We Interrupt Your Previously Scheduled Blog Posting For A Rant About Foodstuffs

You may remember, Internet Chickadoos, that on Thursday I promised you a planned blog-post for both Friday and today. Well...at least I managed to deliver on Friday (what with it being Fiction Friday and all.) But seriously, I really have got a blog post planned based on the events of the weekend - I just need someone (who, in all actuality is most likely not reading this post) to upload the pictures from said event so that I have access to them. You see, from about 6pm Friday until roughly midday yesterday I was at a Bathurst nerd event called 'The Weekender' - this is basically a weekend long LAN party, held by the people who organise the LAN known as The LAN (and once more for good measure: LAN.) I had planned today's blog post as a kind of "wrap-up" of the goings-on there, but I want to wait for pictures.

Don't You Give Me That Error Message Young Man, I Demand Images!

So instead you get what follows...

You will perhaps recall a previous blog post in which I spoke about being afraid to try new things (as far as eating goes anyway) and my efforts to break this cycle, in which I force myself into eating new things by bringing them to lunch with me at work (where, if I don't eat them, I will soon succumb to the pains of hunger and surely whither and die!) Well, this is (I think) going quite well - I have thus far forced myself into eating eggplant, carrot, broccolini, anchovies, chilli (I've been getting hotter and hotter there, too), and various other things that I thought I'd never like. It turns out that I don't really mind any of them (although some of them are a little bitter and I'd rather not mix them with other things because they just don't go well together...)

I Wanted A Picture (Or The Actual Video) From The Dip Commercial Where The Shunned Food Is All: "Fine I'll Have My Own <bleep>ing Party", But I Couldn't Find Anything On The Net About It At All. Instead, A Food Fight.

One thing that I have noticed, however, in my shopping trips is that various pieces of produce are named in ways that exist seemingly to confuse and bewilder the customer into buying things that they otherwise would never consume. Examples of this can be found everywhere - you may have even seen some yourself and wondered "What the figjam is that thing?!" but been too terrified to taste them. Well, I have decided (literally just as I write this) that, each time I go shopping, I shall purchase one of these insane foodstuffs and eat it - just for you. I may even take reactionary stills or video so that you can see just what it is really like. Is that what you want Internet Land - will that finally make you happy?! Well, good, because I love making you happy (especially if you are, as it has been rumoured, some kind of daemon that I have to sacrifice my dignity to on a frequent basis in order to keep you from killing my family and friends using your magic lightning bullets.)

I really think that a mandate needs to be created that ensures that supermarkets and fresh-produce stores have information sheets about their foodstuffs, so as to prevent congestion when the new, tech-savvy generation of shoppers starts whipping out their smart-phones in order to search wikipedia for information about the great purple lump that is clearly not eggplant staring them in the face. These fact sheets should read something along the line of: "[Name] - [Classification]. [Basic Description]. [How To Prepare]. [Recipe Idea]. [If You Like (Other Piece Of Produce) You Will Like This]." This would also stop me from wasting money on fruit, vegetables, berries, and otherwise that I would later discover that I just don't enjoy - I'm looking at you grapefruit!!

Technically This Is The Indian Mulberry, But It Is The Most Visually Disgusting Fruit That I Can Think Of

So far I have a short list of foods that have intrigued me - the impetus of this blog was, in fact, a two-note word that I discovered in my phone which simply stated "Apple Cucumber", which stems from the fact that I was walking through Harris Farm and couldn't figure out how the apple actually factored into it (did it taste like apples, was it a texture thing, or was it simply that it kind of resembled an apple?) Other foods that have caused me similar weird-out scenarios are: lemon bergamot pears, custard apples, and dragonfruit (although I am quite eager to see what dragon tastes like, if the "dragon" is a descriptor of flavour!) To aid my taste adventures, I hope that you will contribute your own foods so that I have a constant stream of things that I'm eating and discussing. Deliciousness ho!

Hi-Ho Taste-Wagon! AWAY!!

The moral of this story is that trying new things is still difficult, but it is getting easier. For one thing, the weekend LAN that I went to was the first time I'd ever done something like that, and it didn't turn out to be half bad at all. As for breaking with my plans, well I'm getting better at doing that as well, and not following through on some rituals is getting to concern me to the point where I now just don't care. I might, however, be making up for this in other weirdness facets, as today's blog came from a two-word note on my phone which just named food.

There Once Was Something Here [Fiction Friday, Part 3]

Link To First Part

Link To Previous Part

Tyson was quickly confronted with two identical visages, meeting his gaze with an innocent inquisitiveness on their faces. "Seriously. How is it possible for so many people to know me, when I haven't even been here for a full day yet? I haven't even set up my room yet!" His skin was rapidly becoming a blood red with a mixture of anger and a sort of shy anxiety.

"Well...Jeeze Tyson..." Began one of the pair, "We were just..."

"...Trying to be friendly." His doppelganger continued, "We've already figured out everyone else in the dorm, so we figured that..."

"...You must be the one left over - and so we thought we'd just come and say..."

"...Hello!" They ended in unison. Tyson shuddered slightly - it was weird enough trying to tell when one stopped talking and the other began without looking them in the face (which Tyson rarely did to anybody, preferring to - as it had previously been expressed - inspect their sneakers) let alone when they spoke as one.

"Uh...I'm...I'm sorry..." Tyson backed up slightly, bumping into his door. "I just...I had a run in with some guy in a weird hoodie and...my family lives basically on the other side of the country...and...it's just...it's been, like, been like...well...shit really..." He struggled to express himself, as he found his comfortable life unravelling quickly before him. His usual uncaring facade was finally replaced by the melancholy he felt inside.

"Dude chill," the left twin placed his hand on Tyson's shoulder, "It's just university - it's no big deal. You had a run in with a bit of a freak, which happens to everyone here now and then..."

"...And you can still see your old friends and your family online!" Tyson slowed his breathing and considered what the twins had said. They were right - there was nothing really that bad going on, it was just part of growing up and experiencing the "real world" - he was just overdramatising ("as usual", as his mother would have said.) As he calmed down, Tyson found that the twin's rapid change style of talking was less disturbing - though just as difficult to separate.

"There you go, all better." The left twin always seemed to initiate any dialogue that the two engaged in, "I'm Lachlan..."

"...And I'm Leo." Both twins stuck their hands out, and Tyson shook them with ginger enthusiasm...Something about them...about what they'd just said...didn't sit right. Something about their names...As he finished properly greeting Leo it suddenly dawned on him. He tried to stifle his reflexive sarcasm, the return of which at least indicated to him that he truly had calmed down.

"Wait..." He had failed, "Lachlan...And Leo..." He stared at the twins in disbelief - surely their parents couldn't have had that little forethought. The twins rolled their eyes, knowing what was on its way. "Your parents named you Lockie and Leonard?!"

