Chunky, phlegmy pieces of blog

I just downloaded Internet Explorer 6. Besides the flashy new icons, I can't see any visible changes.

My apartment already is a "No Pants Zone," so partcipating in No Pants Day shouldn't be a problem at all.

Not much going on today. Once again, the UTA Gateway server died when I was trying to get some work done. Bastards.

I'm still fighting my cold. I'm now convinced that part of the reason I can't seem to shake it is that my intake of vitamins is far too minimal. Pardon me while I run to the kitchen to take a multivitamin. There... I feel healthier already.

I had to re-download my virus protection software again, as it seems that I contracted the Nimda virus. Bloody viri.

Caramelhead's taken to hiding our bread in the crispers of the refrigerator. I suppose it makes sense, but I always forget when we have bread. Not that it matters much, I don't make myself a lot of sandwiches (even though I should, considering the three-week old salami and bologna we have in there).

I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight. I have an English essay to write, but that shouldn't take much time. I'll probably do it tomorrow at work. Fungushead, however, is giving me a number of things to think about. Oy vey.

I wrote two more E2 nodes: the Winnipeg Arena and Memorial Cup.

I don't think I've ever seen the moon shine quite so brightly. I just took my shit-eating (don't ask) dog for a walk. As I turned the corner of my apartment building and exited the gate, it struck me. Just as your elders advise not to look directly into the sun, this perfect moon hurt my eyes when I gazed at it. The effect was compounded by a thin veneer of cirrus clouds which were draped discretely across the moon's path. Beautiful. Simply fucking beautiful.

I have my Cliche Kitty Winamp skin (old link removed) and I couldn't be happier.

I've found a new hobby: noding. I've imagined setting up a Web site like Everything2 before, but the sheer scope and logistics are far out of my league. E2 is a collaborative effort to index as much knowledge and personal experience as possible, within the context of "nodes." I really can't explain it very well yet, but it is addictive. I've written three nodes of note: Dale Hawerchuk , the Cornwall Royals and Cadillac Mountain

I spent most of the wee hours of this morning playing the Windows merry-go-round. I tried installing Win XP, but my install attempt failed. I then reinstalled Win2K, but my computer rebooted itself halfway through the configuration process. It let me finish the install, but the dialer components were fried. I then tried to install Win XP over top 2000 (despite their warnings), but to no avail. Finally, I wound up reinstalling Win2K all over again.

Evif Yadirf.

1. What are your hobbies? -- Right now I'd have to say writing (including blogging), digital music, movies, and commuting. Recently, I've been doing some digital image manipulation, which is a fancy way of saying that I use Photoshop to mess around with pictures.

2. Do you collect anything? If so, what? -- I have a substantial MP3 collection (almost 3000 tracks). I also have a small collection of Canadian "first-day covers," which are commemorative, decorative envelopes printed when a stamp is issued. When I was in elementary school, I had large comic book, stamp and coin collections.

3. Is there a hobby you're interested in, but just don't have the time/money to do? -- I'd like to start taking guitar lessons again (but seriously this time). I've also wanted to delve into 35mm photography and building robots.

4. Have you ever turned a hobby into a moneymaking opportunity? -- I can't say I have.

5. Besides web-related stuff (burbs, rings, etc.), what clubs do you belong to? -- Right now, my membership is limited to my rugby team, the Fort Worth RFC.

Well, my test went relatively well. Plenty of questions on the Ideal Gas Law (PV=nRT), and more questions than I expected about the paramagnetic or diamagnetic character of certain atoms' orbitals . I think I made the best (semi-)educated guesses on the questions I was unsure about. It should be enough to get myself a half-decent grade on the test, keeping my chances very much alive for a B in the course.

Caramelhead got her glasses, and it didn't even cost that much. I should take this opportunity to thank AT&T Broadband's (old link removed) vision plan for preventing optometrists from anally raping poor shlubs like me. To treat myself, I got a pair of half-price Adidas sunglasses to replace the pair that I broke in January.

I'll be posting my Friday Five in an hour or so.

I'm about to run to QT to pick up some junk food, which I will need to keep me awake for the next 5 hours. Then, I can nap, fold some laundry and get ready for Fungushead's optometrist appointment. Maybe I'll post another Toban article this afternoon.

I'm still looking forward to that nap, though. Toban be damned. I'm going to lay my fat ass down on that mattress for a few hours and sleep away the late morning. Whee!

This from the National Post: Canadian Alliance MP Keith Martin protests the smiting of his private member's bill by touching the Mace (old link removed), the "symbol of the Speaker's authority and sacred totem of parliamentary democracy," as it was described in the article. Fucking Chretien. When I was in Grade 9, I was made the Sergeant-at-Arms for my high school's mock Parliament. Our mace, however, was a softball bat, which seems a fitting choice considering that the parliamentary "pages" were used as message-bitches for the Grade 12's to pass notes to each other making weekend plans or for flirting.

I'm going to be pulling an all-nighter tonight to prepare for my final Chemistry test. This chapter? Gases.

Well, my Jango Fett picture has garnered five votes besides my own. There...I don't feel so useless now!

I'm thinking about giving Karen her own Rants page. I doubt she'll take the opportunity, but I think that "Caramelhead's Corner" would be an interesting page. I'd have to do all the HTML gruntwork, and probably some minor editing, but maybe it'll be a good outlet for her. We'll see what she says tomorrow.

Rebecca Eckler, one of my favorite columnists, wrote an article about the best burger in the world (old link removed). I love her, and it's not because she's a cutie (not that it hurts) and close to my own age. I just find her frank writing style appealing.

After four tries, I finally got my first vote on a Photoshop contest entry! It was a photograph of Jango Fett as part of an acrobatic cavalry unit. Yay me! It is a pointless hobby, but I don't care!

Among the strange photos I found were:

• A man wearing a bathing cap, with three plungers stuck to his torso
• A man violently crashing his kitesurfer thingy
• People hugging a 30-foot saguaro cactus
• A hirsute man being mauled by a kodiak bear

I just finished digging at my thigh with a finishing nail. No, I'm not getting into self-mutilation, I just had a nasty pimple/welt that needed prodding. Now that you're completely disgusted, let's move onto nicer topics.

I'm starting to collect images for my "Photoshop fodder" file. Having a store of decent, hi-res images will make entering Photoshop contests quicker. And no, that doesn't include porn...that's in another folder completely.

I'm trying to convince Fungushead to switch over to DSL. That in itself isn't that bad, but she's raising a stink about having to change our phone number -- we need to switch local phone providers to get DSL. Apparently, she'll need to spend 30 minutes filling out a form at work to change personal information. Gads, I waste that much time nightly waiting for shit to download. I would get a cable modem, but our shitty apartment complex uses one of those small cable providers who mount a handful of digital satellite dishes on the roof of the laundry room.

