May The Homeless of Waterloo Rejoice!

While walking to my car from class this cold Thursday night, a stroll that crosses the entirety of our huge campus, I decided upon the perfect place for a homeless person to live.

This discussion was brought up often with my good friend Cole back in the day. She pointed out various benches and enclaves of tree branches and bushes that she would use for shelter if she were homeless. She isn't, but it was kind of fun to pretend.

The one place we would never dare to mention, however, was the Math building. Of course we were both prisoners there at the time and dreaded the place. Especially the revolting Comfy Lounge.

Now that I'm no longer forced to visit that wretched hole, I believe homeless people should.

It makes perfect sense when you think aboot it.

1. It's warm.
   
2. It's open 24 hours a day.
   
3. There are bathrooms with sinks large enough for bathing.
   
4. It has a lounge. In this lounge there are pop/candy machines and couches as a source of change.
   
5. It's not out of place for people to sleep there. In fact, in some classes it's common for students to bring sleeping bags and pillows.
6. The people there are often scruffy and not bathed.
   
7. As a result of 6 it smells nasty.
   
8. Many rant and rave about nothing in particular. Often in gibberish.
9. The top floors include their own funhousesque maze.

It's like a hobo paradise! Come to think of it, some of the students there might qualify as bums. Crazy! Alas, I highly doubt any homeless people have access to this blog, and, as such, will never know. Perhaps I should print flyers.

In the meantime, anyone who reads this now and might soon be in the position of having no home, you're welcome.

FIrst Late Night Snowstorm Drivin' Of The Season

It rained most of the day yesterday. Jaci and I went to my parents place for dinner and a movie and had a relatively good time. Then we left for Waterloo.

It was pouring when we left and it was also extremely windy. The rain resembled snow comming at the car while driving.

Then it started to build up on the windsheild...in solid form. Visability was low.

By the time we made it to Tim Horton's in Elmira the front of my car was plastered with snow.

It rained all the way back from Tim's...but still...it was snowing...in the middle of October. Ick.

This is going to be a long winter.

My Funny Little Dutch Man

Hylke Wynja. What a card. What a font of insight. What a sweet little old Dutch man.

Hylke is quite possibly the best customer in the history of the world. The man's pushing 80 and still remains more technologically advanced and computer literate than my parents. Not that they're exactly in their prime...but you get the picture.

Hylke had me over this week to hook him up with a cable to connect his computer to his stereo. That, and he needed me to fix the microphone so his son in Prague could hear him during video chats. Pretty fancy set up for an old man.

The reason I believe Hylke to be the best customer ever, is his incredibly appreciative behaviour. Most people want everything done 10 minutes before you even arrive on site and are thoroughly annoyed if you take any longer than 10 minutes beyond that. Although Hylke will ask every so often to see how things are going, when you explain to him what you're doing he'll reply with "Oh! Of course! Good idea. That's good. Good work. You're a smart one." and the like. Then, when you finish the job and everything seems to be working, he'll always end with "Wow! That's excellent! You really know your stuff. You are very good with computers. Thank you so much!"

He once came into the shop and told my boss he should be give me a raise.

I concur.

Alas, I feel sad for Hylke. His wife passed away a month ago. Hylke seemed to be doing well. Apparently she had been battling cancer for quite some time and now Hylke says she's in a better place and can finally get some rest.

*tear*

But, Hylke keeps going happily on through life. The mighty little Dutch man. He even has that great Goldmemberish accent. Technically I don't know if he is Dutch. But that's what I'm getting from the accent. I could be very wrong. I apologize if that is the case.

Hylke, I salute you.

Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod

Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod, one night sailed off in a wooden shoe;
Sailed on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea.
Nets of silver and gold have we," said Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song as they rocked in the wooden shoe.
And the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew.
Now the little stars are the herring fish that live in that beautiful sea;
"Cast your nets wherever you wish never afeared are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three - Winkin', and Blinkin', and Nod.

So all night long their nets they threw to the stars in the twinkling foam.
'Til down from the skies came the wooden shoe bringing the fisherman home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed as if it could not be.
Some folks say 'twas a dream they dreamed of sailing that misty sea.
But I shall name you the fisherman three - Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

Now Winkin' and Blinkin' are two little eyes and Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies is a wee one's trundle bed.
So close your eyes while mother sings of the wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see those beautiful things as you sail on the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three - Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

Haunted By My Profile

It seems my profile is denying me an update again. I've waited nearly a month this time with no complaints. I just assumed it would update soon enough.

It hasn't.

Last time I was disgruntled with the profile I wrote about it and shortly thereafter it updated.

Perhaps that method will work once more...

A Few Words On Art History

To fulfill my new program's requirements, I'm taking not one, but two Art History courses this term. Sounds extremely boring and I'm sure to most people it is. It mostly consists of discussing the works of dead artists and how they portray the period during which they lived and the social promise and conflict that surrounded them during that time. Strangely enough, I really enjoy it.

It's somewhat fascinating to see a painting you may have seen many times before and forgotten and be given an interesting story to explain it. It makes the painting easier to remember and far more appealing. It also gives you the ability to impress people when they say "Damn that's a bad painting" and you can explain the reasoning behind every stroke of the brush.

