How to plan a night out at the club

Hey all, I can't remember if i've ever done a tutorial before but since i'm just so popular and have more friends on facebook than Tila Tequila (yeah, remember her?) i figured you would all want to know how a pring (pro + king = pring) goes about setting up a LIVE party. If you follow the following easy steps, I guarantee that every single Friday, each of you aspiring prings, or as i like to call you - pringles - will experience what beyonce and lady gaga refer to as "blowing up my phone".

Step 1: Battle Cry

Bust out your recording equipment and record a half hour shpeel explaining why you are the hottest most sickest person to hit a club with (it is absolutely manditory that you have DMX's "Party Up in Here" playing in the background). Then send it to every contact that you have on your cellphone with no exceptions. Instinct may tell you that it's not a good idea to be sending this kind of thing to your boss, or your grandma, but you never know what hotties they may or may not know. You can't miss out on those oppourtunities. Capitalize. (Extra points if the whole thing is done in rap)

Step 2: Booze?

Alcohol is for softies. The day before the club, gather a bunch of friends and then inky pinky ponky until there is one person left. The winner should then be ganged up on by everyone else who will promptly break his or her leg(the leg breaking may in fact be easier if the winner is a she, feel free to rig the game of inky pinky ponky by appending arbitrary words to the regular song and ending on whomever you feel should be the winner). When the person is taken to the hospital, they should scream at the top of their lungs until the nurse brings out some morphine. Jack the morphine and store it for the next day. Now when everyone comes over for a predrink, bust out the morphine and serve chilled. (side effects may include death)

Step 3: Filtration

Before you leave for the club you have to make sure that your group of friends suitable reflects how boss you are. Make sure that any members of the same sex who are going with you are considerably more ugly than you are. This will make you seem much much more attractive to other people by way of comparison, it's simple science. If there is anyone in your group who is more attractive than you, then simply double their morphine dosage and they will not be able to make it to the club because they will be busy soaring through the stars on a majestic pink unicorn with two horns and a fish tail. As a rule of thumb, you can always let Jimmy come with you, no matter how terrible you may look, he will make you seem like a war-brazened, chiseled Greek God in comparison.

Step 4: Mask

No one wants to see your face, what they really want to see are copious amounts of powder and fish scales on top of your face so that they can barely even make out who you are. Whether you are a guy or a girl, go to the nearest makeup store and buy the most pearly white foundation that you can find then go home and use a teaspoon to scoop all of its contents and matte it on your face. Then use scissors to cut a glowstick in two and use the fluids to highlight the better features of your face. The more fluid you use, the better, it's pretty dark in clubs.

Step 5: Incept

Never actually enter the club even if all of your friends go inside. Instead, go to Mcdonald's and spend the whole night drinking their free water. It is necessary that you choose a table near the bathroom because you will have to urinate 6 times through the course of the night. When you think they are about to leave, meet up with them and fabricate multiple stories about all of the incredibly sexy guys or girls you were dancing with while they were busy dancing with your sloppy seconds. They'll probably believe you because they were high on morphine anyways.

Well there you go, now that i've given you all of my secrets to a perfect night out at the club, you have no excuse to be anything short of a pring. Good luck, and i'll see you at McDonalds next Friday.

4 am yay

I'm drunk blogging at 4:30 AM. What did YOU do today?

I think i'm going to drop some rhymes for y'all.

4:30 AM, people sleeping it's pretty quiet

I'm feeling kinda fat after exams now, i need a diet.

There's an air mattress blown up to my right

I did all the pumping, just because i lost the verbal fight.

I really wish i had some chocolate with me right now

Or really any sort of thing that falls under "sweet tasty chow"

I don't know who the heck would ever read my blog

Cuz my rhymes are so bad and boring like a dead log.

But it's okay cuz i appreciate every one of you

Even if reading this makes you wanna pity the foo (me)

Well i think this flow was over before it began.

And i think i should just suck it up like a man

It's time to stop we all know it's true

I'm going now, i wish a good night for you.

Record deal one day, i'm telling you.

