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From my little brain
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Content is paramount.
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[2/07/2004]
I was showering tonight when I noticed an ant sharing the same bathtub as I.
While I generally would not freak out because of an ant, I instantly remember the last little guy that found comfort burrowing next to my eardrum. That sucked. I still haven't forgiven its brother. So out of instinct, I began pouring water on it, trying to wash him down the drain. As I splashed handful after handful of water on his poor little tentacle-waving head, he struggled to be free of his own little Chinese water torture. There's something to be said for smooth bath tubs. I don't know of one insect that I've seen fall into the tub get out. I've seen my share of the aforementioned ants, earwigs, centipeds, and even spiders stumble into the gaping maw, never to escape, finally being carried down the drain with a good helping of hot water delivered by the shower head. Who knew that the "massage mode" would be such a cruel weapon indeed? I digress. This poor little ant struggled and paddled with all his six legs. Legs as skinny as mine, in a space that appears vast, yet in reality was a cul de sac of death; scrambling to get to drier land. In an instant this ant epitomized the brunt of my life. I understood how the ant must be feeling, as it fought against the torrent of water like liquid trial from the gods - I too feel like that sometimes, fighting against insurmountable odds, knowing that it would always end in failure. That was pure panic, and folks, I know panic well. I bent down and stretched my finger beside him, beseeching in my heart for him to grab hold of a strand of arm hair, or use a follicle as foothold. He half swam, half dragged himself onto me. He was all soaked. Like a ship captain on a dingy battling the perfect storm, so too, he withstood the test and held fast. I placed him on a nearby wall, but he didn't want to get off me. Smart little bugger I guess. But I wouldn't have it. What would the neighbours think if I told him that I was carrying around my pet ant, and it wasn't even on a leash? I mean, the scandals, the side-long glances, the gossip. Pure drama, kids. So I insisted, first shaking, and then scraping him onto the wall - gently of course. Mission accomplished, the little guy ran around a litttle bit, trying to find the exit back to his colony. But oh, it was too much. He had spent too much energy battling the tsunami - the very same wave which I had created but only a fraction of a minute ago. He crawled a little bit more, and then drawing his last breath - died. I felt terrible. For not only had the innocent ant died, but I had been it's judge, jury, and worse, executioner - in reverse order. Guilty until proven innocent your honour. That's how it works around here, bucko. I don't know what else to say. Ants and I have an understanding - I don't put a magnifying glass over its head, they don't crawl in my ear. Seems fair. On another note, I've got a new look. May I present losir - calamari head.
[2/06/2004]
I feel so uncomfortable when I'm sitting in my stall #4 and our in-house sanitarian specialist (cleaning lady) is in the adjacent stall cleaning the bowl.
It's like an invasion of my privacy. The fact that there's a female in the vicinity of my flatuation gives me stress to no end. The train that has left the station down the track and eventually gets dropped off at the pool invariably stops, and reverses engine. The only thing that's not clogged then is the toilet next door down. I wish she had the decency to wait until I was done. At least then I'm only embarassed by the chemical weapons I leave behind. ....I fart, therefore I am.
[2/05/2004]
I was greeted to this last night as I got home....
I have the mother of all BAD haircut....
Please help me pick out headgear. Thanks! To view below jpg, you must have java installed on system.
[2/03/2004]
Let's face it, no matter how much I wish the opposite sex thought of me as a wolf, the truth is that the only animal that they associate me with is a monkey.
A fat, fat monkey mind you. One who just popped and broke his jeans button! Can you believe that?! ....The button popped off and broke! On my pair of jeans! Ugh.
[2/02/2004]
I'm not one for wearing hoodies, because I use to wear one all the time.
Back in the day when I was living on a very tight (some say non-existent) budget, I didn't have the money to buy a proper winter jacket. So instead, my daily attire would consist of the following: 1 undershirt, of undeterminable colour (could be off-white, could be dirty beige) 1 sweatshirt, either green or white (white one was stained with a little bit of green) 1 hoodie sweats (either grey or blue) 1 grey spring jacket, thin 1 black spring jacket, also thin And that would be it. That and a pair of trackpants beneath my jeans. So you see, I wasn't exactly a ski yuppie on the slopes of Aspen. When I finally clawed myself into the working world, I swore I would never wear a hooded sweatshirt again. Well, that is until I saw this:
I admit it, I have become an uber geek.
So what have I been doing all weekend? Well I've been cruising in my car, with music videos playing on my Clie, sound output in my car radio via an FM transmitter which broadcasts on frequency 88.3. I then tune to that channel on my FM radio, and voila, sound.
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