"Yeah, yeah," Lachlan started, his voice a strained indication that they'd explained this situation time and again, "They're massive surfers, and they thought it would be 'cool' to name us after a little surfer rat instead of giving us normal names and, you know, letting us not be mocked through every English class in year 7." He continued on with a spiel about how his parents believed in nominative determinism, and how they wanted the pair to be famous surfers, everything that his parents just couldn't be - the stage parents of the coastal world. Leo let his brother talk, not once taking over.

"I...I'm sorry..." Tyson began to tense up again, fearing that he had prematurely tried to be casual - meeting new people was not something he'd had to do for quite some time - his previous social clique, which in his mind resembled a merry band of skaters was a close knit community that rarely accepted new members.

Leo's face brightened, and he finally spoke first "No harm done! How were you to know the history?" his voice was almost alarmingly chipper, "Anyway we read your bio - the one you had to do when you applied for the residences - and we wanted you to come out with us tonight. Just for dinner, you know. It'll be us, and a couple of people from a couple of the courses around here. Just trying to make new friends, ya know? I'll be fun..."

Tyson contemplated his options...It couldn't hurt to meet some new people, after all..."I'll..." His confidence faltered as the thought of betraying his old social circle flitted across his mind, "I'll think about it. While I'm setting up my room..." He quickly opened his door and stepped inside, saying a quick goodbye to the twins, who promised to come back for him before they left.

He thought about how his behaviour must be making him come across, before attempting to regain his usual nonchalant attitude. He switched on his computer, turned his music up loud, and proceeded to arrange his room in the anarchic style to which he was accustomed.

Link To Next Part

Ahh, I See You Are Part Of The Bus-Rail Orchestra - When Is Your Next Symphony?

Howdy Internet-Land, and how are we today? Although this may come as absolutely no suprise to you what-so-ever, I feel that I should warn you anyway - the introduction to today's blog is going to have absolutely nothing to do with the blog contents in any way, shape, or form (shock, horror - I know.) As some of you may recall, one of my earlier blog posts was about a system called "T-Mail", which was basically teleportation mail. Anyway, for a brief period of time, this post contained my postal address, and a general request for people to send me mail (because, who doesn't love mail?)

Anyway, as it turns out, someone decided that it would be prudent to write down my address (which was good, because I later redacted it from that blog post, though if you do want to send me something, then just ask me for my address and I'll email it to you - what do I care if you send me a letter? I love receiving letters!) So this morning I received a package, and whilst I could spend this blog post dicussing the arrival and contents of said package, I would much rather wait until Tuesday (because tomorrow and Monday already have plans as far as blog posts go) and dedicate an entire post to it. This will happen for all parcels and letters that I receive from you guys - random objects are the greatest thing to receive ever!! So a big thanks to Leaky Spider in the interem, and I hope that you enjoy today's blog post.

Did LeakySpider Send Me Meat? Only Time Will Tell (Also, The Stench Of Hot Old Meat)

I have, like many people, a great love for music. Over my life I have attempted to learn many instruments, although for one reason or another I have always had to...er...move on, so to speak. When I was in primary school I was learning the piano, but after we moved houses enough it just became impractical to keep finding teachers (although I was, for a while, the owner of a really cool electronic keyboard because of this.) When high-school rolled around, I picked up the trumpet (a skill which, apparently, you never lose) with the community band. In my first year of university I gave the violin a go, however soon discovered that the high pitched, fretless beast was not for me - and so now I have moved on to the cello.

Having, if you will, the music flowing through my veins like giant radioactive rubber pants is a fairly big impact on my hand motions, as I'm sure a few of you would appreciate. To this end I have, in occasional moments of either (and occasionally both) cognitive serenity or oneness with my MP3 player, been known to play along with the music on whatever imaginary instrument I feel I have on me at the time. Usually I limit my selection to the cello, the piano, and the drums, however I have been known to branch out into marimba, trumpet, and other more percussion based hallucinatory noise-makers.

This Guy Is The Yo-Yo Ma Of The Air Cello World - His Rendition Of Bach's Cello Concerto #1 Is Simply Amazing

Now, I normally don't play on absolutely nothing (unless I'm drumming, and I have been discovered playing air-piano on one of two occasions...and of course I have air guitared as well...) Instead (because I normally do this whilst sitting on public transport) I take myself upon either the top of the chair in front of me, or (if playing the cello) the support pole beside me and have at, in a veritable symphony of metallic glory. I have yet to actually notice people staring at me, trying in vain to hear the strains of my dulcet play - although I could attribute this to the fact that I'm too engrossed, or the fact that, were people to stare, then they'd be staring at a crazy (which is something one just does not do, I have been told.)

No Physical Instruments And No External Music Makes Homer Something Something

This, I have realised, may perhaps cause me to look like a crazy person. I mean, it's not too bad - I don't actually make noise or sing or anything (although I have been known to mouth the words when I really get into it) but still, if you were walking down the street and you saw someone twiddling his fingers in the air, would you know that he was secretly pretending he was a pianist helping out Belle & Sebastian? And, I suppose, even if you did know this, would that make you think that he was any less of a nutter than someone just waving their fingers about for no given reason?

 

I Have, Apparently, Also Been Known To Dance With Imaginary Women Made Manifest...

The moral of this story is that, one day, I want to get every musician that I know (and even some that I don't) and put on a kind of...uh...seemingly impromptu, flash mob kind of concert thing in the middle of the park here in Bathurst (or maybe somewhere more populous, like Sydney, but I hate travelling with my cello...) Basically what would happen is that we would decide on the music that we are going to play beforehand, and we'd come up with a treble part, a bass part, and a purcussion part, with performers getting the appropriate portion. I figure we'd play things like popular music, instead of classical hits, so we'd just need the bits that that particular bunch of songs had...It's a work in progress, but I think it would be really cool to have a bunch of people just show up at random times to the park with an instrument, grab some sheet music, and get playing. It would rock, verily.

It's Difficult To Use Survival Untrained, But Apparently It Is Doable

Today has been, I would have to say, a fairly good day - and for a variety of reasons. First of all, I didn't have to go to work today. Now, don't get me wrong, I quite enjoy my job - but there is just some little...thrill (I suppose) that I get when I'm not at work, and it's a weekday. I know that everybody else is also not at work (well, at least, those who don't work at, say, Woolies or something) but that isn't the point. If I wanted to watch bad daytime TV, or something like that, then I could. As it stands we have been watching Heston Blumenthal create dishes out of animals that are increasingly bizarre, and feed them to celebrities who rave about the wonderful tastes and presentation are. The man is some kind of genious - as Spud said, he could probably roast two guinea pigs, ejaculate into the sauce, and serve it as some kind of medieval fertility ritual, and it would be as t'were ambrosia itself.

This Is Heston's Ejaculating Cake - It Is As Close As We've Come To Having Him...Uh...Put His "Personal Touch" Into His Dishes...Yet...