Introducing Slugmon

Hey guys, I want you to meet my friend Slugmon. He's a real fictional character and my best friend.

Attribute Ratings

Strength - 1/10

Agility - 2/10

Dexterity - 1/10

Overall Skill - 1/10

Usefulness in any possible manner - 0.2/10

Slime Coveredness - 10/10

Resemblance to Shrek - 6/10

Intelligence - 4/10

Weakness to Salt - 8/10

Affinity for Justin's Love - 11/10

He is a slug but his mom was a dragon hence the colors and spiny back. His arms were the result of some extensive plastic surgery and muscle reattachment. His ears are actually feelers. He does not have a stomach or any digestion system for that matter. When he consumes food, it merely remains within his hollow body until he decides to spit it back out. He once ate a zygote, and regurgitated it 30 years later. This person is known to us today as Charlie Sheen.

I invented him two days ago. Since then my quality of life has increased considerably. When confronted with any situation in which i do not know what to do, i simply ask myself: "What would Slugmon do?"

-Should I eat mcdonald's for dinner?

No, if Slugmon ate mcdonald's, the salty fries would cause him to bubble and writhe in pain from the inside out.

Unhealthy meal loaded with calories averted.

-How should I react to that pretty girl telling me that i'm ugly disgusting and will never amount to anything at all?

Slugmon doesn't have ears.

Long tearful night watching "Love Actually" avoided.

He can't wait to meet you.

Truths of the Universe 02 - Cats Speak English

Cats Speak English

Have you ever recorded a video, and then played it at double speed? What did you notice about the changes in audio? Everything sounded chipmunk-y right? RIGHT. It is a fact of life that the speed of an audio wave is associated with the tone which we hear. A formula one car driving at 300 km/h zipping past you makes an impressive sound kind of like a high pitched scream (not unlike the sound that's made every time i unleash one of my trademarked sonic-boom-crotch-punches-of-death... I told Allan not to make fun of my ugly knees. Now he pees from his nose) whereas a tractor plowing wheat emits a low rumbling.

Now lets think about what this phenomenon implies. Cats. Their mewing is super high pitched, so high that it is very possible that they're actually speaking English but extremely extremely fast. My pathetically un-enlightened friends, I reveal to you the second truth of the universe. Cats ARE speaking English. They just speak far too fast for your slow brains to comprehend and so you don't know what they're saying. In fact if you slow down their speech to a level at which the average human speaks, you will find that they speak nearly 337 times faster. The last time your cat mewed at you from atop a comfortable couch, and you interpreted it as a call for food, you were mistaken. Your cat was simply singing along to "remembering you" except completing the full song in 0.557 seconds. Next time you have a chance, record the mewing, slow it down by a factor of 337 and you'd be surprised to find that it doesn't sound that much unlike the original by Tay Zonday.

Truths of the Universe 01 - The Ocean is Salty

A couple of friends and I were lucky enough to have been gifted with incredible wisdom, far-seeing foresight and breathtaking genius at birth. I used to be a firm believer in keeping our secret knowledge just that, secret knowledge, for you mere mortals do not deserve to have these divine revelations unleashed upon you without having earned it for yourself. But Allan promised that it would be epic if we wrote a book containing all of our collective knowledge, and i thought it would be funny to see your breath taken away from you when the world's phenomena are each explained in their true form.

Seeing as i don't know how to write a book, i figured i'd just start by putting random installments on my blog. Rest assured, one day our book will transcend the mundane shelves of stores and rest where it belongs: bathed in light, mounted upon a miniature podium behind 3 inches of solid glass in a display case next to "The Bro Code" by Barney Stinson in "the Museum of all things which should be made general knowledge to all people, by having been read to children during the story-time before bed so that their dreams may soar high into the heavens and shine and live among unicorns and angels"

Without further ado, let us commence on our journey.

