Archive for October, 2010

Halloween

October 31, 2010

Halloween is probably the most pointless “holiday” on the calendar. It celebrates nothing. No, really. Wikipedia it.

That having been said, it is still celebrated by a gajillion people worldwide. So, in honour of all the Halloweeners (Hollow-wieners? Hahaha I crack myself up), I’ve decided to write a pointless post to celebrate this pointless event. If you’re borderline blind (e.g. Ma) and have trouble reading the captions, a simple click on each image will enlarge it to full-screen.

We begin our tale at the youngest age possible. This stage refers to kids who just learned how to walk, and know enough vocabulary to say “trick-or-treat,” “candy please,” “yummy,” and “please don’t rape or poison me.” Parents dress their kids up in cute little costumes, amp them up with the promise of candy, and gallivant around neighbourhoods, collecting sugary treats.

As these adorable little munchkins grow up, they begin to phase out of the trick-or-treating stage. All of a sudden it’s “lame” to dress up. They’re “too cool” to go around with their little siblings and partake in this sacred family tradition. However, candy is still a motivator, so they roll their eyes and grudgingly force themselves to go door-to-door for a week’s worth of sugar-high.

The next stage is the coolest stage. This is when teenagers realise that Halloween isn’t about silly old candy, it’s about having a reason to throw a costume party! They typically dress up in elaborate costumes and go to someone’s house party. The host’s mom serves chilled non-alcoholic punch and orders large pizzas. Everyone then sits around in their awesome costumes, watching old-school horror films.

Once these teens reach college, their inner demons surface. For the girls, the demon takes the form of a slut-monster. And for the guys, the demon is a giant keg of beer. When these two genders attend a college Halloween party, there’s basically just a lot of drunken sex scenes, and depending on the costumes, it can get really weird. Fact: 90% of girls will be a slutty cat/nurse/devil/angel/witch/you name it, and 95% of guys won’t even bother dressing up. It’s science.

Now that they’ve graduated and have jobs, a new phase of Halloweening takes place. There’s still some dressing up, but because these people are now in their early thirties, the costumes are way less intricate. Usually, both the male and the female will “dress up” as a celebrity they remotely resemble. They then go hang out at the local bar for a couple hours before they have to rush back home to the screaming toddler.

 

The aforementioned toddler has now grown up, and our two main characters are proud, beaming, excited parents. No longer do they need to dress up, rather, it’s time to send the kids out trick-or-treating! Meanwhile, the parents sit at home and dish out candy. Oh, how the tables have turned.

Years later, the kids are out of the house and all that’s left is the nice elderly couple who lives down the street.

And that, my friends, is the end of our journey. I hope you all have a wonderful Halloween (regardless of which stage you’re in) and keep it safe!

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Blegh

October 31, 2010

MGMT316 midterm today. Boo. I wanna go back to sleep. This coffee isn’t really clearing my head as much as I’d hoped.

Oh but in other news, happy birthday! I mean, merry Christmas! I mean… wait what was it? Oh yeah, happy Halloween! Depending on my mood later, I may or may not write another post.

Eat, Sleep, Love

October 27, 2010

Stage 1: Sleep. This usually takes up most of the day.

Stage 2: Awaken to the sound of something that may or may not sound like a tin of cat food opening.

 

Stage 3: Run faster than the speed of light until the source of the tin-like sound is reached. If there are obstacles in the way, ignore them. Bunch up the carpets, smash into bookshelves while skidding around the corner, trip anyone in your way by darting between their legs, it doesn’t matter. Just get to the source.

Stage 4: To ensure that the owner will feed you the maximum amount of food in one helping, show as much affection as possible.

Stage 5: Eagerly yet patiently await your delicious mound of food.

Stage 6: Eat and enjoy.

Stage 7: Commence the cleaning process. [click image for enhanced enlarged cuteness]

Stage 8: Sleep. Repeat when applicable.

Did I mention I have a drawing tablet?

October 26, 2010

Yeah, I got it over the summer. And I kinda haven’t really been using it. But as I was writing my previous post, I felt like some visual aid was necessary. Enter: drawing tablet. It’s so nifty! And convenient! I can draw whatever I want, but faster because of functions such as “fill!” The possibilities are limitless. Here’s another quickie, because I watched the movie 9 the other day with Adam. But I couldn’t remember if 9 wore glasses or not, and he’s definitely not as old as I made him look, but whatevs. Point is, I can sketch directly onto my laptop now. Brace yourselves. The next thousand-ish posts are going down in style.

A comical* nightmare

October 26, 2010

*By “comical” I literally mean that there will be comics. In no way am I implying that there was anything funny about this nightmare. In fact, it was freakish and disturbing.


I was just minding my own business, taking a casual moonlit stroll around the lake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see some light coming from the surrounding forest, like a campfire. “I love camps!” I exclaimed aloud, and decided to go towards it.

The fire grew closer, and soon I was on the site itself. But this was no ordinary campsite. There were no marshmallows. No tents. No illegal fireworks. Just this one old dude who looked like a tribal leader of some sort.

“Ah, we have been waiting for you, my child,” spoke the old man. “You are just in time!” I was wondering who this we was that he was referring to, because there was no one else there. I later found out the skull on his totem pole stick thing had like, a soul or something. It was weird.

“Uh okay, well, what exactly am I in time for?” I asked.

“The ceremoooony….” he replied ominously.

Now, I’ve seen enough horror movies in my past to know that “ceremony” usually means “freaky-ass rituals in which several people and animals die as a sacrifice.” So in no way did I want anything to do with said ceremony.

“Oh okay cool, well I think I’ll just, you know, pass. It’s getting late and I’m not really feeling the whole ceremony thing tonight. Thanks for the offer though, gramps! Bye!” And I started backing away.

