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OH MY GAWD.... I can't believe this!!!!! Geez, stop the madness people!

Please refer to my post [1/31/2001 6:04:05 PM] There really are official Tiddlywinks rules. There's even an association for Tiddlywinks. It's called North American Tiddlywinks Association.

...I've seen it all. Wow, I wonder if in some countries, picking my nose with my left ring finger while screaming "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers" will get me tossed in jail. Sheesh. posted by losir at 2:17 PM

Snow, the great white stuff. Boy, we're really getting a lot this year. I woke up this morning, opened up my curtains and.... "OhMyGawd!"

My brain started to churn. Being the morning, I heard the gears in my head start to crank and groan, protesting the fact it had to be used so early. I thought of what I wanted to write in Blogger, and how snow is the bane of my existance. You know, one of them funny rants.

Even as I was brushing snow off my car, I was gritting my teeth and silently cursing my plight. How could there be any more snow left in the heavens? Old Man Winter just bought a new snow maker, and he hasn't figured out the big red button is the off switch. *sigh*

Then I realized something. I'd rather it snow everyday on my $30,000 (CAD) car, that I can afford no problem, then to be born in India, and be trapped in an earthquake and die a horrible, agonizing and clausterphobic death. They say that one of the worst ways to die is being burried alive. You feel so helpless as the oxygen wears out, and you know there's no chance of rescue. *shudders*

Perspective is a humbling trait, ain't it folks?

....Let it snow then, it's just the white stuff. posted by losir at 10:41 AM

Well, Blogger is having problems again. The software is just too good for its own good.

Anyhow, my parents will be happy to read that I'm finally taking my citizenship exam. Oh my! Canada beware, I will have the power to vote. And hold a passport. That means if I go to a foreign country and get kidnapped, you'll have to send your 2 CF-18s and 1 frigate over to rescue me. Don't worry, I'm sure you could send a couple of RCMP officers too. Make sure they wear their red uniforms, so the kidnappers can see them from a mile away. :)

On the note of Canada (no pun intended), here are the new Canadian $10 bills. They are butt ugly. Too colourful. Almost like play money. These pictures I took are near 100% in size. So print them out and use them with your Monopoly money.





There is micro printing in abundance, as well as holographic like gold coloured maple leafs right in the center of the bill.
Also, there is Braille printing the top right edge of the bill (well top right edge if you're holding the Front side up). That's actually really cool, and probably hard to counterfeit. That's supposedly the whole point of these bills, to deter counterfeit.

posted by losir at 1:23 AM

what a cruddy morning.... I woke up late again. As usual. I don't have time to post a good one today. However, I've got a special little something for all my faithful readers. (All 4 of you now!)

Does anyone know what usenet is?? Most of you webcentric hatchlings probably don't. For you old geezers like me, it's nice to know that usenet is well and alive. Anyhow, I was still pretty active in the usenet group alt.motorcycle.sportbikes up to about last year. I wrote a post about my experience on the track. I thought it would be good if I could repost the message on there to here. My writing style have changed quite a bit since I've started doing daily blogs. So what you're reading won't sound as good. (At least that's how I felt. Maybe I'm just too darn critical.)

Anyhow, never the one to leave anything alone, I edited a few sentences here and there. Hopefully you'll have fun reading it, and get a sense of my joy that day. After reading my post, take a gander at my trackday pix -> HERE Maybe now you can appreciate it more. I know I can!

-----------------------------------------------
I guess I've finally done it.

After many years of talking about how great it would be to let it all out on a track, I put my clutch where my mouth is; and I'm in love.

There's nothing more enjoyable than hanging out with your buds with bikes on a perfectly sunny day, all doing the one thing we love the most; flogging our bikes around a closed and controlled strip of asphalt. With another 70 people all worshipping the 2 wheels that makes a motorcycle what it is - Pure adrenaline kick in the pants.