The Ocean is Salty

Nearly everyone has tasted ocean water before. It's salty. So salty that that we try not to let it enter any of our orifices, yet somehow it always does. And when it's in your mouth it tastes bad, and when it's in your eyes, it burns. Let's not talk about the effects on other orifices... But why is the water salty? Sperm whales. Have you ever seen how huge these things are? Some of them are as big as a house, 20.5 metres long (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sperm_whale - yeah, so what if I referenced wikipedia, they're smart SOBs.) How much urine do you think one of those expels in one go? How much Semen do you think they produce? How much sweat do you think they generate when playing Whale Soccer? (Whale Soccer to be discussed another time.) What is in all of these fluids? Salt. Salt which goes into the ocean... and enters our orifices. I said i'd reveal to you the truths of the world, i didn't say they were pretty.

Nuggets

Quick Disclaimer: If you are a level 99 Vegan or if you get extremely offended by discussions about eating meat and being completely insensitive about the fact that it was once a live animal, then turn back now adventurer, the coming paths are rough.

This morning I was eating one of my Justin's Trademarked Terrible-for-you-Breakfasts: Oily-greasy fried eggs, oily-greasy fried chicken nuggets, and a slice of toast drowned in butter and strawberry jam (is jam a Canadian word? I feel like Americans always say jelly but jelly sounds weird to me).

I don't know about you guys, but i'm really weird about the way that i eat my eggs. Firstly, i have to have ketchup on it otherwise i hate eating eggs because then the yolk taste just isn't as incredible as it has the potential to be with the perfect amount of ketchup. And then secondly, when i've finished eating my egg, i have the urge to use my toast to soak up the leftover yolk-ketchup dribble left on my plate.

Anyways, this morning when i was eating my breakfast i was in a hurry so i didn't think to make up a mental battle plan before tackling my food. Stupidly, i ate my yummy strawberry jam toast first, leaving me with only the oil and grease duo; a sunnyside up and nuggets. This meant that when i decided to eat my egg and there was that yummy yolk-ketchup dribble left over, i had no toast to scrape it off my plate like usual. The perfect breakfast algorithm had been broken, but i couldn't just leave that delicious dribble there to dry on my plate so without thinking twice i grabbed a nugget and started mopping it up.

It was only after i had finished all of my nuggets when I realized what I had done. I had just soaked a chicken nugget in a broken egg yolk. I HAD JUST SOAKED A CHICKEN NUGGET IN A BROKEN EGG YOLK. I HAD JUST SOAKED A CHICKEN NUGGET IN A BROKEN EGG YOLK. Do you realize what that means? I just took a dead adult chicken, and soaked it up in the popped embryo of a stewing baby of its own species. In fact, to take it one step further, that stew-bryo baby popped yolk ketchup mix thing could have been a relative of this chicken, or maybe even it's OWN CHILD. That's like me sticking you into a bathtub filled with popped ova, pouring a truckload of ketchup in it, throwing you all in a blender and just going to TOWN on that.

I felt so terrible that I almost puked. I felt so guilty i wanted to do something super selfless just to rebalance my karma. I felt so sick that I had to sit down, but i was already sitting so i stood up and then sat down again. I felt so exasperated that i had to ponder life and its meaning and how I could have possibly committed such a terrible crime.

But then i realized how good it tasted, contently rubbed my belly and went to class.

Some Guests.

A session with Allan/Winnie/Taylor /Anthony

Here's how this will work. I'm going to say a word and each of them will say the first thing that comes to mind.

Word: Mold

W: ELEPHANT ANUS!

T: cheese?

Al: silence*... green fuzzy yoo green fuzzy.

An: what? did you say something? *eats sandwich*

Word: Clown

W: ITIS!

T: i think of a clown.

Al: can we do something else?

An: *crunch crunch*

Okay this isn't working let's do riddles.

Riddle: What has five legs, is blue black and green and eats babies.

W: JUSTIN!

Al: OH! a five legged spider?

T: what's his name again? Kevin Garnett! He loves to eat babies.

Wiki'd: Two Faced

I was going to do a serious post about the world war because of the readings that i've been doing for my religion and film class but nah, seriousness is overrated.

