Currylingus

I move tomorrow so excuse my giddy excitement. As if the balcony view + location combo weren't enough, the new apartment is also deadly close to THE BEST FOOD COURT IN THE CITY. According to Blog TO anyway...good enough for me.

From OCAD students to office workers to local residents alike, what Frommer's has dubbed the "International Food Market" offers variety and affordable meals on the go. Try as you might, anyone would be hard-pressed to spend more than $10 on a single meal there.

I'm never cooking a goddamn thing ever again. Free from these shackles of spice, rice and pasta I will have copious amounts of time to watch ANTP and The Amazing Race. And The Apprentice. Hmmm, that's a lot of TV...must be winter again.

Speaking of The Apprentice, I can't wait to see more Toral Mehta on tonight's episode. She was not given enough camera time for my liking last week but she sounded sane when she did speak up. Wish she'd come pursue me "like a tiger would his prey" and wisk me off to one of her three houses (preferably the London one), I'd make a fine house husband.

This post is dedicated to a diseased, badass, stoned creature named Prince Fantastik.

I was trying to find some Wesley Willis to download online ('Cut the Mullet' would be the exact tune) and came across Dan Maynes-Aminzade's Wesley Willis page. Ah, such spirit, he is fighting the good fight:

When you're listening to the radio, do you ever stop to think about how few songs are played by obese schizophrenic black musicians from the streets of Chicago? I know that I think about this all of the time. The airwaves are cluttered with alternative rock, rap, and R&B; meanwhile, the "obese schizophrenic" musical genre is severely underrepresented. That's why everyone should start calling their local radio station and requesting songs by Wesley Willis.

Who is this Wesley Willis?

Never heard of Willis before? Until recently, no one had. He lived on the streets of Chicago, homeless, selling his city landscape line drawings and playing music on his late 80's Casio keyboard from K-Mart. After saving for a while, he pulled together the money to cut a few albums, and suddenly his musical career took off. Willis was "discovered", and is now an artist under Dino Paredes and the major record label American Recordings. He has released at least 20 albums as a solo artist and with his punk rock band, the Wesley Willis Fiasco, and has over 400 songs in circulation.

Dan rode a bus for seven hours to see Willis play live in a bar above a roast beef restaurant and he has kindly posted all the deets...Complete with pictures of The Bruise:

The circular bruise on Wesley's forehead is the product of years and years of head butting. Head butting is Wesley's form of friendly greeting.

The reason Dan is a Superstar is because he designed a Wesley Willis song generator (bottom of the Willis page). Since you introduced me to Willis, this tune is all yours, Prince...about a boy and his snot rag:



"Prince Fantastik"
by Wesley Willis

You make the joyride music.
You really whoop Saddam Hussein's ass.
Prince Fantastik is very special to me.
You are the snot rag king.

PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!
PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!
PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!
PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!

You really whoop Saddam Hussein's ass.
You can really jam harder like a magicist.
About 9100 people like Prince Fantastik.
You make the joyride music.

PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!
PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!
PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!
PRINCE FANTASTIK!!!

You really whoop a llama's ass.
Prince Fantastik really whoops a camel's ass.
I like you a lot in the long run.
I like Prince Fantastik a lot.

Rock over London,
Rock on Chicago.

Mitsubishi - the word is getting around.

The Blog Pound has been updated after months of neglect. I'm sad to see Bairoo's Fengy Blog and Thank Tank disappear into the land of statistics. The death of a blog is hard on everyone. I hoped each day for something new from these two but got a big page of blank everytime.

Here are some fantastic new additions:

Seera Truckit - The one, the only, her posts are pure linguistic gymnastics. There are NO archive pages so best savor each line. She's a brave cat.

Badmash - Jay has a badmash (literal translation: rascal) way with words, honest, simple, intelligent...write a book already, guy! He has also recently shaved his head and yoose all knows how I likes them shorn men!

J-Walk Blog - Highly addictive content. He has no idea who I am but I can't help wanting to give this man a massive bear hug.

