Greetings fellow law-abiding drivers of the world! Have you ever become frustrated at the sight of a speeding lunatic who blazes down the road at speeds that were never meant to grace any road? Well, here is my solution! When you see a half-crazed, drooling lunatic barrelling towards you at speeds you dare not consider even during summer months, quickly match speeds with another law-abiding driver alongside you to form a terrible barrier of justice. When you see these maniacs disregard school zone signs, ped signs, and speed limit signs, it only confirms their complete, absolute arrogance. Let these people know that it does not matter if they are driving in their new Ford F-150, Subaru Impreza, or Chevrolet Malibu because street racing, speeding, or any other half-baked, dangerous activity on the road is not tolerated! Let them eat your dust the only way you can!
Join with your brothers and sisters in the anti-speeding movement and crush these oppressive speed junkies. There’s a time and place for such activities and a school zone is not one of them!
While I was a little student in elementary school I found it difficult to smile at will. Being the odd rascal that I am, I spent my breaks looking for other kids who shared my problem. I figured, if I couldn’t smile at will, someone else must be the same as I! Unfortunately, after days of observing my fellow classmates, I resigned myself to looking up at the sky. Clearly I found it ever more difficult to find classmates who shared my condition. To make matters worse, you can guess what happened when the photographers came to take portrait shots of students for our family albums (I assume). To this day, that picture still stands on my dresser as a testament to how un-photogenic I
Now you may think, oh P, so you couldn’t smile, what a big deal. Well, guess what? That small detail really hurts when you’re stuck in elementary school. Your face actually translates into grades! The consequences of looking bored all day are very real when the teacher is looking around for things to write down for report cards. Bored looking kids have to work like old Ataris trying to launch Open Office 2.0 before they can get the same results as an attention-sucking, overactive kid. I’m tellin’ ya, emotion discrimination blows.
Fast-forward to about the past few months and I have a new problem: I can’t make angry faces at will while I’m in front of a mirror. The horror, one more obstacle to emotional expression. My attempts to produce an angry expression only resulted in an increasingly worried looking P. However, this morning resulted in an amazing breakthrough in angry P. I awoke, brushed my teeth, glanced at myself in the mirror, and stood in wonder: I looked terribly angry. As toothpaste dribbled down my chin, I immediately took a moment to review the morning for any aberrations. None. In fact, I don’t even recall the dream I had the last night, so what could it be? Then it hit me: I looked angry if I kept a neutral face and looked to the side! Victory…at last.
The problem? I keep a neutral face for most times of the day! At any given moment some unsuspecting bystander will turn and get a face full of angry P? Random casualties I suppose. It would be no different from walking through the streets of London on any given day – if you ask me.
But, now that we’re on the topic of smiling, that reminds of this really cute looking girl on the bus the other day. She smiled throughout an entire half-hour bus ride! I couldn’t help but monitor her to check if she got tired. By the end of the ride I concluded that she must have cheek muscles of steel…or she was in a happy mood…or both.
Anyhow, grab the nearest child in your proximity and tell them they have to work on that smile. Go ahead and point to the nearest cheeky kid and tell him that he has a choice: Either he smiles, or he makes that cheeky kid frown.
Ever wonder if there was a game out there beyond GigaWing that will push your imagined skills to the limit? Don’t worry, it’s Radio Zonde. The game launches many complex firing patterns that will often seem impossible to escape from. Here’s a screenshot, the red splash is me dying:
These are the requirements for playing Radio Zonde:
REQUIRE: CPU 800Mhz
VRAM 4M TO 8M(16BIT OR 32BITMODE)
SOUND WAVE 44100hz 16BIT STEREO
I, of all people, am not qualified to explain English slang terms. Nonetheless, there are lost souls out there who somehow wander into my blog seeking an answer to the above question and I feel I must at least make an attempt. Here goes *ahem*: This is my second base…as a military installation, as a foundation, and perhaps as a terrible mess of words which form the basis of my conjecture.
Now, what is second base in love? Well, the second base is defined by MastePlan in the Urban Dictionary as:
That said, I am not sorry for my misleading title. Damn innuendo.
Southgate was a complete meltdown. Of all the stores in the mall, only one possessed a single visor…Nike? That plain, black carpet fuzz of a visor was as sad as the entire shopping complex! But, it was then that I had a stroke of genius – yes…it happens. Anyway, some Golf players must wear visors, so the Sears Golf section must offer some head gear! Sadly, when we arrived at the Golf end of Sears I realised that Golf players who shop at Sears alone do not wear head gear. Insane!
We fled the mall and descended upon Whyte Ave.
Yes…I go there.
Anyhow, we went to divine, headcase, Army & Navy, and a bunch of other stores. The result? There were a couple of visors, but none of them were satisfactory. Hello…Capitalism? What the hell do you do when you offer money for a product you cannot find locally? Is it time to bring out the ak-47s, round up the locals, and force them to build a sweat shop in which they will toil in for the rest of their lives? Non! It is time to apply uncomfortable pressure upon the fashion industry!
Visors. Bring them back, I want them. I went away looking for them and there was not a single store that offered quality, colorful visors. A scandal! This is the 21st century! Lets see some of that sci-fi action put to the test! You fashion bosses made a serious mistake in judgement when you exiled the visor. This practical, noble product must be brought back to sting its oppressors to submission so that they will never forget its awesome, unrelenting force.
Must…mobilise…sweat shop…NON! Drive-by…maybe.
After roughly three decades of neglect (maybe even longer!) the carpets of the house are finally getting cleaned…by me (>.<). The mission was handed down to me the moment the carpet cleaner was purchased. Initially, I thought I would assemble the cleaner, remove the furniture, clean the carpet, and be done by tea time. Clearly, this timetable I had in mind reveals how truly naive I am. Sweep after sweep the carpet produced what seemed to be a neverending supply of dark, coffee-like dirt. By evening I was tempted to find a knife, cut the carpet out into squares, and replace the whole floor with hard wood tile. But, seeing as how I was not there to destroy the carpet, that option was not available…yet.