Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in aquaventure's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, November 26th, 2009
1:44 pm	More psychobabble. "It's American thanksgiving this weekend" a friend, Bree, said to me as we were walking down the hall. "Is it? Oh." I replied nonchalantly. "The day when the American Pagans were freed from British opression!" she shouted, punching the air with a fist. I paused. "You mean the American Pilgrims, don't you?" I asked, looking at her. "No," She said, shaking her blonde hair back and forth prettily. "The pagans. That's why they left Britain. They were being persecuted by the Christians." "Uh...sweetie, the pilgrims WERE Christian. They left Britain because it was their beliefs that was being persecuted, or something along those lines. I think Britain was going through an Atheist period, or something similar. Or maybe they just wanted everyone to join the Church of England, I don't know." "You're making that up. They were Pagans" "I swear, I'm not! Honestly, go look it up. They were Christians! It's why there's a heavy amount of Christian presence in America today." She paused for a moment, considering. "Well, if they weren't Pagans, then I don't really care" she announced, flouncing down the hall. She's a sweet girl. But very much into Wicca, and hadn't bothered to research it. She was astounded to realize that as a founded religion, it's only been around 50-60 years or so. Strange lass. So to all my American Pagan friends, have a happy thanksgiving. Don't forget to wrap your sacrifices in wreaths of vervain and meadowsweet before you plunge the knife into their hearts and toss them in the bog, mm'kay? (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 22nd, 2009
10:06 pm	Huzzah. I'm Offically a child of the 90's. So, I've been talking with my biochemistry professor about my rather lackluster grades. She's found it amazing that I can answer pretty much any question that she puts to me verbally, but when you put me in front of an exam, for some reason I often just bomb it. I also have a bit of an issue with studying - I can't seem to focus on a textbook for longer than perhaps 40 minutes. She recommended that I go to the student study centre to go and get some "guides". I tried everything they suggested, but still couldn't manage to focus. We did this back and forth for about a week before they tenatively suggested that I go and see my doctor, on the chance that I have ADHD. Another week and a few written tests later, and Dr. Warden told me that I scored very high on both the clinical depression scale and ADHD - apparently they're interchangeable. I got a prescription for the standard Ritalin, which, after trying it didn't sit too well with me. It was a good thing I didn't get too into it before my doctor phoned be back and told me to return the prescription, since apparently my family has a history of depression (which is news to me). So the Ritalin was returned, and another drug picked up - effexor, a seratonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor. Peculiarly, he mentioned that the drug should take about a week to work. Oddly enough, I believe I felt the effects on the first day. This was accompanied with some minor symptoms of seratonin poisioning - tremors in the limbs and so forth. A greatly decreased apptetite for carbohydrates, or indeed, any food in general. Seriously, I've gone for a few days without anything more than four asian pears and a couple of chicken breasts. Considering my enormous appetite that I generally have, particularly where sweets are concerned, it's a bit strange. I'm beginning to wonder if I don't simply have a naturally low neuroconductor level where my pleasure centres are concerned. Oddly enough, I've not slept in four days either, with no ill effects. Phyiscally, I'm fine, and my mental accuity hasn't dropped either, after I tried a few of the more difficult spacial-logic tests. I'm not quite sure what to think of that - I feel more awake and well-rested than I can remember. You'd think that I'd have noticed it by now, but as a few of you know, my father in particular employed....