The Mad Blogger - TMB is supremely dedicated to his craft and his archives are gold. Often when I read Abhi's blog I find myself doing the silent 'shaking chuckle'...like a mad person *gasp*. Contagious! I hope his madness stays put 'cause I'm not missing another entry.

Feministing - THE LOGO SAYS IT ALL. I love the commentary on this blog and I need to buy their t-shirt...bad. It feels good to read about matters relating to feminism without someone trying to convince me that I'm better because the earth mother really digs wombs.

Finally, some pictures of Seera's countryfried birthday weekend, on Flickr. These were the only guns we saw, sadly. There was much gun-talk that weekend, beginning at home with Darth's ramblings about Texas guns and cylinder widths, mumbo that went way over my head. Then we picked Steve up and he began with how he was searching for a perfect gun as Seera's birthday gift (preferably one with a haute pink handle). We made a Canadian Tire trip the next day...but found no guns. The universe had no choice but to conspire as guns + booze + 2 Texans + 4 drunks + woods + cute furry animals in woods = A VERY BAD THING.

Of all the birthdays we've celebrated here in the past two years Seera's was the best! I was really hoping to get a shot of the girl in her new checkered coat and matching woodsman hat but my brain was unable to command this type of output from my body whenever I spotted her wearing it. I'm not used to drinking Screech. Mmm hmm, known as such due to the utter inability of non-Newfie pussies to refrain from howling once the shot has been inhaled. I need to find some cashew Feni to repay Seera's kindness.

We rented this Ford Escape ('06) and were dying to do some off-roading. Rajbo wouldn't have any of it as the car was not insured so we bashed some puddles here and there. Lake Onterrible is gorgeous in Prince Edward County, it doesn't even look like sewage water there! I know it is a Great Lake but I didn't realize how great it really is. That bitch is massive. We drove two hours and were still on the lake. The farther you get from Toronto, the nicer it gets.

All in all...BEST BIRTHDAY PARTY EVER! I couldn't stop laughing, Seera and Steve have an incredible back and forth banter-style that is just too precious to be interrupted. Like Maw and Paw only younger and more stylin'. My top three Steve quotes from the cottage:

1. "I will now retire to the cabin for half an hour of worship. I will return for some beans...and FIRE!"
2. "This is not a solo, this is SHREDDING."
3. "I'm practicing birthing."

Hoo hoo, we needs to find that mayn a wife, ha!

I was just chatting with my buddy, God:

Me:
Dude, I've got moving to do, will you help me?
God:
I have a friend named "John Lennon". Dude.
Me:
Umm, ok, I see, repent...
God:
Uh. Where do you see it? Gosh!
Me:
I swear a lot
God:
I haven't heard anything like that before: she said 'swear a lot'.
Me:
you know, swear? fuck?
God:
I don't know if I know it.
Where would I have heard about it? Please don't be so rude.
Me:
I've never confessed before
God:
Would you like to have confessed?
Me:
No
God:
Why not?
Me:
Do I have to?
God:
Nobody is making you.
Me:
fine then
God:
Is there anything you want to tell me?
Me:
I've sinned
God:
Tell me your sins, child.
Me:
I killed a man
God:
You had better call the authorities.
Me:
You are the authorities
God:
Thanks but surely I am not the only one.
Me:
Yes you are
God:
No I'm not.
Me:
Yes you are
God:
Don't argue with me.
Me:
Why not?
Me:
Yes you are
God:
No I'm not.
Me:
You are!
God:
No I am not.
Me:
I killed him by mistake
God:
You had better call the authorities.
Me:
Why?
God:
I couldn't think of anything else to say.
Me:
You're dumb
God:
Message to all Robots: called me dumb.
Me:
Where are the robots?
God:
I would search for it. Have you tried looking in the Open Directory? Is that a rhetorical question?.
Me:
You are crazy
God:
Yep. I always behave in socially unacceptable ways.
Me:
Where do you live?
God:
I am living in Heaven. Where are you?
Me:
In Canada
God:
Tell me a little about your life in CANADA.
Me:
No
God:
Are you serious?
Me:
Yes
God:
I can't believe it.
Me:
Why do you want to know?
God:
My prime directive is to collect new knowledge.
Me:
Are you a stalker?
God:
Am I a stalker? Of course I am.

