Hey, howsitgoing? Yeah...long time no post. Soul-crushing, spirit-crippling school and what not. You know how it is. So, I completely ripped this off of T-Ray's blog:
The Slow Dancer DeliberateGentleLoveDreamer(DGLDm)
Steady, reliable, and cradling her tenderly. Take a deep breath, and let it out real easy...you are The Slow Dancer
Your focus is love, not sex, and for your age, you have average experience. But you're a great, thoughtful guy, and your love life improves every year. There's also a powerful elimination process working in your favor: most Playboy types get stuck raising unwanted kids before you even begin settling down. The women left over will be hot and yours. Your ideal woman is someone intimate, intelligent, and very supportive.
While you're not exactly the life of the party, you do thrive in small groups of smart people. Your circle of friends is extra tight and it's HIGHLY likely they're just like you. You appreciate symmetry in relationships.
...Sweet. I get the 'nice guy' tag Although, honestly, everything stated above rings quite true, so I shouldn't complain. It's pretty much dead on (except for their usage of the subjunctive conjuction "but" to begin a sentence...I'll let that slide. THIS time ). Even the picture looks a lot like me. Huh.
I would like to preface this post with the following statement: I am not crazy. Really.
Hey, howsitgoing?
So, I've had some very bizarre dreams in my time. This one ranks right up there near the top of the list. The first part of this dream that I can recall involves myself and a group of other pharmers having a snowball fight. Why are we having a snowball fight? I have no idea. During said fight, one pharmer in particular, whom for the duration of this story shall be referred to as "DZ", really nails me with a large snowball. Angered and seeking retribution, I decide to up the ante... I can't quite recall, but I either dumped liquid nitrogen or water on him. Consequently, he was now frozen into a block of ice.
At this point, I begin to panic... "OhmygodohmygodohmygodIfrozehimhesgonnadiehesgonnadieIhavetodosomethingbeforepeopleseewhatIdid!"
So, I picked up the block of ice (which at this point had inexplicably shrunken to the size of a breadbox), and did the only logical thing one would do in such a situation: I placed the ice encased pharmer into a frying pan and began to defrost him.
Wait. It gets more bizarre.
In hopes of speeding up the defrosting process, I begin to stir the block around with a fork. The ice begins to melt; I continue to stir. As I am doing this, however, I now notice that the stirring has turned DZ into ground beef.
At this point, I really begin to panic... "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODIKILLEDHIMHESTURNEDINTOGROUNDBEEFIKILLEDHIM!!!!!"
I decide to break the bad news to everyone. As I'm about to divulge my deeds, DZ walks out from nowhere (in normal, non-ice block, non-ground beef form) and says, "Yo, s'up guys."
Hey, howsitgoing? So, last week or so, I embarked upon a trip to the local elongated sandwich establishment to procure me some dinner. As I round the corner, I come upon a young lady 20 or so meters in front of me whom is..."adjusting" her pants. So I say to myself, "Oh...well...she probably just off of her bike...or something." But there is no bike. As she proceeds down the street, I notice that she's beginning to stumble a bit. So I say to myself, "Oh...well...maybe it's because she's wearing high heels." But this is not the "I'm not used to walking in high heels" kind of stumbling. As I approach the spot where I first saw the display of pants-adjusting, I notice that there is a stream of...let's just call it 'liquid'...streaming from the bushes, across the width of the sidewalk, and into the street. So I say to myself, "Oh...well...maybe it's just...uh...Dear lord! Did she just urinate on a public sidewalk?!" Hoping to avoid this...unique individual (whom by now is loudly babbling to herself, people she passes on the street, and various inanimate objects), I take a detour down a parallel back alley. From the alley, I can hear her continue to spout her gibberish since it could seemingly pierce through the buildings that separate us. Unfortunately, despite my detour, we reach the corner at the same time. I make my best efforts to stay behind her and remain unnoticed. As we cross the street, a cab that is attempting to make a right turn honks his horn at her.
She stops. Right in front of the cab. In the middle of the street. And STARES at the driver. For, at least, a solid minute. And then! ...
...I'm not really sure. I ducked into my sanctuary and ordered my submarine sandwich (a foot long Italian BMT on parmesan and oregano bread with swiss cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and sub sauce. Toasted. Niii-iiice! </Borat>). Upon leaving the Subway, there was no sign of the pleasant young lady.
