A new section: University 101.

Well, here's something I can write about daily. University 101, or, those tips that can help every university student get through daily life.

You see, by virtue of being in university, a kid is one of three things, if not a combination.

-Poor
-Hungry
-Tired

So, I will attempt to remedy these situations, at least temporarily, by bringing to light some tips that can be used to sustain a better quality of life.

Without further a due:

=====

University 101: #1-2

#1:
The smellcheck.
The smellcheck is an all encompassing test for anything. Any time you question anything, smell it. If your coffee cream is 3 days past due, smell it. If it smells okay, chances are, it is. If you have (which you obviously do) your laundry on the floor, and hence, you can't remember what shirt is clean, smell the one you pick up. If it dosnt smell like feces, you can pass it off as something else.

"My roommate was cooking something crazy last night, boy did it stink."

#2:
On the topic of coffee cream, here's a surefire way to KNOW if it's bad. Pour a little in the sink. If it separates into little lines, bad, stays creamy, good.

Do not carry babies by thier heads.

So,

I'm sitting in philosophy class, with my other 5 students, out of a class of 70. There's a reason this class has such a low attendance, but I've been here, physically, every day. This guy, though he knows quite a bit about philosophy, is practically a dinosaur.

In other news, my lady returns home soon. This holiday season is looking like a really great time, I can't wait.

Believe it or not, I used my hands, working this weekend. I helped to build a roof, though we couldn't shingle it for the snow, and helped with other stuff around my friend's house.

I have decided to get my drivers license again, but get this... it's 150 frickin bucks! 150 bucks, to get a car, to spend more money on gas and insurance and maintenance, and the another 75!! to get the license that says I'm okay to drive on my own. Man.. kids these days.

The glow.

Now that the glow has warn off a little, at least for me, being a Canadian citizen, I think it's important to think critically and rationally about the events that unfolded last night.

America has a new President-to-be. He is faced with the unimaginable task of literally turning the world around.

Whatever type of thinker you are, or whatever side of the political spectrum you lay on, it is plainly obvious to any rational person; America is a WORLD leader. Had it not been for it's administration's choices, Canada would not be involved in the 'War on Terror'... a war on metaphor.

We are standing on the edge of, what could be, a revolutionary line.

Obama promises to change America. In doing this, he pledges, indirectly, to change the world. I believe him., though, it will be interesting to see what happens when he's given power.

Obama was sure to point out that, in electing him, America has not MADE CHANGE, directly. They have made the CHANCE for REAL CHANGE. The work lays ahead still.

I hope, in time, that Canada finds an Obama. For ONCE, the western world is considering the people outside it's borders. The WORLD community. Canada can change.

If we have a person willing to lead the way, I WILL follow. I WILL do everything I can to assure that the world spins in a new direction.

Forget about your life for a second. We're SITTING in HISTORICAL TIMES. We finally have the POWER to STAND UP.

History

The eve of revolution and CHANGE is upon us.

I feel it more than necessary to pay respect to the new world leader. Listening to him speak, I feel more CANADIAN.

For the first time in my life, I trust and BELIEVE a politician, moreover, a leader.

In a world that can easily leave a person felling completely insignificant, and further, wholly unsafe, it is entirely refreshing to FINALLY see any source of light, at the end of a long, desolate tunnel. My world view has been shaped by continuing poverty, violence and fear. Personally, and for the first time in my short life, I can honestly say that this man, Barack Obama, through his promised shift of American politics, can help START to change the world.

The magnitude of this night in WORLD history can not be overemphasized.

Two Wars
A planet in peril
An economy in it's worst state in a near century.

I believe that a revolution has begun. Culturally, this could change our everything. This could mean a stable and sustainable future for MY children, though the Presidential-Elect is from a different country. My hope is that MY country, strong and free, finds a saviour such as Obama. I finally feel like I CAN make a difference, I CAN be a part of change and further, I CAN make it happen in MY country.

Yes we can, Canada, yes we can.

Hally Happoween.

Good spelling eh?

Have a good one.

Holy History Batman!

Well, hello again folks.

Been a looong time since my last post.

I feel like I finally have things in order at my new place.

School is going well, classes are fine and mostly engaging, though I do feel like I'm re-learning a lot of things I did in the SSW program. The things that are most interesting to me are the learning theories we're covering, that is, HOW we learn, as a people.

It's neat for me to apply it to things I already know about history, and think about how I would incorperate it into a classroom.

We're looking at things such as self-awareness, for instance, a topic I spent an entire semester, a QUARTER of my time at mohawk, studying.

I also found out that by taking courses through the summer, I can shorten my time in University substancially and get out in the workforce, before my peers.

That's all for now.

Kirley = loves men.

ZOMBIES!!!

So,

For those of you who DON'T know this, I am absolutely infatuated with the walking dead. That's right, the upright plauge that IS the undead.