The second reason that days off are the (as I have been banned from saying out loud) bomb diggity, is that I get to spend the entire day hanging out with Spud, Squiggles, Lydia, and Emma (and today, Laura, her daughter Alexis, and her boyfriend Johnno.) Now, regular readers of my blog would probably thinking two things rights now - the first would be that Andy is missing from my list of people I get to hang out with, and the second would be that I hang out with Spud, Squiggles, Lydia, and Emma all the time (so what makes today any more special?) Well, to field your first question, people of the Internet (and loyal readers whom I love like squishies) Andy has (alas and alack) gone back to Sydney to live and work, and so I now only see him at irregular intervals when he has to come to Bathurst (read: very very rarely) or online in DC Universe Online (almost nightly.)

Why Does Every Friend I Whip Leave Me?

The second question, however, is...well...more difficult. I mean, yes, I do spend almost every waking hour (when I'm not at work) in the company of those particular people. But that, to me, isn't a bad thing - not in the slightest. In fact, I consider the time that I spend with them insufficient - they are, just...the coolest people I know. Seriously. We had a spectacular sextuplet, and now that, even though we've lost Andy, we're still at a...er...a...quality quintuplet? I dunno, it was either something starting with "q" or something starting with a "p", and pentuplet isn't really an accepted word.

Today's reason for not working is, for those of you not currently up with Australia's public holiday system, Australia Day. It is basically a celebration of the day the First Fleet arrived at Sydney Cove in 1788 - kind of like Thanksgiving, but not really, but sort of. I dunno - it's our national day, and is the day to celebrate all the things that Australia means to you. In my case, it means not going to work, and (currently) being too hot for comfort.

I Couldn't Find An Image That Summed Up My Thoughts On Australia - Searching For "Australia Day" Tends To Just Show Pictures Of Drunk People...Dunno Why...

The only negative thing that I have experienced today (aside from the blasted heat) is the fact that my barbecue has reminded me at just how inept I am when it comes to being handy. Now, this is certainly not the first time that I have failed at would could be called a basic household task (enters flashback mode) there was the time that I was shifting the TV a couple of years ago, and it decided to discharge into my hands; there was the time that I tried to clean out the shower head because it was filled with dirt and now the joint does funny things involving spurting water; and most recently today Squiggles and I attempted to light my barbecue. For those who don't know, my barbecue is one of those ones that actually require a wood fire, and not just gas or charcoal. It doesn't look too hard to light, and Squiggles and I are fairly smart guys - how hard could it be? Well, if it's any indication, we ended up cooking out steaks and sausages in a frying pan on the stove.

Bear Grylls Is, Ostensibly, Bizzaro Tiger

The moral of this story is that, in Dungeons and Dragons systems, the Survival skill should not be usable untrained. Well, okay, maybe it could be usable untrained, but still, you need a nice Wisdom score to counteract the fact that there are no ranks in it, and really, what kind of non-cleric, non-monk would put anything into Wisdom? I have enough points in charisma and intelligence that I can get by otherwise...And still I'm not a bard...yet...

If The Other Children Make Fun Of You, Then You Don't Need Them As Friends

Attention readers of OHH - this is a test of the new blog broadcasting system. Please do not adjust your monitors, there is nothing wrong with them, I have just started to change the way I lay out my posts. You may have noticed that, as of a couple of posts ago, I stopped linking to random topics that had very little to do with the word that they were beneath. This has mainly occurred because I wish to distance myself from the style of humour that Family Guy uses as much as possible because, although I may have the insanity of a manatee, I do not have the comedic stylings of one. As a result of this I will, in the coming posts, be carrying out a small experiment in putting occasionally relevant images in the blog itself, to break up the giant wall of text.

It's Almost Impossible To Find A Good Metaphorical Image Of The Berlin Wall Being Knocked Down

Anyway, now that I've got that out of the road, I can start with my actual post. Dear readers, it pains me to inform you that some people should simply not be allowed children. Seriously, when I am the despotic yet fair ruler of the known world, I will take what we have learned from the driver's license system, and adapt it (ironing out a few kinks, and some of the bureaucracy, of course) into a system which requires that people not only need to permit to operate a computer, but also a system where a requisite test would be put into place before people were allowed to procreate - heck, if au pairs need to have (what equates to) a degree to mind a child for a couple of hours a day, then perhaps we'd have less damaged children (and the world's population would be slightly more sustainable, too...)

That's Right, Start Them On KFC Early...Get Them Hooked...That's The Way The Colonel Rolls, Baby...

I am, of course, not imply that parents should be forced to take an intelligence test, per se...well...not a traditional intelligence test, anyway. I am, however, overtly stating that if you can't tell that introducing your child to the wonders of caffeine at age 5, or the joys of ultra-violence in the formative years are bad things, then...well...no baby for you. These are, of course, the more extreme of the realistic (and, I guess, common place) examples of negligent parenting. There are more subtle acts of...shall we say...unintentional cruelty to children that shouldn't particularly be punished with any kind of disciplinary committee, but perhaps a simple psychotropic episode induced in the offending party, causing them to live through the experience they have brought unto their child by their own hand would not go amiss.

No Baby For You!

Of the more recent examples of, uh, "traumatic parenting" that I've seen, I would have to say that the fashion choices that parents seem to be making for their children lately is possibly the most frustrating - and definitely what inspired this blog post. The other day (I say the other day, this was actually before Christmas, but time is relative) I was walking to the bus, via the shopping centre (as is the most efficient path) when I saw a mother who had dressed their son in a pink shirt, with the slogan "Not Afraid To Wear Pink" splashed liberally across the front (I have tried to find a picture of this shirt online, but alas, I cannot...) Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a little boy wearing pink, or a little girl wearing blue, or anything like that - I own a couple of things that go against the "guys should wear this, girls should wear this" rule, but I'm an adult, I picked the clothes for myself, and I'm capable of defending myself against idiots. I don't believe that colours have to have genders assigned to them, and I'm all for breaking the gender roles that society has placed on us - society, on the other hand, I think isn't exactly ready to give up its strong-held beliefs just yet.

Children, it has been shown, form opinions based not only upon what they are experienced to, but also the way their biological imperative works - they need to, in general, fit in. Their brain is, in most cases, wired to do this. Can you imagine what would have happened when this kid got to school? I'm pretty sure that parents should be obliged to do their best to bully-proof their kids. This mother may as well have tied a steak to her son and thrown him into a lion cage - he'd probably come out less scathed.

I Have, On Occasion, Been Called A Wildebeest, But This Is Ridiculous...

