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Life is weird sometimes. One second you're the king of the world, next second, you realize that whatever you think you've done well, someone else in the family has done it 10x better. Bugger it all.

Take for example my cousin SleepyHead. I can't believe he's got such a wicked website. At least in my eyes, it's wicked.... hehe. Way to go!

The weird part is that I just found out he's a RiceBoy. Talk about Rice-a-Roni, and he's not even from San Francisco (You konw the jingle Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat.) I'm scared, just totally scared right now. Check out his site if you have time. I believe this is his car by the way.



He tried hard not to let people copy or save his pictures. Oh well. Guess it didn't work huh?


^--"Got Rice?"

That is totally just sick. I feel for his parents, my uncle and aunt, who has to let that monstrosity of a Honda be parked in front of their driveway. I'd just disown him. At the very least, he'd have to park in the garage at all times. Ewww!

Buddy, get a clue. It's a Honda Civic, where do you think you're going? I mean, do you think people see your car, and go "Woah! A Ferrari Hatchback!!" No, they don't. It's alright, you're still young. You'll learn eventually. The fender alone probably weights more than the engine. Talk about putting the UGH, in Ugly!! Sheesh! Oh well.

I have hope for him though. He put my picture there and quoted as "Honda-Racing Cousin". Good enough. :)

Boy, times sure have change. Why I remember when I last visited them, they were little munchkins biting my knees. Now, they're old enough to drive. Wow.
....but did you have to be a riceboy though?? posted by losir at 2:40 PM

mute. We have a situation on our hands. We aren't sure which side of the fence you swing from, so it's time to show us you play for the good guys, and GTG (Get That Girl, old Win3.1 shareware game.)

Here's a printout of your target's Bio.
----------------------------------
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
----------------------------------
Name: Witheld for privacy issue. (And save her the embarassment)
Nickname: Queen-VB
Age: Old enough to date.
Sex: female (presumably)
Occupation: Rarely occupied, mostly free
Marital Status: Single
----------------------------------
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
----------------------------------

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to disguise yourself as a cool guy, and try to get her out on a date. You will have to suppress every urge to be yourself, and instead, be a like-able, friendly guy. Try using tact, guile, and English. It's the only way she'll know you even exist.

The plan is to set up a group date at a sports bar to watch the next playoff hockey game. Once this has been established, you will suggest that instead of the sports bar, your place of residence is a far better idea. Graciously offer your house that has a big 50+ inch TV, buy some booze, snacks, and hoogies for all to munch on while we cheer on the Buds. You will suggest this like it's off the top of your head, instead of being rehearsed and well planned. Of course, making dry runs with several of your cohorts is highly recommended. For example, take ChinaBoy and put him in a skirt to pretend he's your target. Practice saying "Let's go to my house for the hockey game." until it becomes natural. Remember now, you cannot make out with ChinaBoy!! He's not one of your regular dates! So restrain yourself. Have some discipline for Pete's sake.

From there on, make plans to have subsequent contacts with her. i.e.: Get her real phone number. Hint, 416-456-7890 is likely not a real number. After that, play it by ear. Don't stalk her too close, or else she'll balk. Not calling when you said you would is also a no-no. Remember, fight the urge to be you. Discretion is the key to success.

It's a difficult mission to be sure. As always, if you're caught, we'll deny any involvement in this or any other previous schemes hatched up for you. Moreover, we will deny knowing you or being called your friend if you bomb your last chance at being straight. It's up to you.

....This message will self destruct in 5 seconds.


posted by losir at 12:21 PM

I know I'm a little late, but can you say "Sweep?!" I knew you could.

I used to be a big Leaf's fan. I really was; even in the mid Eighties, when they stunk to high heaven, I was a Leaf fan. I loved to watch them lose, and I'd love even more when they occasionally won.

For the past several years, I have not been following them at all. I guess after all the heartbreaks and broken promises of doing it this year, I'm drained. It's like a horrible date gone terribly wrong. You keep thinking that by the end of the night, you two will finally click and fall madly in love, but as each agonizing minute rolls on, you wish more and more to be hit by a Mack truck, so you can be sent to a hospital. At least s/he'll finally shut up and just go away.

It's not that bad I guess. Playoff hockey is different, there's an atmosphere of urgency. Any team that doesn't show it (like the poor Ottawa Senators, who loves to finish early to work on their golf game) exits stage left.