(ahem) extreme negative reinforcement measures whenever my brother or I became overly emotional during our formative years - (chuckle) you can feel a slight raised bone ridge on the parietial lobe of my skull where I recieved a fracture that went untreated for crying at the table when I was six or so. Needless to say with such a peculiar upbringing, my brother and are quite odd. I didn't display or even feel most emotional responses in my teen and young adult years. I found that emulating them for whatever social situation was called for worked quite well to allay suspicion after a concerned teacher wrote to my mother, saying that I didn't seem to respond in the same way as other kids - anything to keep me out of the therapist's couch was fine by me. Heck, one claimed I was a sociopath. My brother has issues as well, but he...erm...well, doesn't really have middle gears as far as his emotional range is concerned. Anyways, with that being said, I've wondered if simply being sad hasn't been more or less my baseline for most of my life. As I mentioned, I feel quite different, although it's quite hard to articulate. In a good way, mind you. We'll see what else comes. I expect all of you to intervene if my basic personality changes too much :). (17 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, November 21st, 2009
5:13 pm	I think our family has a double expressed "Weird Gene" My fourteen year old niece was hanging around a building site today, waiting for her dad to get off of work. As I sat on a spool of wire, I noticed her toying with a half metre strip of junk drywall. As I watched, she grabbed both ends in her hands, and rammed the strip forcibly into her chest, breaking it cleanly in two. She lifted both pieces to the sky, and screamed triumphantly "NINJA BOOBS!" .....I think I was the proudest uncle in the world today. (14 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 18th, 2009
9:37 am	Glee! when you hear your brother attempt to solicit phone sex from a random telemarketer, you know everything's going to be OK. Even made up for the puking this morning. EDIT: The telemarketer was male. And kept up the sales pitch through "Guess what? I'm out right now. Jerking it. You've got a very sexy voice, man. Like audio chocolate. Can you moan for me? Come on, just a little one? I'm almost there, and that would push me over the edge. I might even buy what you're selling" (22 Comments |Comment on this)
6:25 am	Ugh. Waking up the morning of your biochem midterm to puke is no way to start the day. I can imagine how phoning that in would go: "Yeah, heather? I can't take the exam today" "Why not?" "My lysozymes didn't have the appropriate bonding affinity to the peptidoglycan linkages in the bacteria cell wall" "Have you been taking the appropriate cofactors to form a complete holoenzyme?" "Well, I'm certain 7-11's food has enough metaloids in it to pretty much garuntee me complete holoenzymatic formation for life" "I SEE" (13 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 17th, 2009
6:22 am	Nonsense So, a friend lent me his free-to-air satellite system for me to mod so he could decrypt the dish network and bell expressvu for free. (Hey in my opinion, I didn't ASK for these damned radio waves to be sent to my house. If you don't wanna have people decrypting it, use a tight beam!) And unfortunately left it on a late-night BBC2 broadcast. I don't know the name of the show, but the people kept reciting this odd mantra "there will be hell to pay" at LEAST 3 times every couple of minuites. I think it was some kind of gag show. I was dozing on the sofa, a copy of "Lenhinger's principles of biochemistry" on my face, and my brain kept translating this as "Hell Toupee". I had a very disconcerting dream of being chased by Stephen Harper's hair, who having absorbed all the nutrients and brains from the withered dessicated husk of the man it inhabited before, needed a new host body. I think I'll stick to the India networks from now on when I want background chatter - at least I won't understand what the heck they're saying. (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, November 14th, 2009
7:06 pm	Philosophy and Star Trek. Cam and I were sitting on the sofa, watching DS9 episodes, having finished off Voyager and The Next Generation a few months ago . Major Kira and some Cardassians were slugging it out on screen. "She must really hate them after the occupation." Cameron said, raiding my store of coffee crisps for the umteenth time, crinkling up the wrapper and tossing into my hydroponics nutrient vat. "mm-hmm, " I agreed, eyeing the wrapper bobbing towards my water pump intake nervously. "I suppose she has reason to, considering the labour camps and all that." "True. They had it coming" "I don't nessecarily agree with that". The wrapper had drifted against the intake feed which was now making a rather desperate, wet suckling noise. I rose to dislodge the wrapper plastered against the debris net. "If you put anyone in a position of power, they invariably come to abuse it. Take the most unassuming, decent person and give them a position of authority over anyone else, and eventually they come to believe that they're better than their charges. Seems to be part of