When we finally get our hobby farm, I may buy myself a beefalo to go with our horse (horses?) and goat (goats?). I wonder what kind of temperament beefalos have...can one share a pasture with a horse? Or a pen with a goat? Can you milk a beefalow cow? Would you want to? So many questions!

I thought this merited posting. A National Post article details how the Canadian military has delayed the presentation of medals to Canadian snipers (old link removed) fighting in Afghanistan. Here's a noteworthy excerpt from the story:

     During the next four days of fighting, the 
     Newfoundland corporal set what is believed to be 
     a record for a long-distance shot under combat 
     conditions, hitting an enemy gunman at a distance 
     of 2,430 metres.

That's roughly a mile-and-a-half. Jesus.

I posted two entries to the Photoshop contest at FARK.com. Why don't you take a look?

I also posted a new rant, the newest installment of the Shirts I've Owned series. It's a silly series, but you'll get a good idea of who I was years ago by reading it. More specifically, you'll be able to determine just how much of a dork I was back then. Weren't we all, though?

If I was a medieval soldier, I'd want a halberd. Better yet, a lochaber axe. That way, I could yank enemy horsemen from their saddles and mercilessly hack away at their exposed, unarmored areas. I'd also like to have skin of steel to deflect arrows and swords, and a harem of beautiful ladies-in-waiting wouldn't be bad, either. And then, this one time, at band camp...

No, I'm not overmedicated. I just sound that way.

In my haste to make sure I made at least one update to my Web page yesterday (thus avoiding breaking my streak of consecutive days with posts), I changed the font on two pages. Lame, I know, but it does qualify...

This from FARK: New Zealanders are sending bizarre and kinky condolence messages to the Royal Family. Yikes.

I'm going to ramble a bit about a fond memory of mine: Geophysics Field School. Two summers ago, I took a summer course to learn the particulars of performing surveys with various geophysical instruments and techniques. Over two weeks, I learned how to use magnetometers, transits, gravitometers, time-domain electromagnetics and various shallow-depth electromagnetic devices (EM-31 and EM-38), as well as how to perform induced potential (IP) and crude seismic surveys. One of our projects took us to a farm near Arborg, Manitoba. (To find Arborg, find the approximate center of Canada and then search for backwater towns starting with the letter 'A.') This farm, which apparently was about to produce a bumper crop of rocks, was situated over a number of small-scale kaolinite deposits. The bedrock is primarily paleozoic limestones and dolostones, which have chemically eroded to form a karst-like subsurface topography. In the karst depression, clay minerals like smectite and kaolinite -- a white, triclinic mineral commonly used in the bleaching of paper and manufacture of porcelain -- collect. Most of the techniques we used here were surprisingly ineffectual (maybe bringing the magnetometer harness would have been an idea, preventing the need to duct tape the receiver to Lisa), requiring our survey to be based on a single instrument, which only our crotchety TA knew how to use correctly. Either way, we were able to determine likely places for future kaolinite pits, although they'd be small and hardly worth the effort.

What was the point of that story?

I'm at a loss what to do tomorrow. I doubt I'll want to see a movie, and the skies seem to be threatening us with rain, which would restrict outdoors activity. Hmm...

I was going to write a post from work yesterday, but my plan was foiled by a computer outage. Our network connection was knocked out, leaving me with only MSPaint and the Canucks/Red Wings hockey game to occupy my time. As a precaution, the voice response unit (the annoying prompts you have to navigate when you call into a customer service line) informed subscribers that our computers were out and we couldn't access their accounts, making the day go by much more slowly.

On the way to work yesterday I saw a number of punchbuggies -- Volkswagen Beetles -- both new and old. Usually, on my 45-minute commute, I can count on seeing a handful of Beetles...five or six on the average. Yesterday, I counted sixteen. Actually, it was probably closer to seventeen or eighteen, I just remember definitely seeing sixteen.

Courtesy of little. yellow. different (see right for link), a picture of Bea Arthur wrestling a velociraptor...

April 19, 2002 (1:50 a.m. CDT)
In news that brings a tear to eyes of Scotsmen worldwide, Illinois is in the process of adopting a state tartan (old link removed). That got me to thinking: does Texas have a state tartan? After some Googling, I found the Texas Bluebonnet Tartan. We also have a state pepper (the jalapeno), a state flying mammal (the Mexican free-tailed bat) and a state vegetable (the 1015 onion), among other official symbols. Some of the states that do have official tartans include Utah (old link removed), New Hampshire, Connecticut (somewhat ugly), Colorado and Georgia (poor bastards, what an ugly sett). I'm going to leave the "weird state symbols" topic for another day; you would be surprised at some of the things that people choose to represent their fellow citizens.

Not to be the curmudgeonly type, but I really need to get my shitty downstairs neighbors evicted. I'm not a good person to live beside if you want to play loud music late at night, or steal my parking space, or (assuming my suspicions are correct) steal the aluminum rims from your neighbor's Ford Mustang. Caramelhead's father thinks the theft victim is trying to defraud his insurance company, citing how the car was nicely jacked up onto improvised blocks of limestone. I still think that asshole downstairs took the rims and sold them to pay the towing costs of some inoperable pick-up truck (not the one he smashed last month) that was abandoned temporarily in our parking lot. Me and my conspiracy theories...

Five, four Central.

1. What's your favorite TV show and why? -- Right now? CSI is the one network show I watch (more or less) without fail. Good writing, intriguing storylines, perfect setting (you can't beat Vegas for depravity), well-placed computer effects and authentic science (what other Top 20 television show uses a mass spectrometer?) for the geeks and complex characters, played by a very good cast. It makes for a bang-up show. A close second place goes to The Osbournes.

2. Who is your favorite television star? -- Hmm...I'm torn. I have a thing for Debra Messing, but I'm always torn away from Will & Grace by other programs (see above) and work. Jimmy Fallon and Tina Fey are stand-outs on SNL.

3. What was your favorite TV show as a child? -- I'll just list a bunch in chronological order: The Dukes of Hazzard, The A-Team, Switchback, Hockey Night in Canada and Late Night with David Letterman.

4. What show do you think should have been cancelled by now? -- Out of the new shows, Watching Ellie and Reba are prime candidates. I'd axe Dawson's Creek and NYPD Blue from the veteran shows, as both have jumped the shark.

5. What new show do you hope escapes the axe this season? -- To be honest, I haven't seen any of them. Based on the reviews (and show concepts), I'd give the imperial thumbs-up to Andy Richter Controls the Universe, Greg the Bunny and Last Call with Carson Daly (I have seen this show).

In the words of Mr. Peepers: "BAH!"

