Paul Van Dyk - For An Angel
Typing with one finger right now as I'm munching on these wings. It's been quite a hectic week in Minneapolis, MN. I've been here on business all week and I haven't had too much free time. So making use of my free time by blogging. It makes perfect sense.
I am super geek, you shall bow before me.
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It's hard to type with one hand and wing sauce dripping from the corner of your mouth. It's also hard to write with a tv 2 feet away from your right ear, 2 chat windows open, a window open for online shopping and one more for checking email. Some say multi-tasker and some say attention deficit disorder. I say a little of both and a small morsel of schizophrenia.
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I've had a myriad of things running through my head today. I wish I was better at mental sprints. I'd definitely catch up to all these thoughts and emotions.
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Today is my mom's 52nd birthday and she doesn't look a day older than 38. Happy bday mom. Thanks for everything!
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There's another person who has a birthday today that I haven't said happy bday to. I promised myself that I wouldn't and I like to keep my promises. I'm sure she understands. I am after all, unruly.
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Have you ever randomly put spaces in a string of text just to make stupid/vulgar words/sentences?...it's fun.
I am good at multi-tasking!
I am good at mul tit asking!
I am go oda tmul tit as king!
Ok...maybe I'm just bored.
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I have 3 gmail invites for sale. Will sell for money, wings and sexual favours. Inquire within.
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4 years ago I graduated with my BSc in Biochemistry and was offered a position as a potato genetics researcher at some university in Newfoundland. It would have paved a road for me to do my PHD but I declined. Part of me regrets that decision. I mean girls dig educated men. I mean a PHD in potato genetics -- could I get any hotter? Now I'm just an IT geek. Girls aren't too impressed when you talk to them about databases and programming.
All kidding aside though, I'd much rather be working with computers than figuring out how to manipulate spud genes.
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Time for bed. Goodnight night Wanda. Goodnight all.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Friday, June 11, 2004
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Frou Frou – Holding Out For a Hero
There's nothing I hate more than misguided naïve girls who like to judge others because they can’t see beyond their own little utopia.
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If I'm intolerant of people who are intolerant, does that make me a hypocrite or just holier than thou?
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My days of being with the wrong girls, for the wrong reasons, under false pretenses, solely for the sake of sleeping with them are so far behind me.
My days of being with the right girls, for the right reasons, without the pretenses, solely for the sake of sleeping with them are well on their way!
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When I was about 8 years old, like other boys my age, I wanted to be a ninja. Unlike other 8 year old boys though, I wasn't satisfied with plastic imitations of ninja weapons and decided to make my own real weapons. With my dad's tool shed at my disposal I made a pair of numchucks out of wood and some chains, brass knuckles with 2 inch nails on the end and a miniature sickle.
My first attempt at being a real ninja got me called to the principal's office for chasing around the other kids with my brass knuckles. Mom and dad were not amused.
My second attempt at being a real ninja led me on a journey to the park. There I found a cabbage patch doll belonging to one of the neighbours' kids. I proceeded to interrogate the cabbage patch doll with my numchucks. It was unfortunate that it chose not to talk because I then had to resort to extreme measures. I used my sickle to dismember its limbs. After that I buried it in the sand.
The grave I dug turned out to be too shallow. Ninjas are experts in killing people not burying corpses. The neighbour and his kid came to our house with the dismembered limbs in hand to ask if we saw anyone do this. Ninjas are however, experts in lying because I told them I saw some other kids at the playground earlier in the day playing with her doll.
I had a hard time sleeping after this incident so I hung up my numchucks and retired.
I came back out of retirement when I was in grade 9. I made professional blow darts that had a range of about 30 – 50 feet. Each dart was sharp enough to stick firmly into a wooden board. I sold these to the other kids in my tech class. After nearly taking out a kid's eye from across the room I retired for good.
I miss my ninja days.
There's nothing I hate more than misguided naïve girls who like to judge others because they can’t see beyond their own little utopia.
...
If I'm intolerant of people who are intolerant, does that make me a hypocrite or just holier than thou?
...
My days of being with the wrong girls, for the wrong reasons, under false pretenses, solely for the sake of sleeping with them are so far behind me.
My days of being with the right girls, for the right reasons, without the pretenses, solely for the sake of sleeping with them are well on their way!
...
When I was about 8 years old, like other boys my age, I wanted to be a ninja. Unlike other 8 year old boys though, I wasn't satisfied with plastic imitations of ninja weapons and decided to make my own real weapons. With my dad's tool shed at my disposal I made a pair of numchucks out of wood and some chains, brass knuckles with 2 inch nails on the end and a miniature sickle.
My first attempt at being a real ninja got me called to the principal's office for chasing around the other kids with my brass knuckles. Mom and dad were not amused.