human nature." "Well, they're hardly human. Are you saying the Bajorans if they were the technologically advanced species would treat the Cardassians in the same manner?" "Well, not the SAME manner". I tossed the errant wrapper into the garbage and listened to the renewed trickling of nutrient being delivered to my orchids and jasmine plant. "They're a lot more personal. Probably every Bajoran household would have a Cardassian slave or several and they'd be treated poorly because they didn't receive the blessing of the Prophets or some nonsense. And they'd do other cruel things. You know that bony growth on Cardassian's foreheads that looks kinda like a spoon?" "Yeah.." Cameron said guardedly, sensing my macabre shift in mood "The Bajorans would come up with a device. Small, handheld with a ring of iron teeth. Whenever they were about to dig into their Emissary-O's or whatever the breakfast cereal of choice was on their planet. They'd beckon to their servant, have him kneel in front of them and press the device to his forehead. Ka-Chunk! It'd rip into his skull, severing the bone and stem neatly and clean off the flesh while the slave died of massive cerebral hemmoraging, twitching on the floor while his opressor calmly ate. Then when the Bajoran was done, they'd toss their "spoon" into the waste recycler and calmly order another slave during their day with the first task to clean up the mess the last one made." My brother's enthusiastic chewing gradually slowed. "Dude, you're sick do you know that? I hope you never worm your way into some scientific advisory council. People would never do that. " "Yeah, right. Dude, you saw the utensils made of human bone in my anthropology textbook. Need I go into the inquisition? The pyramid of torment, the pear of agony, the..." "OK, enough!" he said, placing the sorry remains of his Coffee Crisp on the table to melt. "You're a sick fuck" I gave him a smile. "Probably not until I get into a position of authority. Then you'd better watch your femur, because I had an idea for-" "Just shut up." "O.K." (19 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 10th, 2009
8:34 am	For any of you foodies out there who enjoy freshly baked bread as much as I do,but have very little time to prepare it, here's a recipe that lets you have a no-fuss dough that you store in the fridge for up to two weeks, and saw a hunk off whenever you want to bake it. They say it gets better as it ages. What'll they think of next? (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, November 8th, 2009
9:56 pm	Up on the roof.....      Happening to glance out my window the other night, I was very surprised to find a gorgeous Aurora out. It lit up the sky in a curtain of green yellow and red fire. It was so gorgeous, I had to get out of bed and made my precarious way over to the north side of the building and up the rickety ladder to the roof. Had I any brains, I would've remembered that the flat side of my roof had been recently tarred, and therefore not appropriate to sitting and gazing at the cosmic display. I opted to go to the other side of the building (Picture the roof as a large "H") with the normal crossing method these days being a one inch wide by 8 inches long (With the long portion placed perpendicularly to the ground) piece of lumber that had been put in place to stop any errant equipment from harming the stonework along that side of the building during the tarring process.      Normally, this wouldn't present a challenge - my brother and I have walked, ran or (literally) tangoed across this one inch foothold through most of the summer. Mostly to amuse workers, or freak out mum if she was on the street below. I dunno if it was the recent sleep or general illness that I felt but about 3/4 of the way across, I slipped, fell, twisted and grabbed the board before I could complete the plunge. After an initial bout of panting, I stared into the dim three story depth underneath me, made more surreal by the lack of illumination usually provided by the courtyard's sodium-arc lamp. 'Huh. I should really clean the roof of my car more' I thought, attempting to haul myself back up. After failing three times, and having a fierce inner debate whether it was a result of my illness or my thickening middle. I began to shuffle my hands, slowly working my way towards the closest wall, and the inviting foothold provided by a tenant's window.     After I worked my way towards the wall, I placed my foot on the ledge of the window and started to heave myself up, when the familliar "swoosh-chunk" sound of a window opening reached my ears. "Who the hell are you?" I heard a voice exclaim.    