On the topic of professional sport, why are these pro athletes getting paid the king's ransom just to boot or bat a ball around? Take for example basketball. You got all these really tall (freakishly so?) men running around, putting a little leather ball into a hoop not much bigger than it, and some of these guys make more money than you and I could possibly count. Heck, even some of their figures is beyond the capabilities of older calculators. How's that for sick?

I mean, what would happen if James Naismith never invented basketball? Where would all these tall people be working now? Window washers? Librarians? Giraffe handlers at the zoo?

Isn't it sad that the good citizens of our fair town must save and scrimp so we can pay $2.10 CAD to stand in a crowded bus during rush hour while the poor sap who complains about being bumped by some other rich millionaire on the court in a game without calling a foul is making cash money, money. Oh woe is you. Spare me your crocodille tears mate.

I guess this isn't anything new. Everyone who's not a pro athlete know this is stupid. Unfortunately there's nothing we can do, because North Americans take the their entertainment too seriously. I truely believe that if the average Yankee/Canuck weren't all so obese, they would actually play the sport, instead of just sitting there. Most of these blokes' only exercise is lifting beer mugs, and giving the occasional high five. Careful there Chubs, you might get winded lifting another pretzel into that gaping maw of a mouth.

I think the whole professional sports teams should take a massive paycut. Yeah, I'm talking out of my butt, but come on, isn't it time to step back and take notice that some of these individuals are making enough money that by donating their anual paycheck, a third world country would become second? Think about that.

Maybe that's why I'm not rooting for the Leafs/Raptors as hard. I'm sick of the excess. I'm tired of the indulgence. I want the sports in sports entertainment, not pyrotechnics each time the Leafs/Raptors/Blue Jays score, buckets, or bats in a run.

Still I'm a sucker for good hockey.

....Go Leafs Go. I'm such a hypocrite sometimes.








posted by losir at 8:41 PM

I hate dark rooms in the morning. I hate conversations that I can't follow, people who don't interest me, work that flies over my head.

Why can't I be a morning person? Why can't I sleep for 8 hours, and be refreshed and awake for a whole day? Is there something wrong with me? Hark, do I have monnnooooooooooooo.,,,,kasdffffffffffs.d,vmnajvn

Sorry, almost fell asleep there.

...wake me when it's time for my nap. posted by losir at 2:29 PM

Hehe, sorry guys, I didn't do an update yesterday. I really meant to. But I just sat there.... staring at a blank notepad, and nothing. Zip, zero, nada, zilch, none, not-a-fing.

I actually wanted to write something while riding on the way to volleyball, but by the time I finished playing, had a couple of beers with the gang after the game, and a shower later, I forgot.

I still can't remember today. The topic couldn't have been that good then. Oh well.

Maybe more later on today, I'll see.



posted by losir at 10:14 AM

Chin Guido (CG) wanted to be married, bad. He wanted to come home every night, with dinner ready and his slippers waiting at the door. He wanted a companion, a better half, a love slave. In short, he wanted a girl. Did I mention that he wanted a wife, bad? Oh I did, nevermind.

Chin Guido looked far and wide, but it was not to be. He was whacked with the mother-of-all ugly stick, and even blind dogs feared him, growling and slobbering like he was the postman from hell. It wasn't for the lack of effort either. He had a decent job, a house, and took kung fu. So he had what most girls desired: money, security, and protection.

History will write that he did not have any untoward intentions to the girl he met over the internet through a friend's email account. Truth be known, he probably did want to date her, even though they've never met. We will never know what they wrote to each other in those emails (although saucy cynics will suggest otherwise). Suffice to say, it was steamy enough that on that fateful Thanksgiving long weekend, he decided, without telling anyone else, to hop on a plane and meet his new found internet love.

Once there, the romance was both torrid and mind-numbing. For when he returned from his three day getaway, he declared that they both had sagagiously decided to wed in a month's time. She was to come overseas accompanied by her parents from the Land of the Pickled Cabbage, meet all his family, and if were agreeable, would become one under the Holy sanctity of matrimony.

Needless to say, a fairy tale had begun. It goes: boy meets girl on internet, boy likes girl. Boy sees girl and finds out she's not a 50 year old guy name Bubba. Girl likes boy, girl wants marriage, and they live happily ever after.

Hark, but hignsight is ever perfect. For there was a grave impass between them. Neither spoke perfect English. While Chin Guido's accented English was passable, and the girl being an English teacher of her homeland, their communication skills were far from ideal. Often times, he would have to sign his intentions to her. He'd cup one hand under chin, with the other hand making chopstick pick-up food to show, "I'm famished, cook me food woman!" ; or it was palms together by face, head tilted sideways for "I'm too tired to preserve any more cabbage."