There are, of course, other things that parents do to their children (clothing wise) that I consider pretty bad, and The Pink Shirt Issue is just one example of what I would consider...inconsiderate parenting. I am, for instance, not a particularly large fan of those "monkey backpacks" that parents make their children wear, under the guise of their kids having a pretty cute backpack - when really it's painfully obvious to everybody else that the parent isn't secure enough in their ability to keep control of their child in public that they worry their child may run off into a crowd never to be heard from again. Whilst this is a possibility (and I, as a child, was not exempt from running away from Mum once...) there are other options than basically treating your child like their some kind of pet you can with you while you shop. As I said, I only ever got lost from Mum in the shopping centre once - what followed was enough to stop me from ever wandering away again. No, there was no physical punishment. I got the "stranger danger" talk. I got the "you're very special, and someone else might take you away, and we'd never see you again" talk. My parents explained to me, in the pseudo-adult way that they tended to do, that we don't go and hide in the clothes rack - it's dangerous and is not good behaviour. Seriously, how hard is it to talk to your child, rather than resorting to a farcical representation of what your familial relationship should be like.

This Leash Demeans Us Both

The moral of today's story is that, when I was little, I used to think that the correct lyrics to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac were, in fact: "Can you hear me Colin - That's your name." Of course, I also used to think that it was "You spin me right round baby right round like a wrecker...", so I suppose it's a good thing my parents gave me that "Stranger Danger" talk when they did. You don't get much stranger than Dead or Alive...well...okay you do, given that Safety Dance is now pumping into my ears, I really should have seen that one coming.

Verily, Thou Hast Razed My Battle Frigate

Were I able, kind (and not so kind, but I love you anyway) readers of One Hundred Hundreds, to control just one thing about the world I may just well pick the use of language. Well, okay, I probably wouldn't select that if I only had one global power, but it's still something that is important to me (for reasons that, as a mathematician, I'm still not entirely sure of, mind you...) - I'd be much more likely to choose the control of education in general (assuming I had to pick a realistic social aspect.)

Anyway, my point is, would that I could ensure that the native speakers of a language did not butcher it to the point that it is almost unrecognisable. As my native language is English, that is what I shall be focusing on in this post today, however all of my points would (assumedly) have their parallels in, for instance, Japanese or Greek.

There are two main areas where, as a conscious speaker/reader/writer of English, I feel somewhat violated on what is approaching a more than daily basis. The first, and I would say most prolific, is Internet/Text talk. You all must surely know what I'm talking about - you see people on Facebook or some forum typing something along the lines of

"i lyk dis dis is teh funiest ting eva. also u is my best best frend in tha wurld lol lol"

I have tried, now, for some half an hour to come up with a phrase to write here that sums up my disdain for people who think that this is both an effective and intelligent method of communication. Alas, dear reader, I simply cannot put into words the ire that these people cause me. I can, of course, forgive the occasional spelling mistake made out of ignorance (e.g. spelling 'weird' as 'wierd') or out of the need for haste (e.g. saying 'teh' instead of 'the' when you have to post before a deadline - one hand may type faster than the other, and if you don't have time for proofreading then it's a casualty that, on occasion, cannot be helped.) I can also understand the use of initialisms and acronyms such as 'LOL' or 'BRB', and I don't mind them being used appropriately (generally only in chat sessions, mind you...And if you use them in actual speech then...well...woe betide...) It is when the error is deliberate that I gradually turn into a seething ball of hate - the literary Hulk, if you will.

The other area where I get incredibly annoyed is when I have to listen to people spout absolutely and utter grammatical codswallop - I swear I have, at various times, actually heard people misspell a word. Not mispronounce - misspell verbally (yes, in these situations, there is a difference...) Now, what I'm not talking about here is people who have terrible diction - instead it is people who insist on mangling their language as though it was some form of regurgitated cud. People who, for instance, upon attempting to say "Would you like to go to the bar tonight?" instead say "Issit that you wanna go out ta pub laters though?"

Issit that you wanna go out ta pub laters though?

Really, that's their idea of rational thought? I could have been dropped on my head as an infant and I'd still be able to come up with a more coherent thought than that. Goodness, people in their first lesson of conversational English can come up with better sentences than that - and they know what they mean.

Still, I can't get too upset, because the evolution of language is a natural process, and one that is quite important (to a point, though...) Were it not for our language changing over time, then 'you' would still be considered the plural form of 'thou', and anybody who used a contraction would be thought a moron. Still, though, it would be nice if the average person had a slight understanding of grammar, and perhaps some of the history of the language they are speaking/writing.

So, I suppose that I will sit here, wallowing in my tepid rage until it becomes linguistically acceptable to say "I gun go shoppang" and then head off to the supermarket. Until then I suppose that I won't be able to convince people that it's important to correctly use 'then' and 'than'; that it will be too difficult to make people understand why they should be using 'were' instead of 'was'; that it just won't matter if I inform people of when they should say 'me' and when they should say 'I'; and that there's no point in pointing out when someone could have removed the ambiguity from their speech by reordering their words so that tenses match, and the subjects and objects are clear. Still, at least it's okay to split the infinitive and end sentences with prepositions.

The moral of this story is that no one man can change the world, no matter what people say. If you want to better yourself intellectually then I would truly suggest you read a book on basic grammar (as well as a book on basic mathematics, but that's another blog post for when I'm annoyed by people on various feeds I read and can stand it no more...) but there is probably no point in trying to get the world as a whole to love the language they were born speaking, and all others they can learn. At least they aren't acting like teenagers and communicating in a series of indecipherable grunts.

There Once Was Something Here [Fiction Friday, Part 2]

For Those Of You Who Haven't Read It, Here Is Part 1

Chapter One

--

Tyson sighed as he stared longingly towards his parents' camper-van, watching wind its way down the cedar-lined road that exited Fenderson University. His parents had, in the typical fashion, expressed their pride at him for making it this far in life, and explained to him that - as he was starting university, and would be living so far from home - he was an adult now, and that he had a great amount of responsibility coming up. They kissed their son goodbye, took one last look at the surrounds of his new home and, as his mother wept softly behind her sunglasses, drove off into the sunset.

"Well...this kinda sucks..." Tyson stood stone solid for a while, as the world shifted around him at what he was certain was warp speed. Unsure of what to do now that he was twelve hours from his home and friends, he eventually resigned himself to his fate of a string of lonely nights in his dorm room. He forced himself into movement once more, and life returned to a more acceptable pace.

Forlornly, Tyson trudged back to his on campus room, ignoring the more cheerful of his new university brethren who happened to bump into him. His march of mourning, however, was cut short by the feeling of someone belting into him at full force.

"Tai!" The voice sounded hoarse, and there was more than a slight sense of urgency about it. Tyson looked up to meet the gaze of his assailant - he at least wanted to be able to describe the guy who stole his wallet to the police. It was unfortunate, then, that the man who now had him by the shoulders was covered in a hoodie that hung down over his face.

"Who...how did you know my name?!" Tyson stammered as he tried to take in as much air as he could, preparing himself for conflict in the only way his brain could currently process - panic.

His attacker shook him lightly by the shoulders. "Get out of here. Go back home. Go to another uni. Go to England. Just get out of here..." he stressed in a hushed tone, as he turned back to check the direction he came from. As he turned back around his hood raised just enough for the glint off his eyes to become visible, and inside all that Tyson could see was fear. The two swallowed hard in unison.