I turned to meet the bespeckled eyes of one of our elderly  teanants, gazing flabbergasted at me. "Oh, Hi Mrs. Petersmire" I said, giving her a smile. "    She looked me up and down. "What the are you doing?"    "Oh, just...checking the brickwork." I said, shuffling my tired hands back and forth. "just making sure nothing was damaged by any of the contractors. You've gotta watch 'em all the time, or they'd never report any damages."      "Um...well, would you like to come in?" She asked, stepping back from the windowsill and drawing her green dressing gown more tightly against her frame as the draft from the window hit her.    "No thank you. It's probably not a good idea to be seen entering a lady's bedroom unacompanied. People might talk!" I said, giving her a grin and a wink to show I wasn't serious. "But if I could borrow your ledge for a moment, that would be very helpful."     She simply stared as I clamored up to the roof's edge with all the grace of a drunken flamingo. "That was innervating" I mutterd to myself, dusting my jacket off and chewing at a splinter in my palm.  The rest of the evening was just me sitting and watching the show, with a few sweet texts between Vince and I. Unfortunately, I wound up falling asleep up there. Was beautiful, but the last thing you want to do in the morning is picking gravel out of your goatee. All in all, it was worth it though. Mind you, I took the ladder down rather than cross the beam again.   (19 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, November 7th, 2009
5:24 pm	bleck      Ugh. The last time I remember being this sick was when I was six and had to take about two weeks from school. Nasty.      Hmm...mostly I try to get people to laugh...seems wrong not trying to...Oh, here's one. I was over at Jason's house, which happens to have those "all in one" casino tables lined with green felt. The guys got a bit nervous when I started muttering probabilities over cards. So they started up the roulette wheel. I placed my chips on 28, not understanding you could bet on red or black, either. The little ball spun,  and groans rang out as it did indeed land on 28.     "You've won" Jason said glumly.    "I won?"     "Yup"    "oh..." I stared at the slowly spinning wheel for a moment or two longer before thrusting my fists into the air and shouting "DABO!" .   ...I don't think I'll be invited back. (20 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 4th, 2009
8:52 pm	The upside of being a contractor.       So, Janise was over the other day, just grabbing a memory card full 'o data when she (strangely) stopped to stroke my sheets. "oooh, what IS this?" She exclaimed, still rubbing.      "Egyptian cotton" I said over my shoulder, clicking and dragging the files to her thumb drive.      "mmmm Egyptian cotton" she purred, pulling out one of my sheets and draping it around her shoulder, rubbing her cheek against it. She paused when she noticed a reddish brown stain spreading out  in about a half -metre circle against the pristine white of the sheets, which she was currently rubbing herself against.      "What's this" she asked, acidly, regarding the colour that she was so busy rubbing her face against a moment earlier.      I turned around to look. "Oh. Blood " I said, nonchalantly, having unknowingly gashed my leg and gone straight to bed during some wall repairs earlier.      Janise started making a high-pitched keening noise, springing up from my bed, and flapping at the stained sheet that she had enjoyed not a few moments earlier. It clung to her frame as he started to run from it, the sheet still persistantly tangled into her clothing and frame. She finally freed herself from it's clutches just in time to hit the back of the sofa, where she fell right next to me, kicking and flailing her arms like a small child having a tantrum. Eventually her limbs slowed their windmilling, and she opened her blue eyes to find my dark brown ones gazing critically down at her. "It's dry for Cthulu's sake"  (17 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009
3:19 pm	My brother's christmas gift!      So, in keeping with our secret geekiness, I decided to get this for my brother's birthday:     That P'taq had better appreciate it, for all he was whining he'd wind up among the dishonoured dead, and never make it to St'VaKor. Still, I worry about what he's going to do with it. The edges are factory dull, too, which is gonna take a hell of a lot of work to get a proper finish on them. (Gets out his 300, 700, 1000, 2000 grit stones) (11 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, November 2nd, 2009