Okay, it wasn't that bad, but it was pretty close. The unfortunate thing was that neither spoke nor understood each other's native tongue, so it was very hard sometimes to express their own thoughts fully. There must have been fights. And in the heat of the moment, you can imagine it was so difficult. I mean, the official sign language for fustration is flipping the bird. But come on, seriously, can you really give the wife the finger?? I think not.

Chin Guido is not known for his patience. That is not to say he didn't try, but his already short fuse seemed even more ignitable when fueled by Little Wife's insistence on disobedience. You can't blame him when she would buy a huge tub of tofu, enough to nearly feed an average Chinese family, only to leave its tin can in the fridge. No sane human would eat that much tofu to begin with, but to store it in the fridge without using plastic containers, you're just asking for trouble. Maybe it's the way they do it back home, but here in the land of the Great White North, there are bacteria and other germs always looking for a free meal. This made the already fermented tofu even more fungoid, which cannot be consumed by any person. There are 1.1 billion Chinese people, some of which are very hungry. Wasting tofu like this is just wrong. Damn wrong I say.

Incidents like the one above only strained the relationship further. Chin Guido was starting to be more uptight, while the Little Wife just couldn't or wouldn't change her ways. Pretty soon, all heck broke lose, and they had to call in air support, in the form of her parents.

The love gods pitied them, so they blessed them with a time of peace and sanity. It looked like the two had finally stared doubters in the face, and laughed at its evil meddling. Little did they know that it was only the calm before the storm. Soon after her parents flew back, the fights got worse. Not physical fights mind you, but verbal arguements that borderlined comedy for the lack of words each could use or understand during these infamous battles.

To say that disaster was imminent was an understatement. Nothing short of a miracle would save this couple from the "nasty D" - Divorce. Alas, either the planets did not align properly, incompatible Zodiacs, the Feng Shui in their home was not harmonious, or the wedding was too hurried, they seperated. She went back to her parents, and he stayed in his now near-empty house, with no mouldy tofu to remind him of her.

In the end, this fairy tale ended poorly, with both parties splitting up for good, leaving their marriage and lives torn and tattered. My condolences to Cupid, who in my opinion, was just a little too quick on the draw and his aim all too true. Next time, ask first, shoot later, okay buddy?

....Sometimes, it is better to have never loved and lost.... at least your tofu stays fresher.





posted by losir at 8:50 PM

Things to Look for in a Girlfriend
(In case you don't know what you want in life.)

Guys, I know it's sometimes hard to know what you should look for in a girl. Afterall, we're pretty much suckers for any girl that'll smile at us. Still, there should be some sort of standard. So I've compiled several pointers and situations you should mentally check off when dating a girl. If she meets even half of the list below, then she could be a keeper; but not always of course. If nothing else, you'll know that trusting her with your pet gold fish is pretty safe.

� after seeing your one stupid human trick zillion of times - still laughs along like it was the first.
� holds your head above the toilet bowl, after a long night of hard drinking.
� asks, "Do I look fat in this?" no more than once a day.
� willing to share you with your bike.
� decides that working out wouldn't be a waste of time.
� instead of the lobster tail, orders the fish - because it's cheaper, and almost just as good.
� endures hot-waxing, because she knows that lip hair is nasty.
� compares you to Nick from 98 Degrees; and you win.
� knows exactly where your back itches, as soon as you ask for a scratch.
� truely grateful that you bought her another pair of shoes.
� doesn't cry at every chance, or even every other chance.
� knows you love her, without having to say it.
� believes that anchovies on pizza doesn't totally suck.
� washing dishes is a man's job, but only if she cooked.
� knows when to sit and smile in the midst of your friends; then give you the business in the car.
� thinks that flatulent is an artfrom, especially from somone as talented as you.
� kisses you even with the mother-of-all sandpaper stubbles.
� the car bathes before you.
� map directions are for sissies.
� allows you to sing at karaoke even if you make every ballad sound like frogs ribbit-ing.
� the Sports section gets read before daily news.
� plucking her eyebrows doesn't hurt as much as they say in the magazines.
� thinks your friends are almost as cool as hers, (even your female friends.)
� sees a cute kid, and straight-faced, deadpans "S/he's not that cute."

....and finally: helps you check out girls at the mall. "Did you see the size of her bazonkas??"

posted by losir at 4:37 AM