"What..." Tyson started out, but it was too late. The man who had grabbed him launched himself off Tyson's shoulders and was running at full pace away. Tyson attempted to follow his movements, but he soon became lost in the sea of students milling around the paths of the university. "Okay...I am now officially wishing that today would end..." Tyson muttered to himself as he continued the walk back to his new room, and his familiar things. Perhaps some alone time with his computer would calm his shaken nerves.

Thankfully he did not have to wait very long before he made it back to the Levit Buildings - his current hall of residence - as the student crowd thinned out, trickling down to a stream of those residing in the lower grade of accommodation. He swiped his access card to get into the building, taking a brief inventory of what the common room had to offer: couches, tables, kitchen space, a TV...the basics, and little more. He made his way silently to his room, hoping that he wouldn't draw the attention of his dorm-mates.

"Finally," he thought as he swiped his access card across his door's lock, "it's time to spend some time alone for..."

"Hello Tyson!" his thought was interrupted by two voices coming from behind him.

He spun around and glared. "Why does everybody here know my name?!"

Link To Next Part

It's Like Being Taught To Dance By Agent Milla Vodello

Before I get right into today's blog, Internet denizens, I must first make two statements - these are pretty important, so bear with me. The first statement of importance is a simple apology - I'm sorry that I wasn't able to make a post yesterday, however I was quite sick and writing something that matches my usual level of coherence was...well...it wasn't going well, let's just say that - it wasn't until about 8pm that I actually started to perk up and regain my usual level of vim.

The second highly important thing that I simply must tell you is so startling, that you may well forcefully (and yet unwillingly) eject any liquids in your mouth at high velocity. So, you know, swallow now. Oh...It's just so hard to say some things...Oh well, here it goes: Mexican jumping beans are the creepiest "foodstuff" of all time. There, I said it. But seriously, why would television tell me that it's okay to eat these things? Given that, in reality, they are just an empty seed in which a moth larva has taken up residency (and they spasm when their temperature changes abruptly, which causes the 'jump') I would think that they are, at the very least, entirely unpleasant to consume...

But anyway, on to the main attraction of today's show! As regular readers of OHH will no doubt be aware, I have recently started a health kick - it's been going strong for just over two weeks now, and I feel really good about the progress I'm making. In my life I swear that I have never eaten as many vegetables as I have since the new year started - and I'm really growing to quite like some of them (although trying new ones, especially in Bathurst, is kind of difficult as we are slightly starved for choice...however I am trying home-stir-fried eggplant today...hmm...) The addition of chillis in increasing degrees of spiciness is also going quite well. As of yesterday (weigh-in Wednesday, don't you know) I have lost 2.8Kg, which is 2.6% of my original body weight.

So, if I'm going so well with this whole "let's not suffer massive coronary problems when I'm forty" plan, then why (you may well ask) am I mentioning it in my blog? Well, it is true that part of being a healthy little meat-sack is eating right - ensuring that my body has all of the vitamins it needs to keep itself going. However there is also the whole (and I am loathe to say this word) exercise thing that has to be done as well, so that my body knows that yes, I do still need those legs and lungs (also, so that I can have wicked abs...abdominal muscles like sections of a Hershey Bar.)

There are many ways in which one could attempt to become physically fit - running, cycling, swimming, going to the gym...the list just goes on and on. Unfortunately for myself, I'm not really at the point where running is a viable option, I hate cycling on the road (I don't feel safe at all), I'm not big on swimming for...reasons, and if I wanted to see a bunch of guys whose heads are too small for their body then I'd go to the circus (at least there I wouldn't feel as if they were constantly judging me...)

To this end I have had to find alternate methods of being "active", as it were. On the short list are: yoga (to increase my flexibility), tai-chi (it's a more effective martial art than you think), bellydancing (which I only put on the list so that I had an excuse to watch people do it - it looks so very cool), and playing expert drums on Rock Band 3 (it's a lot more physical exertion than one would expect). There is, however, one final method that I attempted last night: Zumba.

So, I wanted to let you know about my experiences with the whole "Latin Dance as Exercise" thing that the Zumba people have going on. I initially expected, as I'm sure most people would, that it would just be horrible and stupid and I wouldn't get anything from it at all. I could not have been more wrong. By the end of the half-hour of bouncing around my lounge-room I was sweating, my body was sore, and I had that "good" feeling about myself that I get when I exercise properly. But it was more than that - it was (I will begrudgingly admit) fun. Seriously, I would never have expected just how much fun it was going to be.

I loaded up the routine (it went for an hour, but I only had time for half of it) and stood there, thinking to myself "this could be heaven or this could be hell" (sorry, once I started typing it, I couldn't stop.) Suddenly this really happy, perky, and fit (in both senses of the word) lady was on the screen, with two equally attributed ladies in the background - "Great", I thought, "Hell it is then..." - and then we actually got into it. I will admit, I must have looked like the Star Wars Kid. Still, there was something so...gratifying I guess...about being able to pull off the steps that the people on screen were performing, and having the lady praise me for it. Yes, I know she was a recording, and I know she'll say that even if I mess up majorly, but there's some part of my brain that just...it feels nice ^_^

Anyway, if you're looking for a form of exercise which doesn't force you to leave the house, which doesn't seem to make time drag on and on and on, and which is actually kind of enjoyable, then I would recommend Zumba to you. I seriously still cannot believe that I just said that, but there it is. I would, however, probably advise that you do it alone. If you're like me, then it's probably not something that you want other people to see you doing. Oh yeah, and wear loose fitting clothing (or just do it in your boxers - you're alone, who cares what you wear, as long as you're comfortable!)

The moral of this story is that, when I am fit and flexible, I will be able to really start getting into something that my friends and I have wanted to do for a while now (remembering that "a while" is a relative term.) At some point last year, Squiggles made the announcement that he wanted to learn how to do parkour or free-running (I'm still not sure which one he wants to do, actually) and he invited myself, Spud, and a couple of other people to form a club where we try and teach ourselves how to do it and such...It will either be really really cool, or someone (or multiple someones) will end up in traction...

There Seems To Be A Disparity Between The Two Aspects Of This Holiday...

There is a tradition, I have been told, which dictates when we are supposed to take down our Christmas decorations. This, however, does not surprise me - after all, there are many traditions surrounding the holiday season. These range from the overtly religious (such as lighting the menorah) to those with more social inclinations (such as the giving of gifts to your family and friends.) As someone who has some interesting issues with obsessing over things being "just right", I find traditions fascinating, and I think that it is often important to follow them (assuming no-one is, you know, hurt or anything...) simply because it is traditional.