April 18, 2002 (4:11 p.m. CDT)
Here's my first entry in one of FARK.com's Photoshop contests. I retroactively invited Geddy Lee to my wedding.

When I was in elementary school, I was full of numismatical and philatelic knowledge, as I collected stamps and coins. It was actually a cool thing to do in my school (that doesn't say much for my school, does it?), as many of my classmates also had stamp and/or coin collections. Every month, thee would be a stamp and coin show in the basement of the Charter House Hotel. We'd go as a group: me, Stuart McMillan and Devon Parker were the diehards. We'd go in with our paper route earnings (usually supplemented with some extra cash from our parents) and try to buy as many interesting stamps as possible. My best acquisition was a stamp from the Philippines featuring Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos posing imperiously on some balcony, which I bought just a few months after they were ousted. (No, I wasn't a normal kid.) Sadly, my stamp collection -- along with my coin and comic collections -- was left behind when I permanently left my father's custody in 1988, never to be seen again.

When I joined the Canadian Armed Forces Reserves in 1992, I did so with the best of intentions: of serving my country and monarch, and possibly going to the former Yugoslavia as a member of Canada's contingent in UNPROFOR, the UN peacekeeping mission in Croatia. incidents like these, where US airmen mistake a live fire exercise for anti-aircraft fire and kill allied troops (who happen to be from a regiment with whom I briefly served), make me glad I got out when I did.

Just when you think you've seen it all, you stumble across homosexual A-Team fan fic (old link removed). There's nothing quite so disconcerting as reading a story involving three of your childhood heroes tangled in a MMM three-way. It's enough to make a child of the 80's turn suicidal...

My brief list of crappy jobs to have in the Middle Ages:

• Food tester
• Gozzard (a herder of geese)
• Driver of the dead body cart (during the Bubonic Plague)
• Loudmouthed astronomer
• Political satirist (esp. in the Papal Territories)
• Lancer of infected boils
• Ratcatcher
• Web designer (remember, this was pre-Flash!)

Yesterday, a number of tornadoes swept across the Metroplex, striking most notably near the intersections of I-820 and I-20, flattening a pawn shop and rendering a few homes unlivable. I was at school, just a few miles away from the worst damage, but nary a drop of water fell on me.

On the way home, I drove seemingly into a cloud that was warning me: "Don't go home Gord! Danger awaits you there! Certain death lies unseen!" Each streak of lightning flashed its own warning. "What ruse is this, oh Sky?" I asked in return. "I challenge you, defy you to do your worst." The stormcloud didn't get its chance to throw sleet and hail upon me, as it retreated away from me as I rounded I-820 westward. I turned into another cloud, this time one that resembled Droopy Dog, the cartoon character you'd see in the shorts wedged between Tom & Jerry spots. Droopy was staring at me, with his arms outstretched. In his right hand, he held an Emmy statue -- which struck me as being odd, as I don't recall Tom & Jerry ever winning any Emmys. I looked away, presumably to monitor traffic, and by the time that I could look up again, Droopy had morphed into Casper the Friendly Ghost. In the place of the Emmy, was a pulse rifle. Casper didn't seem so friendly any more. I passed unharmed under the muzzle of Casper's weapon, and arrived home safely, despite the ill omens of the first cloud.

In an effort to apply a tourniquet to one of their many wounds spurting blood, the Texas Rangers demoted John Rocker to their AAA affiliate in Oklahoma. He should do well there, if not only because he'll look half-intelligent compared to some of the retards in that state.

I'm going to bed early today, in the vain hope that I can rid myself of this cold. I don't know if it'll work, but it should keep me from sleeping in tomorrow.

I really need a broadband connection.

I'm still sick. Sniffly. Snotty.

I've begun a new series of rants, entitled "Shirts I've Owned." The first few rants will show up on the main Rants page, and subsequently will be moved to their own sub-page.

Todd, the critic from my dating TV post (see below), e-mailed me a link from Slate Magazine. It gives us the dirt about the numerous matchmaking TV shows. While the author of the Slate article had more to work with -- mostly time, planning and the comfort of being paid for your writing -- I like how our analyses stack up. They covered a few shows I missed; I skipped Dismissed and Shipmates (old link removed) because I haven't sat through an entire episode yet, and A Dating Story (another old link removed) out of simple forgetfulness. I however, did manage to spell Aisha Tyler's name correctly, something that Slate's writers, fact checkers and copy editors didn't do. Both my post and Slate's article did single Tyler out from the collection of hosts, hostesses, guests and disembodied voices that narrate these shows.

On a much shittier, jaundiced note, the FDA has posted a warning to physicians and pharmacists regarding possible liver damage to patients taking Serzone, an antidepressant I took for four months last year. According to the warning, I now have a 1 in 900,000 chance of suffering from liver failure causing death or requiring transplant. Lovely.

I think the UTA gateway server died (again), because I've had problems logging into my shell account the last hour or so. It's let me on now, so I can't bitch too, too much. I do think, however, that the UTA network is somewhat unstable, and maintained far worse than the network at the U of M. Maybe I was spoiled before this...

Ah, one has to admire the Republican Party of Florida, and their attempt to rid the world of Baldwin brothers (old link removed), one at a time. This happens to be my first link submission to FARK.com.

It turns out that my Hattrick team found itself a miracle. It pounded our last opponents 7-1 in the final regular season match, and my closest rivals lost their final match. This means, although we're tied, that I win the division based on my two wins against them and my overall goal differential. Now we play against a 5th or 6th place team from Div 2 (hopefully a computer-run team) to fight for promotion. Wish us luck...

As you can see, I've made some slight cosmetic changes, namely to the font. I think it makes the page look cleaner, so I may use this font for the remainder of my pages.

Not much of a post tonight... I'm tired. I was stuck for an hour thinking how to start this post (blogger block?), partially due to the fact that I was distracted by HBO's showing of Almost Famous.

In speaking of Almost Famous, it turns out that Jimmy Fallon (who had a minor role in the movie) and I have birthdates separated by only 26 days. I'm sure it has no specific meaning, but I felt it interesting enough to point out.

French officials are planning to build a third airport to service the Paris area. Unfortunately, this planned airport and the required transportation infrastructure, threatens the graves of hundreds of casualties of the First and Second World Wars (old link removed). Included among the threatened gravesites are those of some 400 Canadians, including VC winner Andrew Mynarski, one of Winnipeg's best known war heroes. Leading the fight against this project (and against the French diplomatic bungling) is Dr. Rey Pagtakhan, the Canadian Minister of Veterans Affairs. Dr. Rey is also a Winnipegger -- my friend Primrose has worked on several of his political campaigns. I hope he sorts out the French... Link courtesy of the National Post.

