"

Me: "MOVE A-FRICKIN-LONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ah crap...

They opened the time capsule with the car yesterday in order to get ready for the celebrations today...and the capsule had water in it!! :(
Watch this video:
http://www.tulsaworld.com/webextra/content/2007/videos/buriedcar/wmv.html

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read the entry below this one.

Buried Car

This is kinda cool...

On June 15th 1957, a 1957 Plymouth Belvedere was buried in a time capsule in downtown Tulsa OK as part of a half centennial celebration. On friday this week, June 15th 2007 they are gonna dig it up! The time capsule was sealed concrete and the car itself was loaded with stuff from 1957 INCLUDING a full tank of gas, a woman's purse, a bottle of booze and whole lot more, then covered in polystyrene and placed in the concrete capsule. It has been down there for 50 years! Along with the contents is a list of people's guesses as to what the population of Tulsa will be in 2007, and the closest person wins the car! unless person is dead, then it goes to next of kin.
I think this is pretty cool, and i hope the event is broadcast on the internet!

Check out this link: http://www.buriedcar.com
There are pictures of the car going into the capsule and other Tulsarama things. Check it out!

Getting back on track..

My blog has suffered a little lately, mostly due to the fact that I've had my face in a book. The good news is the facebook fad is wearing thin for me. Been there done that. Facebook is going a little rubix cube on me at the moment. I figured it out, now its just a cube with similar colors on each side, and the reason to continue using it is just plain moot. But that's not all.
Last week I had a conversation with a friend of mine who recently lit the fuse on a stick of dynamite strategically placed under the ass of his facebook account, and he made a few really good points why. His reasons are his own, and he is welcome to share them in a comment here if he so desires. One of the mutual reasons we had was about facebook replacing a phone call, or a real life meeting with a virtual note on a wall. Language is more than text. Communication is more than a scribble on wall. Meanings can, and will be lost in translation.
So, I am about to light a stick myself, and I'd be a liar if I said the match wasn't lit.
I have 35 friends, family, and coworkers in my list. There is a problem with this. The relationships i have with friends are different than I have with my family, which are different than I have with my coworkers, but more importantly, relationships I have some friends are different than others, and with family, more so again. Facebook wants to treat them all the same.
There is a feature called a "limited" profile which can be tailored to only grant or remove areas of your profile to specific "friends". I did this. I took almost everything important like my wall, status, online status, mini feeds, pictures.. etc removed them from the limited profile, then added all my coworkers to this "limited" profile. It didn't take long for them to do the same. Think about this. You're my "friend" but I don't want you to see anything I'm doing. Pump sand. Ok. This solves the issue of coworkers.
Now we have friends and family. My disclaimer is there many family members that I consider friends, so please don't be offended. People simply have a different relationship with their friends than they do with family, at least I do. Different enough to make it "odd" they all see the same facebook profile, and raises as many eyebrows as it does questions.
I once ran several different websites for our families, both my side and leo's side, as well as a site for friends. These were all separate entities, and the complexities of relational meshing was not an issue as it does for a single facebook profile.
As the match moves closer, it would be a shame not to reflect on the positive aspects of this medium. It allows the breach of physical contraint to keep in touch with people, maintain relationships, and to poke eachother. It allows people to come together as a group, and although the groups in facebook can have thousands of people and no posts, I'm sure there are groups which actually collaborate on something somewhere. It also coverts introverts to virtual extroverts.
I think facebook is great for people who communicate on single planes of existance, like student bodies, for which it was designed, but the complexities of our social threads which weave between the fabric of our reality can never be defined in a single profile.

A little behind

Got a few things going on right now, one of them being facebook. As soon as that starts to get a little old I'll be posting some more, promise.

Facebook.. Friends Redefined.