In knowing this, I have found a PERFECT avenue to express my admiration for the stumbling damned. And no, I havn't converted to wiccanism.

On Oct 25th, there is an event here in thunder bay and around the world where, dressed as zombies, we (those involved) will try to beat a world record. That's right... we're all going to learn the dance and, around the world, dance to the tune of Michael Jacksons 'THRILLER'.

www.thrilltheworld.com

I also would STRONGLY invite you all to view this guy's stand up comedy. He's a good buddy of mine, Calwyn. He recently played at Toronto, ON's Yuk Yuk Club.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSRQ-eljGf4

Body Massage.

(whistling...)

Oh! Hello there!
I hardly even saw you, and it`s been so long, I didn`t even recognize you...

Well... How`ve you been?

I've been doing well thanks... I've been up to quite a few things.
I got a new apartment for me and Amy. It's wonderful and I'll be sure to post pictures soon. I move tonight! I will finally have the room to put things on the walls! Newfoundland flag! Che flag!

I'm 4 weeks into University. It's not much different then college. A little more critical thinking, but beyond that... nothing much. My classes are going fine, I could read as a full time job.

I've rediscovered, speaking of school, my favourite college meal. Burritos.

I've also been writing a book. Have a glance below for an excerpt from 'Corporal, a reenactors story'
We carry ourselves, as a society, with almost no regard for what was lost through years of war, that has lead us to this point. We live such easy lives, compared to any soldier, in any combat situation. I think we often forget that. We use ‘freedom’ more as an excuse to get away with things, and separate ourselves then a moral by which to lead our lives. We take for granted the things that were won and often, if not always, forget the things that were lost.

I don’t mean to negate or in any way make unimportant the issues anyone should face daily. I think, however, that given consideration, most problems we have today are a result of, sometimes, a flaw in ourselves and not the fault of anyone else. This being said, most problems we face today are absolutely dwarfed by any issue a person might face in a combat situation. For this, we should be ultimately thankful to the people who paid with their lives, so we can have the problems we have today. They should not be a name on a cross, or an engraved memory in some wall somewhere, but a living historical figure in our day to day lives.

On the beaches of Normandy, a man would disembark from his landing craft, assuming his craft actually made it to shore and evaded the bombers and heavy artillery, to pit himself against a multitude of machine guns, each expending thousands of rounds of ammunition, from multiple angles, in fortified positions, mortars and entire batteries of artillery, hidden and trained snipers firing from cliffs overhead and any other military might protecting the shoreline. If he managed to make his way to the top of the beach, he would be asked to make his way up the Cliffside to take offensive positions against yet more artillery, machineguns and now, entire armoured divisions of German tanks. He would climb the hill willingly. His life will end before lunchtime.

Now, shift forward to present day. In most any high-end neighbourhood, there is a fifteen year old girl begging for the latest, greatest tricks and treats to be at her ‘sweet sixteen’ party. She pouts when her father negates her need for a stretch Hummer to arrive with a gaggle of her friends. She cries to her best friend about how inconsiderate her parents are, when they refuse to pay half a year’s salary to give her the best blue dress in the city. She screams words of hate at her younger brother for arriving to the party in a suit he wore last year, for New Years Eve. At the end of the night, still not satisfied, she throws a new cell phone, bought for her birthday, into the punch bowl.

====

Think about it.

Phase 2

Wearing my first phase 2 shirt today. Welcome to living on you're own.

Observations

Well,

If there's two things I can say about Thunder bay,

1) Theres a lot of natives. White people are in the ovbious majority.
2)Thunder Bay is a very poor city.

Lakehead

Well well well.

I made it to university.

I did all the things a new student in a new city does.

I got a coffee from the Univercity Center. I got myself a Nalgene bottle with Lakehead on it... so proud. I got a lanyard to hold my student card. My student card also acts as a bus pass, unlimited uses, till next august! that's crazy!

Speaking of buses, I gave myself a nice tour of Thunder Bay's downtown... Took the wrong number 2 bus.

Got my OSAP all squared away and I'm anxiously awaiting my first class, tomorrow at 230.

Found a good hotspot in a place called the Agora. Was on the laptop and having a coffee, was kinda nice.

I'll write more tonight.. Ive got dishes to do.

Moi.

The Stories:

So, here's all the stories.

I'll tell it in pictures.

First off, I don't know why I made this face, but I can only assume it was because I failed out of yet ANOTHER round of 'Rock Band' drums on Medium.


A first person view of a card game Kirley brought to play, called Munchkin, which is, basically, a game BASED entirely on making your opponents angry, as seen in the next picture.

As stated before, this is my one-hand-away-from-winning-but-losing-it-all-at-the-last-second-face. Totally sober, totally mad.