Fungushead and I decided on The Sweetest Thing for our movie. I'll spare you the review for now, but let it suffice to say that it was funny. Fuck it, here's a review anyways. First of all, the funniest, clean scenes are already in the trailer (hell, some scenes from the trailer never made the final cut of the movie), but the funny, dirty scenes are worth the price of admission if you like juvenile sight gags -- especially those involving Selma Blair fornicating and fellating in public. Cameron Diaz flip-flops between likeable and annoying, but Christina Applegate exudes a brash, appealing sexuality. The direction, however, was inconsistent, serving more as a rapid connection of absurd situations rather than actual storytelling.

At least we got to see Popcorn Dude and the 'Welcome' Euro-Chick during the UA cheeseball, early 1990's-CG "shut your damn cell phones off" short.

Okay, I lied. This seems to be a decent post tonight. I suck.

Fungushead's still at the barn. Tonight, we may go to see a movie. I've narrow the field down to (in alphabetical order): Changing Lanes, Frailty, The Rookie or The Sweetest Thing. Considering that she was creeped out by The Gift last night, I think my wife will be leaning toward the latter two, being lighter fare.

I posted another Toban article (Past your bedtime #1). Go read, but don't expect much; I was doing some shameless corporate shilling.

While I returned last night's DVDs, my wife went to see her horse. On the way to the barn, located near Aledo, we pass by Carswell AFB. Thus, it's not uncommon to see B-1B bombers, F-15 Fighting Eagles and F/A-18 Super Hornets airborne over Lake Worth. I'm pretty sure that the are restricted from flying over the city supersonically, however.

I take some comfort knowing that another franchise sucks scrotum more than the Rangers. Here's to the 0-10 Detroit Tigers! The Tigers, as I type this are down 5-2 to the Twins in the bottom of the 4th. Who's the candidate for contraction now, bitch?

I'm watching MTV2's Most Controversial Videos. You have to give them credit - even though it's being aired at 4 a.m. CDT, they are playing the videos unedited. Even Madonna's "Justify My Love" and Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up" (complete with a cunny shot) are given the full treatment. I only wish that thet network had given host Andrew W. K. some Ritalin (or Valium. Or Quaalude. Or Vicodin. Or some other sedative.) prior to filming the show. Björk? BJÖRK?

Caramelhead and I watched The Gift earlier tonight. Altogether, it was a riveting (if not disconcerting, considering our shitty neighbors downstairs) twist on the whodunit concept. Watch out for honest, convincing performances from Keanu Reeves (Yes, Keanu Reeves. Whoa.) and Katie Holmes' breasts (Yes, Katie Holmes' breasts. WHOA!).

Let me clarify something about my recent post about Transcona. By no means did I wish to imply anything negative about Newfoundland or Newfs by comparing the Rock to Trashcona. I only meant to point the similarity with the way that Winnipeggers mock Transcona-ites to that way that the rest of Canada pokes fun at Newfoundland -- rather unfairly, I should add. Although I've never visited Newfoundland, I do have dear friends who live there, and I hold the province in much higher esteem than fucking Transcona.

April 13, 2002 (5:54 p.m. CDT)
You may notice a few things about my blog that differentiate it from others. Firstly, you'll notice that it's rather light on graphics. You see, my Internet connection at home is limited to 28.8 kbps. As it is, the blog takes long enough to load, I can't image how painfully slow it'd be with dozens of extra inline images. For that same reason, you won't see me take that many "Which X are you?" tests. It's not that I don't take them -- for your information, my hair should be dyed pink, I'd be a CPU if I was a computer component and I'm Enneagram type 5 -- I just don't post the results. This may change pending a faster connection, but I may relegate my test results to a separate page. I also haven't bothered with any blog-related surveys, but that's due more to not caring than anything else.

Oh my. A man from a suburb in my hometown has developed a theory about the purpose of the Great Pyramids of Giza. Transcona resident Gerald Dupont has come to the conclusion that the Pyramids are a water distillation system, and has spent $20,000 (Canadian dollars) to research his theories. Novel, but unlikely. Transcona, to be frank, is the Newfoundland of Winnipeg. It's this suburb to the eastern extreme of the city that's widely regarded to be the main bastion of Manitoba white trash. The University of Manitoba Geology Club even instituted an informal "Trashcona Award of Excellence" honoring drunken idiocy.

I dated a girl (see Crappy Ex-Flame Rant #14) who, although she wasn't from Transcona, very nearly was. She hailed from Elmwood, the next suburb over. She was a nice girl, but with strong trashy tendencies. She however, liked to go to Bullwinkle's (also known as The Oak, now rechristened The Safari Club), a Transcona bar. I hated this place, and avoided it whenever possible, even skipping her birthday party when it was held there. The two times I went there I hated it: the patrons had chips on their shoulders, the DJs were obnoxious and it was a half-hour drive away from anywhere I've lived. I wouldn't shed any tears it the place (The Oak, not necessarily all of Transcona) burnt to a cinder.

Friday, I'm in blog.

1. What is your favorite restaurant and why? -- Right now, I'd have to say Posados Cafe. It's a chain of Mexican restaurants located in Texas, Oklahoma and Louisiana. Their newest location opened half-a-mile from our apartment, so Caramelhead and I go on occasion.

2. What fast food restaurant are you partial to? -- It depends. Lately it's been Wendy's and Jack in the Box. The local McDonald's is poorly-run and pisses me off. Fungushead likes her Whataburger, but I wish they had a better selection.

3. What are your standards and rules for tipping? -- 15-20 percent in my head after the bill arrives, deducting for faults such as slow or rude service, bad food and/or dirty conditions. I will, however, make allowances for how busy the restaurant is. Especially good service may merit larger tips.

4. Do you usually order an appetizer and/or dessert? -- Again, this will vary depending on who I'm eating with (I'd rather share an appetizer than eat one alone) and how hungry I am. I rarely do at restaurants with notoriously large servings (such as Chili's).

5. What do you usually order to drink at a restaurant? -- Coke/Pepsi. I don't like paying restaurant prices for alcohol, but I'm usually driving anyway.

Well, the shitty neighbor downstairs have run afoul of us again. Firstly, his whorish girlfriend parked in our spot, requiring us complaining to the front office. To this, we added another noise complaint and the petty, vindictive act of pointing out to the front office that neither of his vehicles are insured. I'm debating whether or not I should rat him out to the DPS. We'll see if I can get him evicted or his battered truck impounded first.

Reach out, reach out and touch a space probe that's 7.8 billion miles away. NASA did, when they reprogrammed Voyager 1.

Back when I lived on Valour Road in Winnipeg, I had the privilege of living on one of the most famous streets in Canada. Nothing much ever happened on the street itself -- it was merely a nondescript street in a residential neighborhood in Winnipeg's West End. What was special about the street, however, was the men who lived on it during the First World War. Three men from the same street won the Victoria Cross, the British Empire's highest decoration for valour in combat. The men were then featured in a Heritage Canada vignette that was run during the advertisements shown before movies.