There were 4 of us. Fido Dido - 1997 YZF750, madcanadian - 2000 R1, kawipilot - 2000 ZX12, and moi, LoSir - 2000 CBR929RR. We all decided to take it easy and join the "Street class".... The slow pokes, the guys who don't do track days normally (or at all).

Track prepping the bike:
change coolant to water
mirrors removed
light/turn signal/reflectors taped
numbers on the front
sticker to show what class I was in
full leathers - boots, gloves, helmet, earplugs.

I'm ready to go... aren't I?
My first tech inspection (at 8am no less) was rather nerveracking for some reason. I kept thinking that the inspector was going to
sudden say "Uh-OH! You can't take this on the track....go home son."

Phew, everything went without a hitch. The yellow twist tie went around my front forks like the Sunkist guys would when an orange passes quality. I even got a little sticker on my helmet to say it was track-able. Yippie!

Our rider meeting was brief, and I frankly didn't hear much of what the guy was saying. Something along the lines of what colours of the flags meant, easy on the wheelies, no passing on the inside, etc. All I could think of was: "I can't afford to dump."

For the guys who's never been on the Mosport "Fun" track, we had orientation laps. It was supposed to show the track line and to get everyone at least realizing how many turns there were on the track. Of course you can't *learn* a track in 3 - 4 laps, but we would by the end of the day. Okay, maybe not learn, but at least knew when a turn was coming up. :)

So much for orientation. In the second lap, a girl went down. Enough damage that it was the end of the day for her. I'm not singling out the girl, because when I talked to her friends, they all swore she'd be one of the fastest riders out there, gal or not. There goes that myth that sportbikes were only for guys. But it's starting to hit home. This can be dangerous, and expensive.

At first, we were all fairly timid. Afterall, these were OUR bikes, the puppies that we ride daily from work to home, or posing at the local pubs. These bikes were our second wives/girlfriends; at times even better company.

After several sessions, I was passing the *slower* guys. Don't get me wrong, I'm pitifully slow too. But it's so much of a confidence builder when you realize you're not the slowest guy out there. There were couple of people who were extremely quick. I tried to hang with a few of them. A particular blue ZX9r was probably the fastest guy on my session. He admitted that he should have been in the Hot Shoe/Fast Street guys, but he'd rather not, since they were fairly wreckless.

True to point, each time the Hot Shoe/Fast Street/club racers got out on the track, someone went down. Nothing life threatening; broken hand, bad bruises, ego shot. Even an RC-51 went down, which was costly, since both sides were damaged. Ouch, I can't afford to fix my bike.

By mid-day, I was running relatively quick. There were 25 in our group, I was running maybe top 10 - 12. At least I'm in the top 50%. But there were still turns I couldn't figure out. Either I was boggin in the turn, which made my exits crawl, or I would nail the turn and fail to get on the gas earlier. How do those guys on TV do it??

After lunch, we were all fairly tired. But now, we were stupid enough to *race* each other. Braking into corners, showing wheels at a turn, passing 2 - 3 riders in one shot, hogging the racing line, doing everything we swore we wouldn't do. Not exactly hooligans; more like fun without brains.

My 929 is an incredible piece of machine. It's way more capable than I will ever be. The problem is that at least on this track, I really did need a damper. Although my friends don't believe me, the sucker was tankslapping when I was hot on the gas in 2 particular sections of the track. Even when the suspension was tuned to my weight (160 with gear). There's one particular spot, where the track crests and there's a divet. I tankslapped hard enough that the marshall had his red flag ready. He was staring at me, I could tell he thought I was going to lose it, heck, I thought I was gonna lose it too. And this all happened before we have to brake into a 2nd gear right hander. Thank goodness I didn't dump.

Near the end of the day, I was scraping pegs. Oddly enough, my knees never touched once. How sad is that. I even asked one of the organizers there.... how come I can scrape pegs, but I can't kneedown?!