There, however, are a couple of traditions which I tend to like more than others. For instance I'm quite fond of the way that people open Advent Calendars to start the countdown to Christmas - even though the advent starts on the fourth Sunday before December 25th, and so most people open their Calendars either too late (or too early, in very rare occasions...) I'm also fond of the tradition of wearing paper hats whilst eating Christmas Dinner, for no other reason that the fact that it has always been done (interestingly enough, as far as I can tell, this practice also dates back to Saturnalia, read the wikipedia article I linked above...) The tradition I enjoy most of all, however, is a celebration which I call Dwainemas. It's basically celebrated in the same way that Tino's family celebrate the solstice - I just wanted to give it a cool name...

The tradition that I mentioned in my opening, however (i.e. the removal of Christmas decorations neither before, nor after, Epiphany - January 6th) has somehow been superceeded by another tradition that seems to be sneaking closer and closer to the start of each year. A tradition that, in its own right, probably shouldn't exist (well, okay, I'll get to that point later...like...in a couple of months...) A tradition which is pushed onto us by shops in their insidious attempts to push consumerism and such onto us. Not that I'm particularly anti-consumerism. Indeed, I like purchasing things as much as the next guy. Still, though, I think that this is going just a little too far...Maybe I'm just getting old...

Oh, but I am yet to tell you of the action taken by the supermarkets that has managed to draw such ire from me. What could they have possibly done to offend me so? The answer, dear Internet friends, is this. Can't quite tell what that is, netizens? Well..admittedly that image is a little blurry, but the one that I took has my mother's crutch in the photo (she broke her leg a little while ago) and she now refuses to let me put anything that is attached to her in any way on the internet anywhere (after a picture I once put on Facebook embarrassed her slightly...) Anyway, the picture is of Easter Eggs.

Yes, that's right, Easter Eggs. I cannot believe that, as little as one week after Christmas ended, various shops around Australia (I'm looking at you Woolworths) began advertising the fact that you could purchase Hot Cross Buns and Easter Eggs to prepare for the "upcoming holiday". What upcoming holiday? Australia Day?! I just...I find it so incredible that people would be willing to purchase these things for the express purpose of using them at Easter so long before it actually occurs. For one thing, the buns will go stale. Secondly, and more concerning, is that any chocolate bought for Easter at this time of year is going to be eaten well before the holiday actually arrives, and I don't want anybody eating anything that was meant for me, without having had me offer it to them first.

I mean, sure this allows us to eat multitudes of delicious food before the time of year that it's meant to be eaten. Many people I know have long lamented the fact that you can only purchase Cadbury Cream Eggs at a certain time of year. But still, if you're going to start selling them now, then you may as well just bump up the price a little and put them on sale year round. It may slightly defeat the supply/demand chain that makes them sell so well when they are available, but that's what the price increase is for.

So here's the deal, supermarkets of Australia. You stop pushing your holidays into my face before the current one has technically ended, and I won't be forced to sit here and do absolutely nothing to stop you...That's right, you think about the consequences of that. In fact, and better yet, how about you don't start selling things for a holiday that is two holiday blocks away. Australia Day is yet to come to us, and you're already selling Easter things. Really. Shame. Tut. Tsk.

The moral of this story is that, whilst it might seem that I'm having a small rant about consumerism and how the major supermarkets play on our love for giving/receiving gifts in the holiday period, I am in fact simply bitter about the fact that I can't really have a "full Easter". This is, of course, because of a two-fold issue caused by a combination of my improved diet regime, and the fact that I'm lactose intolerant. Well, nuts to you, milk chocolate, I prefer your darker brother anyway. He knows where all the good nightspots are. He knows how to have fun. He can introduce me to people, man...

By The Might Of Zeus' Beard, What Are You Listening To Child?

Everybody, I have come to find, has a secret shame. More often than not, in fact, it isn't just one secret shame that they are harbouring, but indeed quite the number. Today I've decided to talk to you about one of my favourite shames - although I suppose it's really not so secret, and really it does seem to be shared by so many people (some of whom, for reasons that are completely unknown to me, try to hide it substantially more vehemently than others...)

Before I divulge the full topic of today's blog, however, I wanted to share with you an idea that I had whilst driving back from Inverell with my brother after Christmas last year. If anybody has driven basically anywhere inside Australia in the past year-and-a-bit, then they would have seen the "Jesus - All About Life" posters that the Christian folks have been putting up about the place in (what I assume) is an attempt to subconsciously get drivers (who would only see the signs out of the corner of their eye) to acknowledge Jesus.

Nice try, guys. You get a 7 on the sneakiness scale for that one (I adjusted for general experience with stealth, and usual levels of overtness, and so forth).

My plan, on the other hand, is somewhat more overt. What I am, one day, going to do is make up a sign that copies that "Jesus" sings in every detail - except I am going to introduce a slight rewording on their theme. Instead of "Jesus - All About Life" on my posters, what I intend on having displayed about the place is a series of signs espousing something along the lines of "Zues, All About Getting Busy With Mortals". I mean, if we're going to have these signs for one deity, then we may as well make them for a series of them. If you can come up with any for any other gods, then please feel free to leave a comment ^_^.

Anyway, onto what I initially intended this blog to be about - cheesy pop music. That's right, happy bubblegum pop that, somehow, no matter what kind of mood you are in, convinces some part of your brain to just bounce up and down, and boogie on around. I'm talking about songs like Stacie's Mom, Doctor Jones, and Do It With Madonna. Songs that, whilst the majority of the asinine the lyrical content in the world is located within, you put on loudly when no-one else is home and jive around in your underpants.

Looking at my iPod, I can tell you that those three songs mentioned above (along with a couple more like Can't Fight The Moonlight, and so forth) are definitely in my most played - the walk to work goes much faster when I'm in my cheese-zone. Of course, this kind of music isn't just limited to songs from the late 1990s or early 2000s, oh no no no. My dad, I know for a fact, is not only an enourmous ABBA fan, but he's also quite the fannalow (which is, I believe, the scientific term for a Barry Mannilow fan...)

Regardless of when the songs originate from, however, the point remains the same - everybody secretly enjoys them, but nobody is really willing to admit it. Well, I say that enough is enough, it's time to cast off the shackles of socially appropriate music and wave our dayglo banners proudly in the air. Nuts and Nerts to all those who would make us listen differently. Let's organise a street party! It would be amazing, in a very 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' kind of way...And who didn't love that film?

The moral of today's story is that, now that I've started my confession process about just how much I enjoy this kind of music, I feel much much better. It's wonderful to get something like that off your chest. Really, try it! Tell me what kind of music you like that you just know you shouldn't - specific song examples are appreciated to. Come on, embarrass yourself...You know you want to...

There Once Was Something Here [Fiction Friday, Part 1]

Hey Guys - What follows below is my first entry for "Fiction Friday". The story will be continued weekly until it ends (goodness knows how long that will be...) so let me know if you're enjoying it or what-have-you. I am calling the story "There Once Was Something Here."

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Prologue

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Serra threw the first punch. It's an important fact to remember, especially if you happen to bear witness to a very public fight, and most importantly if that fight happens to be between a college aged male and a very sharp looking woman in her mid thirties.