The Friday Five seems to be up, but I'm short on time and will have to do it from work later this afternoon. See you soon, freaks!

Friday Five's still down. I'll have to try later this morning. While I sleep and you pant away with anticipation, here's a tongue-in-cheek French, German and Spanish phrasebook.

I'm thinking I should toss back a few beers prior to going to work tomorrow. Okay, more than just a few. I'm hoping that it'll be much slower than the past few days, lest being inebriated may cause some serious problems for me. Then again, it's not like what I do is neurosurgery.

I'm trying to post my Friday Five, but the site appears to be down. Bloody hell. To pass the time, I'm going to have to download QuickTime so I can view my U.S. Patent and Trademark Office patents.

U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell arrived in Israel today with hopes of negotiating a truce between the warring factions. Powell will need to be patient, obstinate, mitigant and clever if he hopes to bring the sides to any kind of middle ground. Nobody asked me, but I think that the only way to solve the problem is to have the UN send in peacekeeping forces and, as in Cyprus, divide the West Bank and Israel with a mile-wide demilitarized zone. I hardly think that either the Israelis or the Palestinians would go for that idea, nor would the U.S. support it. I guess that's why nobody asks me these things.

Finally, I have my green card! Well, my green card will arrive in upwards of six months, but I do have the I-551 stamp in my passport that serves as a de facto green card.

"I got my green card! I got my green card! Your mom's in rehab! 'Cause she's a crack whore!"

After we finished with the INS (did I mention that yet?), Caramelhead and I went to the barn to give her horse a good scrub-down. It's going to be an interesting place to spend some time. Maybe it's the spectacle of seeing a rat terrier beat up on a coonhound. Maybe it's the chance to watch the horses frolicking in the pasture...especially when the alpha gelding decides to mount the mares. Or maybe it's the hot stripper who boards her horse there. Maybe it's the scent of diesel fuel and horseshit. We don't know.

A quick post before we go to the INS office for our interview.

Astronauts are expanding the International Space Station as I type this. Yay Canadarm2!

Some shit-for-brains tried to cut in front of me to use one of the computers in Ransom Hall. Asshole.

Wish me luck with my immigration hearing today...
"Good luck, Gord!"
Thanks.

I took a look at The Toque today. It purports to be "The World Leader in Canadian Satire," but this is the first I've ever heard of them. I could only find one article that was half-way funny, a story about the devaluation of Canadian Tire money (old link removed). It's a joke best left for Canadians....and it's pure cheese.

I can hardly wait until the school year is done. Well, actually, not just the school year, but the last few semesters of college. I miss the guys from the rugby club (and the trips to The Springbok and The Mule, both local bars), I miss having a normal relationship with Caramelhead and I miss being guiltless when staying up late fucking about on the Internet.

Have you ever wondered how gays perceive straight men who go to gay bars (old link removed)? Here's the scoop, thanks to the Dallas Observer.

My soccer team at Hattrick lost last week, and barely scraped up a tie yesterday. I've fallen out of first place, knocking me out of contention for promotion back to Division 2 (unless my rivals, Pipers, lose their last game this weekend and I win mine). Also, two of my starters are out with red cards and my best wing-back is hurt. I'm buggered, and soon I'll need solacement. Time to masturbate, I think...

I heard an interesting thing on the way to work...a radio commercial using the word exacerbates. I'm glad to know that Cingular isn't dumbing down their commercials.

A few things brought to you by me, via the sweet-assed people at FARK.com:
Yes, the Rangers still suck. (This will be a common theme throughout the next few months). This ESPN article details just how much John Rocker sucks (so far). Again, it'll be a long year for us Rangers fans...

If this was a petition, I'd sign it. The Corporate Mofo thinks that Christina Ricci should eat a sandwich. She's lost a bit of weight -- some people think it's too much. I agree. I miss the buxom Ricci from Sleepy Hollow.

I'm number one! I'm number one! I'm number one! The Pretty Big Duck in question would be yours truly...and I didn't even have to cheat! Maybe brevity is the soul of wit.

In light of the recent strife in Israel and the (re-)occupied territories, I thought this article from the Onion was poignant.

I've decided that, once Fungushead and I buy our house (expect this in 2-3 years), I'm going to set up the Garden Gnome Exchange Program (GGEP). Although various groups have formed to free these gnomes (namely the Gnome Liberation Front and the FLNJ in France), as far as I can tell these organizations are devoted only to thievery/rescue efforts. According to the Web sites, the gnomes are held in warehouses, released en masse into forests or used in political demonstrations. None of these apparently-leftist factions, however, seem dedicated to the cultural enlightenment of, and exchange of ideas between, garden gnomes. I'm sure I will revisit this topic in time...

One last note before I head to bed: I wish I had watched Sports Night during its original run. I'll have to make reruns suffice.

Just how I found this should be left unasked, but here is an excerpt from the All Music Guide's profile of the band GWAR:

GWAR is best appreciated with its visual aspects, which are far more creative than their music; indeed, the group received a somewhat stunning Grammy nomination in 1993 for its long-form home video Phallus in Wonderland.

I think I speak for the entire world in saying: "What the fuck?"

I thought this was cool: A VRML Tour of the Milky Way Globular Cluster System (old link removed). Consider this today's geek link. Is that geeky enough for you? No? Then how about this: Derivatives of trimetallic nitride endohedral metallofullerenes may be used to time-release pharmaceuticals and/or radioactive materials(?!) into a host. Fullerenes (also called buckyballs) are complex organic molecules that form hollow, enclosed, three-dimensional crystals that resemble geodesic domes (pioneered by architect R. Buckminster Fuller, hence the name). How's your melon now, braniac?

Not much to report today in my life. I'm bitter, despondent and overtired. Soon I'll be doglegging my way through the UTA campus to go to my Poly Sci class. It's not tht I'm not looking forward to the chance to perambulate the university, surveying the hotties as they rush to class. I'm just not terribly enthused about the prospect of sitting through this class. I have enough to think about, let alone bothering myself with the demographics of the Republican Party since 1930. Fuck.

Let the shagging begin! MGM/UA and New Line have come to an agreement (old link removed) regarding the title of this year's Austin Powers movie. Groovy, baby! (I think.)

Pancakes make me tired. Going to bed makes me tired. Waking up early makes me tired. Dealing with over-anxious Fungushead makes me tired. Blogging makes me tired, but in a good way.

Curiouser and curiouser...the next pontiff may be black. I think it's cool, although conservative Europeans may consider him to be a sort of antipope. Will race cause a schism? That's all the Catholics need now, eh?