Instead we're going to play "press the random article button on wikipedia until we get an article that isn't someone Justin doesn't know or a random country he didn't know existed, and then talk about whatever it makes him think of." It's unbelievable how many articles are on there that i have not even the slightest clue what they're referring to. Anyhow, after about 15 clicks just 2 minutes ago, i came upon the article:

"Two Faced"

Actually the first thing that i thought of was that villain in batman. You know the one. Twoface. He's got to faces, the one who has the coin flipping fetish and is about as generic caucasian as generic caucasian gets and then the other looks like the illegitimate child of Barney the Dinosaur and Freddy Cougar. Holy crap that guy used to scare me when i watched the batman movie back in the day. Now i don't mean to be incredibly inconsiderate and tactless but what the hell could have happened to the man such that very conveniently RUINED half (and only half) of his face, and bordering perfectly along the y-axis of head. Also, why the hell did it turn purple. And not like bruise purple, this guy's face looks like someone beat it with a Raptor's jersey. Before I am subjected to nerd-rage by those of you who may actually know what happened to him, I would just like to say that I actually have no idea what the story is but this is my best bet. As a young child, his family decided on a rainy afternoon to do something fun and adventurous so that he wouldn't become bored and once again fill time by deciding the fates of his neighbouring youngsters by flipping and coin and surprise-sacking those who flipped a "tails". The best idea that they could come up with was a visit to the soda factory. Unfortunately for his parents when they arrived there, young Twoface was not very amused by the tourguide's "fun facts" and decided to see if he could cop a free drink from the brewing vat. He didn't think twice about the fact that soda is so supersaturated with sugar that they have to superheat it to intense temperatures just to make water hold that much otherwise it would be rejected from the aqueous molecular structure like me from nearly every club that i try to get into. He slipped as he leaned forward, and SHAPOW. Purple disfigured face.

It now occurs to me that the article wasn't about Twoface the character but about the definition of the term. But oh well.

One Shot 01 - "Snap."

- I keep writing short stories and then putting them away to edit later. What always happens is that i'll come back to it another day and think it's a piece of crap and then delete it. This time i'm just going to do a one shot thing, and let you guys see the crap. Note: I named the guy Justin because i wasn't feeling creative. I don't mean for him to be connected with myself in any way.-

Snap. "Lift your chin a bit."

Snap. "Take a step forward"

Snap. "Stop smiling because i told you to. You're a really crappy actress you know."

Snap. "Think about next year. You're going to be in Paris, if you can't smile about that, you're not a real teenager."

She beamed. He snapped one last photo, and the camera whined. He shut it off and and begun to pack up his equpiment. She took off the gown and handed it to him.

"Thanks Justin, my parents will love them."

"Don't mention it. Just don't forget my espresso tommorow."

"Can't believe we made it through."

"Just barely."

"How were they?"

"You looked great."

They are sitting in a cafe. The rain is pouring and all of the seats are taken, most by people who aren't even ordering. He takes a sip from his espresso and places it carefully on the table. A second later he lifts the small cup to his lips and takes another sip. She's bouncing her knees and working away at a crossword puzzle in the damp newspaper she grabbed from the stand. Her pen breaks through the page and she gives up.

"I was really excited you know."
"I know"

"It was a new place, full of history and art and culture and wine. Actually the wine wasn't a let down..."
"It never is"

"I just wasn't expecting to lose it all. The drive"

He takes another sip. Eyes still locked on hers. Carelessly he spills on his shirt. As she rests her head on the cold window pane she continues to talk as he frantically dabs it with a wad of napkins.

"But it feels like i'm just crawling through each day."

Dab dab dab. "This is why I shouldn't buy white clothes..."

"It makes me wonder if heading to Paris was the wrong idea in the first place. Was it?

He takes a long sip of his espresso. Lowers his cup. Thinks twice and throws back the rest of it. Using the same napkins as before he wipes his mouth. He looks around at all the other people in the cafe, miserable because the weather has ruined their plans. Looking out the window he listens intently, loving the sound of each droplet falling from the heavens to nurture the earth. She's looking at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for the response.