Fortunately for Tyson, he did not have to spend a great deal of brainpower on recalling who attempting to strike first. This was, however, entirely due to the fact that he was the university aged male who happened to have been called out by Serra as he tried to duck into the skatewear shop unnoticed.

"It's time to end this, boy..." she yelled, as if trying to draw the greatest size crowd she could - urging the world to see her work, "You and I, here and now..." The mass of shoppers parted, forming a ring around the two, seemingly unable to tear themselves away from the commotion that was unfolding before them.

"...I can't...like...fight you..." Tyson meekly whimpered, "You're...like...a girl..." The crowd closed in tighter, forcing the two together.

"You're...like...a girl..." Serra spat back mockingly, "Stand up for yourself - Use what you were taught and fight me, or come back home boy." She faked a lunge towards Tyson, who cowered back slightly - the crowd widened their berth to avoid any collateral damage in what they anticipated to be quite an involved battle. "You're pathetic, really, from the moment you walked into my class...I knew this day would come..." Serra cracked her neck threateningly, "I just didn't realise it would be so...public!" Pleasure oozed from the honeyed syllables of her final word, as she hurled her fist towards Tyson with alarming speed.

Tyson froze in position as the events of the past two months flashed before his eyes - starting out at university, meeting the twins, and then all that business with 'the academy'...'The Academy' - That's what caused this whole issue to start in the first place. If he'd only stayed away...But he knew deep down that he couldn't have avoided it, even if he'd wanted to. As Serra's fist connected with his chin he thought back over the events that led up to this point. As he fell backwards he wondered if he could have done it differently. As he crumpled to the floor he decided that it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Things are the way they are.

"Things are the way they are" - He'd heard that so many times recently that it was starting to lose all meaning. He giggled slightly, to himself. From his position he could hear Serra's heartbeat through the floor...LubDub...He could hear Serra's heartbeat and things are the way they are. He giggled to himself again.

"Things are the way they are." - LubDub.

"Things are the way they are." - LubDub.

"Things are the way they are..." - Lub

He remembered his first day of university.

Link To Next Part

I'm A Level 40 Woolworths Group Patron, With A 10 Level Amcal Multiclass, And 5 Levels Of Dabbling Into Priceline

I realised recently (I say recently, but this blog has been sitting as a seven word note in my phone since the 21st of December) that I have accumulated a number of items that allow to keep track of my loyalty to various outlets - "Points/Rewards Cards" is what I believe the layman would refer to them as...Although I suppose that, given they are actually titled such, that makes perfect sense. Anyway, one may recall that I discussed previously about how I made my work more enjoyable by turning it into something like a video game - and I have since realised that this is exactly what these businesses are doing for me with their reward schemes. A cunning plan indeed.

When I think back upon it, this all really started (for me, at least) before I moved to Sydney. I was still a humble student, just trying to make the most of my meager fortnightly allowance, when suddenly I was approached by woman who proffered me a way to (potentially) have a substantially larger food budget - on the condition that I carried around a little card with me, and used it to accumulate "points" by purchasing things at any of their chained stores.

I ran the proposition over in my head (as I always tend to do when someone tells me to do something like this) and came to the conclusion that, since it is a free service, I haven't particularly got much to lose (I also read the Terms and Conditions, I'm not a sucker, and if there are going to be any charges in the future, I want to know about it...) So I signed myself up to receive the occasional promotional email, and soon I was presented with my very own little orange membership card. Spiffy.

I soon found that the number of these cards I owned increased steadily, until I had three in my possession. The Woolworths one (which, after some period of time, actually began to function like a Frequent Fliers card as well, so I guess that kind of makes it 3 cards, and 4 services that I have...), a Priceline card (because I buy my hair stuff from there), and an Amcal one (because, before I moved back to Bathurst, I used to buy my diet products from there.) The Priceline and Amcal cards have actually served more purpose than the Woolworths one, due to the fact that, by using the card, I receive an amount of "store credit" that can be used at a time of my choosing (and yes, I am aware that they have most likely inflated their prices to reflect this, but if I wasn't using the card then I'd still be being hit by the inflation, and wouldn't be getting anything from the arrangement...)

It wasn't until a couple of months ago, however, that I made the connection between, say, points earned from Frequent Flier things and my PSN Gamer Score. Sure, the two don't directly affect one another (yet...) but they're giving me a series of points that I can spend on a number of rewards... Rewards that will make my everyday life better/easier in ways that range from minuscule to substantial... It is, if you will accept the metaphor, almost as though they've played an RPG before and are aware of the level up process. I can imagine the conversation that they must have had: "Hey guys, we could totally appeal to people's inner nerds by giving them Talent Points to spend on personal attributes..." "Aren't personal attributes a little difficult to increase simply by buying things at our stores...People will question it..." "Yeah, you're right...I know - we'll just give them things, things we produce easily...We'll call them rewards!" "Rewards Points!!" "We'll be billionaires...again!!"

Well, perhaps not, but a guy can dream, can't he? Speaking of dreaming, I'm going to go and spend my Woolies points on a some kind of "super-metabolism" ala The Sims. Maybe I'll see if I can get that "no bills, ever" upgrade while I'm at it...

The moral of this story is that, whilst distinguishing fantasy from reality is an important part of being able to function properly in society, it is okay to take a break from normality every once-in-a-while in order to...shall we say...enhance your reality. Or, admittedly, if you're me, then you occasionally need to take breaks from being a "spacked out weirdo" in order to properly interact with the rest of the world. But, really, who do you think gets more enjoyment from life? I know that I'm pretty darn happy, and I'm sure that the more "loosely attachment" members of my audience would find the same.

Familiarity Breeds Comfort, Not Contempt

I have, it has been noticed, a small problem with trying new things. This, however, is one of the many things that I intend of rectifying about my personal situation this year (amongst the others are attempting to get myself back down to a healthy weight - hence the Weigh-In Wednesdays - and take lessons for my cello.) To this end I have made it my goal to expose myself to things that I have never before experienced - primarily, at this stage anyway, this involves eating new foods.

Now, eating new foods may not be something that you would personally consider that much of a challenge. For me, on the other hand, it can be exceedingly difficult - if there is even the slightest amount of doubt in my mind that what I'm about to eat will be nothing other than extremely delicious I kind of interally 'wig out', if you will. It has been difficult for me to actually get my hand to my mouth, at times.

This incapacitation when faced with different foodstuffs has, admittedly, been the prompt for a couple of quite amusing escapades (well, amusing to me, anyway) including the first time I can remember eating olives. Last year I was visiting my friend Marija with Andy, and we were making little pizzas when I was asked if I wanted olives on mine. I politely declined, stating that I'd never had them before, and I didn't think I'd like them. I was then prompted (I say prompted, but it turned, after a couple of minutes, into amusing badgering, and then into someone trying to stick an olive up my nose...) for a while to just try the olive. In the end my hands were held so I couldn't retaliate, and the olive was placed in my mouth by another party. It was, admittedly, delicious, and I now have them at every opportunity (which reminds me, I need to buy some more today, to have with lunch tomorrow...)