9:54 pm	I know I've said this before.... but I think that's the end of my desktop - keeps on restarting randomly after a few moments. Getting sporadic infinite value on the voltmetre testing for resistance no matter where I try - most of the problem spots on the board test  fine when voltage is applied, so it's probably something in a microcircuity controller - which one, I've yet  to figure out. So it looks like I"m going to have to get another motherboard/video card/processor, ect. Ah well. It was a good computer, although it so bloody dusty that I felt like some sort of second rate indiana jones when I had to open the case. I wouldn't have been surprised to find tiny hieroglyphics carved in the side, and maybe a small civilization of dust people that would worship "the solid one" as a god. They would call me "the lightbringer" and it would be awesome. heee... (13 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 31st, 2009
1:11 am	The problem with using 'bot crawlers scripts are....      They bring you exactly what you tell them to. For instance, looking for metatag data including the word "Funny" with links to video files, I've found out can often bring you videos that make you laugh when you're feeling a bit overworked, and for this, I thank them. For a lark, I edited the bot so it would not ignore the tags "adult" ect. I figure I can take a little more adult humor, and the links that the bot was throwing me lately was rather blase. Oh dear, what a mistake on my part. What people construe to be funny and adult are not exactly what my definition would be. For instance, here's but a small excerpt of a conversation between my beloved boyfriend and I - frankly if I heard this, I'd have dumped my ass, were I in his position. Devon: HI hon! how could I have missed you coming online?  Vince: Dunno?  Devon: Well, I suppose i was distracted by the video of that old woman and the drunk, naked midgit fighting one another. I do wish they'd resolve their differences peacefully.  Devon: <smooch> how was your day? sounded busy  Vince: ? Devon: Umm....nevermind. (much later) Devon: 's interesting. I seem to have switched from drunken naked guy vs.  grandmother fight to live-action smurf porn. How surreal. I do believe I need to end this video feed before the madness sets in. Any further. Although I have to wonder who the hell made those hats. And how they keep the blue dye from running on theerrrnnevermind.  Vince: . . .       You'd think that it was the end of things, but no - my laptop stubbornly refused to shut off, the error message indicated that there was a program that was not terminating because it was either "busy or waiting for a response from you" . When I clicked the program - yup, you guessed which it was - I was unceremoniously directed towards a video (without my consent). At first it didn't seem too bad - a nice toned young man was giving his lover  a massage. They were both naked, her lying face down on a table as he worked the curves of her back and legs with massage oil. It was only after a few moments that  I realized that it wasn't massage oil he was using - it was butter. I was slightly perturbed, but strangely enough my finger seemed paralyzed, and refused to move my stylus to tap the inviting red "x" on the window. The young man started gently scattering a white powdery substance on her back. I thought at first that it was talcum powder or similar before the camera panned to show the dude taking the white powder out of a bag of "Robin Hood All-Purpose flour ". He scattered it across her back while i watched in mute horror, dreading what might come next . All of  sudden, the man started kneading the flour and butter together on the woman's back, occasionally throwing in a (unessecarily hard, in my opinion) slap, while screaming at the top of his lungs "You're a cookie! You're a big cookie, and I'm going to eat you!", While she screamed just as enthusastically "I'm a cookie!" at the end of every one of his shouts. Whatever strange resistance I had to closing the window evaporated as I slammed the laptop shut and yanked the battery, quickly ending the couples strange pairing of gastronomy and the Erotic Arts.      