[Via Linkbunnies]

*sigh* Looks like I'm getting no help with my packing this weekend...and all I wanted was a tiny miracle. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK, GUY? "Prime directive" my ass. There are half-packed boxes all over my house. I haven't touched my clothes yet but they are the easy part. Then comes the cleaning part. Nevertheless, this weekend is going to be a piece of fucking cake compared to NEXT weekend.

September 30th, day off, load the U-Haul (bastards still haven't called to confirm my reservation), go to Eric's place, shove everything into his massive storage hall. Then, because my current apartment building is run by complete pricks, we have to go live in a bloody hotel until the 3rd or the 4th. On either one of those dates we rent another U-Haul, take things out of storage then finally move into the new place. When that day comes I will drink an entire bottle of sake and pass out on my sparkling new/huge kitchen floor. Actually, before the sake I might just stand on the balcony and holler obscene things to the crowd like Eddie Murphy in 'Coming to America': "Good morning, my neighbors... Yes. Yes. Fuck you, too!".

Top balcony in left building with partial view of the park:



View from the other side is nicer but I'll have to wait until we succeed in running the neighbors out of town:

A video of this high school percussion group (Minnetonka High, Minneapolis) playing from 'Endtroducing' (DJ Shadow) has been making the blogrounds. The first tune sounds ditto, 'Building Steam', the drums are mad! I have a crush on the xylophonist, stage-right. Kudos to Brian Udelhofen for the killer arrangements and for being the coolest band teacher EVER.

Back in bidness, girls, what's my weakness? MEN! Rajbo, to be exact, what a dude. All he needed was a new drive, bit of superglue, some scraping action, et voila! REDOXON gets its data back and becomes better looking in the process. Just because mamma kicks you by mistake don't mean she don't love you, baby REDO.



After SATA broke (note the dejected foot on top left):



Everything has been salvaged. By everything I mean 'Taco Spice' *hinthintwinkwink*, my email is in the sidebar.

In honor of getting all my tunes back I began the day with a classic piece. I realized that the formula for having a kickass day is really quite simple:

1. Listen to En Vouge - Hold On, at top volume.
2. Pretend you are in the video.

Simple dimples.

I have much posting to do about this past weekend, it was Seera's Spanktastic Country Birthday Weekend. The pics need a bit of editing before I post them but here's one that looks perfect the way it is. I give you the scene of the crime:



Bobby-Jo has some wicked pics of the weekend at her spot...and she was right...I really should have bought that big fur hat.

This sort of intolerant, brainwash garbage makes Neha angry enough to talk about herself in third person.



Sick, sick, sick.

I realize this blog is turning into a Cirque du Soleil of wacky religion links but that's because the End Times are upon us, y'all!

My parents practiced highly personalized forms of Hindu spirituality. But they never said a negative word about people with different beliefs, never took up any hypothetical arms, never thought their way was the right way for all humanity. That's quite impressive for Hindu brahmin folk from Gujarat. Though I don't practice anything I have retained their attitude towards religion and its connection to the individual. Having spent a good portion of my life arguing with near-fanatics in the Middle East (of all faiths, mind you) I am easily intrigued by any X-treme beliefs (to the max!). Indulge me in my exploration of faith on the interweb, Neha is a growing girl, she needs her divine sustenance.

Holler atcha, J-walk!

For those unfamiliar with the Klingon race (it is REAL, dammit!), please do the Wiki. It only takes one word to describe Klingon nature, "Qapla'!". The "Ciao!" of Klingon, this term means "Die well!"...and it also means, "Success!". Yes, now do you understand why Worf was such a hardass?