Kirley, about to feast on one of Amy's patented 'meatloaf burgers'.




On to camping.... We made fires.

We hitchhiked...

To get here...

We got POURED on. We woke up around 5 and started home. Here we are under a roof in Shea Heights, NL.

And finally, kirley with a sword.


More to come, on MAN DAY.

DDAY - 1.

Well,

Tomorrow kirley show's up. For those of you wondering what stories might be told from this quest, the list includes:

-Man Day
-Laser Pointer Ninja's
-Hitchhiking Camp Adventure
-Getting Knighted (That's right, i will no longer respond to billy, but rather 'sir' billy. eat your heart out elton. pfft, what kind of name is 'elton' anyways...)

We'll be documenting most of the times on video, as well as photo... so stay tuned.

Thrice

So, I strongly suggest that if you have NOT heard of the band 'Thrice", that you should soon hear of them. To aid you in your quest for good music, allow me to provide some links.

The Whaler - Thrice http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ve6T_lNnG7Q&feature=related NARR.

Also, I've heard as of late that there are some folks who read this blog. While I'm sure there aren't many of you, rest assured, many updates to come. After all, I'm SOOO busy lately.

There's coffee's to drink, games to play, naps to take... really dosn't leave a lot of room for blogging.

When I'm in school, I'm sure many a blog will be written... My daily life will have changed you see. There will be teachers to piss off, debates to win and opinions to negate. Haha, if that didn't make my mom sigh out loud, not much more will... maybe if I tell her, I got another tattoo, of a super mario, on my face, cause I lost a bet with Kirley.




I'm kidding mom. lol.

A new post, for a be-a-utiful east-coast day.

Well,

I was thinking this morning, and no kirley, it didn't hurt... I'm only gonna be in the east coast for a short while more. It's interesting really.. only last night I had a 'I'm in st John's, Newfoundland'.

See the bergy bits, by the boat b'y?

Soon this blog will be filled with tales from my upcoming schooling and all the things that go with it.
I've found a band that needs a singer, in thunder bay... I hope that works out.

When I'm in thunder bay, I think every person in this house is worried, or at least waiting to see, how my eating habits change. The girls here, though they'd never admit it, are amazing food-makers. I don't even know where to start.

I mean, I can make grilled cheese, spaghetti and mr noodles... but beyond that...

I got a new tattoo, that I havn't posted yet. I'll get around to it. Another one coming in a couple weeks, with Kirley.

Anyways, not much else on the go... looking for an apartment, so if anyone knows anyone that has a 1 br basement appt util incl furn.... i am SO sick of typing that.

moi.

Steph made us shirts.... lol.

The Dungey & Kirley Dictionary

That's right folks.

The Dungey & Kirley Dictionary.

The two of us have decided to start keeping track of our valiant efforts to come up with new and rage-inspiring insults for each other, complete with background and meaning. Even sentence fragments!

There's no posts yet, but I'm sure there will be, daily.

Check the bottom of the page for a link. Warning though, may not be entirely safe for work.

Another post for the ages.

An interesting thought.

Can you remember what you looked like, in a mirror, when you were young?

Today as I walked by a mirrored window downtown, I saw myself, a 21 year old something or other, just like every other joe blow on water street, until I thought...

I honestly can't remember what I looked like, through my eyes, when I was younger, through a mirror. Isn't that interesting? I can't remember what I looked like... a different person, almost.

---

My grandparents have been down here, in st. Johns, for some time now. We've had more then a wonderful time and I woefully look at the next couple days as their last in the city.

We went to many places around the coastlines surrounding St Johns. It was refreshing to see more then the city I've become so accustomed to.

I look forward to the rest of my family coming up here, and my best buddy... though I fear the purpose of his trip is to come out of the closet...

--

I'm getting a new tattoo tomorrow, from my elbow to my wrist... allllll the way around... getting sleeved up.

DDAY

I'm writing this on the basis of a couple ideals.

"The eyes of the world are upon you."

Firstly, in sheer remembrance of, in my personal opinion, the most important military campaign of modern warfare. On the days surrounding 6 June 1944, the allied soldiers who were committed to this battle went under impossible odds and more to become the eventual victors of the second world war. It is very important that we take time out of our day, not a minute, not a moment... but give time on the day they gave lives.

It's been said before and it is my hope that through time, it is said again, and again.

Secondly, on the basis of a re-enactor's life, I'd like to explore the mindset of the DDAY soldier.

There are many things that WWII re-enacting has taught me about the period, and many more I'm sure, still to come.

Two things in particular I'd like to go into more detail about, that, especially on the anniversary of this great and noble military quest, give me a fraction of a percent more understanding of the life and times of a DDAY soldier.

First, during an event of the past summer.

It was early afternoon when my patrol had been stopped along the side of a cut path in thick bush. A clearing to one side had been home to an enemy patrol earlier in the day and was going to be searched well before we were to move any further, into open roadway.