"Do you know what's amazing about photos?"

"Justin come on, i'm pouring my heart out here. At least-"

"-Time. It doesn't exist. A fleeting moment is captured and immortalized. Every emotion and thought in the frame is contained forever."

He removes something from his jacket pocket. He hands her a polaroid. It's losing colour and the edges are frayed. She takes it from him and is surprised to see a younger version of herself smiling away. A genuine smile, filled with emotion and conviction. Conviction that the coming years are filled with promise.

"This is a friend mine. I've recently heard she's gone missing. Can you help me find her?"

She doesn't look away from the photo. She grins. "Of course."

equations.

Wednesday. I'm sitting in Sidney Smith cafeteria with Glenn Sean and Nikko. There's a small Tim Horton's franchise within the caf, and given that the place is populated almost exclusively by sleep deprived, and overachieving students, calling it busy would be an understatement. The line for this Timmies snakes around a corner and almost overlaps on itself. But as Sean has cleverly pointed out to me, the line always reduces as the clock gets closer to the end of the hour. Or maybe this equation would define this line better for you:

N = (60-x)^2 , where N is the length of the line in number of fiending coffee drinkers, and x is the number of minutes after the hour, 0 <= X <>

Anyways. I open with that line definition because i want you all to know just how frustrated i was that i was too engaged in conversation with my buddies to realize that the time (1:58) was getting dangerously close to the hourly reset. Unfortunately for

me, by the time i realized this (2:02), the reset had already occurred and a wave of caffeine junkies were already forming a tight-packed pelvis-gluteus line. Let's do the math and see just how bad the damage was.

1:58, therefore x is equal to 58, N =(60-58)^2 = 4

2:02, therefore x is equal to 02, N =(60-02)^2= 3364

Damage = delta N = N2-N1 = 3364 - 4 = 3360

So basically what this lovely equation is telling us, is that within a 4 minute time window, i managed to miss the opportunity to take advantage of a 4 person line, and instead was confronted with a line of 3364 people. A difference of 3360 people.

Well, i was quite upset, but hey, i'm not going to let that ruin my day, so i stuck around until it was near the end of the hour once more. Finally getting my coffee and donut at the conclusion of an almost 2 hour affair.

I had two sips before i spilled half of it on my leg on my way to class because I hopped over a slush covered curb.

Is a coffee too much to ask for?

On another note, this made me chuckle today when i was downloading something.

I think it's time to upgrade to gold, people.

Jays

Disclamer: If you get really annoyed by me talking about me being annoyed because of the random things that happen in my life, then please do not continue in reading this post because that's pretty much all that it will be composed of. And i wouldn't take offense at you stopping right here because sometimes when i read my own posts i get tired of hearing myself rant, so i feel your pain, and secondly, i wouldn't even know you did.

So, on a whim the other day I went to the mall and bought myself a Blue Jays baseball cap from Lids. No, i'm not a particularly intense Jays fan or anything like that but i figured "Hey, why not have some patriotic spirit and support my fellow Torontonians?"

I was walking to school yesterday morning, and i was waiting on the southwest corner of a busy intersection along with a huge crowd of about 20 other people, a uniform distribution of nearly every ethnicity in existence (Usually i wouldn't remark on the cultural diversity of Toronto; I think most of us are used to, and embrace it by now. That said, i know this seems like a random detail but you'll see why I consider it relevant in just a moment.) There was a really old, beat up car travelling east along the street that i was facing. It switched into the right turn lane and decelerated, preparing to turn south, which would cause it to pass by the crowd and me, only a meter and a half away. The car was occupied by two people, both white. As they made the turn, the passenger rolled down his window, sticking his torso out into the open air, and pointed straight at my head. He yelled, spit flying everywhere, at the top of his lungs: "Look at this FUCKING CHINK wearing a WHITE MAN'S hat." I was completely stunned out of mere disbelief. I looked around to see if anyone else had heard what he had said; wondering if i had just imagined it. Every single person in the crowd, of each and every ethnicity was staring at the ground as if it had the secrets of eternal youth inscribed in it. Not a single person was ballsy enough to even look appalled. Instead they just made like Ostriches and buried their heads.

