I was having a nice time with a bunch of good friends on a nice pre-halloween night this past weekend at the Palms nightclub when a not-so-nice guy decided to come by and cause a kerfuffle.
Now, as I've previously stated, i don't pretend to be anything close to a mastermind of clubbing, and i don't see myself as one who even knows much about clubbing, but there are a few club-etiquette points that i personally believe everyone should know without having to have someone point it out for them. One of these would be the following:
It is ill advised to attempt to force your stinky pelvis in between two matching-costumed-couples who are happily dancing with each other and not even noticing that you exist. It may possibly annoy people. Especially if you are smoking a cigarette just because you think it looks cool and are sporting a stink face.
Maybe i was just born as an enlightened individual and it wouldn't be fair to expect other people to know that this would cause trouble, but I am doubtful this is the case. What is for sure though, is that the individual who tried to stick his stinky pelvis between a pair of my friend couples was not born as an enlightened individual because if he was, he wouldn't have tried that.
Even if i ever did make the mistake of trying this, i like to believe i would have the gall to swallow my pride, and walk away; save face. But this particular child decided against it, and instead tried to overcompensate for his shortcomings by getting in my good friend's face, and shoving him with remarkably unimpressive strength.
At this point i must pause to chuckle because the only friend who was with this guy neglected to offer his support, and laughed at him. I guess that's when you know you're in the wrong. Unfortunatlely, this guy still didn't understand, and it took the glares and close proximity of 7 more of us for him to get the hint. Fortunately, this guy's friend pulled him away so quickly that he was tripping over himself trying to continue looking tough towards us.
I'm not a tough guy and i don't get to look like a tough guy very often so i really enjoyed watching this guy walk away. Or rather get pulled away. I only realized now though that i must have not looked very tough at all in my halloween costume; a blue colour coordinated eighties gym teacher with knee high socks, an old school headband, a tight white tee and short shorts. Bravo, Justin.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
pigeon
So... pigeons are really starting to piss me off cuz they're always getting in the way and walking around with their heads bobbing; strutting their stuff like they're all that. So since they only ever fly out of your way if you seem like you're going to end their life, i like to give them a bit of a scare.
Today, as i was walking to school in an exceptionally bad mood because of the midterm that i have this afternoon, i was came across a particularly stubborn pigeon who just stood still in the middle of the sidewalk, not moving with it's ass facing towards me, as if to jeer. As i got closer, my urge to kick it just got bigger and bigger, and by the time i was right next to it, it had still not budged. I launched my foot towards it. It still didn't move, and i had to pull my leg back at the last second so as to not actually ruin its life indefinitely. Angry because i had lost the game of chicken, yet simultaneously confused, i walked in a detour around it. As my viewing angle changed, i realized that the pigeon had only one leg that it stood on, and it was doing so with difficulty, shaking from strain. No wonder it didn't head bob out of my way; it couldn't.
I tripped and fell up the stairs on my way to the library. Karma at its finest.
Monday, October 4, 2010
smugglin
Stupid things make my day.
The other day, Leon, JF and i were studying in the library late at night when hunger started to get the best of all of us. It's funny how i can be working extremely efficiently on engineering economics calculating the net present worth of canada savings bonds, and be completely content doing so, but as soon as JF mentions being hungry, the thought of food possesses my mind until i eat. Suddenly, quantities of Candian dollars don't mean anything to me, and i can't comprehend their size unless i think in terms of "100 Canadian dollars is equivalent to 25 street meat sausages, 10 hot tofu soups, OR SEVENTY ONE POINT NINE FOUR TWO MCDONALD'S BACON CHEESEBURGERS" That's pretty much 72 bacon cheeseburgers minus a baby bite. I'm making myself fiend for a cheeseburger right now just thinking about it... Anyways the point of this paragraph, since i haven't made it very clear, is that once there's food on my mind, i have to have it.
That night, when JF said those night-changing words "are you going to eat?" sushi popped straight into my mind and latched on to my lobes with adhesive ice picks. Luckily for me though, a new sushi restaurant had just opened accross the street just a couple of months earlier. (before, if i had wanted sushi i'd have to take something like a 15 minute walk to find a place in chinatown; not that i wouldn't do it, but it adds to the food wait.) Our game plan was that Leon and i would head over to grab some takeout and JF would stay back to watch our stuff. So we headed out, my face lit up because i was so excited for the food to come.