Suddenly, and without ANY warning, enemy BB's began ripping through the brush, as though from every direction. As many as 6 grenades (infused with fireworks) landed no further then a few feet away from me, and my patrol-mates.

I was hit by now, and calling for my team's medic. The grenades seemed to go off in one or two second intervals, as though they were built with different sized fuzes.

I very distinctly remember the very MINOR explosion from one grenade sending little tiny bits of dirt and leaves down onto my face. I remember this as being the first time in airsoft that I had actually simulated combat. I was most certainly afraid, and certainly not ashamed to admit it. Funny, I later thought, that in mere hours I'd be sitting at a wendy's, enjoying a burger and reviewing the match with my 'enemies'... a LUXURY that was not even fathomable in war-times.

The second instance was during the night before, on the same event. I had been trudging through feilds where rain had recently fallen and had yet to evaporate. My boots, socks and trousers were soaked through. I had eaten all my food and was tired from running around all day, under SIMULATED combat conditions... where I was under absolutely NO real threat. It had just begun to rain when I tried to get a wink of sleep. Propped up against a mud-wall, I tried desperately to fall asleep, to no avail.

Sometime, I had managed to close my eyes long enough to drift. I was awakened VERY abruptly by the split second interval of a mirade of grenades, thrown into our camp. One landed about 3 feet away from me, JOLTING me awake. Again, I felt as though I had been in a REAL 'SIMULATED' combat situation... Again I was scared, and very awake, cold , wet, hungry and tired.

AGAIN... I'd be leaving in a few hours, for a hot shower and warm food... to return to daily life.

I take great pride in re-enacting, and all of it's benefits. I believe that every experience I get in the field earns me nothing, in comparison to real combat, but much needed understanding. For me, I'm not re-enacting for me, I'm doing it to honour them.

Banana's.

So here's the story:

Every week, when the patrons of 27 Monroe street leave the house to embark on a trip to the grocery store, Billy wintesses his roommate Steph buy banana's.

Normally, this would not be a major issue.

Steph continues to bring home a bunch of banana's and normally eats all but one or two. These lowly few are offered to the freezer gods and pile up, week after week, in the swinging door of their stand up fridge. The total amount of frozen, blackened banana's was beyond human comprehension when this weekend, as a saving grace of freezer space... the banana's were used.

Billy's roommates made 8.... 8 loaves of banana bread, in double sized pans.

Normally, the Billy would poke fun at the obscene amount of banana loaf... again in the freezer.

Here in lays the problem.

Each loaf is infused with the most delicious flavour Billy has ever experienced.

Shame... because this is an awesome opportunity for Billy to poke fun.

Good Job Amy, Steph and Steph's dad. Good job. Very tasty.

Think about it.

"I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."

-Fight Club.

new tat

Well folks.

It's that time again.

I got a new tattoo..

It reads "foxes have holes".

Ladies at the vet: Get your heads out of the freakin gutter already.

Better yet, and much to my mothers dismay, I got my appoitment for my sleeve.

New pics

Took a bunch of new pictures downtown. One really good of of Amy, my favourite. Check em out ->

Cold.

SO.

Last night I went on an overnight, or should I say, HALF of an overnight airsoft game.

To start, it was decent weather, until we went up the hill.

As the night grew old, our guns eventually stopped working and began to grow a thin layer of ice. The cold was absoluteyl unbearable, as people began shivering, we packed in for the night and returned home.

I had 2 pictures taken of me, and can be followed at the right of the blog.

Cheers to all. Value hot showers.

moi.

A new feature.

EDIT:

So, for those of you who frequent the page, you may have noticed a few changes.

Firstly, I moved a couple things around, to put the best foot forward, so to speak.

Secondly, I put in a new feature. By clicking on the new image you see on the right (which will change periodically), you will be taken to my personal photo album of the pictures I have taken most recently. From there you can browse my entire album.

Not much else on the go, but I'll be putting new pics up today.

Moi.

RE: Can a ninja swat a bullet out of mid air?

Mythbusters,

I wholeheartedly respect your ambition and motivation in tackling such an epic ‘myth’. Just for the record, yes, we can.

There are a couple things you must understand about us… ninja’s. First of all, and before I mention anything else, know this; you will NEVER understand us. You can’t begin to understand us, because you’ll never study us… we’re simply too sneaky. The person who made this myth up was obviously a liar. People don’t LIVE to talk about post-ninja encounters. You can’t SHOOT a ninja, or even shoot AT a ninja, because you don’t SEE ninja’s. If you see a ninja… you’re probably already dying.