My second attempt at being a real ninja led me on a journey to the park. There I found a cabbage patch doll belonging to one of the neighbours' kids. I proceeded to interrogate the cabbage patch doll with my numchucks. It was unfortunate that it chose not to talk because I then had to resort to extreme measures. I used my sickle to dismember its limbs. After that I buried it in the sand.
The grave I dug turned out to be too shallow. Ninjas are experts in killing people not burying corpses. The neighbour and his kid came to our house with the dismembered limbs in hand to ask if we saw anyone do this. Ninjas are however, experts in lying because I told them I saw some other kids at the playground earlier in the day playing with her doll.
I had a hard time sleeping after this incident so I hung up my numchucks and retired.
I came back out of retirement when I was in grade 9. I made professional blow darts that had a range of about 30 – 50 feet. Each dart was sharp enough to stick firmly into a wooden board. I sold these to the other kids in my tech class. After nearly taking out a kid's eye from across the room I retired for good.
I miss my ninja days.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Sundays - Here's Where The Story Ends
When you get to my age the girls are all biological clock-driven. The thought of marriage is no longer just a childhood fantasy but something that is realistically within their grasp. And as more and more of their girlfriends start saying "I do", the more it starts becoming a race against each other. It's like a swim meet and they're all on the starting boards; everyone is watching; and they’re all trying to beat each other to the shallow end.
The guys on the other hand don't care much for swimming, the only swimming that sounds remotely interesting to them is the breast stroke. If you look closely in the shallow end you'll see the men hiding along the side of the wall and trying to hold their breaths as long as they can. Their friends are getting married, and they’re thinking to themselves, "thank god it's not me", and they start wondering how much longer they can hold out. Meanwhile as the girls are frantically flapping their arms in the water, it's only a matter of time before they get to the boys at the shallow end and try to squeeze out any last bits of air they have left in their lungs. Sadly enough this is what marriage is all about.
When you get to my age the girls are all biological clock-driven. The thought of marriage is no longer just a childhood fantasy but something that is realistically within their grasp. And as more and more of their girlfriends start saying "I do", the more it starts becoming a race against each other. It's like a swim meet and they're all on the starting boards; everyone is watching; and they’re all trying to beat each other to the shallow end.
The guys on the other hand don't care much for swimming, the only swimming that sounds remotely interesting to them is the breast stroke. If you look closely in the shallow end you'll see the men hiding along the side of the wall and trying to hold their breaths as long as they can. Their friends are getting married, and they’re thinking to themselves, "thank god it's not me", and they start wondering how much longer they can hold out. Meanwhile as the girls are frantically flapping their arms in the water, it's only a matter of time before they get to the boys at the shallow end and try to squeeze out any last bits of air they have left in their lungs. Sadly enough this is what marriage is all about.
Saint Etienne - Hobart Paving
Eggspectation is the yummiest and most fantabulous place to have breakfast...this I know...there you should go. My breakfast of choice was the Eggsuberent. 2 eggs, 3 sausages, potatoes, fresh fruit, pancakes and toast. All for $7.99. How can you go wrong?
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While in Montreal I got some new jogging pants, a retro Iverson jersey and some new converse shoes. It was a thug-like shoppping spree for me. Now I just need some ice and some bling-bling and maybe I can be in a rap video. (Puffy...call me.)
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One of the managers in my office inadvertently showed me some cleavage today. While I was at her place helping her install some software for her laptop, she showed me pictures of her about 10-15 years ago. Apparently her and her friends were the real pioneers of Girls Gone Wild at Mardi Gras. Too bad I didn't have any beads to throw at her...or a scanner so I could post those pictures up on our company website.
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My dog snores. I'll be doing the same in about 10 minutes. Goodnight.
Eggspectation is the yummiest and most fantabulous place to have breakfast...this I know...there you should go. My breakfast of choice was the Eggsuberent. 2 eggs, 3 sausages, potatoes, fresh fruit, pancakes and toast. All for $7.99. How can you go wrong?
...
While in Montreal I got some new jogging pants, a retro Iverson jersey and some new converse shoes. It was a thug-like shoppping spree for me. Now I just need some ice and some bling-bling and maybe I can be in a rap video. (Puffy...call me.)
...
One of the managers in my office inadvertently showed me some cleavage today. While I was at her place helping her install some software for her laptop, she showed me pictures of her about 10-15 years ago. Apparently her and her friends were the real pioneers of Girls Gone Wild at Mardi Gras. Too bad I didn't have any beads to throw at her...or a scanner so I could post those pictures up on our company website.
...
My dog snores. I'll be doing the same in about 10 minutes. Goodnight.
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