Hmm..
How can I put this lightly..
HOLY SHIT!
Watch out, if you haven't heard about it already, you will. Facebook. It's a massive friend network instabloggy database kinda thing. I finally succombed after recieving a bunch of friend requests over the last few weeks. I stayed up late last night exploring the site, and stand beside myself in disbelief as to the amount of information out there, and the information people put voluntarily on the internet. In it's basic form, this site puts the Kevin Bacon "six degrees of separation" theory to a rigorous test. It's a tangled web of relational connections. Do you want to know why John is friends with Larry? Or where Jim met Leanne? How about if Leanne ever met up with John or Larry with Jim? Facebook will tell you. And, it'll throw in a shit load of other information, so much as a matter of fact, you'll wonder what the hell happened to the night as you sift through it all. I didn't go to bed until 2:00am this morning, I was on Facebook the whole time. Welcome to the next addiction. Another anti-christ is born. (Don't all CRC'rs see any addiction as the anti-christ?) Being in IT Security I do cringe at a few things. Here are the things I would watch out for:

1. DO NOT give the system your email address and password. It's just a BAD idea to do this. NEVER NEVER NEVER give ANY system your email address and password. I don't care how many times they say "this information will never be given out" etc.. bad idea. You can manually look for friends rather than having it "look through your email" for your friends. Besides, what it will do is attempt to email everyone of your friends telling them you are on facebook and want to be their friends.

2. Everything you post will be visible to EVERYONE. Privacy is NOT enabled by default. This means any personal information you enter in here can be and will be used as marketing information to target you to things like junkmail, junk phone calls..etc.. Companies are literally FROTHING at the mouths for all the information they can gleam from facebook. Do not put your home phone / cell phone / address in here. Cities are OK, and only very general information.

3. Don't believe everything you see. For example: Facebook says, Dan V and I dated, had a relationship, broke up and got back together and it was SUPERB, Julie S and I used to date and now it's complicated, Darlene and I took a Jungle Survival course together, Jen and I met when she served me pie at a restaurant.. etc.. My point in doing this is, what business is it of others how you know someone? I'm breaking that chain, (and maybe starting a few juicy rumours in the process!! Also.. I can be anyone I want in Facebook. I can open up an account using someone else's information, and become that person. The rub? THEY CAN'T DO A THING ABOUT IT. There is no control. You can't say to anyone, hey.. that's not me, delete that account. It won't happen. There are millions of people using this, and the government is not stepping in to help poor little you who's identity was stolen. All you need is an email address. That's it. An email address. ANYONE can get one at gmail or hotmail. As a matter of fact, I'm going to do this. I'm gonna emulate someone.. Hmmm... who should it be..

4. Facebook is all about "friends" remember. And some people consider the amount of friends you have as a score of some sort. Unless you're an 80 year old woman living with hundreds of cats, there is no way someone can have hundreds of friends. A friend of a friend is NOT a friend, and just because you went to school with someone 22 years ago, doesn't make that a friend either. No, a friend is someone you can phone up and ask you to move, or set up a playground.. (say this saturday at 4:00pm?) Or have icecream with, guilt free.. or go all in at a poker game with them, and reraise them a smile. /damn.. that was cheezy, that smile thing. (note to self, edit that)

I would say go ahead and use this site, after all that it's still kinda cool hooking up with old buddies etc.. BUT, if you attempt to add me as a friend, be prepared to get a screwed up reason how I know you.

www.facebook.com

See you online.

Post Secret

In my brave travels through the abyss of the internet, I came across a blog. This blog is unlike anything I have ever seen. A brilliant idea. It's called Post Secret. The basic premise of the blog is posting a secret about yourself which has never been spoken to anyone. In order to do this however, you must mail a post card to the blog owner with your secret clearly displayed on the front. You can tape text to it, write on it, or draw on it. It's unreal what people send in, and every sunday new secrets come out. The restriction of mailing in a real post card is what makes this site work. The creativity on some of these cards is truely amazing. I urge you to take a look. Click Here

Here's an example:

Oh the boring things I do..

A little insight to my daily activities.

Today I built a Linux server, more specifically, a debian variant Linux server called "Ubuntu Server (Fiesty Fawn)". On this server i put a website.. a secure one. You can check it out if you like, it's at https://securetimes.sublime.ca There's not much there right now, except for a hidden directory in /html called /private of which you need a username and password to gain entrance. The whole point of this server creation is to test out our security team. Inside this private folder is a $100 gift certificate for Best Buy. The first person to access this file wins the hacking challenge and is awarded the gift cert. The contest will be starting in about a month, so I think I'm gonna spruce it up a bit and build a story around it, a story about a spy who uses the web to transmit his illegally obtained information. These are boring things I do.. :)

Do you feel lucky? Huh shrimp? Do ya?