I wish I could babble more, but it's been a shitty day. Sorry, kids.

Some areas of Canada have decided to join Saskatchewan and revolt against Daylight Savings Time (old link removed). Silly Luddites.

I read this in a back issue of Sports Illustrated. The Winnipeg Blue Bombers resigned 47-year old punter Bob Cameron (old link removed) to a contract extension through 2004. This should enable him to the become the oldest professional football player ever. Strangely enough, age has not dulled his skills, whatever skills are required for one to be a punter.

This just in, one of my pages was linked...over two months ago. The Crappy Ex-GF Rants page was mentioned in B.A.'s Weblog on February 28, 2002. The page is now archived, but the link's still there. Thanks to blogdex, I just found this out. I'll repay the favor by adding B.A.'s Weblog to my list of blogs worth reading (see right).

God bless Maxim. They have a Hockey Name Generator. According to it, I am either: Dougie McReidson (Canadian), Guy La Reidieux (French-Canadian) or Sergei Reidov (Russian).

I haven't figured this out quite yet. I've sprouted a few chubbies thinking about sorority girl porn-offs; a man can dream, can't he?

Mmmmeatloaf. No, not the singer, silly rabbit. It's time to strap on the feedbag!

It's monsoon season in north Texas. The Dallas-Fort Worth area has been walloped by one of the most powerful thunderstorms this spring. As usual, flash flooding covered low-lying areas (mostly underpasses) with upwards of a foot of water. This rainfall also caused the postponement of the Samsung/Radio Shack 500, this weekend's NASCAR Winston Cup event, which my father-in-law was planning to attend. Thankfully, the race will be run tomorrow morning.

I found this interesting... New Scientist.com posted an article about a fledgling project designed to serve as a universal translator. The World Wide Lexicon project will use a distributed computing client (much like SETI@Home) to translate text from various world languages. While we haven't reached Star Trek proportions, we're getting closer.

First seen on the Winnipeg Sun site: Nigerian gunmen fire upon a Canadian delegation of journalists. Prime Minister Jean Chretien bravely declares: "I'm not a whiner." (This link has expired and has been removed.)

Apparently Canadians aren't visiting pornographic Web sites (old link removed). The reasons: the glut of porn on the Internet and fraud protection policies set in place by credit card companies. Or maybe it's because I moved out of Canada. Sure, I like pornography, but I hardly think that I could skew nationwide survey results. It's depressing to think an entire country is masturbating less. C'mon Canada, you can improve!

April 7, 2002 (3:11 a.m. CDT)
Out of the "It's About Frigging Time" folder... Pres. Bush declares his intentions to oust Saddam Hussein. I couldn't help but to remember the SNL skit with Dubya (Will Ferrell) and George Bush (Dana Carvey) out hunting shortly after the presidential election. "Gee Dad, thanks a lot for that one." (or something like that). I'm not sure what clued the Oval Office in; perhaps it was the whole "offering stipends to suicide bombers" thing. If that doesn't throw your hockey stick over to the "Against Us" end of the rink, I don't know what would.

According the the Washington Post, this squeegee (and its owner) did more on Sept 11 than most people do in their entire lives.

This from CNN.com: Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon promises to expedite the battle against the Palestinians. I'm not a Zionist (nor am I an anti-Zionist), but you would think that Israel would be a little more conscious of the world's opinion on the recent violence in the Holy Land. I'd be lying when I didn't see something like this happening when Sharon beat Barak in the Israeli election. But what do I know? The closest I've been to being Jewish is...well, you'll have to read the Crappy Ex-GF Rant page for that.

As reported in Scientific American, a collaboration between Chinese geneticists have sequenced the genome of rice (old link removed). Strangely enough, rice genes are more complex than those of humans. Does this mean that rice plants will revolt against their human subjugators and take over the world in a bizarre florarchy? Should we be afraid? I think not.

Two days ago, my dog sneezed on me. Now I have some canine cold that has me entering these sneezing fits and has turned my nose into an artesian well. So now I have this zoonosis, this stupid puppy dog flu.

Yesterday, my lunch consisted of a hamburger and two pieces of venison sausage. For supper, I had steak, corn and coleslaw. I'm hardly what you would call vegan. The way I figure it, the rapid evolution of the human brain over the last couple of million years is at least partially attributable to the fact that hominid scavengers started cracking the bones of carcasses open to eat marrow. Civilization may be the direct result of agriculture, but the capacity for civilization is, at least, a result of eating meat.

Seen on FARK:
The York, PA city council passed an Anti-Goat Ordinance (old link removed). Bastards. I'll be crossing that city off my vacation list. I think that it should be perfectly legal to keep goats. In fact, I think that, after they have a few scotches in them, goat owners should be able to do some drunken goat-lovin'. On a side note, I find it odd that someone would bother to cybersquat on both the goatlove.org (old link removed) and goatlove.net domains. Some people.

Here are some letters from Ireland's grumpiest old man.

S-A! T-U-R! D-A...ack!

1. What are the first things that you do in the morning to start your day? -- Wake up, hit the snooze button, wake up, curse, hit the snooze button, wake up, turn off the alarm, wake up, realize I'm late for class, shower and dash off to class.

2. What are the last things that you do at night before going to bed? -- Update the blog, take the dog for a walk and brush my teeth.

3. What daily routine have you recently added to your day? -- In January, I added blogging and school (UTA).

4. What routine do you wish you get rid of? -- Anything that forces me to wake up prior to noon.

5. What's the one thing that makes you feel like something is missing if you don't do it some point within your day? -- If I forget to masturbate before I leave for school, I quickly realize it by mid-morning. There's nothing like a bit or self-gratification to start the day.

As you can tell from previous entries, I play The Sims. If you ask my wife, I spend far too much time in front of my computer, some of it playing various other simulation games, including Civ3 and Alpha Centauri. Strangely enough, I rarely play any of the games to their completion, losing interest after I gain a marked supremacy over my opponents. I don't launch the interstellar spacecraft. I don't exterminate my enemies. I don't destroy the world -- no Ragnaroks, Gotterdammerungs or Armageddons. I am neither a benevolent nor a malevolent Gord, merely an ambivalent one.

Today work sucks. It sucks the collective scrota of ten thousand whoremongers. I'm not bitter though.

Yesterday, I had my medical exam (as mandated by the INS). All went well, save for me being fatter than I'd anticipated. I got a booster shot for MMR (measles/mumps/rubella) and an odd subdermal test for tuberculosis. I'm pretty sure I don't have TB, but I guess the government wants to be sure.

Make sure you bring an umbrella with you when you go out this weekend. It may be raining flaming, 33-pound batteries, according to NASA.