No, i don't give a dead rat's ass what that stranger thinks about me. He can think of me as a dirty chink for the rest of his life and it won't make my life any less comfortable in the slightest. I've had people be racist to me all my life, it barely even stings nowadays. In fact, i almost feel pity for that guy because he feels the need to say empty words like that to a complete stranger. Maybe it makes him feel important?

What really grinded my nerves though was the fact that there were 20 other people around me, and not a single one of them seemed as if they paid any attention to what he had said. I'm not saying that i expect each and every one of them to get up in arms for me and commit a mass citezens arrest and beat the guy black and blue with a noodle until he apologizes. But I kind of had more faith in the Canadian culture... I expected when i turned around after he had spewed his verbal feces that at least one of them would have even a flicker of thoughts parallel to mine. I was hoping that even though what he said wouldn't change a thing in my life (and trust me, i will go on wearing this hat as much as I please) that they would feel the same kind of pity that I did; that Canada, though with the great cultural progress we've made, still has not completely liberated itself from the prejudice in the minds of some people.

What could they have done to make me not rant about them you might ask? Even just a tiny bit of disgust written in their faces rather than staring at the ground and pretending it didn't happen would have made me a happy camper.

I'll take a risk and even say that i find racial slurs funny sometimes. Not in the "HEY, YOU'RE FOREIGN. HAHAHA" sense, but more the in recognition that everyone in this country comes from a different cultural background, and will therefore be different. I think making light of these differences with good humour is completely acceptable. Hilarious even. Senseless and ignorant categorization however, is an abomination to Canada's achievements to date.

What makes a Jays hat a "white man's hat" anyways? Beats me :P

coffee.

My leg is bouncing a mile a minute right now and my chair is creaking dangerously.

I just came from Tim Horton's and in the fifteen-minute-wait line i had plenty of time to ponder the characteristics of my coffee fiend routine.

1. I Never Realize How i Got There.

One moment, i'll be walking to meet some friends in a cafeteria area, and then BAM. I'm in a close-packed line, uncomfortably close to the people ahead of and behind me. The stupid Tim Horton's sign has done its job, brain-washing and conditioning me over so many years to the point where as soon as i see it, i will sub-consciously wander towards it like an ill-fated fly towards a shiny lamp death. It's become such an instinct that i don't even realize what i'm doing until the person behind me is annoyingly standing inside my personal bubble, and I notice that i'm actually standing in a line.

2. What the hell am i ordering?

To be completely honest, i can't even taste the difference between a regular, a double-double, or a triple-triple. So i'm now realizing that the whole mental debate i have with myself as I close in on the cashier is completely pointless. Nonetheless, i'm one of those people who has to sort out what they're going to say in nearly every conversation before they actually reach that point in time that they have to have the conversation, or else they just sound like a babbling idiot who doesn't know what they want. Not that it ever actually amounts to anything though, because by the time I get to the cashier i've never actually completed the decision making process and I just end up making up my order on the spot. Somehow it ends up the same every time.

"I'll have an extra large (should i have ordered extra large... ? yeah, extra large is good... it's the biggest that they offer and bigger is better. I can handle extra large, i'm a MAN.)... uhhh triple triple (... well they're going to charge me the same for a regular or a triple triple, so i might as well get TRIPLE the sugar and cream and get my money's worth. Hell yeah, fight the power.) and a boston cream donut, and a honey crueller donut."

The donuts have no thought process associated with them. Those are just a result of the glass display overpowering my self-control. I am dominated by sugar.

3. I Always Order Too Much.

My eyes are too big for my belly. An extra large coffee in theory is just about the most comforting thing to me. The full pint of heaven-sent grinds has a shining halo in my mind, but when I actually have at it, it takes quite a bit of effort to down it. I probably don't even drink that much water in a day, and the super-saturated sugar content usually has me wishing i hadn't been so gluttonous while ordering. It's always a battle to toss back the last quarter. And then i realize i have two more donuts...