This is crazy.. watch video..



Yea.. no kidding. This is real. If you don't believe me, check out the links below:

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/10/1003_SnappingShrimp.html
or
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pistol_shrimp

Cartoon..

MP3 of the Week

Gonna start something new.. an mp3 of the week.

Every friday I'll upload a new mp3 which you can, readers of my blog, d o w n l o a d and jack into your ipods for your listening pleasure. You will have to actually purchase the album if you enjoy the song though. ;-)

Ok, this week's mp3 falls under the ever so popular anti-war theme going on right now with most popular bands. This track quotes Jean-Paul Sartre "when the rich wage war, it's the poor who die" and this becomes the theme. This is track seven on the new Linkin Park album Minutes to Midnight. The track is called "Hands Held High".

Lyric Warning: A few F bombs.. but how can you talk about war without a few bombs?

The Lyrics:

Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something.Lightweight step it aside, when we comin'.Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumping.People on the street, they panic and start running.Words on loose leaf sheet complete coming.I jump on my mind, I summon the rhyme of dumping.Healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in.Sick of the dark ways, we march to the drumming.Jump when they tell us they want to see jumping.**** that, I want to see some fist pumping.Risk something.Take back what's yours.Say something that you know they might attack you forCause I'm sick of being treated like I have before.Like i'm stupid standing for what I'm standing for.Like this war's really just a different brand of war.Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poorLike they understand you in the back of the jet,When you can't put gas in your tank,These ****ers are laughing their wayTo the bank and cashing a checkAsking you to have compassion and have some respectFor a leader so nervous in an obvious wayStuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replayAnd the rest of the world watching at the end of the dayIn their living room laughing like, "What did he say?"Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, AmenIn my living room watching,But I am not laughing.'Cause when it gets tense,I know what might happen.The world is cold, and bold men take action.Have to react to get blown into fractions.10 years old is something to see,Another kid my age drugged under a G,Taken and bound and found later under a tree,I wonder if he thought, "The next one could be me."Do you see?The soldiers that are out today.That brush the dust with bulletproof vests away.It's ironic.At times like this you pray,But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday.There's bombs in the buses, bikes, roads,Inside your market, your shops, your clothes,My dad, he's got a lot of fear I know,But enough pride inside not to let that show.My brother had a book he would hold with pride,A little red cover with a broken spine.In the back he hand wrote a quote inside,"When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die."Meanwhile, the leader just talks awayStuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replayAnd the rest of the world watching at the end of the dayBoth scared and angry like, "What did he say?"Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen.With hands held high into a sky so blue,The ocean opens up to swallow you. (x6)

I have never..

..looked so forward to a freakin television show as I do now. TONIGHT.. LOST SEASON THREE 2 hour FINALE! Come over for the high def version.. you know you want to!
- My Theories.. (may contain spoilers to those who have not watched season three yet)

• Charlie is finally gonna die brutha
• Irritating Rose and her annoying husband.. gonzo.. gonna bite it in the battle.
• "The Looking Glass" refers to the sequel of Alice in Wonderland where there is mirroring and time shifting. Also why the logo for the looking glass station is a rabbit..
• Alex is pregnant... this is almost a guarantee, due to the fact in the last episode she is seen killing a rabbit. (Am I the only one who notices these things?)
• Mr Negativity aka Jack MIGHT .. might.. be killed in endgame battle with Ben, hopefully anyway.. he's about as annoying and irritating as Rose and her husband.
• Ben is not going anywhere. He makes the show.. the perfect villian.
• As much as I don't want to see their faces anymore, I think Michael and his psycho son are coming back.. If he does, I kinda hope he dies for his back handed betrayal of his people.
• I think smokey is going to participate in the battle.. siding with the losties.
• Patchy, aka Mikail, is gonna die at the mighty hands of DESMOND

So lots of death and mayhem. Gonna be good.. ooo yea.. gonna be good.

Poker.. A Few Thoughts..

