This kind of thing is why I read other people’s blogs.

From Trey‘s blog (over on the sidebar):

I learned the syllogism method of argument in college.. its sort of a deductive reasoning type thing.. where for example .. you come up with a couple of facts and the conclusion will always follow the facts.. such as..

God is love.. and love is blind.. therefore.. can you guess?.. thats right.. Ray Charles is God.. good.. now that we’ve got the hang of it.. lets move on..

Blogger, dating, and other things.

Blogger works better at night, and better with slower load times – this much I’ve noticed. What I think they need to do is have some sort of frontend that doesn’t depend on the slow backend to work quickly… like if it’s going to take a half a minute in order to “publish” a post, why not do that server-side instead of representing that time with a constantly reloading page? You could even estimate server load and when the post would be up. It wouldn’t be difficult at all.

Another thing they could do is limit the number of blogs being made somehow. There’s enough pointless rambling that goes on here about nothing except about the next l33t h4xx0r or cool toy or hot guy or why-my-life-sucks angsty whining. Of course that’s never going to happen until some l33t h4xx0r invents a good-intentions detector.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I say the road to hell is paved with liberal humanistic theories. And I think we can be both right, because most liberal humanistic theories are made with the best intention. Seriously. I think the philosophers who come with each “new” idea have injested a bit too much PCP, if you know that I mean. It’s like trapping a mouse in a maze made of sugar and expecting it to get a realisting picture of the world from that vantagepoint.

So I’m dating Mary Knor. There, now you know. I hope it makes everyone in the world happy that I have a girlfriend, even if some of you have already let me know about your rather dim expectations for my future matrimonial prospects.

This Friday I wasn’t even supposed to see her, but on the way to Nick’s I stopped by just to say hello and goodbye, and what do you know, I end up on the piano. Then I end up doing a crossword puzzle with Mary. And we almost finish the thing – but not quite. Then off to the hockey game her sister and brothers were playing in.

Aside: girls playing hockey? Douglas Wilson would not approve.

And Mary didn’t touch a single fry from my McDonalds fries. Very impressive self-control, wonder woman. Then, listening to the amazing sounds of British Sea Power, I drove her home, we hugged, I left.

Also, Johan’s car is a bit… shall we say… womanish. That is all.

Quotalicious!

Just to get your mind off things like the US election, the Red Sox winning the world series, the war in Iraq, and David Hasselhof’s chest hair, I’ve assembled this fine collection of quotes for your consideration a la the Twilight Zone.

Steve: Why don’t more people ask me who they should marry?
Me: Maybe they don’t approve of your choice of women.
Steve: How is that possible? Every man wants to be me.
Me: Because you’re so amazing.
Steve: No, because of my wife.
Me: Oh, not your well-muscled physique then.

Me: So they’re drawn to eachother by the fact that they’re annoying… can you imagine the children?
Darryl: If anyone has annoying kids, the kids should be called “spawn”.

Annonymous: I picture that church as an imposing stone cathedral… you open the doors, and mist comes rolling out along the floor; a creepy organ is echoing off the walls; monks chant in the background; you tiptoe forward on the hallowed ground, suddenly realize you’re not wearing a suit, and you burst into flame.

Me: If I could find the people that made TestaMints, by all that is holy, I would take a whip and drive them out of the temple.

Me: If I had a relationship with a dog, all I’d have to do is feed her and rub her head a bit.
Becka: Sure.
Me: Oh, but I’d have to walk her, and groom her, and pay for the food, and pick up after her… this is much better.

Me: Did you know we’re out of half by threes?
Steve: Yes. I told Gary.
Me: Are they on order?
Steve: Along with one by sevens, a unicorn, and Santa Claus.

Me: I wonder if it would be more expensive to buy beef on a bun, or crap on a bun. I mean, you’d have to find a place to get it first, and there’s probably all sorts of sanitary rules that apply to crap on a bun.
Steve: Or you could just buy a hotdog.

Becka: Some guy calls me muffin.
Me: Is he perhaps… the muffin man?
Becka: He looks like a muffin.
Me: Maybe he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.
Jerry: Is he your sugar?
Me: Has he brought you flour?
Jerry: Does he have a lot of dough?
Me: Do you love him with every fibre of your being?
Jerry: You know, this could go on all night.
Me: It will, if you keep raisin the stakes.

Steve: Do you like the music of Queen.
Me: No.
Steve: But it’s timeless and classic.
Me: And you like it as much as you like the Village People.
Steve: That wasn’t nice.
Me: Well, not the the Village People.

Annonymous: That would be most kick-bum action sequence ever, if Yoda backflipped in with a lightsabre going, “In the house Yoda is!” and then later made out with Princess Laia.

Lisa: I’m at the dentist. I’m getting my bipolar bicuspid done.
Me: Bipolar isn’t a tooth! It’s a mental disorder!

A disturbing picture.

That’s something to disturb you, now isn’t it? I mean, really. Did people at one time think this looked good for some reason?

Also, today at work we’re getting a new machine in. Interesting. It comes with a six-foot vibrating blank loader.

In other news, a baseball team won the World Series. Their first since 1918.

The government is slower than molasses.

I’m calling the Office of the Resistrar about my birth certificate right now. I applied for it in February, and they took the money off my Mastercard, so something’s been processed. But I haven’t gotten anything yet. So I’m stuck on the phone with nothing to do but wait while they decide to answer my call.