Yes, they are pandering to the most juvenile of us, but aren't Bud Light's Real Men of Genius radio spots the funniest things on Earth? Maybe I exaggerate, but it's the best use of faux-sincerity in advertisement. Ever. From the dead-pan announcer to the earnest, bluesy background singer ("Mazel tov!"), it couldn't be more perfect. So here's to you, Mr. Bud Light Radio Ad Writer, you make our commutes more tolerable.

I'm tired and hardly coherent, so it'll be a short post tonight.

A friend of mine from my military days named Tim Wiebe once passed this nugget of knowledge on to me:
The wrong way to pick up fat chicks: "Hey fat chick! Yeah you, fat chick! You're pretty fat for a fat chick. Wanna dance?"
The right way to pick up fat chicks: "Hey fat chick! Yeah you, fat chick! You're pretty skinny for a fat chick. Wanna dance?"

Now that I've played out that misogynist episode, let's move on to something more relevant...

In case you hadn't noticed (or stopped caring), Mark Burnett has foisted Survivor 4 onto the general public. Having been deterred from its original locale in the Middle East by recent tensions (which erupted into the current open war), MBP decided on the Marquesas Islands in the South Pacific. Enough of this tropical climate bullshit, Burnett. Let's give them a real challenge. My proposal for the (inevitable) next series...Survivor:Yakutsk. Let's dump the contestants off in the Siberian wilds and let them really suffer. Ratings may suffer because the cute twentysomething girls won't be able to use their bandanas as barely-there tube tops, but it will make for intriguing television. Imagine this, if you will...

Day 13, Baranduki Tribe.
Ophthalmologist Walt (34, Ogala, FL) has collected a fresh batch of pine boughs to serve as temporary bedding, while the blankets and sleeping bags thaw out. He is suddenly confronted by a shivering Mel (actress/bartender, 25, Aurora, IL). "I don't know what that *bleep* is for, 'cause I'm not *bleep*ing sleeping on no pine *bleep*. If I wanted to smell like a forest, I'd jam a *bleep*ing air freshener up my *bleep*! For an eye doctor you don't see too good..."
Meanwhile, at the Hucho camp...

Who wouldn't want to watch that?

I almost forgot...Wednedsays mark the new edition of The Onion. In this week's news: Estonia and Suriname go to war! And who says that Bea Arthur can't get your blood pumping? (expired link removed, this post makes no sense without it)

Three games into the season and the Rangers still suck. A-Rod has yet to get a hit, helping to drop the team average to an inneffectual .240. None of the starters have made it out of the fifth inning, and have a combined ERA of 7.20. And that's still three-tenths of a point lower than the team average. Oy vey.

My dog sneezed on me last night, and now I have the sniffles. Oh joy! Oh rapture! At least I can spread my misery via the keyboards and mice of public computers. Muahahahahaha! (That's the best nefarious laugh I can muster right now. Ask me again when I'm not stuffy.)

I've always harbored a secret desire to pursue a music career. While I am possessed of minor musical talent, it's probably best to leave my aspirations hidden within the folds of my hyperactive imagination.

My first fantasy musical collaborator was my best friend throughout elementary school, Devon. While recording a tape for our fictitious radio station CRUD, I ad-libbed the lyrics to the latest hit single from the Mongoloid Biker Punks From Hell, poetically entitled "Suck My Sweat, Puke On Me." It was a love song. Later we formulated their follow-up single "Burning Doorknobs." What can I say; we were 11. Devon and I later formed a hip hop duo: he was MC Lamppost, and I was DJ Whitebred G. Being white suburban kids from Canada, we felt it best not to even pretend we knew what the hell we were doing and record ourselves.

My aspirations didn't end there. A few years ago, I thought that the Various Artists would be a good name for a band, if not for any other reason than for the anarchistic pleasure of watching record store owners furrow their brows wondering how to catalog our music. Of course, the Various Artists' first album would be called "Self-Titled" (a joke that lost its edge after a fellow Toban scribe reminded me of R.E.M.'s Eponymous EP).

And now, were I to form my fantasy band, it would be an electronic music collaboration called Slackbash. I've also considered forming a Sims band called The Reticulating Splines.

On an unrelated note, the blog I reviewed for the P2P Project, Yet Another Damn Blog, has taken on a new life. I made a point of e-mailing my review to the author, Mike Terry, and it seems that his interest in blogging has been rekindled. Yay me! Yay Mike!

In an effort to make this page more reader-friendly, I've moved some links to the right-hand margin of the page, including the archived posts. If the headings are empty when you read this, don't worry, they'll be fleshed out in the near future.

An article on Cockeyed.com gives us the real deal on those ever-present "Work From Home" signs. It turns out that it's a huge pyramid scheme orchestrated by Herbalife (I'll spare them the dignity of being linked). I may take the time to call city hall to determine the legality of these signs in Haltom City. I may have a crusade on my hands, folks...

A local DJ challenged listeners to come up with at five people named Marcus. My list: Neiman Marcus (actually named for Herbert Marcus, Carrie Marcus Neiman and Al Neiman), Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor, AD 161–180), Super Bowl MVP Marcus Allen, former Winnipeg Jets goalie Markus Mattsson and, as a stretch, the Marcus de Sade. Yes, I know how to spell "marquis," and yes, I am and idiot. Unfortunately, the contest was won before I could get through.

I'm halfway through my Jalapeno Sourdough Flute. Fungushead says it has a chemical taste, but I tend to disagree. Besides, unlike some other loaves of sourdough bread, it hasn't caused me to shit my pants. I wish that last sentence was written in jest, but it's a sorry fact of my life. I once crapped myself in a Safeway bakery.

Caramelhead's cureall should be somewhere in Missouri by now. The panacea in question? Her horse, Meagan, a four-year old appaloosa-arabian cross. This will give Karen something to do when I'm at work, and should provide her with another set of ears (however equine they are) to listen to her myriad of worries and concerns. All will be good.

Accompanying the mare in question are my in-laws, Keith, and my wife's uncle, Peder. Their visit should also prove to be therapeutic for Karen, and help her cope with her homesickness.

Today's strange things seen on the UTA campus: a mariachi band and a stock car (a Ford Mustang, if you must know). The stock car's primary sponsor is UPS, who brought it to campus to attract students to its recruitment tent. It's a little bit of cross-promotion too, considering that there's a NASCAR race at the Texas Motor Speedway this weekend. As for the mariachis, I'm not entirely sure.

As for the Holy Land, things continue to get uglier. As the National Post reports, Palestinian fighters have taken refuge in the holiest site in Christendom (old link removed).

As promised, the latest Crappy Ex-Flame Rant has been posted. Read away...

Not much ranting and raving to be done tonight. I took two Target Non Aspirin PM Geltabs, and now I'm ready to go snoozie-pie. Caramelhead wasn't wrong about those things, but I'm sure their effect is compounded by the Lone Star I just finished.