In my mind, sushi take out looks something like one of those containers that you grab from the supermarket. Small, sweet, and easily stowable under a jacket if one hypothetically wanted to sneak it into the library, out of sight from prying eyes so that he... or she could enjoy it at the second floor studying area in a comfortable recluse of bookshelves with some good friends. So when we ordered 3 takeout bento boxes, and were given an individual takeout box for each of the of 5 parts of the 3 boxes (do the math, that's 15 takeout boxes), i was mildy surprised. We had three plastic bags, each filled to capacity, and ballooning outwards as if they would explode at any second, and Leon and i had to find a way to get them past the all-seeing librarian. I came up with the idea that we would hold the bags with our left hands (the librarian sits on the right side of the entrance) so that we could mask the goods with our respective girths. Even with such a genius plan, i was pretty darn anxious as we approached the library entrance. To our surprise, the librarian was not at her guard post, and we had a small window of opportunity to book it up the stairs with our styrofoam take out boxes squeaking REALLY FREAKING LOUD as they rubbed against each other. The students who were quietly studying gave us death glares. I don't blame them, the gyoza was smelling heavenly.
On the second floor, there are not usually any library staff, but due to the nature of the building, sound carries really easily to the first floor. The three of us proceeded to pig out as silently as possible, carrying out a mid-library picnic with about a dozen fellow late-night studiers glaring at us constantly, probably constructing plans in their minds on how to kill us so that they could dig in to some wasabi-peppered sashimi.
There is something that just feels so right about wiping my hands clean on a napkin while posted above me is a sign reading "love your library, no food allowed" and then tossing away a huge pile of styrofoam into a wastebasket which is not adequately sized for food waste. I just felt so accomplished, like i'd pulled of my own personal Ocean's 11 but instead of trying to smuggle something out of a casino, it was a very conspicuous reverse-direction smuggling.
I feel like this is one of my greatest life accomplishments. My own way of rebelling. Take that, conformity.
The other day, Leon, JF and i were studying in the library late at night when hunger started to get the best of all of us. It's funny how i can be working extremely efficiently on engineering economics calculating the net present worth of canada savings bonds, and be completely content doing so, but as soon as JF mentions being hungry, the thought of food possesses my mind until i eat. Suddenly, quantities of Candian dollars don't mean anything to me, and i can't comprehend their size unless i think in terms of "100 Canadian dollars is equivalent to 25 street meat sausages, 10 hot tofu soups, OR SEVENTY ONE POINT NINE FOUR TWO MCDONALD'S BACON CHEESEBURGERS" That's pretty much 72 bacon cheeseburgers minus a baby bite. I'm making myself fiend for a cheeseburger right now just thinking about it... Anyways the point of this paragraph, since i haven't made it very clear, is that once there's food on my mind, i have to have it.
That night, when JF said those night-changing words "are you going to eat?" sushi popped straight into my mind and latched on to my lobes with adhesive ice picks. Luckily for me though, a new sushi restaurant had just opened accross the street just a couple of months earlier. (before, if i had wanted sushi i'd have to take something like a 15 minute walk to find a place in chinatown; not that i wouldn't do it, but it adds to the food wait.) Our game plan was that Leon and i would head over to grab some takeout and JF would stay back to watch our stuff. So we headed out, my face lit up because i was so excited for the food to come.
In my mind, sushi take out looks something like one of those containers that you grab from the supermarket. Small, sweet, and easily stowable under a jacket if one hypothetically wanted to sneak it into the library, out of sight from prying eyes so that he... or she could enjoy it at the second floor studying area in a comfortable recluse of bookshelves with some good friends. So when we ordered 3 takeout bento boxes, and were given an individual takeout box for each of the of 5 parts of the 3 boxes (do the math, that's 15 takeout boxes), i was mildy surprised. We had three plastic bags, each filled to capacity, and ballooning outwards as if they would explode at any second, and Leon and i had to find a way to get them past the all-seeing librarian. I came up with the idea that we would hold the bags with our left hands (the librarian sits on the right side of the entrance) so that we could mask the goods with our respective girths. Even with such a genius plan, i was pretty darn anxious as we approached the library entrance. To our surprise, the librarian was not at her guard post, and we had a small window of opportunity to book it up the stairs with our styrofoam take out boxes squeaking REALLY FREAKING LOUD as they rubbed against each other. The students who were quietly studying gave us death glares. I don't blame them, the gyoza was smelling heavenly.
On the second floor, there are not usually any library staff, but due to the nature of the building, sound carries really easily to the first floor. The three of us proceeded to pig out as silently as possible, carrying out a mid-library picnic with about a dozen fellow late-night studiers glaring at us constantly, probably constructing plans in their minds on how to kill us so that they could dig in to some wasabi-peppered sashimi.
There is something that just feels so right about wiping my hands clean on a napkin while posted above me is a sign reading "love your library, no food allowed" and then tossing away a huge pile of styrofoam into a wastebasket which is not adequately sized for food waste. I just felt so accomplished, like i'd pulled of my own personal Ocean's 11 but instead of trying to smuggle something out of a casino, it was a very conspicuous reverse-direction smuggling.
I feel like this is one of my greatest life accomplishments. My own way of rebelling. Take that, conformity.
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