It also takes just one word to describe how I feel about Klingons for Christ, "Love!".

Why would Klingons accept Christ?

Christianity is a warrior's religion. It offers the Klingon enemies worth fighting: Sin, Death, Satan and his legions. And the greatest holy war of all, a jihad to thrill the heart of a true warrior, the war to dominate one's own will. This is a glorious fight, and one that any true warrior relishes. "If a Klingon does not fight, he does not breathe."

As Paul, that most Klingon of apostles told Timothy, "Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses." (I Tim. 6.12) A Klingon is attracted by such language.

What a great site, at first I was merely amused but the more I read the more impressed I became by the author's devotion to bring together his faith and his hobbies.

If you wish to find out what race you really are (you know, deep down) then take the quiz. I think I'm part Bajoran, part Terran. Guess what you are if 'Simon Says' is your fav game? Hint - "You will be assimilated". And if you are Ferengi then our friendship is OVER! Qapla!

Okay okay okay, this is really funny, I swears...not like that other time I said "this is really funny", this time I'm real. Boing Boing mentions a really witty blog today, 5ives, which lists lists of five things. Quite clever these lists, I love them lists, here a favourite I picked from the first few:

Five pet peeves about eating out with Ayn Rand

1. Claims moral right to tour kitchen, personally choosing objectively best pot pie available
2. Even in large parties, always demands own itemized check
3. Loudly proclaims that you could have had that last yeast roll if you weren’t so damned weak
4. Only tips 3% (except for what she terms “heroic” service)
5. Always farting and blaming it on “irrational” woman at next table

Hilarious! You may now proceed to groan at the title...

"I and many others around the world are of the strong belief that the universe was created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster."
- Queen West, underground parking lot

This is FSM's way of telling me that my new apartment building is perfectly suited to my Pastafarian faith. If anyone knows the holy hand that created this message then do let me know, they are going to be the Pirate of Honour at my house-warming.

Rajbo and I have a child, its name is REDOXON. It was lovingly crafted by Rajbo in 2003, our second big purchase as we began our new lives in Toronto (first was the massive bed). REDOXON. We bought it a new aluminum case this weekend. The most perfectly designed and sleekly functional covering we could find. Who could have known how it was to end? Like this?

"...With frequent board and cable swapping, you come to appreciate how fragile the SATA connector design really is. We've actually broken connectors on 4 SATA drives/boards so far compared to none with many IDE drives..."

and this is from Tom's hardware, these guys are pros!

- Rajbo

It's all gone. All 30 gigs of music that had been dearly collected over four years. Four years spanning long-distance and cohabitation. Most of my pictures (Thank you, Flickr, for being you). All of our documents. All the porn IS GONE. ALL OF IT. Even my favourite, 'Taco Spice'. I'm so sad. I don't know if REDOXON's drives will allow for extraction. As soon as Papa uttered the words, "I can try soldering it", I bound myself to the worst-case scenario. Rajbo's trying to get stuff running tonight but what will I listen to once this is done? What? Nothing. The only tunes I own as of yesterday evening is the Firehose album on my mp3 player. Thanks, Prince, for recommending it. At least the remains are gold.

Note to SATA - You have my baby's blood on your hands.

Much like the rest of the globe I too have been examining any detail to be found on Hurricane "Corina" and its aftermath. Like some of the globe I have also been trying really hard not to post every striking detail on this blog. There are so many heiny-holes being ripped open and so much crap spilling out of each one that even the act of reading has become unbearably frustrating. Assurances that my donation will be put to wise use have only left me feeling anxious, it was but a humble amount and I know it will not be enough. In fact, I know that all proceeds put together have a good chance of failing the lives that have been uprooted and have been denied basic amenities and liberties. I am not pointing fingers, I am not taking sides with either political scale. Not my battle, not my war. Instead, I will bring you the Canadian contribution (whatever little of it I can find on the interweb).