In light of last nights inpromptu get together:

There seemed to be an overwhelming feeling of guilt for playing a game of poker on a monday night after the big tourney night on friday. Why do we feel this way? It is any different than going out for a beer with a bunch of guys where all our money goes to the bar, and our bellies get stuffed with obligatory pints and greasy foods? Instead, we get together for a beer in a friends garage and eat yellow peppers, italian roma tomatoes. cucumbers and wash it down with an apple cider. Obviously the better choice. Now, a bunch of guys getting together to eat veggies and have a beer or cider, and there happens to be a poker table loaded with cards and chips. What better way to spend time? Time with good food, good people and a good game. This, in my opinion, is the best way for guys to spend together.

Think about this --> pool halls and golf courses. Guys don't like much to just sit around and gab, we need to be doing something. Some kind of competition. The problem with Pool Halls and Golf Courses, they all require a lot of skill and a lot of practice. Poker on the other hand, is a unique hybrid of skill and luck. It takes very little skill and time to learn how to play, a total rookie can sweep a 20 man tourney, beacuse he's getting "good cards" or "getting lucky" and yet the skill part of the game is a tantalizing potpurree of calculating odds, reading players, manipulation, getting into the heads of players, and mastering the meta game. Poker is an intimate game. The feeling of sitting at a table with stacks of chips in front of you is empowering, and winning a tourney is gigantic! you've out-smarted, out-played and out-drew everyone there. It's the reason you came.

Yea there's a time for pool halls or golf. But for cost and convienience, poker can't be beat.

These are my thoughts. I'd like to hear yours. Click on the comments line below this message and let me know you think. If you don't have a blogger account, just click anonymous when posting, but throw your name in the comment somewhere.

Amazing thing...

So I'm sitting here in chinook mall waiting for sears to open, and there is a whole bunch of people waiting as well.  My thoughts were that they were waiting for the sears to open as well.  But they were not.  They were all waiting for this small kiosk to open up in front of sears, the royal lepage kiosk with the new home listings.. Crazy.  A flurry of pens and papers and cell phone calls in within five minutes they were gone.  I think home prices in calgary are gonna get even crazier.

Welcome to Poker with Ray

Like a friggen pro, Ray walks over the poker tables, kicking the teeth out of his competition with a second place and a first place win, knockin yours truly out with a third place win.  I don't think I've seen him play better proving to be the one to be knocked out in future bouts.  I do however take credit for teaching him all he knows about the game, kinda like what I did with fly fishing... Ray, its a proud moment in my life to be taken down by a student, such as it was the day you caught more fish than me. You are on your own now, I have to let you go... Be all the player and fisher you can be, and one day... One day you might be able to teach me something.  Just remember, when you walk into my dojo, I will always be the sensay, and you the grasshopper. 


--sent with the almighty blackberry--

The Waiter.. Chapter One

I started to write a story, just as an excercise to see what would come out without any planning, plotting, character development or anything like that. Just typing.. in one sitting. What came out was this:



The Waiter - Chapter One



I am here, I am waiting. I didn’t choose the place, or the time, but I am here, waiting. At least the bitter coldness of February is temporarily subdued, and the subtle warmth of the winter sun is becoming noticeable on my black wool jacket. I tuck my hands in my coat pocket and shrug my shoulders in an effort to block any cold entering the opening between my jacket and my chin. Why would he choose this place? A few others are around, the homeless types. They must have slept here during the night. Drug and alcohol addicts, some sitting, some lying down, all of them barely living. They have blank stares, starring at the rotting leaves on the ground. In this park the leaves aren’t cleaned up, they are left to rot. No one cares about this park. Why would they? It’s where you come to decompose. It stinks of expiration. I don’t feel sorry for these people, I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. Why the hell would he choose this place? A café would have sufficed. I could sure use a coffee. There is a great café not five minutes from here. The coffee is always fresh, and they use real cream, so thick it’s almost whipped. They even bake their own muffins. Blueberry bran muffins, right out of the oven, served with butter, real butter, not that fake margarine shit. I bet anyone of these destitute freaks would kill for one of those muffins. If I had a watch I’d look at it. I’m sure I got the time right. 9:00am. When I walked by the steam clock it was 8:45am, that was about a quarter hour ago. He’ll be here any moment now. I hate waiting. Waiting makes you think. Thinking makes you feel. Feeling brings guilt. I don’t feel, I can’t feel. Feelings are for the weak.. and guilt is for the dead. If I felt guilt, I’d be dead. Where is he? I hate waiting.