He asked me to show him my form on my bike, which I obliged. After a bit of analysing he said "Look at your pants, your crotch area is too low. Pull up your pants!" I realized to my horror that the reason was twofold. My pants were custom made, but since then I had lost a little weight, my pants were kind of sagging. The crotch area was too tight, so I couldn't bring my knee out 90 degrees. By pulling them up I was able to stretch my knee really far out. I vowed that by next session I would kneedown, or die trying.

Last session, my friends and I were lined up one after another, I was in second. When I first hit the turn I had problems with throughout the day (a sharp right hander and then hard on the gas onto the backstraight), I brain-farted. One second I'm worrying about kneedown, and the next second I'm bouncing my bike in the dirt, motocrossing towards the safety wall. I was too scared to brake, and too scared not to. Something about pumping the back brakes and staying off the front.... Yeah, yeah, let's give that a try. And stay AWAY from the fence!!

Bumpity bump, and I stop. Later on I realize that some of the dirt sections had ditches left by rainfall. At least they felt deep. Anyhow, I stopped without incident, bike intact, ego shattered. I look behind me, kawipilot was doing the old visual fixation routine, and followed me off the track. Heh, if I'm going out, I'm taking one with me. EVIL LAUGH.

Back on the track, wholely spooked, but I still ride with a fair bit of gusto. I didn't knee down once, but I did scrape my peg again. Something along the lines of not moving my arse off enough on the seat. Checkered flag comes out, and for us, that means one last lap and then exit the pits.

My nightmare corner appears again, and I'm ready! I brake hard, notch it to second, letting the braking momentum stand me up and I slide off my seat like superhero. My knee is out, I'm ready.... and guess what?? I'm off the track again, getting close to the fence. How can the same stuff happen to a guy twice?! Luckily the bike stays upright. My friends will forever remember me as the guy who got off the track to pick apples. Picking apples is better than picking pieces of my bike I guess. I ride into the pits with my head low. Fatigue is a racer's enemy.

5 minute goes by, and a hub-bub is stirring in the ranks. An R1 went down, hard. Right at the very last lap. And he went off where my 929 tankslapped. Apparantly, he hit the same divet that I did, and his bike went flying. He let go of the bike, sliding to safety while the poor bike cartwheeled. Wow. The damage was significant. Although repair-able, it would take much $$$ and labour to bring it back up. Scary, that. Coulda been me.

Anyway, I've learned a lot about myself and my passion. I really do enjoy the idea of me racing. Of course, at 29, I've pretty much written off the idea I'll be picked by Team Honda. Let's face it, I don't got it. But what I did get was more respect for the guys who do it for a living, the guys who grind away at insane speeds with tens-of-thousands people watching your every weight shift and knee saves, tempting the laws of physics and bewildering the mind with their extreme lean angles. Awesome!

But what I respect the most is the bike. You can't ask for much more (altho a steering damper is definitely soon), and when I realize how fast I was going on the track, my little law breaking spirt to the local convinience store seems trite in retrospect. Yes, I can go much faster in a straight line on the highway, and I can probably achieve the same lean angles on my favorite twisties, but at what cost? Betting it all for a smooth patch of pavement devoid of motor-crud and gravel? Nah, I'll ride safe on the road, and leave the crazy stuff on the track. At least I'll slide to safety, instead of sliding into a guardrail.

I'm getting a track bike and a trailer. That's the end of it. It'll be my hobby. There's no doubt (bar the lack of funds). I won't use the 929 as my primary race bike, since I won't be able to learn as much. A 250 sounds right. Yeah, that's the ticket.

What I also have to appreciate is my girlfriend tagging along for the day. A lot of guys were jealous, not because I had a GF, but rather she was willing to wake up at 6:30am to spend the day with me. Plus I bought her an offical Honda Racing shirt, and she had an umbrella.... Heh, my own personal umbrella girl. I might not be fast, but I sure as heck POSED the part. :-)

Rats, I guess I've finally done it.

