If I was a disembodied voice I would be Morgan Freeman's voice.
Hello, it's the voice of God. No contest.
The days are all melding together in a cough riddled haze. I finished exams and WHAM - sickness. Uggghhh!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
DONE and fire alarms.
My semester is ovvvaaaahhhh.
Glory be.
I think - I'm not sure, but I think - I may have wrecked my last exam (Europe: 1917-1922). Wrecked as in answered the questions right for the most part and in a way that will blow my jerk professor away with their brilliantness.
That or I wrote a bizzillion pages of bullshit. I dunno.
Well, whether I rocked it, or whether I somehow rewrote the history of the Russian Revolution, the exam period itself was eventful. Halfway in, the fire alarm went off.
Maybe it was that everyone was really into their exams, maybe it was the fact that it was -20something degrees Celsius outside, maybe it was because the proctors were just staring at us not knowing what to do, or maybe it was because everyone's brains were fried from all the studyage they'd been doing, but no one really moved. A thousand students sat and blinked dumbly wondering what to do. Then few stood. And then some proctors started telling people to sit back down. Then we all sat.
And five minutes later, with the alarm still going off, everyone stood up and went outside.
There was no fire. There was probably just some asshole who got into his math exam and realized that he knew nothing. If he was ever found, failing the exam would be the least of his worries.
After being let back in, the alarm continued for another 15 ear murdering minutes. A collective sigh and round of applause accompanied its silence.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
This is the exact reason I stopped wanting to be a surgeon. Damn invisible patients.
Interesting note: Invisible people's blood turns visible once it leaves the body. It's an oxygen thing.
Glory be.
I think - I'm not sure, but I think - I may have wrecked my last exam (Europe: 1917-1922). Wrecked as in answered the questions right for the most part and in a way that will blow my jerk professor away with their brilliantness.
That or I wrote a bizzillion pages of bullshit. I dunno.
Well, whether I rocked it, or whether I somehow rewrote the history of the Russian Revolution, the exam period itself was eventful. Halfway in, the fire alarm went off.
Maybe it was that everyone was really into their exams, maybe it was the fact that it was -20something degrees Celsius outside, maybe it was because the proctors were just staring at us not knowing what to do, or maybe it was because everyone's brains were fried from all the studyage they'd been doing, but no one really moved. A thousand students sat and blinked dumbly wondering what to do. Then few stood. And then some proctors started telling people to sit back down. Then we all sat.
And five minutes later, with the alarm still going off, everyone stood up and went outside.
There was no fire. There was probably just some asshole who got into his math exam and realized that he knew nothing. If he was ever found, failing the exam would be the least of his worries.
After being let back in, the alarm continued for another 15 ear murdering minutes. A collective sigh and round of applause accompanied its silence.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Interesting note: Invisible people's blood turns visible once it leaves the body. It's an oxygen thing.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
bbbbbbbeeeeeeeetttttttaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Iodine 131 is a radioisotope of iodine and has a half life of 8.02 days.
And tomorrow (actually later today I suppose) my mum is going to be ingesting some so it can tear through her body and obliterate any remaining pieces of thyroid that happened to have gotten a firm grip on the inside of her body when the surgeon went in and yanked the whole thing out.
I'm going to have a radioactive mother. Crazy.
In preparation for this treatment, she has had to cut iodized salt out of her diet (which is really hard given that salt is apparently in EVERYTHING), among other things. Like chocolate, which I have a feeling was harder for her to give up than the salt.
Anyways, she has to go off and live in isolation for a few days so she doesn't turn us all into glowing green people with flippers. But the stupid thing is, the hospital, where she is getting the treatment (called ablation), and which is equipped to handle radioactive people, refuses to even keep her there for a day. So instead she gets sent out into the world to share her beta particles and gamma rays with everyone.
When they say health care for all, they damn well mean it. Iodine 131 for all!
It's a good thing she is a responsible human, and hiding herself in an empty apartment for a week. Otherwise, who knows how many people could get Chernobyled?
It is especially important that she not be around me or my brothers, since (irony) radiation causes thyroid cancer, and it is also familial! Yipppppy.
Ok, well, I'm off to go pretend to study some more.
ps. The treatment is called ablation. Not the hospital.
pps. But don't you think that would be a cool name for a hospital? Ablation Hospital. "AH!" for short. Same thing people say when they find out they need to go there.