Damn you Tim Horton. On top of being a great Hockey player, you're a darn good brainwasher. Stop putting crack in your coffee.

Yes, i'm indecisive.

Okay, i missed the name Juspoko, I changed it back because allan gave me a mental bitch slap and extracted my true feelings from within me.

Door Etiquette.

There are many things that i take for granted in life, but the one that i feel particularly bitchy about today is door etiquette, as brought to mind by the guy who just failed his golden opportunity to exhibit good manners just minutes ago at the front doors to the library. Door etiquette. Everyone should know it, everyone should use it. The only problem is that it doesn't exist.

I'm starting to wonder why people in Toronto don't make use of their manners when a door and a fellow human block their path. Initially i thought that maybe it's because people abandon all patience for others in the city simply due to the increased person-density. Maybe it's just too hard to be polite to all of the people who you come accross. But then again, it really only takes half a second to make a polite gesture. Either way, all this frustration could just be because i'm the only one who believes in these obscure and unsaid rules that I, personally, would never forsake and adhere to with an iron will. But, I feel manners are a part of common sense and common sense is called common sense for a reason. The key thought here lying in the word "common" if that wasn't made clear enough by my use of italics on the word common.

So, to do my part in the long battle against the unmannered, here's what should be done in two more than frustrating situations, according to my beliefs.

1.The Charger

You know when you're really cold outside in the snow and the only thing that you're thinking of is just getting indoors to a place where the atmosphere might actually be sufficiently warm enough to allow bloodflow? You walk up to the door, grab the handle, and pull it open, and just as you're about to take a step in, some guy charges through the vacant space you were just about to occupy, shoulder punching you in the process. You recoil, and slowly recollect yourself, then wounded, sad and still cold, you go through the door, but even in the well heated building, your heart feels cold.

Hey, if you're that guy who's doing the charging, don't be an ass. If the other person got to the door first, let them go through first. Their teeth are chattering and their nose is dribbling. Would you reject a puppy in a basket on your doorstep? Or would you let him into the warmth and comfort of your home? Yeah that's what I thought. Oh, and i hope you realize the irony of using the peace sign and simultaneously bloodying someone's nose.

If you're the one who just got shoulder punched, this is what you do. Turn around and follow that person inconspicuously to wherever they're headed; they're bound to come face to face with a door sooner or later. Once they come to a door, push them out of the way, enter the door, and hold it closed on the other side. If they move to another door handle, hold that one too, denying them entry to their destination JUST like they did you. When they finally break down into tears, (to achieve this reaction you may yell profanities about their parents, preferably their mother, through the glass) pretend to let them in, and right as they step over the threshold, slam the door on their nose. You will feel so uplifted.

2.The Pack Mule

You've all had one of those days when you just finished one of your bajillion labs for the day and you're carrying your backpack, 53 textbooks, your labcoat, goggles, and a Rockwell Hardness Testing Machine to your next lab. You come to a door and all you need is a couple seconds of a stranger's time to open the door for you since you know, you don't have 3 arms, but he just confirms your preconceived notion that he's a douchebag by just leaving you hanging and going through the very door that was blocking your way, opening it only enough so that he can get through and it shatters your shins as you try to hold it open with your foot when it swings back.

If you're the guy in the picture who's wearing the sunglasses, and not holding mountains of textbooks, all i have to say here is, have pity, take a tiny fraction of your day to hold the door for someone else could save their children. They would do the same for you. If you still refuse, then i hereby ban you from using the term "pce".

If you just got screwed by the sunglasses dude, then don't think twice before going Hulk on this guy's ass. Shove that Erlenmeyer flask up his nostril and wetwilly him constantly until he apologizes.

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To all of you who have not been practicing your door etiquette. I will no longer hold back. Commit an infringement like one of the above, and you will likely suffer the consequences of my wet willies of fury. Consider yourself warned.

Illiterate.