Ever since the new year, however, when I got into my whole "healthy eating, no more take-out unless it's a special occasion" regime, I have been cooking my own lunches (dinner and breakfast are taken care of differently, but that is another post for another time...) It was not long before I realised that cooking myself a simple variation on the same meal every day was...well...boring...This is when I went into what I shall term my 'bento-phase', which soon proved both too time-consuming and funds-consuming to remain sustainable (although it was delicious...Oh goodness yes...)

This, then, has led me to where I am now. Sitting here, with my lunchbox staring at me...challenging me to eat its contents...knowing that, come 1pm, I will have no choice but to consume its innards or suffer the pangs of low blood-sugar. Over the past two weeks I have led myself up to the point where I am more than comfortable to eat capsicum (which I now really enjoy), cabbage, avocado, olives, and various spice agents (mustard seed, paprika, etc.) - but none of this was really very adventurous. I mean, I've always like avocado, and cabbage is basically lettuce. Capsicum is a special situation...I mean, if Chairman Takeshi Kaga can bite into a raw bell-pepper as though it was an apple, I don't see what's stopping me from eating it raw in little cubes.

Today, on the other hand, marks a real change for me. Today I am going to eat something that I prepared using chilli. This, for me, is pretty cool - mostly because I don't really like spicy things (mouth-pain is a particularly woeful nemesis of mine...) but I have endeavoured to build up a tolerance, and really get into it. This is not only because of the health benefits that chillis are supposed to have, but also because I would like to be able to go out and enjoy something like Thai, Indian, or Mexican food with Andy, Lydia, Spud, et al.

The moral of this story is that there are a couple of new TV series that I've watched recently that I really think I can get into. I may, come to think of it, do a couple of micro-reviews in a couple of posts time. As a quick...mini-preview...I suppose, I shall divulge to you the names of a few shows that (I believe) you should be watching: No Ordinary Family, Jimmy's Food Factory, & Tower Prep - they are really quite cool, each in their own way. A show that, alternatively, you should avoid like the plague is Todd & The Book Of Pure Evil. It was poorly written, the acting was worse than a D-Grade horror film, and it held more cliche than what is behind this link.

Theme-Day Tuesdays

Howdy howdy howdy Internet-Land, and how are you all on this fine and (well, in Bathurst at least) exceedingly overcast Tuesday? Personally I am great - I am in an excessively cheerful mood, and I have an awesome outlook on how the day is going to go. Apparently, I'm either one regeneration about caring when it comes to how old I'm getting, or I've started aging backwards - kind of like a human version of the universe (if one subscribes to the expanding/shrinking universe theory, that is.)

Alternatively, it could be a combination of the weather (I love rainy days, or even days where it just threatens rain constantly) and the fact that I didn't have to start work until 10am today. Even though having the late shift at my job means that I don't get to go home until 6pm, there is something so satisfying about being able to sleep in so late and just...I dunno...writhe around trying to soak up as much comfort as you can in those last few moments before the alarm goes off for the final time, I guess. The combination just gets me set for a great day ahead.

Another perk of not having the 8am shift at work is that I get to take the bus, instead of having to either catch a taxi, or wake up an hour earlier in order to walk to work. Speaking of walking, does anybody ever get the urge, when they are in a place with lots of twisty lanes or aisles that don't really separate from each other for very long, to get a bunch of friends and pretend that you're playing real-life Pac-Man? Well, if you do, you may be pleased to know that yesterday Lydia and myself spent a great deal of time running from the ghosts that were Spud, Squiggles, and Emma (not that they knew, at first, what was going on...) inside Target. It was most fun, I haven't seen Lydia giggle so much in a shopping centre since...well...ever I think.

But anyway, back to my trip to work - this morning on the bus I had a brainwave. I tend to have them on the bus, or waiting for the bus (I actually have a note in my phone about 'back-up-blogs', in case I can't think of anything, from the fact that my mind wanders whilst waiting for my public transport.) I was thinking about how people have theme-days in their lives, often without actually noticing them. 'Casual Friday' at workplaces that are more frequently quite formal is a good example of this. 'Casual Fribsday' at workplaces that are constantly trying to undermine your personal freedoms and, everyone is quite sure, are evil (almost overtly so) is a not-so-good example (but I couldn't resist the Better Off Ted reference. I mean, seriously, why cancel a show that is clever, funny, and really just quite entertaining...?)

What I thought I would do, then, is have a series of theme-days, not just for the blog (although I do intend on having at least one theme-day for the blog, which I shall discuss shortly), but rather for my general life as well. Okay, so I say a series, but really what I mean is one theme day for my general life, and maybe one or two for the blog. But you should know, but now, that hyperbole is somewhat of a weakness of mine (when I'm not being exceedingly literal, of course...)

Indeed, though, I have decided that from now on I am going to have 'Weigh-In Wednesdays', as a group of friends and I are trying to lose weight and get fit and all that junk. I could have, of course, weighed myself on any day of the week (as long as it is consistent) but seriously, who wants to have 'Tummy-Check Thursdays' or 'Fatty-Fatty-Fat-Fat Fridays' (alliteration, I believe, is key to a good theme-day, it's why 'Casual Friday' hasn't taken off in more workplaces around the world.) So tomorrow I weigh myself, and see if my diet is working - it should, because I occasionally do preliminary weigh-ins just to see, you know, how much various bodily functions have reduced my weight by (it's more fascinating than disgusting, which is the most important thing.)

As for the blog, I have decided that I am going to have 'Fiction Fridays'. This is the concept that I came up with today on the bus that prompted the whole inevitable spiel that was this blog post. Basically, what will happen is that, on Fridays, instead of a rant (as you normally get, and are indeed getting now) you will receive a piece of fiction that I have written - the next part in an ongoing serial, if you will. Think of it like Passions - The Novel. Except mine will be better written. And mine will make more sense. The theme is, most likely, going to be my attempt at writing a story-line for a fighting game that is actually coherent and plot-driven.

If this sounds like something that would interest you, please let me know. If it sounds like the most pants idea of all time, also let me know. I want to keep you guys happy, after all.

The moral of this story is that one day I am going to dress up in a blue shirt, and make myself really really pale. I shall, for this day, call myself Inky. I am then going to convince three of my friends to dress up in a similarly pallid fashion, only each wearing one of the following coloured shirts: red, pink, or, orange. I shall then call them Blinky, Pinky, and Clyde, respectively. Following this, we will walk around Big W, Target, or somewhere similar until we find a person wearing all yellow. At this point we will chase them until they figure out our game, take some kind of medication, and beat us up. It will be ever-so-much fun. Life is magical ^_^