The funny thing is, they have this answering machine service that’s voiced by a man who sounds like he’s got peanut butter stuck on the roof of his mouth. It takes about ten minutes to navigate their system alone, not including the time waiting on hold, and most of this because of how slow this man is talking. They should have service in English, service in French, and service in Mentally Challenged.

Once you do actually get to the point where a real person is talking to you, trust me, you will be on hold for forever, and when forever is over, you’ll still be on hold. It’s like the rapture happened and only the office of the registrar is affected. So normally when you’re on hold, they play music for you, right? Well, the office of the Registrar has music that would make John Tesh blush; not only that, they won’t actually let me enjoy an entire song. At least once every minute a recording surfaces with at least five seconds of pause inbetween, just to tell you that you are still on hold. Yes, I know I’m still on hold, and give me back my exotic saxophone music!

Maybe if they played nationally known bands such as Godspeed You! Black Emperor, or The Arcade Fire, or something like that, I wouldn’t mind this so much. I swear, there is nothing keeping me on this phone except the prospect of one day escaping this horrible country.

I will now proceed to pray that God gives me patience, for the birth certificate query, for the eventual discussion with a thick-headed civil servant, and for waiting to leave the country and flee to the US and religious freedom.

Speaking of religion, some of Bush’s recent quotes about religion are pretty disheartening, at least for those of you that were expecting some sort of revival because the president was a supposed Christian. Unfortunately, it seems that his Christianity is about as realistic as every other “Christian” president; as RumorSage said,

“It appears to me that the faith-lives of both Clinton and Bush are essentially the same; both seem to subscribe to the vague, American-revivalistic traditional pietism that restricts religiousness to “personal Bible study and prayer” with little care for doctrine. When your Bible reading is detached from worldview formation, you are ripe from absorbing your worldview from the pluralistic culture.”

Back to the birth certificate issue: they searched without a space. Crazy freaky wierdos. So they’re going to send it out within the week. Sw33t!

Quotes! Quotes! Quotes! Quotes!

Today being Kenny Rogers Day, I’ve decided that instead of sacrificing a llama to his memory, I will instead begin “Friday”. That’s right. Quote Friday. Help me come up with a catchier name if you will. Goodness knows I wasn’t meant for the marketing department. I was meant for a dark corridor inhabited by golems and wherewolves.

On that note, Halloween is approaching, as is Evangelical panic of massive hysterical porportions. I’ve decided to go trick-or-treating as one of two of the most scary things known to man, or maybe both if I have time: Celine Dion or Richard Simmons.

Que quotes.

Me: So I cut the tool’s time down by 20%, thereby allowing the company to make that many more tools per shift, all of my own free will, with no reward or anything.
Lisa: Would you like my gum? *pulls gum out of her mouth*
Me: And then some moron comes along and makes a dumb joke.
Steve: And then another moron comes along a says that Superman never got paid anything.
Lisa: I still think the gum thing was pretty funny.

Me: In a past life I was Pharaoh and you were my esteemed underling.
Jerry: Your esteemed underwear?
Me: Yes. Your name was John. Long John.

Annonymous: Go in there, Steve! Wreak it! Wreak it like you’ve never wreaked before!

Becka: You’re killing my joy, you… killjoy!

Me: If a zombie is technically a dead human being that walks, but it eat brains, that means that it must have a functional dietary system that digests brains. And considering all the other functions necessary for a digestive system, how can zombies really be dead, if their brain is functioning?
Becka: Maybe the brains they eat are alive.
Me: Because if you eat a live mouse, it crawls down your throat and digests itself.
Becka: Maybe their brain is outside their head, like in their liver or something.

Stu: Did you say “gum bust”? I think I’m dyslexic, because I heard “bum gust”.

Steve: Oil and blood. Yummy.
Stu: It’s the new salad dressing.
Me: I’m just a well-lubricated vampire, that’s all.

Me: You find that your wife adores you and sometime you wonder why?
Co-worker: Yeah.
Me: I don’t think a lot of women are like that.
So-worker: No. So if you find one that is… do what she says.

Lisa: You’ve always wanted to be a complete and utter freak, but never had the capacity to fulfil that in your life.

Annonymous: I’m just thankful for my hardworking father, whatshisname.

Me: What were you just in deep thought about?
Steve: Well I was drinking this water, and I thought water bottle, and then I thought water truck. Then I thought of driving down Caledon Hill today, and how there was this water truck. And then I thought how much weight the water truck had in it and how it was speeding up. Then I though, what would happen if one of the wheels came off the water truck and hit the side of my car? What if the wheel hit me hard enough to spin me into oncoming traffic. Then I thought, what I was near death and someone saved me? Then I thought of the speech I’d give at the big ceremony they’d have in Orangeville.
Me: You’re kidding.
Steve: No… I have an imagination.
Me: You’re like freaking Anne of Green Gables.

Me: I wish he wasn’t like the freaky retarded love child of Diana Ross and Richard Simmons.

Words

You mention things
sideways,
words wrapped
in others,

but your art is
the thing I love.
This world fails
for waxen
sentences,

their letters formed
with such brazen
clarity
and ice.

My sisters aren’t insane.

You might have gotten the idea that my sisters belong in a mental institution and a heavily padded room from the last entry on this here blog. But really, they’re quite nice. Although they drool a lot. So here’s a pic of Becks cleaning her violin.

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