That doesn't improve the painting, but impresses none the less.

The only problem with an Art History class, however, is the papers. They bring me down, man. I've had to write papers for Art History based on some icky modern art. We've only studied beautiful classical art so God knows why I have to express the concept of space in a work of scribbles. I don't care how the space or lines affect that crap.

It will always be a jumble of scribbles to me.

End of story.

DJ Pump The Low End Frequency

I feel it deep inside me.
I wanna ride it.
Can't fight it.
I might as well rely on the drum beat.
DJ pump the low end frequency.
Can't hide it.
I won't deny it.
'Cause I'm addicted to drums,
And I'm a slave to the dark beat.

- Oscar G

Blasted Early Morning Infomercials

I'm waiting for a CD to burn so I wander in to the living room to take a peek at what's on the boob tube. Cheers is on. Great show. But I change the channel anyway.

I arrive on some strange 70's set where two twits are discussing some of the greatest music of the 70's. I was beginning to wonder if somehow we ended up with Much More Music, but, alas, just as I was about the check the channel, those bastards tried to sell me something.

I have been infomercialized.

It's really upsetting. They had a 'Best Of' CD for each year of the 70's. They repeatedly played my favourite 70's hits. They even had me considering purchasing this set. I came to my senses when they finally told me the price.

5 easy payments of 29.99.

Plus 12.95 shipping and handling.

In US dollars of course.

Easy payments my ass. They are constantly mocking my lack of funding for such grand expenditures. The crazy thing is, I didn't even exist in the 70's. I was born in '82. Of course, it's hardly difficult to blame me for betraying the 80's for the 70's. Most 80's music tends to be played on a whim or as a source of bad humour these days.

Sad really.

Food Review

A food review seems a little out of the ordinary (especially with reference to fast food) but I feel I've found an item worth reviewing.

This week we received a new Domino's flyer in the mail. The new item being advertised is the Doublemelt Pizza which is described as "a blend of cheese sauce and herbs sandwiched between two thin crusts and covered with pizza sauce, mozzarella cheese, and your favourite toppings."

To my roommates the picture didn't look very bloody appetizing. I mean, who wants gooey whiteness oozing from the pizza crust? Insert splooge joke here.

Anyway, I was hungry and have always enjoyed the stuffed crust from Pizza Hut. I was also lazy, so ordering pizza just made sense and the deal was right on the front of the flyer. I didn't even have to turn the page. Booya!

It arrived within' 30 mins and I brought it into the living room and opened the box.

As usual it looked nothing like the picture on the flyer. It was much more thin and less oozy. That was a bonus. Then I picked some up, opened up, and ate it.

It was pretty damn good. It's quite a nice cheesy blend they've got going on in the middle there. I was impressed. I feel it may have been slightly overpriced, but a good treat to have if you're in the mood. I recommend it.

Then I continued to eat the whole damn pizza.

My tummy rumbled at me, but it had it coming.

Prof Quote

"It's very hard to sculpt pubic hair and make it look sensual."

- Joan Coutu
Fine 110

A TV Moment

Stuck in a basement,
Sitting on a tricycle,
Girl's gettin' on my nerves.

Goin' out of my mind,
I thought she was fine.
Don't know if her body is hers.

Gotta love the Fresh Prince.

Crazies in the Rearview

I was driving home after seeing Jaci off today (she left to go home for Thanksgiving) when I had to stop for a red light. I suppose technically I really didn't have to stop, but considering the massive wall of speeding traffic between myself and the other side, I feel I made the right decision.

I noticed, however, whilst checking my rear-view mirror, that there was a woman going absolutely ape-shit in the big red van behind me. Upon further inspection I saw that she was approximately in her 40's and her hair was blonde, big and oh so curly. She was totally doing that midlife, young, cougar look thing.

The next item that came to my attention was the man sitting beside her in the passenger seat. That poor, sad little man.

The cougar was flailing her arms, banging things, and, though I couldn't hear her, presumably speaking quite loudly. Perhaps even shouting. Thankfully, she didn't seem to be shouting at the little man. The little man who was totally ignoring her.

That's right.

He totally ignored her.

He just sat there. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't even look at her. He didn't seem to acknowledge her in any way. He merely looked out his passenger side window without an ounce of expression on his face.

He's my hero.

She looked his way a few times and I guess she noticed he wasn't paying attention. She didn't care. She just banged on the steering wheel and kept on blabbing.

What a good man. I would have run out of the car screaming into traffic. Maybe even caused an accident. Then the poor person in the vehicle that hit me would be extremely upset as a result of taking my life. That person would never understand the significance of the favour they had just bestowed upon me.

Well the light eventually changed. We went on our way and after a short distance the red van to my rear pulled off.

I wonder what that woman was so peeved about.

I wonder if that man is fearful when she drives him.

I wonder what song was going through that little man's head all the while she was yammering.

I bet it was a good one.

Word of the Moment: Comeuppance

come·up·pance
n.
A punishment or retribution that one deserves; one's just deserts.

Note To Readers

I know I haven't posted in ages...I've been a busy little beaver.

If you are patient enough, however, I have many things to add and they should be posted later this week and throughout the weekend.

My apologies.

Thank you.