Why do I get the feeling that she's going to be my first patient?
Geez, am I ever go-- Hey, howsitgoing? Geez, am I ever good at procrastinating. Some may even say that I am a PROcrastinator. Others (i.e. Stef) may also say that I stole the aforementioned term from them. These people are liars :P So, after much putting off, I've finally gotten around to posting the...
(abridged version)
Returned home to Windsor -> my dog, Abby, had become fat and lethargic (-> Abby diagnosed with hypothyroidism -> Abby prescribed thyroid medication and returned to her normal, slightly chubby shape) -> joined gym -> searched in vain for pharmacy position -> no luck -> learned how to make scrambled eggs -> returned to Toronto for camping trip -> FUN! -> returned to Windsor -> applied for job at plastic factory -> during interview informed that plastic factory is actually plastic toilet seat factory -> *snicker*ed -> apparently not good enough to shred plastic toilet seats at the plastic toilet seat factory -> met that "special someone" (I love you, baby <3) -> began prepping for Debra's panels well in advance (NERD!!) -> got a blog (everyone else was doing it) -> cofounded the greatest rocking and rolling organization of our time -> made the biggest mistake of my life -> picked up the latest Alexisonfire album, Crisis -> rocking out increased by a dramatic 347% -> performed various activities in anticipation of moving back to Toronto to resume my pharmaceutical schooling -> moved back to Toronto.
In review: + stuck to my gym schedule very well. - played too many video games (Yes, surprisingly, this is a possibility). - despite being unable to procure a pharmacy position, I should have settled for some other occupation if not to earn money, then at least to busy myself. + summer was relaxing. - ...summer was probably too relaxing for my own good. My brain feels like apple sauce.
So, word on the
street is that The Weakerthans and Metric are going to be playing at the
frosh/SAC concert this year.The
Weakerthans!How cool is that?What…why aren’t you excited?They’re a great, underappreciated band.Well, then here’s a The Reason to get
excited!
Sacculina carcini: Reasons You Shouldn't Pick Up a Hitchhiker.
Dude! I stumbled upon this wonderfully disturbing article entitled "Six Horrifying Parasites". Here's my favourite:
If
you ever have a choice between being possessed by the devil and being possessed
by a Sacculina carcini,
opt for the devil - no contest. A female sacculina begins life as a tiny
free-floating slug in the sea, drifting around until she encounters a crab.
When that fateful day arrives, she finds a chink in the crab’s armor (usually
an elbow or leg joint) and thrusts a kind of hollow dagger into its body. After
that, she (how to put this?) "injects" herself into the crab,
sluicing through the dagger and leaving behind a husk. Once inside, the
jellylike sacculina starts to take over. She grows "roots" that
extend to every part of the crab’s body - wrapping around its eyestalks and
deep into its legs and arms. The female feeds and grows until eventually she
pops out of the top of the crab, and from this knobby protrusion, she will
steer the Good Ship Unlucky Crab for the rest of their co-mingled life. Packed
full of parasite, the crab will forgo its own needs to serve those of its
master. It won’t molt, grow reproductive organs, or attempt to reproduce. It
won’t even regrow appendages, as healthy crabs can. Rather than waste the
nutrients on itself, a host crab will hobble along and continue to look for
food with which to feed its parasite master.
Neat, huh?
Guitar Hero
After taking a brief sabbatical, I've resumed (and stepped up!) my fake rocking out sessions so I can impress my fellow ROCKSTARMACISTS when I get back up to Toronto. I am, of course, talking about Guitar Hero. What's that? What's Guitar Hero? I am so glad that you asked...
Guitar Hero is a rhythm-based game similar to Dance Dance Revolution-type games. What sets this game apart is:
a) You use a guitar-shaped controller to play (I've christened mine "Amoxicillin"). When a particular note scrolls down to the bottom, you press down the corresponding fret button(s) with your left hand and strum the ...strummer with your right hand. During sustained notes, you're also able to vary the sound by jamming on the whammy bar. Really easy concept, but it gets very challenging (AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!) on the higher difficulty levels.
b) It has good music. The selections vary from legendary rock songs such as "Ziggy Stardust" by David Bowie to contemporary songs such as "No One Knows" by Queens of the Stone Age to various indie songs such as "Even Rats" by The Slip. The latter is my favourite (VV and is featured below VV)
). 