--
...Power of a litre bike, handling of a 600, wind protection of a 250.
. // \asiliat the wonder puppy
| ^ ^ |Yellow/Blue/White 2K 929
|___|
| | |
| | |
`'`'`'``
------------------------------------- posted by losir at 1:51 PM

Well, I was talking to my cousin gizzardslap, who, IMHO, is a very strange person. :) I was 8-9 yrs old when he was 2. His mother, my aunt from my 3Sook's marriage, babysat me for close to a year. That means that at one time, I understood Mandarin. No more.

Anyhow, the topic of girls came about, and I just realized that some people DO get it. Good for you bud. I'm not going to elaborate much more, for fear of embarassing him. Let's just say that he's like a distant little brother to me, and I'm glad he's doing great.

My body is killing me. I haven't worked out in about 2-3 weeks, and decided to hit the gym. Bad move. Now I remember why I don't bother to go anymore. I'm TIRED. I just tried playing foosball like 2 hrs ago, and I couldn't even spin my little men.

On the note of foosball, I can't believe there are actual "official" rules for this game. How hardcore is THAT?!

...Crazy, I wonder if there are offical rules for TwiddlyWinks.... scary.
posted by losir at 6:04 PM

UGH! I didn't get to update my blog yesterday... the shame! You still love me, right??

I used to like eating at the Company cafe. It's not because the food is good. Although I can tell the difference between good and bad, I'm not a picky eater when I'm eating by myself. But I liked the cafe food because it was relatively inexpensive, and it was convinient. Also, because I was friendly with the cooking staff, I was sure to always get a little something extra. More pasta, rice, sauce, etc. Hey, it's not much. But when you're hungry, every last morsel helps.

Ever since the head chef left, food has gotten poor. The taste has gone downhill significantly, the prices have risen a little, but the worst is the portions have gotten a LOT smaller. I stopped eating there, and started either going out or packing my lunch.

Out of desperation, I went up to the cafe like 3 weeks ago, hungry as Jenny Craig on a 3 month Slim Fast, Ultra Shake, count-them-numbers diet. I saw curry chicken, and I'm like, YES! I love me some curry chicken. So I order it to go, (I never eat in the cafe for some reason), and the portions were so sickly small, I was looking for the toy to go along with my Happy Meal. I felt like I was in grade school. Geez.

Now I'm normally a very passive person. (Believe it or not). Maybe because I'm Chinese or whatever, so I'm bred to take it and not complain. But I had had enough. I'm not paying $5 for meals that's worth $2.50. Hehe, I know it sounds cheap, but let it be known that I live near the new Chinatown, so I can have food for $3.99, and I get a drink. Just bear with my rant, okay?

Anyhow, I told the guy who served me: "Look buddy, do I look 12? I'm old enough to eat adult portions you know! I mean, I'm not ordering from the kid's menu, am I?!" Well, even with that tone of voice, I was able to wink and smile, trying to defuse the situation. Let's face it, they only work there.

I went back up today for lunch, Curry Chicken. And guess what?

I got a heap load of food.

...Never underestimate the power of whining.



posted by losir at 1:26 PM

Dang, people should be paying me to dispense my words of wisdom.
LoSir, writer for Time magazine... yeah baby!!

....that or pay me to shut up :P posted by losir at 6:27 PM

It's been a pretty uneventful Monday. Again, the network servers are Bust-O, so some of us luckier ones are vegging away, reading websites and stuff. At least I'm getting a chance to actually catch up on some blogs.

I didn't wake up today until 10:30 am. Last night, I left work at 3:00am. Tired as a sled dog on a hazy summer afternoon. Really feel like just dropping my head on the table and snore away. Alas, I don't think the Company likes people sleeping on the job. Keyboard indentations stay for a long time.