To assume you can replicate a ninja’s speed by pressurizing a piece of wood with a Jell-o hand on it, is beyond the scope of my imagination. You didn’t even use a ultra-sweet material like Titanium or Fiberglass. You concluded that ninja’s could not in fact swat a bullet out of mid air. Little did you know, I swatted the very same bullets you fired at your mechanical Nonja, before you even had them out of the box. To further prove a Ninjistical point, I slapped the bullet AGAIN while you were loading it into the weapon. Oh, you didn’t see me? Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Another thing you should remember, is that Ninja’s are everywhere. When you called out for Ninja’s to come down to the studio, to prove you wrong… I was already there! In fact, me and two of my ninja buddies were going over last nights hockey game right in front of you, inside the skin of your cameraman!

In closing, be forewarned... for although it only takes 8 minutes and 18 seconds for the light from the sun to reach earth, the 'light' I send you two, can only be measured in Katana Swipes!

Brownies.

So, a quick post for this second weekly night shift.

It's really simple...

In this new age of technology and automation, most things are produced by highly intelligent and programmable robots. This is all well and good, until they screw up.

On night shifts, there's not much I look forward to. One of the only things that perks up my night is the TV dinner I enjoy around 2am.

I tried a new kind of dinner today. The Swanson Pork Rib Dinner.

Now.. the ribs were fantacular. The potatoes... as good as TV dinner potatoes get. The corn and the brownie... well, this is the basis of my post.

I assume that a machine is responsible for rationing a dollop of rising brownie dough into the slot that is in between the potatoes and corn... the brownie slot.

In this case particularly, the machine missed it's mark... quite literally. I opened my Swansons packaging to find that the brownie dough had actually been poured on top of the corn. There's no way to fix this because You have to leave the corn wrapped while it cooks. I couldn't separate it. Two of the four compartments were ruined by the mechanized malfunction. Not cool Swanson's... Not cool.

On the plus side though... and I wouldn't have known this otherwise... I found out a new food I don't like. Chocolate covered corn. Thanks Swanson's.

My tent

My mommy gave me a tent for my birfdaie.

Here's some pics.

Facebook, Fried Chicken and Fog.

Same bat time, same bat channel. It's time for another edition of the late-night open letter.

A couple of things to cover tonight, and as you might have guessed, among my targets are fried chicken, the popular social networking site; facebook and Newfoundland fog.

First up, fried chicken.

The kitchen oven is pre-heating, currently, at about 350^f. I'm waiting to put in my TV dinner. I know you're probably asking, what could be better then a TV dinner, bought at the corner store... well, let me tell you... not much. I'm a fan of fried chicken, as it stands, in many forms. KFC, Mary Browns, Pizza Pro's... whatever, fried chicken is fried chicken. Nay. I hereby cordially invite all of you to consume a "Swanson's: Fried Chicken" (dare I say) meal. Look for the blue box. These things are a new type of awesome. Kind of like a CSI's sunglasses, these things are SMOOTH.

They also come with a brownie. Don't take the plastic all the way off though, cause they'll end up being wicked crispy, and not as tasty. Mine came with corn, but I've seen green beens as well. I'm telling you, just thinking about this thing makes my mouth water.

What set's it apart? The salt. When you bite into these things, it's like a baconator, you KNOW it's not good for you. It's so tasty, but literally every bite, your heart goes; "kthxbye."

Radtacular stuff, give it a try.

So, for those of you who consider yourselves to be at least somewhat internet savvy, or even remotely pop-culture literate, you've surely heard of Facebook. The new Myspace. Hell in a URL.

Basically, the Facebooker's life starts out slow, to keen to be taken in by the internet's next big thing, but interested, none the less, to see what all the fuss is about. Slowly but surely, the user's profile page is completely overtaken by the latest and greatest applications. Everything from Youtube to sports news. Eventually, the user will start 'creeping'. This is when the user goes into the 'friends list' of their selected Facebook friends, and looks for people who seem familiar, in an attempt to have thier own 'friends list' grow, if not to reconnect with old chums. By now, the user spends approximately 15 hours a day installing and uninstalling new applications, creeping and just generally browsing the cavernous gut of Facebook. The problem is, at the end of the day, Facebook is gay.

This is why Facebook is gay.

First, what most people don't understand, is that although I know you're interested in saving the North African Death Beetle... I could personally live without knowing the plight of the little six legged sucker. When you send me an invitation to your group; "PLEEEEEZ HELP THE BEETLE OF DEATH IN AFRIKA!!!11!", I get an email. I don't care, and I don't WANT to care. Furthermore, I don't WANT to care about NOT caring! I know the world is burning. I know the animals are dying. I know the children are hungry. I know the people are poor. I know the next UFC is going to be absolutely the best unseen fight of all history. I know bush is an idiot. I know your weekend was fun. I know you hate studying. I know you like food. I know.

My email inbox gets, on average, 6-7 emails a day for events, groups and notices that I don't need, want or even remotely care about.