And tomorrow (actually later today I suppose) my mum is going to be ingesting some so it can tear through her body and obliterate any remaining pieces of thyroid that happened to have gotten a firm grip on the inside of her body when the surgeon went in and yanked the whole thing out.
I'm going to have a radioactive mother. Crazy.
In preparation for this treatment, she has had to cut iodized salt out of her diet (which is really hard given that salt is apparently in EVERYTHING), among other things. Like chocolate, which I have a feeling was harder for her to give up than the salt.
Anyways, she has to go off and live in isolation for a few days so she doesn't turn us all into glowing green people with flippers. But the stupid thing is, the hospital, where she is getting the treatment (called ablation), and which is equipped to handle radioactive people, refuses to even keep her there for a day. So instead she gets sent out into the world to share her beta particles and gamma rays with everyone.
When they say health care for all, they damn well mean it. Iodine 131 for all!
It's a good thing she is a responsible human, and hiding herself in an empty apartment for a week. Otherwise, who knows how many people could get Chernobyled?
It is especially important that she not be around me or my brothers, since (irony) radiation causes thyroid cancer, and it is also familial! Yipppppy.
Ok, well, I'm off to go pretend to study some more.
ps. The treatment is called ablation. Not the hospital.
pps. But don't you think that would be a cool name for a hospital? Ablation Hospital. "AH!" for short. Same thing people say when they find out they need to go there.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
PS. by the way, etc.
Here is the Semi Precious Weapons t-shirt I bought.
It is simple, but I think it effectively conveys their message.
[Picture: Yellow t-shirt with block letters saying "I can't pay my rent, but I'm fucking gorgeous. Semi Precious Weapons"]
That signature right there apparently says "Justin Tranter" though I have a sneaking suspicion it is just a "J" with a squiggly line after it.
I asked for an autograph and he went right for the boob area. What a rock star.
The rest of the band's sigs are on the back, and some involve my name, so I won't put up a back view, seeing as how this is an anonymous type thinger I've got going on.
O and if youz is interested, here is the band:
From Left to Right:
Dan (Drums),
Stevy (Guitar),
Justin (Lead Vox)
Those there on Justin are the yellow tights I mentioned before. I want them.
And while I'm here, I'd just like to make a general plea to the media at large to stop calling articles and reviews and other things about Lady Gaga "Going Gaga for Lady Gaga" or some other, equally uncreative variant of the same headline. It was moderately clever the first time, but after the bizzillionth profile of the girl, it has gotten old, grown a beard and died. Think of something novel, gosh darn it.
It is simple, but I think it effectively conveys their message.[Picture: Yellow t-shirt with block letters saying "I can't pay my rent, but I'm fucking gorgeous. Semi Precious Weapons"]
That signature right there apparently says "Justin Tranter" though I have a sneaking suspicion it is just a "J" with a squiggly line after it.
I asked for an autograph and he went right for the boob area. What a rock star.
The rest of the band's sigs are on the back, and some involve my name, so I won't put up a back view, seeing as how this is an anonymous type thinger I've got going on.
O and if youz is interested, here is the band:
Cole (Bass). The dude who signed my sailor hat.
From Left to Right:
Dan (Drums),
Stevy (Guitar),
Justin (Lead Vox)
Those there on Justin are the yellow tights I mentioned before. I want them.
And while I'm here, I'd just like to make a general plea to the media at large to stop calling articles and reviews and other things about Lady Gaga "Going Gaga for Lady Gaga" or some other, equally uncreative variant of the same headline. It was moderately clever the first time, but after the bizzillionth profile of the girl, it has gotten old, grown a beard and died. Think of something novel, gosh darn it.
Monday, December 14, 2009
"Raise a glass to mend....
My room is a mess and must be cleaned and I have an exam on Friday that I need to do some hard core studying for, since I know next to nothing about the material. Sooo.... naturally, I'm here, honing my procrastination skillz.
It has been many a day since last I wrote. And I call myself a writer...
Right well, I never did a review of the Gaga concert. But really, what could I say that you couldn't infer from my open invitation for her to marry me? I dunno....
It was like being at a play, I suppose. A play with an ambiguous story line and a near lethal audience. I had to have CONSTANT VIGILANCE (Mad-Eye would be proud) to ensure no one accidentally crushed my 11 year old brother.
She had multiple costume changes with each get-up more ridiculous than the last. I'd say my personal favourite was either the black spiderweb type body suit she had going on or the space-age Bowie-infused glittery light-up extravaganza she wore for the first few songs. Or maybe the Cleopatra-style golden bondage suit. There really were too many to choose from.