Earlier tonight, I went with the wife to Home Depot to buy our lemon tree. While shopping a week-and-a-half ago, we noticed that the Home Depot in Keller was selling lemon trees. Dubbing our tree "Morris," we made plans to return later that week to buy him. Alas, he has been sold. Now we have to wait another week for the local Home Depot (in North Richland Hills) to get a new supply. And yes, I do like lemons.

It's only taken four months since I started posting to this weblog to receive my first piece of fanmail. Well, it wasn't quite fanmail...more like nagging-mommail. A smarmy reader who happened to stumble across my blog e-mailed a grammatical correction to me. This, however, does signify that people are reading my blog, which is a good thing. I think. The error in question has been corrected...

Topics covered in my Carbonate Petrology class: carbonate equilibrium reactions, aragonite preservation and diagenesis. And, as a special treat, we're doing point counts for this week lab. Imagine laying a transparent graphed overlay on top of a mosaic, and then noting the color of the tile under every fifth square. Now imagine performing this procedure under a microscope lens for two hours. Now you should have a clear mental picture of how I'll be spending part of my weekend. Ugh.

I'm going to lead off with a few news stories from the far-flung shores of Turkey...

First of all, here's a National Post article about a boy who had his kidney stolen (old link removed). What has this world come to? You're a ten-year old boy, and all you want to do is go to your friend's circumcision party. Those idyllic dreams are shattered by a bullet (fired by a "rival family") crashing into your torso...

And this from CNN.com: Turkey will head the peacekeepers in Afghanistan. Let's just hope that the troops don't come from rival families...

I'm about to head off to work out, followed by my Carbonates class. It should be a barn-burner. (No barns were harmed in the writing of this blog.) And when I get home, I may need to do some maintenance on my computer. I may defragment my hard drive(s), or download IE 6.0 from Windows Update. I can barely wait...

Perhaps I will take some time this afternoon to dip into the boudoir of my dating past and write another Crappy Ex-Flame Rant. This one won't be as callous as some of my previous rants as the girl in question was hot (I have a thing for redheads) and great in the sack. If you want more detail, then check out the page (linked above) later tonight.

I'm going to babble a bit about the inexplicable abundance of late-night syndicated dating shows. They're light. They're fun. They're vicarious in nature. They're EVERYWHERE. Right now, both Change of Heart and Rendez-View are on in the same timeslot, and elimiDATE just wrapped up. I'm going to run through each of the new wave of these shows and give an arbitrary, non-binding rating.

Blind Date -- This is the granddaddy of the new wave of dating shows. It has a very traditional premise: one boy and one girl are matched up, and followed along on a themed date. Each date follows the same format: a "fun" activity to break the ice, then dinner, then drinks (presumably to break the remaining microscopic shards of ice). A running commentary is provided throughout the date, by animations, captions and thought bubbles (a la Pop-Up Video). The date concludes with the boy and girl providing separate commentaries. Host Roger Lodge -- imagine a cut-rate Jeff Probst -- emcees the affair with admirable "trying not to show I'm just paying the bills" aplomb. RATING: 7

Change of Heart (old link removed) -- I must be honest, I haven't been able (or willing) to sit through an entire episode of this show yet. A couple on the verge of breaking up is trotted out, having just been on separate dates with attractive, single twentysomethings who would like nothing more than to make their mark on television by luring their match away from their S.O. The two dates are recapped, and each member of the couple is given the chance to have...you guessed it, a change of heart and ditch their partner in favor of their new interest. RATING: 5

elimiDATE -- I can only image the pitch for this program: "It's Blind Date and Survivor!" Five singles (four boys and one girl or four girls and one boy) get together for a group date. The group of four singles of the same gender are pared down to three, then two, then one by the lucky member of the opposite sex. While scoring high on the desperation scale, usually the first two eliminations are obvious -- you can easily cross off the "attractive, but not textbook gorgeous" contestant and the "struggling actor who is too good for this, but needed a break and got this spot via nepotism" contestant. This leaves two bimbos/himbos to flail sluttily at the brass ring. RATING: 3.5

Rendez-View (old link removed) -- This show's twist is that the unlucky matched couple has their every movement and utterance skewered by not one, but TWO hosts (Greg Proops, shedding some of his cache from his stints on ABC's Whose Line Is It Anyways?, and the spritely Ellen Ladowsky). And as if that wasn't sufficient, two B- or C-list celebrities are added to the mix, just to provide an additional six or seven insights -- and a few are actually insightful! -- per segment. RATING: 6.5

The 5th Wheel (old link removed) -- Kudos to this show for having both the most original premise (instead of eliminating contestants, they're added as the show progresses) and the most polished and likeable host (the polished and scrumptious Aisha Tyler). Two singles are paired up on the start of a date, and two others are added shortly afterwards. Just when the chemistry gets going, the "fifth wheel" joins the foursome, with designs on screwing over one (or both) of his/her gendermates. It's more clever than the other shows, and the singles generally aren't as...um...whorish as elimiDATE. RATING: 8.5

Now I'm an expert, dammit!

I've been wondering...why are weblogs so popular in Brazil? It's not that I would know firsthand, but Brazilians never have struck me as the most introspective or net-savvy people. It shows you what I know, eh?

Well, the Rangers biffed it. Juan Gon kills a 9th inning rally with the king of all baserunning brainfarts, Todd Van Poppel plummets to the bottom of the pitching standings by giving up two earned runs in a third of an inning (54.00 ERA) and the two Rodriguezes were a combined 0 for 7.

I saw the strangest thing this afternoon. Slam Magazine featured a guy from my hometown on the cover (along with his teammates). This may not be odd for most people, but I'm from Winnipeg, Manitoba. Todd MacCulloch coincidentally may be the whitest man in the NBA.

Found today on The Smoking Gun... U2's alcohol requirements for the ZooTV tour. My favorite points of note are:

• U2 likes Rolling Rock. Not bad taste... so far
• What goes with JD? "Very good french red bordeauxs," apparently.
• You'd think that a firm handling catering for the most famous Irish band in history would know how to spell "Guinness," the name of the most famous Irish beer in history. Two N's, two S's... fuck!

Comedy Central -- perhaps as some cruel joke -- is airing a Gallagher concert. Judging from the comic's magenta sweater, it must date from mid-80's. Man, can that guy trash a stage.

I've added my blog (the WorldNet mirror, at least) to the Eatonweb portal and to Blogdex. Eatonweb may generate some more hits, and both should increase my search engine relevancy (and thus, faster cache update times). Slowly and patiently I creep into the blog community, like ivy...but more malicious. And sweatier.

This from FARK: Wiener cats (old link removed) arrive in England. Consider it payback for Beatlemania...