Wow... what a rant. Facebook is gay. I'd go into it more... but my TV dinner is done.

The fog can wait until after supper.

I shaved my head.

yawn.

5:07AM

Kkkkssssschhht. The tab opens on another over-priced, under caffeinated gas-store can of pick-me-up. (edit: DIET energy drinks taste like buttcrack. Now, I've never actually tasted a buttcrack, but they HAVE to be close.)

That's right, it's time for another late-night ramble-fest.

So, first on the docket, yawning... pisses me off.

Two main reasons, and after you read this, I'd be surprised if you don't at least THINK of this, next time you yawn.

First off, yawning makes you look absolutely ridiculous. Try to yawn into a mirror, it's hilarious. I've had plenty of time to do this tonight. The TV is busted. 12 hour sleepless night shift... no TV, internet is not NEAR strong enough to D/L any shows. When you yawn, your face is basically looking like some mixed-breed of having the absolute largest, most painful urination spell of your life and a sustained try face. For those of you who don't know what a try face is... 'try' this. Ladies at the vet... this means you.

Flex every muscle in your face, all at once, for a split second. You 'try' to make a face. A 'try face'.

When your face contorts like this for a certain amount of time, much like when yawning... your vision blurs. I'm not a major fan of that.

Second, yawning reminds me that 'hey, you're not sleeping... you should be... but you're not... and you won't be for quite some time.'.

I'm eating another TV dinner. I'm sure the.. 'potatoes' will serve me well in the coming hours, much like they always do.

Man, Diet energy drinks are absolutely terrible. I mean, NORMAL energy drinks taste like crap. So they take out all the elements that make it tastey, and call it diet... when it's STILL wicked bad for you. I mean, let's face it... anything that makes you feel your heartbeat in your eyeballs is NOT, by ANY stretch... good for you.

I'm on round 3 of the same movie. I had one dvd in my work bag. The Rock, with Connery and Cage. There's only so many times a guy can hear the same cheesetastic action movie one liners before it... it just...

Well..

That's LITERALLY all I can think of.

Easy 1-6 out. over.

The picture below is the 'before', the picture 2 below is 'after'. I'm last on the right.

An open letter: To the rest of everything.

First off, Thank you for reading my letter. It's all I can do to coordinate my movements so much as to punch each key on my keyboard. I am past tired, and as such, cranky, hungry and very, very whiny.

So let's start out by addressing my ankles. Well, really only my left ankle. It really frickin' hurts, and I have to walk home. I'm not a huge fan of that and quite frankly, ankle, you need to fix thyself, before being faced with the wrath of my almighty tenser bandage. If you don't fix, I swear, I'll wrap you good. Don't make me do it.

Next, TV - dinners. Though you bolster a tastey brownie in each pack, and chicken that, given the proper circumstance, I'd kill for, they are really... REALLY not good for my tummy. On further review, I'm quite unhappy with the lie that is the packaging of TV dinners. Sure, they seem supple and nutritious.. believe me.. Nay.

Lastly, at least for this energy-drink induced, late-night-shift tirade, on the docket is those crackers that taste like butter. I can't remember what you're called, but you're born into green boxes with three sleeves each. How tastey you are. Even without any dip, cheese, meat or any topping at all, I have no problem polishing off a sleeve of your crispy brethren. Thank you, tastey butter cracker, for all that you are.

That is all.

Moi.

Big dogs - real or fake?

Prep

Just about to head to bed, I'm staying up late to prep for incoming night shifts.

Just wanted to check in, say hello and good-night.

For the ladies at the Vet:

I have a magical couple names for cats you acquire.

Name # 1 - Bacon

Name # 2 - Mumoombo.

Yeah. Mumoombo. It's Mexican.

Two more things:

Two more things I forgot to write in the post below...

-If anyone can explain to me why there has been such an obscene increase in my bellybutton lint production, that'd be great.

- Secondly, I'll be using this blog to well, blog, my adventures through University, so, look out for that. I'll just change the name.

LOOOONG time.

Well folks, it's been a LOONG time since I wrote on here.

Been caught up in a bunch of different stuff, havn't really made the time.

So let's have an update, and hopefully I'll be back on writing regularly.

-First and absolutely foremost, I have some big news. I applied to University a while back, almost on a whim. Half-high on support from Amy, and half just out of curiosity, I decided to apply to a couple Universities, with the ambition of becoming a high school teacher.

So,

I GOT IN! I'm currently enrolled in Lakehead University's Concurrent Education Program. I was accepted for a BA (in history, which I'm REALLY excited for...) AND a BEd. It's a double degree program.

- We (St. John's) got hit with another assload of snow. I call it an assload, because that's exactly how much it is, think of it as a unit of measurement. It's right above 'a stupid amount' on the scale. I'm wicked sick of it, and am looking forward to the spring.