Oatmeal.. the benefits

I've been oatmealing now for two weeks. Oatmeal in the morning, that's the deal. (save for weekends, I think that's fair)
How do I feel different? VERY Interesting things have been happening to me as a result of Ray's Oatmeal challenge.

So.. The Top 10 Changes Oatmeal Has Made To My Life Thus Far

Number Ten
Colors are becoming more brilliant. I don't know if this is just a coincidence, but I'm starting to notice green grass, colorful blooms in the trees, and bright yellow and red tulips have somehow appeared in the back yard.

Number Nine
It's staying light longer. I was noticing this the other day when I was at Mike and Cathy's for dinner. It was 10pm and still appeared quite light out. Nice. I like! Do you like?

Number Eight
Gave me a reason to blog again..

Number Seven
My KIDS have become smarter, and inquisitive. "Dad, what is that you're eating?" "It's Oatmeal" "That doesn't look so good, it looks bruised" "That's the blueberries" "It looks gross" "It's actually not that bad" "You're lying to us" "Want to try some?" "Yea, I want to try that like I want to try mixing barium hydroxide octahydrate crystals with dry ammonium chloride.. no thanks Dad."

Number Six
Allowing me to come the undenial conclusion that Jacob is actually a time spliced version of JOHN LOCKE. Yea, that's right.. Jacob = John. If you don't know what i'm talking about, watch Lost. Learn Lost. Love Lost.

Number Five
Somehow, due to the consumption of oatmeal, and through the phenomenon known as "Transference" I was able to make Leo addicted to something. Ask her if your interested. We might need to do an intervention, followed by a few episodes of oh, I dunno, GREY'S ANATOMY? (Interesting note about the show: the creator once studied to be a monk, and after his six months vow of silence, came to the realization that all of his follow monks were gay, which made him decide it wasn't for him. An Anagram of "GREYS ANATOMY" is "GAY MONASTERY")

Number Four
I became an anagram machine. I can find hidden messages in almost anything you throw at me. For example.. an anagram of OATMEAL is "EAT LOAM" and if you think "UNFIT ANABOLITIC BIOLOGISM " is just a fluke that it's anagram is "SUBLIMATION BLOGIFICATION" you'd be wrong, way wrong my friend. Don't underestimate the anagram machine. I rock the khasba, over and over, and then.. when I'm done.. i'll rock it again.

Number Three
I don't wear sunglasses as much as I used to. Mostly due to the fact that I forgot where I put mine.

Number Two
Figured out what a "Khasba" is, you know from the song, Rock the Khasba? Well turns out it's actually spelled "Casbah" and it's a castle or palace in northern Africa. Who woulda thought.
"Now over at the temple Oh! they really pack em in. The in crowd say its cool to dig this chanting thing. But as the wind changed direction, the temple band took five. The crowd caught a wiff of that crazy casbah jive"

AND THE NUMBER ONE CHANGE OATMEAL HAS MADE TO MY LIFE..
Made food tastes better, way better.. well.. compared to oatmeal.

Two hunters..

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy takes out his phone and calls the emergency services.
He gasps: "My friend is dead! What can I do?" The operator says: "Calm down, I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead." There is a silence, then a gunshot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says: "OK, now what?"

---

In Oct 2002, after 40,000 entries from 70 countries and 2 million ratings, the above joke was considered to be the official world's funniest joke.

I gotta have more cowbell..

What do you think the chances are of this:

Last night, we're playin' a little poker with the boys, and for some reason Ray mentions something about the SNL skit of 2000 called "I gotta have more cowbell". I've never seen it so I am not participatory in the laughter which follows. Then Dan, gets out his cell phone and tells us we have to listen to something, and it's a voicemail recording of his brother in law from earlier that day saying, "DAN, I gotta have more cowbell" ok... as if that's not freaky enough.. it goes on.