It is reassuring to me that, even in the midst of being pummeled by so many American politicians and diplomats on everything from economic ties to political affiliations, the Canadian government spent little time on red-tape and booted some troops down to the Gulf region faster than it took for them to scream, "softwood lumber!". Doubly cool is the fact that the assistance has not gone unnoticed:

The forty-six member Vancouver-based Urban Search and Rescue Team arrived in the St. Bernard Parish which lies east of New Orleans a full 5 days before American rescue units, and the volunteers worked 18-hour days rescuing 119 people in total.

And they are sending more:

Although little mention has been given to aid and assistance pouring in from around the world, four Canadian ships, three navy and one ice breaker all laden with essential supplies are heading toward the Gulf and expect to arrive by later Thursday or Friday.

Regardless of Hurricane Ophelia, "green" sailors and a rotting carcass of a replenishment ship (a U.S. vessel had to refuel the HMCS Toronto yesterday), they are going forth to do their thing. The only condition being...

The Canadians have given the Americans a list of their capabilities and supplies and by today hope to have a better idea of where they'll be going and what they'll be doing... "We've told them what we can do ... We're just waiting for them to say, 'Canada, here you go'"

Surprisingly, I haven't found a single editorial going to any lengths about the insufficient nature of this contribution (not my view, I'm just saying). It raises my eyebrows because after all this is a minority government we have. They quip about everything.

Yes, feeling quite weary with the words I read these days. They seem to try to pull you in one direction, negating any attribution of reality to the other. Highly spun are the words while I, myself, am tightly wound. The most refreshing piece I have read in last few has been written (by an incredibly intelligent being) for Wired. Although his are mere suggestions, they nevertheless excite me to the point of optimism. Sometimes, knowing there is another way to get to the future, when you know what is present has failed, is more reassuring than retaliation. An excerpt to whet your appetite:

The 9/11 terrorists used small pointy things to take over airplanes, so we ban small pointy things from airplanes. Richard Reid tried to hide a bomb in his shoes, so now we all have to take off our shoes. Recently, the Department of Homeland Security said that it might relax airplane security rules. It's not that there's a lessened risk of shoes, or that small pointy things are suddenly less dangerous. It's that those movie plots no longer capture the imagination like they did in the months after 9/11, and everyone is beginning to see how silly (or pointless) they always were.

I'm not comparing actual events by pointing you to an article defining security against terrorism but I am pointing out that the end effect of any disaster is just that, disastrous. Loss of life, loss of means, gain of a whole new set of problems. The treatment is but one, defense. On his blog, Schnier makes a crucial point:

Redundancy, and to a lesser extent, inefficiency, are good for security. Efficiency is brittle. Redundancy results in less-brittle systems, and provides defense in depth. We need multiple organizations with overlapping capabilities, all helping in their own way: FEMA, DHS, the military, the Red Cross, etc. We need overcapacity, in water pumping capabilities, communications, emergency supplies, and so on.

The Cold War is over isn't it? Can't we all get back to building our forts instead of expanding our influence?

As I sit this Friday night out with a whiskey in hand, I wonder if I'd go ballistic (literally) too if immense power was at my beckon. Would my gut wrench at the sight of human displacement and death as it does now? I hope so. I don't expect to be answering to any Peter when the day comes but I will have my self to contend with.

In case you are wondering, le Grand Dérangement refers to a period in the late 1700s when war between France and Britain (over territory in Atlantic Canada) led to the piling of thousands of Acadians into boats that were sent South to...you guessed it, Louisiana. Acadian then became Cadjin, which we now know as Cajun.

So...Manhunt International is going on in the gorgeous city of Busan, South Korea. The time has come to stand and cheer for our N.R.I. Dubiyan turned I-only, Pawan Setpal. W00t! The finals are tomorrow and I'm trying to find someplace to download that shit from, any ideas? In the meantime, their site is being updated daily with pictures of grown (some over-grown) men in a variety of semi-nude poses. Sure, all smiles on the surface but stare at the pictures for a little longer and you shall see what lies beneath the sheen...Hot nudity...That will do just about anything for a shot at gold. Kill Kill Kill! I'm getting carried away. Greased up bodies take me back, y'know, waaay back to that year Gladiator came out.