Just this Tuesday i had my first class in the elective that i chose (but am actively trying to escape) which deals with the Canadian identity in Canadian literature. I never really took the initiative to look up what kind of course it was so up until about December I'd just kind of made assumptions about the class based solely on the name. A big mistake of course, because it ended up being completely the opposite of what i was expecting. In general, there is only one requirement in my mind when I am selecting which elective course to go with, and it's that the course is very easy and NOT time consuming.

Much to my dismay in the month of December, after having been enrolled in this course for nearly 3 months, i finally received first word from the course coordinator. "Oh!" i thought to myself. "This is a pleasant surprise, there are very few coordinators who are enthused enough to actually email their students before the course even starts." However this initial contentment disappeared instantly when i read the message. In short, it said that we would have to read a novel for every week of the course and if we could not complete this simple task, then this is not the course for us. Also, in each class, the novel would be discussed in depth and everyone would be expected to give their input and opinion. This struck me as unacceptable in two ways.

ONE: Justin is Nearly Illiterate.

I actually used to read books all the time. Like every night, for hours before i would go to sleep. I was obsessed with reading and back when i was into it, i could never put the book down until i finished whichever chapter i was reading. However, there is one problem. The books that i have read up until now consist of "The Magic Treehouse", "Star Wars: Jedi Academy", "Deltora Quest", and "Harry Potter". Take a look at the books that I just named. The first three have a target audience of 7 - 9 year old boys who have just discovered what fantasy is, and the last is a book with a target audience of 7-9 year old boys, but seems to have magically permeated all age groups nonetheless... These books, i read for their stories. Not for the writing style, not for the in between the line meanings and themes which are addressed in the most inconspicuous ways possible, and with huge words that were probably concocted for the sole purpose of excluding amateur readers like myself. With a literature history like this, i'm sure you can understand why i'm skeptical about my ability to survive in a course like this. Somehow i get the feeling that Harry Potter won't be included on the reading list. Not to mention that i read so darn slow that even if i didn't have other courses to finish, i probably wouldn't be able to finish a novel a week anyways.

TWO: I Don't like the Spotlight... In Class.

I'll admit that i can be an attention whore sometimes. But I assure you that this is not the case in the classroom setting. I make a point of sitting alone in class so that i can pay strict attention to the lecture, and so i don't draw attention to myself by talking with friends. I absolutely hate being called on in class. Even though most of the time when i am called on, i do know the correct answer, somehow i'm incapable of providing it under pressure.

"Justin what is the first axiom of thermodynamics?"

"Uh... sir i have to pee."

"Answer the question first Justin"

*fear*

"Nevermind i don't have to pee anymore..."

The class having a population of 60 and requiring everyone to take part doesn't help my case much. Especially when i'm used to class sizes closer to 200 or 300. I'd probably forget my own opinion if i was asked of it.

So, i'm sorry course coordinator, but i'm going to have to resign from this course (assuming that i made it into Religion and Film, which is sure to be a party...) although i am very interested in the voices that Canadian authors employ in their influential and activist writing styles, i cannot bring myself to open a book that doesn't fill its pages with dragons, magical treehouses, time travel, and Hermione Granger.

Child.

I'm a child.

For those of you who've been reading my blog since the "juspoko days" (yes, i know how few you are, but thanks nonetheless) you may have noticed that this blog is, but is not the same as the juspoko blog... if that even makes sense. The first thing you may notice is that there is no odd creature atop this webpage with its arms flailing wildly in the air as it bares its tongue for the world to see and admire in all its glory like there was with this blog's predecessor. However, you may notice, though i will force you to notice anyway, that all of the blog entries which were present in that blog are present here. So really this is just the same blog with a new tagline, web address and a little more simple look. Why the change you ask?

I'm a child.

I'm not saying that it's a bad thing. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that i take pride in the levels of immaturity that i can achieve but I kind of feel like if i'm going to be putting my thoughts and opinions on the internet, it has a bit more credibility if there isn't this huge googly-eyed monster distracting your eyes every time you read something i say. Makes sense right?

I still don't step on cracks for fear of breaking my mother's back. Just sayin.