What did YOU do on the weekend? Well, I got to hang out with my friends on Saturday nite. The whole gang was pretty much there. Scot'ish, Fido, Mayday and LionQueen were all at Money. A little pretentious club in the heart of the dancing district on Richmond in Toronto. Also joining the "usuals" were Steffy, FoS (Friend of Steffy), and mute. Sorry, I didn't make up that nickname, but it's just too funny not to use it. :) Everybody seemed to have had a good time. Well eventually anyway. There were a lot of good looking girls there.... I'll have to go again, sans baggage. :P. Steffy, being the ever cooly gurl, got us all in easily. Remember, Money is one of those clubs which they actually pick and choose people to go in. Bouncers walk up and down, looking for the best looking gals, and they get pulled out of the line to be let in. Guys like me can only look helplessly and whimper in the blistering cold. Lucky that I know Steffy, who knew the bouncer, and yada yada, we were in within 15 minutes. All 9 of us! Even when I wasn't properly attired. I forgot that the original club we were going to, Fluid, had a strict dress code. I had on my stupid cargo pants, and was denied entry into Fluid. Snobs!! But hey, if you want to play the game, you gotta dress for the sport, huh? Just try to feel the love.... okay?!

Anyhow, without me sounding all uppity and everything, I'm very glad that I've never had a problem with talking to people, guys or girls. I don't mean to sound like I'm some pickup-artist or anything, but conversations have never been a problem. Anyone who's met me knows I'm about having a good time. You know the bit, "Why can't we get along??" That's my mantra.

Here's a "Dear Anne" for ya: If you're interested in a girl, then like, make an effort to let her know you're interested. If doing cartwheels half-naked over a hot bed of coals while singing the national athem with your hair on fire will get the girl of your choosing to be interested in you, well then start undressing while I pour the gasoline!

Really. If you take out a girl, and she's willing to go, make it LOOK like you're having a good time. Even if you're heck tired, and only wanna lie down and meditate on the back of your eyelids, don't! Stay awake and smile at her. Pay her the attention she needs. All girls need to know they're being wanted one time or another. Heck, all guys do too eventually. (Unless we're watching motorcycle racing, then we want complete and utter silence, except if you help me cheer for the Honda teams.)

Don't sit down unless she does. Accompany her to the bathroom and wait like a dutiful lapdog. Touch her elbow, or somewhere congruous to show you're treating her like a lady. They don't want to be mauled! Let her know that at least for tonight, she's your queen, and the object of your affection. Even if she doesn't like you that way, at least she'll appreciate the attention. Remeber, women congregate for safety reasons, much like elk and deer. If it doesn't work out between the 2 of you, she's probably got friends!! If you treat her well, and nothing comes of it, at least she can say... "Yeah, he's a GREAT guy, we didn't click, but maybe it'll work out with you." Stuff happens! Don't wait for it. Make it so!

Lastly, don't make it sound like you're too eager. Eager equates desperation. Women see desperation like men can a hockey puck travelling over 100mph, or the football in a 20 man fumble. Don't be the eager beaver after a date. When you're driving her home, relax. Put on some soothing music, talk in a lowered tone, and just let the comfort level reach to a point where you both can be silent, but still be content just to sit and enjoy the music. If she's hungry, suggest to grab a quick bite. She's probably as tired as you. So, don't do nothing fancy-schmancy. Do a 24 hr breakfast joint. That'll do ya both good.

Above all else, honesty works. Don't tell her you're a superstar when in life you're a superchump. Let them decide whether you're date material. I know that it's much more exciting to say you race motorcycles or save babies in your spare time, but let's not kid ourselves. The most exciting thing in most of our lives is finding an extra nickel in our pocket when we're 5 cent short of buying a soda. In all likelihood, unless she's 6 feet tall with legs running up to her back, she's no supermodel on the runways of France and Milan either. So trying to mega impress her right off the get go probably don't work.

...Showing her your Porsche key doesn't always work either, but I suppose it can't hurt. posted by losir at 6:07 PM

I got the links section up and running. Not too many links for now. But links pages are always under construction anyway.
Have fun. Check it out here. posted by losir at 4:47 PM