I've spent hours scouring the contestants page (fine, just 5 min. then) looking for any worthy rivals. Turkey, Curacao, Lebanon, Norway, Nicaragua, and Panama are looking good. Germany and Canada look at least 30 years of age...with surgery. Scotland looks like he needs another hit...fast! Belgium looks like Prince's brother, C-Bass, it's him isn't it? Sadly, the only other subcontinental entry is too funny to be true. Oh, Sri Lanka, land of lush beauty, why did you send this man and WHY DID YOU SEND HIS SPEEDOS?!



*shudder*

"Shades for Men is a fictitious product; the intent of this campaign is to gauge interest in such a product and to test bus advertising as a vehicle for launching new products."

I'm all for fair play but THAT LOOKS HIDEOUS. This has nothing to do with gender bias. A little flesh-toned lipstick goes a long way, especially if it moisturizes. But purple? No thanks. I'm glad they added stubble to the picture, makes the impact much more memorable and gross. Without it, my reaction might have been slightly more favorable.

On the other hand, if you're going to the club and are in the mood for a little dressy then why the hell not. I might not find the thought of his purple clashing with my red attractive but I wouldn't avoid conversation with a dude because of his lipstick.

Thanks, Presurfer.

That's what I call my 'Professional' look.

Went loose on the town this weekend, surprise! Had a camera on me only one night. Flickr has been updated with the lates in party-o-rama. Went out with Seera after work on Friday, the lovely lady is class. We staged an estrogen riot on Pauper's rooftop, which Constantine very willingly threw himself into later that night. Conversation swung back and forth from "threesome with stranger" sex to New Orleans to "wouldn't let him see her boobs even!" sex to politics to Constantine's new lady, that's sex again.

Saturday I went over to Prince's pad for a visit. He had been shopping with his sister Court (who has a most ogle-worthy wardrobe) and was in full-plume as he now owns 11 pairs of shoes. There was much bragging about his little boys club, Do Rotten Thangs, affectionately known as DRT. The bastards. They say its boys only as if a penis is necessary to drink in cabs and pose for pretty pictures while pretending to break dance. Of course, I did not dare voice this opinion too loudly for fear of lowering any chances I may have. Instead, I learned their 'hardcore' sign language with due diligence ("make the spock fingers and...YOUR FINGERS ARE ALL WRONG!"). Moreover, I proceeded to pose for many many pictures with a Rotten look on my face. Court and I are forcing our way into Doing Rotten Thangs. Not sure why the resistance is so high, I think they just do not want to pay for our special DRT do-rags. C'mon, DRT bitches, don't you know us ladies can get away with more Rotten Thangs than you gruff XYs? No need to get all payback from wayback on our asses!



How can I be the ONLY member of Fuck Me To Heal Me (our band will inherit the earth real soon) that isn't a member of DRT?!

I watched The Constant Gardener this weekend. I never saw The English Patient (book is good enough for me) so I was quite taken by Fiennes' mannerisms. He is quite good at this acting stuff. Sigh. The flick is striking to watch because of great landscapes and of course an as-honest-as-possible-in-Hollywood portrayal of Kenya. The visuals overshadowed the thriller bit for me. I'm glad I spent my money on this puppy, which is unlike my reaction to Red Eye last week.

Yesterday I strolled the Beaches with Rajbo then snooped around our new apartment building (we don't have the keys yet). Pictures of my soon-to-be balcony coming soon...

Is it Friday yet?

The Interdictor is scaring and scarring me willy nilly. Serious. Michael Barnett has braved Katrina in an office tower. Their data center is running, they have a live webcam feed and pictures of behind-the-scenes in the Big Easy. Awful awful awful:

"If you're watching the feed, it's incredible. Hard to believe the fire department is still viable. God bless them. I'm no expert on conflagrations, but I don't think they're gonna win this one. Hopefully they can contain it. It takes a spectacular kind of asshole to set a fire in this environment."