I stood there blinking, and contemplating what level of Zen mastery I'd need to eliminate that memory from my consciousness when there was a gentle rapping on my door. I quickly threw on my Tatty Dressing Gown (tm) and nervously edged the door open a crack. A solemn blue eye regarded me in the hairswidth of space between the door and the frame. "Devon"? My neighbor Judy - who shares a wall with me - inquired. "Yes?" I did my best to sound nonchalant. "I'm not sure what you're watching in there, but could you.....lower the volume, please? I've got an early day tomorrow. "  "Oh sure, i'm sorry about that, it's just that the headphones disconnected from my laptop and...." I faded away, realizing how this sounded. Judy gave me the same solemn stare for three seconds. Clearly she thought I was watching all kinds of freaky porn. I was avoiding her eyes just as surely as she avoided mine after she and her two lovers somehow managed to get stuck in her bedroom closet when the inner knob wouldn't turn, and I had to let them out. Frankly if I HAD been watching freaky porn - really watching it, that is - I'd probably meet her gaze dead on and smile ever so slightly as if to say "Yeah. Your neighbor's a pervert. What are YOU gonna do about it? And don't judge me. I SAW what was in your little boudiour there aside from the man sandwitch you were making for yourself"      Anyways, yeah. That has been my night. And I'm now going to go to bed. And yes, before some smartalec brings it up, I KNOW about the other, much worse shock videos out there. That's just the thing. They were designed to be shocking to other people by whoever produced them (mostly). The one thing that blew my mind was that these people were making these vids because they wanted to - and probably never thought they'd make it into the evil clutches of the internet. I dunno, somehow I just find it weird. ah well. G'nite all!  (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 21st, 2009
4:14 pm	You might be a huge geek if.... So, here's a series of texts between my brother and I:  me: Dude. Can't Focus. Wanna smoke so baaadd. Cam: Weak willed, weak minded insignificant FOOL ! (Quote from Dead House)  Me: That's not very nice. I'm just having a hard time concentrating. Cam: Hath not the potter the power to maketh one vessel into honour and another to dishonour? (Civilization IV)  Me: "There's always Peng" (Dead Space)  Cam: I'm gonna go pick up some tickets for the tea garden later on. Nothing gets the betties in the mood like the gardens. But I'd better drop by medical first and pick up a hypo. From what I hear this ain't Angelina's first visit to the tea gardens. (Bioshock)  Me: "Oh, baby I've been spliced up in ways you've never DREAMED of!" (Bioshock) Cam: This baby can take temperatures of over 5000 degrees! (Starfox)  Me: "Oh, the fire....in my hair...burning..." (Lands of lore III)  Cam: "I want you to find this man and feed, do you understand me? Tear into his mind until every last shred of sanity is consumed!" (Neural Gateway) Me: "You are a remarkable example of a pathetic species." (System Shock 2)  Cam: "Small words. From a small being trying to attack what it doesn't understand" (Star Trek) Me: Dude. -2 points for venturing into movie territory. "What is a drop of rain compared to the storm? What is a voice compared to the choir? How can you choose this cold shell of metal over the symphony of flesh? Our unity is full of wonders that your tiny individuality can not possibly comprehend" (System Shock 2) Cam: "Side effects include, but are not limited to Itching, burning, temporary psychosis, permanent psychosis, hallucinations, homocidal tendencies, grand mal seizures and mild rash" (Starcraft) Me:  "Sounds like something just about every Kindred can enjoy" (Vampire: bloodlines)   (17 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, October 19th, 2009
5:31 pm	@%$#ing doctors....      Ok, so lately I've had an overwhelming urge to smoke. I had no idea why, but even going so far as to have about a 1/4 of a friend's cigarette, which caused some considerable tension with my boyfriend. Curious, since I hadn't had any urge for a cigarette unless I slip into a hot tub, something that I've attributed to the fact that the last cigarette I had was in a hot tub, on a deck that was built over the ocean. Nothing to look at but blue horizon and ocean all around you, since most of the construction involved glass. Beautiful - it might not be the cigarette, so much as the fact it was the last time I saw my aunt.      Lately though, I've been irritable, cranky and snappy with a lot of people. A few people have wonderingly exclaimed that I'm "A normal person now, Dev!" essentially I've been going through the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal. But a simple 1/4 of a cigarette wouldn't be what was causing it. Of course, I nearly tackled a friend the other night in order to obtain a drag. I didn't take one, but it made me even more and more curious. I managed to look through a few of the drugs that my doc had given me recently to attempt to force my ulcerative coalitis into remission. One of the molecules used in a dermal patch that was supposed to be a vasoconstrictor was yup, you guessed it - nicotine. Apparently it helps in 40% of cases for ulcerative colitis, but for the love of Cthulu, can't they ask if you were a smoker at one point?       In other news I'm frankly astounded that I'm conciously capable of recognizing what it was that I wanted and going after it.      Still. We Are Not Amused. Now I have to resist running out and buying a pack of colts. FUUUUUUCCCCKKK! (12 Comments |Comment on this)