-working plenty of night's, but not for much longer.

-I'm rocking the hawk again.

-Getting a new tat, when Kirley comes up for a visit. Probably another WWII-esque image.

I'll leave you all with a new game I found... DAMN, I lost. (you'll get it.)

The dance.

sleeeep

I've only 20 minutes or so until the end of another night shift.

Ohh I'm gonna sleep so hard.

Yeah... extreme sleeping.. watch out for it.

redbull

Well, I fear my blog has yet again suffered the aftermath of a vet-bourne chain reaction.

As I'm sure, the ladies at the vet (we all know which one...) have been harping my mom to get me to write something new.

Har har. You all know I'm kidding.

Yeah, that's funny to me. I'm all hopped up on instant coffee.

Things are going well out here in st John's. Despite the snow, spirits remain high. This is mostly (for my sake) dependent on the release of two new video games, on which I primarily base my day to day life.... who's proud?

So...

Not much more to report... Watch LOST, it pwns.

moi.

omgbbq

I definately think people should be aware of this site... do you agree?

www.purple.com

In the DEAD of night: a zombie's poem, written by moi.

Once dead, walks again,
taunts you, in the way he howls.
Searching for a feast.
The breath of the corpse
Shakes loose, the bones of his foes.
His stench, known by all.
take heed, walking plague,
Though, my rifle has no name
My will it does obey.
Let me deliver.
For your soul is lost tonight,
I will bring you home.

From home.

Hey folks,

Decided to do a little update here.

So, me and Amy got a chance to try out the jive at a local pub this weekend, it went well! we'll be jiving tonight in class too.

Amy's watching Spacejam, remember that movie? good times.

I saw the 'new' version of the bugs bunny show, wow, what a change, they shoot cosmic rays from thier hands now, very a la dragonballZ.

Anyways, not much else going on.

Nothing to report anyway,
I'll update the story later.

moi.

On a snowy sunday afternoon.

Enjoy the pics, me and ay decided to show our hobbies with you.

a new peice of the puzzle...

His labcoat hung loose today. His hair was unkempt and tangled, apart from it’s usually slick and mild-tempered appearance. It was strange to see, such a professional man in such disarray. Even his shoes, while usually being neatly polished and laced, were barely staying on his quick feet.

“Doctor?” a voice from outside his office, “Doctor Weston?”

“What?” the doctor was short with his orderly, ill-tempered to say the least.

“I’m terribly sorry to inturrup…”

”Yeah, yeah… What do you need?” asked the doctor, not bothering to pause, even for a moment, amidst the tower of stacked manila folders in front of him.

“There’s a couple in emergency who have requested your service, the woman seems quite upset.”

“Tell them I’ll be there in five. Go. Now!” shouted the doctor, now looking deep into the young medical student’s eyes, burning, piercing.

The orderly rushed away, the doctor kept writing.

It had been some time since these two had been in, almost every other weekend it seemed. The husband would watch a news special on cervical cancer, and after dinner they’d be in, cause he thought he had cervical cancer. More times then could be counted on a hand, they had asked for doctor Weston specifically, and nobody could really, truly understand why, not even Weston. Some people are just drawn that way, or so the story goes.

“Can’t even get five minutes around here” Doctor Weston muttered.

He pushed aside the latest folder and started for the door. His day so far had been strangely busy. Way busier then it should have been, especially considering the circumstances.

He walked down the segregated office hallway. Most people didn’t even know this part of the hospital existed. Most Doctors tried to pretend the same, after all, it was such a hassle to try to pile paper work on top of being a hero. The windows in this hallway were as tall as Doctor Weston himself. He could see the snow rustling around the rear parking lot. Some kids were walking past.

Doctor Weston shook his head.

“Damn kids.”

He felt sorry for them, he felt sorry for most people, especially now, since yesterday.

Doctor Weston pushed through big green doors to the stretch of hallway that would lead him to the awaiting Mr. Kemph. Weston suddenly remembered the time Mr. Kemph believed he was suffering from cervical cancer, and laughed to himself. Childishly, he said,

“Probably thinks he’s a vaccum or something.”

As Doctor Weston and his smile walked through the door to room 67b, Mr Kemph was all but dead. Weston’s smile immediately turned sideways as he placed his middle and index fingers half way up Mr. Kemph’s neck. He looked to his waiting nurse and asked what Mr. Kemph’s vitals were reading.

“He’s got it.” The nurse spoke softly, her face pale.

“Got what…? Cmon!” The doctor, now visibly stressing, shouted at his nurse.

“A trace of Toxin U. We were given swabs today, at the front desk in emerg. I-if you swab under the tounge, and it turns bule, t-they’re in the final stages.”

Doctor Weston dropped his instruments.

“Shit… Get yourself to Washdown, I’ll be there shortly, where’s his wife?”