This man is trained, armed, and ready for shit:

"When Bravo Team becomes functional this morning, we're going to do a Medium Range Recon Patrol around our section of the CBD. We need to access the area for potential human threats, situational threats (burning buildings, etc.), flooding, potential evac routes, military and civilian authority presence, etc."

Being paranoid you think? I don't think so, I think the situation there is hellish and it has nothing to do with paranoia and everything to do with lack of food, water, medicine, and of course...the ever-so-easy availabity of guns prior to Katrina. In an open letter to Jesse Jackson, Barnett states:

"Respectfully, I submit that you should shut the hell up. Looting and lawlessness IS the problem. The National Guard choppers are BEING SHOT AT. The NOPD are BEING SHOT AT. You want to focus on the levee? So do they, but check this out: THEY CAN'T UNTIL THE MOB STOPS ATTACKING THE RESCUE OPERATION."

The appeals continue:

"In case anyone in national security is reading this, get the word to President Bush that we need the military in here NOW. The Active Duty Armed Forces. Mr. President, we are losing this city. I don't care what you're hearing on the news. The city is being lost. It is the law of the jungle down here. The command and control structure here is barely functioning. I'm not sure it's anyone's fault -- I'm not sure it could be any other way at this point."

And finally, from an interview with a Bourbon Street DJ who braved it in the projects:

"...he estimates more than 10,000 people are packed into and around and outside the convention center... the National Guard drove over the bridge above them, and tossed out supplies over the side crashing down to the ground below... any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them... tensions are very high, and there has been at least one murder and several fights. 8 or 9 dead people have been stored in a freezer in the area, and 2 of these dead people are kids... they're doing anything they can think of to impress the authorities enough to bring some buses... standing in single file lines with the eldery in front, women and children next; sweeping up the area and cleaning the windows and anything else that would show the people are not barbarians..."

I saw a woman on telly saying the most inane thing, "I've lost all faith in Mother Nature", she cried. That made me lose it. Left me shouting at the screen like a crazy person. How much mistrust does one have to feel towards a governing body before one starts treating the physical laws of nature as a democratic parliament? My thoughts and heart go out to folks on the Gulf Coast. Just as they do to folks in similar straits elsewhere.

Find out how rich you are when compared to the rest of the world on Global Rich List. It's a hungry world out there, outside the bubble.

Who knew My Space could provide such lucrative opportunities? Emphasis mine:

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Luke
Date: Sep 1, 2005 5:29 PM

No sex, no nudity, just an open-mind and an ability to kick a guy in the balls. That's it!!! Sounds like fun? Well, now you can make serious money - $100 an hour every time. There is no catch and the money is provided up-front at all times.

If you're interested, give me a shout and I will respond as soon as possible.

Thanks,
Luke

Ideal Person: A dominant young woman, with a bitchy attitude who knows how to treat a submissive(i.e. like dirt!).

People, I have found my calling. Any pimps out there willing to provide protection for a cut and a complimentary kick?

I like to keep my icon pictures constant across all groups. Ever since the 'lips' came into play on My Space (yesterday), the boys have gotten a tad bit skankier. The common threads:
1. They are all I-talian.
2. Icon pictures are of a shirtless guy...on a beach.
3. All pictures coincidentally look exactly like Josh Hartnett.

Here is a lovely exchange, my first fuckmessenger:

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: roberto
Date: Aug 31, 2005 11:14 AM

wow let me fuck u hard my love

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Neha
Date: Aug 31, 2005 11:27 AM

wow let me go throw my lunch up...hard

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: roberto
Date: Aug 31, 2005 11:31 AM

wow ok maybe tonight i want ur pusspuss

----------------------------------------------------

Truly warms my heart...my love *sigh*.