12:06 pm	Huzzah! Holy crap, Vince is coming to visit me! This weekend! I'm so excited! ....and a little guilty that he spent so much on me for only a couple of days. It was kind of sudden. I'm picturing a very odd scene in my head. Vince pokes his head out the window, inexplicably clothed in a top hat and monocle, pointing down to a scruffy but loveable child. "You there, boy!" "oo, me?"  "Yes you! Do you know that area with the metal flying birds constructed by the New Mechanical Order?"  "You mean the ones bigger than me?"  vince mutters in an undertone "What a stupid child!", then louder: "Yes the ones bigger than you! "  "I should hope so sir!"  "Well, I want you to go and secure transport for me, boy. Come back in less than half an hour, and I'll give you tuppence. Come back in more than half an hour, and i'll give you naught but the handle of my cane across your back end!" he shouts, brandishing an ebony cane with a silver cap on the top. ......for those of you not in the know, that's a very corrupted version of Alistar Simm's "A Christmas Carol" which my mother insists on watching yearly. Anyways yeah. Gawd, do I need to clean! And possibly get food, too.   (15 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 14th, 2009
9:47 am	I think I'm in trouble with the principle...      So, as a few of you know, I've a fourteen year old niece. My brother and I, being who we are consider a basic knowledge of self defense nessecary, and being schooled in karate and kendo have passed on a few of the more useful, basic styles of fighting on to her.      However, unfortunately during her last visit, I also taught her one of the more painful types of neuropressure. Specifically, if someone's grabbing her, and won't let go, which never to press or hit on their arm to make them do so.     Anyways, so the other day Jade apparently had an argument with her English teacher (of what nature I'm uncertain), who decided to frogarm her to the principle's office. My niece who inherited her father and uncle's dislike of authority figures - particularly when they're touching us unessecarily, decided to put to good use her uncle's lesson and apparently found it quite effective.    Oooh man, did I get my ear chewed off by her mother. I still didn't think it was nessecary to actually physically touch the kid to get them to go to the principle's office, and privately, I applaud her. Still, I think I'm in pretty deep crap with her mum. Personally, I thought she would be THANKFUL I'm trying to take an active role in my niece's education :). (24 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 10th, 2009
7:32 pm	A halloween story for you all.      While at the doctor's office, I happened to run into a friend who told me a very halloween-ish story to me. I don't know if it's true, and she has been known to make things up before just to see if we'd buy it, but it DOES sorta have a true sound to it. parts of it fit - I do know her family lived in Germany until her parents decided to move to Canada.  Anyways, here it is in either the capacity of a good tale, or nod to human creepyness in general.      So, I was sitting at the doctor's office having an incredible amount of blood taken from me by my friend and fellow bio classmate who also happens to be working as a lab-tech there. She stared at the thin vials as they filled and suddenly piped up. "Hey! This reminds me of a story!"       "Dare I ask why you're reminded of a story while watching my life's essence drain, Mrs. Bathory?" I asked.      "Don't flatter yourself, I know you've not been a virgin since four years ago, so you'd be useless to my beauty routine, Peasant.. Anyways, no this is a story about my grandmother. She lived in Berlin just after Word War II. At the time she was very, very lucky. An old family tie managed to get her a job working for the government. Berlin after the war was a horrible place. The Allies and Russians had stripped it of it's wealth, civil services were essentially nil and there was a huge food shortage at the time.     Anyways, my grandmother was walking home, when she noticed a man, obviously blind and crippled, judging from his smoked glasses and cane he leaned heavily on as he walked. He was picking his way amongst the crumbling brickwork, trying to feel out the addresses of the buildings in front of him embossed in metal on most of the walkways. After feeling each one, he'd shake his head and look back and forth occasionally, quite obviously lost.   