How 'bout this one with the built in external rib-cage?
(If you click to embiggen, the pictures will only get blurrier. I wouldn't recommend it)
But more than the madness of her clothing (if you can call it clothes.... not sure it quite falls under that category. Maybe underwear. Or art) it is her voice that sets this woman apart from many disappointing pop tarts/stars of today. She can actually sing. She has inflection in her song, emotion in her voice... she sounds legit. And if I'm gonna pay for a concert, I better damn well get to hear the artist's voice, real time, coming from their actual mouth.
The show began with a projection of a free-floating Lady Gaga on a screen that made up the 4th wall of the stage, with a count-down in the corner to when she would appear. [Note to anyone planning any type of show: count-downs make EVERYTHING way cooler (I mean think about it, what usually follows a countdown? Something crazy... a spaceship launch, a bomb, New Year's.... the anticipation drives people into a frenzy, I'll tell you that)]. When she finally became visible in her light up costume beyond the screen she sang "Dance in the Dark," off her new quasi album.
Madness ensued in the form of a stellar set. High-lights included: her questioning of the audience asking "DO YOU THINK I'M SEXY? DO YOU WANT TO FUCK ME?!?" (My brother was minorly horrified.), her intimate rendering of "Speechless" with just her and the piano (which the whole crowd seemed to know despite the fact that it had only come out around five days prior to the concert), a dentist chair on which everyone seemed to die at one point (even the Lady herself),
and the time one of her backup dancers lit her a cigarette and I thought 'man, someone should give her a bylaw ticket, how funny would that be...' [Ottawa has a no smoking in public establishments bylaw].
She finished up with an encore of "Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)" and "Bad Romance" which she sang from the centre of a giant metal Bohr-Rutherford diagram minus the electrons.
When I showed a picture of that to my mom she said it must mean Lady Gaga thinks she's the centre of the universe.
"No mum," I replied. "Then she would have to believe in a geocentric model of the universe, and I'm sure she's smarter than that. Surely she only thinks she's the centre of the solar system."
I'm so cheeky.
But in a very scientific, I-can't-help-it-I-have-only-two-social-skills way.
The only quibble I saw was when she seemed a bit iffy on when to come in for "Beautiful and Dirty Rich." I could have sworn I saw her motion to a dancer in a questioning fashion, but then, who the fuck knows what I saw, the crowd was so thick and tall it was a work out to see anything at all.
Speaking of shortness, my poor bro. He's about up to my chin. Many people took pity on him and pushed us ahead of themselves.
That went on for a bit until we hit this wall of bitch. It was several girls who were just nasty about making fucking sure that this little 11 year old kid didn't get any further. I completely understand people not wanting to let us past them, we never pushed to get past people, and I'm surprised we got as far as we did. But these girls were quite wicked. They were calling my brother names to each other just loud enough for him to hear and using their asses to push anyone behind them backwards. For some reason they felt entitled to more room than everyone else on the floor. I wanted so badly to break them. Instead I spent a good deal of time devising ways to get away from them before I flew off the handle. My brother took to calling their ring leader "the whore."
Other people on the other hand, amazed me with their kindness. Some people took it upon themselves to ask others if we could move in front of them. But one girl - and whoever you are, I wish you would read this - saw my bro and put him on her back for a bunch of songs. So thank you soooooo much to the girl with brown curly hair and a purple and black scarf for being an amazing human being and restoring my love for humanity just when I thought it was gone due to "the whore" and her posse.
Putting him on my back wasn't nearly as effective as putting him on the tall girl with the purple scarf, but that's what I did, after the she left. Dear lord he's heavy. It didn't help that I tried to dance with him up there.
So there you have it.
O and Kid Cudi, the other opening act after Semi Precious Weapons, was a'ight. Not quite my cup of tea, but I enjoyed it and his rappiness. Brother dear, though, actually fell asleep standing up during his act. I just looked down in the middle of "Pursuit of Happiness" to find he had his eyes closed, oblivious to the roaring crowd. It was ok though, since he had no way to fall down, as we were packed in too tight.
.... all the broken hearts of all my fucked up friends"
It has been many a day since last I wrote. And I call myself a writer...
Right well, I never did a review of the Gaga concert. But really, what could I say that you couldn't infer from my open invitation for her to marry me? I dunno....
It was like being at a play, I suppose. A play with an ambiguous story line and a near lethal audience. I had to have CONSTANT VIGILANCE (Mad-Eye would be proud) to ensure no one accidentally crushed my 11 year old brother.