“Oh no, you have misunderstood. It’s not an offer. It’s an order. You have twelve hours to chop off your hair and turn it into a wig for Mr. Snuffles. If you fail to do so, all of mankind will instantaneously cease to exist!” It seemed the skull’s name was Mr. Snuffles. And I had to chop off all my hair to save humanity?!

Well at least I had twelve hours to decide. I wandered around the forest. I did a full circle around the lake. Not a single barber. I guess I was going to have to do this myself. But with what? I had no scissors! Then I remembered this show I once saw on Discovery Channel, where the guy needed a knife, so he cracked a rock and it splintered into sharp knife-like tools. So I found a promising stone, threw it against another stone, and using my new caveman blade, proceeded to cut off my hair.

Looking like a total douchebag, I then started weaving my own hair into a fucking wig for a goddamn skull called Mr. Snuffles. I was furious. Why was I the chosen one?!

Just as I put on the last finishing touches (I decided the skull would look better with bangs, to hide the massive forehead), this random girl pops out of the bushes and starts making fun of me for having been so gullible. She explained that the tribal guy was actually just an old dude who escaped from a mental institute and had a fetish for hair. He discovered that by disguising himself as a creepy tribal chief, his ploy tended to work on the majority of his victims. But Blondie over here was ironically smart and told him “humanity shmanity, I like my hair and you can’t have it!” and twelve hours later, there was still no apocalypse, and she still had a full head of luscious shiny hair.

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry. Not only did I look ugly, but I was being made fun of, and I got duped by an insane person! How much worse could my life get? Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea.

If grandpa couldn’t trick this girl, maybe I could! I would tell her that it wasn’t humanity that would be destroyed, rather, all the cute bunnies in the world would die violent deaths if she didn’t give me her hair to take to the Chief! Then, I could make another wig, wear it on my head, the creepy guy still gets his hair, nobody dies, and karma would grace its presence by allowing me to make fun of her! It was brilliant! BRILLIANT, I SAY!!

She didn’t buy it.

So, in an act of sheer desperation, I did the only thing I knew how. I slit her throat with my rock-knife, skinned her head, created my new wig, as planned, and headed off towards the campfire. Little did I know that now I was the deranged lunatic, because while I thought I looked like this…

I actually looked like this…

So I scampered off into the woods, with a twitch in my eye and maniacal laughter in the back of my throat. When I arrived at the campsite, however, the old guy wasn’t there. Grunting like a werewolf who just morphed into the beastly state, I looked around, confused, angry, and still exhilarated from my kill just a short while prior.

“SURPRIIIIIISE!”

All of my friends and family jumped out from behind the trees. A Happy Birthday banner swung down. A small child was carrying a big cake, lit with candles for me. I was confused. And then it all made sense. I thought I recognised the tribal chief!

Turns out, he was my marketing professor, and this whole thing was carefully planned as a surprise party. He dressed up as a chief to send me away for twelve hours, so everyone would have time to arrange the event. The blonde girl was sent as reassurance that I needn’t actually cut my hair. And the plan was, that she and I would become friends and gallivant through the forest for a couple hours, until finally she led me back to where the party was. Oops.

Anyway, the cake was delicious, I was slightly less delusional, and everything turned out okay.

…later…

“Hey guys, has anyone seen Sally?”

Reptilian lovin’

October 25, 2010

For months I’ve been trying to get that idiot of an iguana to love me. Amadeus is cool and everything, but he’s very reserved, extremely paranoid, and freakishly strong. Those three attributes make it very difficult to tame him. I’ve done extensive online research on how to make him people-friendly, but every site basically says the same thing: I need a lot of time and patience. Unlucky for me, those are just the things that I have very little of.

So I decided to develop my own philosophy on how to tame iguanas. It’s a very simple and passive approach:

Iguanas are fickle beings, but ultimately, they are creatures of habit. Therefore, when taming an iguana, there are only two things that must be considered. 1.) Ensure a happy living environment. 2.) Feed the beast regularly. By following these guiding principles, the iguana will grow accustomed to his surroundings and will learn to anticipate your hand’s presence in the terrarium when leaving nourishing and tasty treats. Eventually, when you decide you are ready, slowly reach out to touch the iguana, and he should allow it. In time, holding, throwing, dancing with, tickling, and other entertaining forms of activities will also become permissible.

And guess what, ladies and gentlemen? My philosophy works! Today I was just minding my own business, whistling a little tune from The Who, getting ready to feed Amadeus, when I noticed a glimmer of lust in his beady little eyes. It was as if he was telepathically imploring that I touch him. So I opened his door, reached in and placed his food on the shelf, and then in one continuous motion, I made my move. And he didn’t even flinch! No biting, no tail-whipping, no hissing, no weird war-stance, nothing! I grew increasingly courageous (because I started by just touching his front foot) and moved towards the neck. He allowed it. I stroked him, we bonded for a few seconds, and then I slowly retracted my hand, closed the door, and left. The reason being, you always have to leave your iguana wanting more. It shows that you’re in control. According to my philosophy, that is.

Anyway, tomorrow’s another day, so we’ll see how it goes. Chances are, my philosophy’s complete bullshit and he’s actually severely ill (e.g. paralysed from the eyeballs down), hence his openness to touch.

But that’s okay with me too.

Mutations are funny

October 21, 2010

Okay so it’s not an MSN conversation, but whatevs. It’s funny. Basically, Skype wasn’t working, so there was no video, and the sound was very choppy and incomprehensible. We were both breaking up and couldn’t understand each other, so we resorted to Skype chat:

And then later…

Such an epic fail. I love Ten.


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