Matt (who was at the game) emails me this morning saying,

"I am listening to "more cowbell song " in a supplier right now. Crazy world man!"

okay that's just creepy. Then this...

I'm surfing the web at work this morning, NOT anything related to "cow bell" or SNL, and I come across a website with a sponser.. the sponser's banner said.. Gotta Have More CowBell TSHIRTS (click here if you don't believe me)

Two occurances... coincidence.. Three occurances.. Something's going on here but FOUR??? Undeniably out of world system sending a message, warning perhaps. So of course I have to analyze the phrase "I GOTTA HAVE MORE COWBELL"

Now.. what you are about to see will surprise the hell out of you. Cause it's undeniably true. I solved the puzzle. If you take all the 21 letters from the phrase "I GOTTA HAVE MORE COWBELL" and re-arrange them, not adding any letters or taking any away (an anagram).. you get... this..

ready? (this is some kinda crazy)

I GOTTA HAVE MORE COWBELL

converts to

OATMEAL BLOC OVERWEIGHT

Please! Count the letters! Prove me wrong! it's a direct anagram!

THANK YOU UNIVERSE FOR PROVIDING ME WITH THIS MESSAGE, I SHALL CONTINUE ON WITH THE OATMEAL CHALLENGE

The Sandwich Terrorist

If there is one thing for certain here in Calgary, it's this: If you don't like your job, you can get a new one. Yes, that's right; you can work where ever you want. Ok, what does this mean? This means that if for whatever reason you don't LIKE YOUR JOB, feel free to throw in the towel and find something which MAKES YOU HAPPY.

I decided to allow Subway to appease my light appetite for lunch today. I ordered a six inch seafood sub. (Hey Alex, the 12" sub called, he's wondering what happened.. friggen oatmeal happened, with blueberries...tell him I'll call him back in two months.)

The worker, err.. "sandwich artist" who prepared my sub did not like her job. She was not happy, and she decided to be not happy to my sub. You know how they nicely lay the cheese slightly over lapping, careful to cover the whole sub? Not angry lady.. no... she throws two pieces of cheese in the middle of the sub. I say.. "you think you can spread those out a little" while doing the open-the-tent-door action with my hands. She took great offense to this and the rest of the veggies went on with a violent release of deep-seeded suppressed religious petulance. Then in a surprise attack mustard was blown all over it with a terroristic blast. I didn't even ask for mustard, but I knew I wasn't in control anymore. It was then wrapped in a C4 napkin and thrown into the bag, timer set to zero. It's not my sub's fault you don't like your job, and it certainly isn't mine. Why, for the love of everything sacred, are you working there?? Why don't you try next door maybe at the Pianni's Pizza.. or perhaps at the ONE POINT TWO MILLION OTHER JOB OPENINGS IN CALGARY??!? THAT WAS NOT A SUB YOU MADE ME, THAT WAS A PLASTIC BAG FULL OF SUICIDE SEAFOOD EXPLOSION! I didn't make a stink about this, I was with co workers and had to maintain my sense of professionalism. I ate it anyway.. but there is something to be said about presentation. Picture a sandwich, all nice and cut nicely.. mmm yummy.. now picture that sub smashed and smeared up on a window.. same ingredients, not so yummy, no..not so yummy at all. All cause someone doesn't like the job. Get a paper, pick up a phone..get a new job.

Knock knock..

Who's there?
A Man..
A Man who?
A man who decided he didn't like the color he was, so he painted himself purple with paint, thinking he might be more accepted. He was more accepted, and people liked him, and he learned to like people again, and everyone was happy. Only..... it wasn't a man, it was a bowl of oatmeal, and it wasn't paint.. it was blueberries.

where is paris hilton? Pictures of paris hilton in jail. I would like to see that.

A slight discoloration

Blue berries make the oatmeal purple.

five days out of five days.

Oatmeal??

I have been challenged by my brother to eat a bowl of oatmeal every morning for sixty days. I took the challenge. I am on day four. 56 to go.. easy challenge.

I should challenge Ray to sixty days of not using the F word. I have the better odds.

My life as I know it.... Is over

I just ordered a large coffee with two milk and two sweetener. What the heck... is the matter... with me... Oatmeal. More later.