'Guten tag, mein herr," she said as he approached him "Is there something I could help you with?'   'Guten tag. Yes, there is something you could help me with, if you please. I have a very urgent message that must be delivered today, and I'm lost! Could you point me in the way of the address on this envelope?' He streched out his arm, displaying an address in beautiful calligraphy. She recognized the address on the front of the envelope as the name of a well-respected butcher, famous for keeping his prices relatively low in times of famine, and regarded favourably in her community.    'Actually, I know it quite well. It's on my way home, and would be no trouble to deliver it. Would you like me to take it along for you?"      The man gladly agreed, and gave her the envelope. She began to walk back to her home, but stopped as soon as she was half a block away. The old man was surely lost himself, and might need assistance getting home as well. She walked back to where they had met, and was greeted by a strange sight: The man was no longer shuffling his way along, but slipped gracefully through the crowd, neither bent nor holding his cane. The smoked glasses were also missing, and by the way he avoided pedestrians he didn't need them in the first place. She started towards him, but he was soon lost in the tide of humanity that walked the streets of Berlin.    Finding his behaviour curious, she went to the local police, telling her story and presenting them with the envelope that was given to her. They agreed that it was a peculiar situation, and told her they would deliver the letter themselves, and ask the butcher what it might have all been about. They requested that she stay in the station, in case she was needed as a witness to identify the man whom she had spoken with.     Within an hour, the police returned, obviously shaken. None of the lower ranking constables would talk with her despite her requests to go home. Finally, in another half an hour  the police station's highest ranking officer sat her down in the office and began to tell her what had happened. When the police arrived there, the butcher had tried to snatch the letter from their hands as soon as it was presented to him, but couldn't match the quick reflexes of the young constable holding it. When he failed to get his hands on it, the butcher began to swear at the police and demand that they leave his shop immediately. Finding his behaviour suspicious, they conducted a thorough investigation of his propery. On the ground level, the shop was tidy and hygenic, every surface scrubbed clean, every knife honed to a fine tip and hung properly. The entire shop was a model of German efficiency. In the cellar, the cold room had nothing but cow and pig carcasses. The only other thing of note was a lye pit -commonly used by butchers to remove meat and fat from bones to sell to tanners or to make soap. The higher ranking officers went up to apologize to the butcher for their intrusion. They were just about to shake hands and turn over the letter when there was a shout from the young constable from the basement, where he had lingered. The officers rushed downstairs once again, to find the young officer's quivering hands holding a long pole which he had used to dredge the lye pit with. On the end of it, impaled by the eye socket was a human skull with the spinal column and a few ribs still attached to it.    She was obviously shocked at the story, and very grateful that she didn't eat meat since the war had started. When she asked about the letter, the officer handed it to her very solemnly with an ashen face. It was already open, and she removed the piece of pastecard inside. In the same floral calligraphy, was written a single sentence: "This is the last one I'm sending you today".   (19 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 6th, 2009
7:29 am	strangeness So this morning I was roused from my slumber by my cell phone buzzing insistently in my pocket. I scrabbled against the entwining cloth and finally yanked the ergonomic black rectangle out of my pocket and flipped it open.      "H'lo?" I mumbled into the phone.      "Hello, sir! I was wondering if I could have five minutes of your time?" A pleasant, masculine voice issued from the speaker.       It was 5:00 AM, and my brain wasn't the sharpest, so the possibility of a telemarketer or political party didn't enter my mind . "I s'pose?" I mumbled, my voice rough with sleep.      "Thank you sir! I'm very appreciative!" The caller exclaimed happily.      ....then he hung up. Creepy. (31 Comments |Comment on this)