She had multiple costume changes with each get-up more ridiculous than the last. I'd say my personal favourite was either the black spiderweb type body suit she had going on or the space-age Bowie-infused glittery light-up extravaganza she wore for the first few songs. Or maybe the Cleopatra-style golden bondage suit. There really were too many to choose from.
How 'bout this one with the built in external rib-cage?
(If you click to embiggen, the pictures will only get blurrier. I wouldn't recommend it)
But more than the madness of her clothing (if you can call it clothes.... not sure it quite falls under that category. Maybe underwear. Or art) it is her voice that sets this woman apart from many disappointing pop tarts/stars of today. She can actually sing. She has inflection in her song, emotion in her voice... she sounds legit. And if I'm gonna pay for a concert, I better damn well get to hear the artist's voice, real time, coming from their actual mouth.
The show began with a projection of a free-floating Lady Gaga on a screen that made up the 4th wall of the stage, with a count-down in the corner to when she would appear. [Note to anyone planning any type of show: count-downs make EVERYTHING way cooler (I mean think about it, what usually follows a countdown? Something crazy... a spaceship launch, a bomb, New Year's.... the anticipation drives people into a frenzy, I'll tell you that)]. When she finally became visible in her light up costume beyond the screen she sang "Dance in the Dark," off her new quasi album.
Madness ensued in the form of a stellar set. High-lights included: her questioning of the audience asking "DO YOU THINK I'M SEXY? DO YOU WANT TO FUCK ME?!?" (My brother was minorly horrified.), her intimate rendering of "Speechless" with just her and the piano (which the whole crowd seemed to know despite the fact that it had only come out around five days prior to the concert), a dentist chair on which everyone seemed to die at one point (even the Lady herself),
and the time one of her backup dancers lit her a cigarette and I thought 'man, someone should give her a bylaw ticket, how funny would that be...' [Ottawa has a no smoking in public establishments bylaw].She finished up with an encore of "Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)" and "Bad Romance" which she sang from the centre of a giant metal Bohr-Rutherford diagram minus the electrons.
When I showed a picture of that to my mom she said it must mean Lady Gaga thinks she's the centre of the universe.
"No mum," I replied. "Then she would have to believe in a geocentric model of the universe, and I'm sure she's smarter than that. Surely she only thinks she's the centre of the solar system."
I'm so cheeky.
But in a very scientific, I-can't-help-it-I-have-only-two-social-skills way.
The only quibble I saw was when she seemed a bit iffy on when to come in for "Beautiful and Dirty Rich." I could have sworn I saw her motion to a dancer in a questioning fashion, but then, who the fuck knows what I saw, the crowd was so thick and tall it was a work out to see anything at all.
Speaking of shortness, my poor bro. He's about up to my chin. Many people took pity on him and pushed us ahead of themselves.
That went on for a bit until we hit this wall of bitch. It was several girls who were just nasty about making fucking sure that this little 11 year old kid didn't get any further. I completely understand people not wanting to let us past them, we never pushed to get past people, and I'm surprised we got as far as we did. But these girls were quite wicked. They were calling my brother names to each other just loud enough for him to hear and using their asses to push anyone behind them backwards. For some reason they felt entitled to more room than everyone else on the floor. I wanted so badly to break them. Instead I spent a good deal of time devising ways to get away from them before I flew off the handle. My brother took to calling their ring leader "the whore."
Other people on the other hand, amazed me with their kindness. Some people took it upon themselves to ask others if we could move in front of them. But one girl - and whoever you are, I wish you would read this - saw my bro and put him on her back for a bunch of songs. So thank you soooooo much to the girl with brown curly hair and a purple and black scarf for being an amazing human being and restoring my love for humanity just when I thought it was gone due to "the whore" and her posse.
Putting him on my back wasn't nearly as effective as putting him on the tall girl with the purple scarf, but that's what I did, after the she left. Dear lord he's heavy. It didn't help that I tried to dance with him up there.
So there you have it.
O and Kid Cudi, the other opening act after Semi Precious Weapons, was a'ight. Not quite my cup of tea, but I enjoyed it and his rappiness. Brother dear, though, actually fell asleep standing up during his act. I just looked down in the middle of "Pursuit of Happiness" to find he had his eyes closed, oblivious to the roaring crowd. It was ok though, since he had no way to fall down, as we were packed in too tight.
.... all the broken hearts of all my fucked up friends"
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
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