“Waiting room, sir.” Replied the nurse. Tears now forming in the bottom corners of her eyes.

“Mrs…?” asked the doctor.

“Kemph?”

“No, no… what’s YOUR name? Quickly now.” The doctor, now washing his hands, spoke assertively, and quickly.

“m-Mrs. Nader.”

“Well Mrs. Nader, you get downto washdown, I’ll be there soon. Everything will be fine, I promise. What contact did you have with the victim?”

“Almost none, I put my hand on his hand, and his shoulder.” Replied the shaken nurse.

“You make sure you tell them that, hurry now, off you go.”

The doctor followed the nurse out, shutting the door quickly behind them. He reached down to his cell phone, dialed a quick number and spoke clearly into the receiver.

“Room 67… b, Last stage victim, partner in waiting room… yes. Okay.”

The doctor closed the cell phone in his pocket and paused to exhale. He wondered, if this makes the paper…

The doctor knew it wouldn’t be long before he was introduced to the basement, as he had already begun coughing, and was finding it harder to hide in front of his co-workers.

He was walking quickly again, to meet with Mrs. Kemph, when he was greeted by two black-suited agents. Weston was relieved to be told that it was in act Mrs. Kemph that would be taken to quarantine. Quarantine, that dismal yellow room, where they don’t charge for death certificates.

His convesation with Mrs Kemph was quick. She was being her usual ignorant, flirty self. Weston made sure the conversation was brief and non-personal, he didn’t need yet another soul to plague his conscience with guilt. Mrs. Kemph was asking about sounds she heard from the basement. Funny, she’d soon get a first hand look at exactly what those noises were all about.

Weston could feel a coughing fit rising in his chest, and surrounded by new agents and co-workers, he would surely be taken for questioning at least. Weston made a jog out the back door, and lit a cigarette. Ironic, he thought, that people would see a doctor smoking. I wasn’t really his choice. After all, smoking makes you cough, right?

State of Newfoundland Address.

To those respectable members of society that are enthralled, regularly, by the quick-witted and sarcastic humor found on the posts below...


poo poo!


That was the most intelligent string of words I could produce right at the moment, approx 3:15am, on a night shift.

But there is hope on the horizon, as I'm about to make some nacho's.

I have spilled tea all over my left leg, from the knee up.

Also, I cut my hair yesterday, the shortest it's ever been.

In a closing note, to anyone who knows my constant battling with Kirley, please be advised, DO NOT BET ON VIDEO GAMES AGAINST HIM.

Billy.

Some photos from Ballroom Dancing

By the way... we're foxtroting.

Mrs. Kemph was sitting for the better part of three hours before her husband’s doctor was available for a few words. Even then, the unnamed doctor was short and rushed. Both of his shirts were untucked and wrinkled at the bottom, which wasn’t surprising as it was, after all, a quarter after three in the morning.

Mrs. Kemph had basically dragged her husband into the emergency room after one of the more prolonged coughing fits of the evening. Mr. Kemph never admitted his ailments. It was almost legend around his neighborhood that Superman himself would have to come take the old man out, else he would live forever.

Mr. Kemph had been coughing for weeks, but through the last couple days, the coughing had been lasting longer, and hitting harder. It sounded at first like any ordinary chest infection, but as the days separated into weeks, his cough became much more dry, much to the concern of Mrs. Kemph.

The unnamed doctor spoke quickly.

“He’s got some stuff to take now, I looked him over and gave him a number to call.”

“Did you explain everything to him?” asked Mrs. Kemph.

“Yes. He understands.”

“Is there construction going on downstairs?” Mrs Kemph asked, peering her eyes at the doctor. She knew there couldn’t be, at least not this early.

Mrs. Kemph was a gossip addict. She had to know everything that was happening, and had to tell her girlfriends about any new information she may have ‘stumbled’ upon.

“Not to my knowledge” The doctors eyes swept left, then right.

“What’s all the noise down there? It surely keeps your patients awake…” Mrs. Kemph tried to move closer to the doctor, in a flirtatious attempt to keep him talking. This evidently made the doctor uncomfortable, as he moved away quickly. He looked down at three red file folders and spoke again.

“I can get someone here from Complaints, would that help?”

“That would be…” Mrs. Kemph inhales, “Perfect.”

The doctor withdraws through a yellow pushdoor to a restricted hallway. A page soon after comes over the PA system, asking a working ‘Complaints’ officer to tend to Mrs. Kemph.

Footsteps now, from the same hall. Mrs. Kemph could feel her heartbeat rise. It was almost as though she had completely forgotten her husband’s condition, but it would be another hour or so before he filled out the appropriate insurance information, and besides, she was about to get the scoop of the day from none other then the lead night shift complaint officer.

Maybe it was a cover-up, maybe an attack on a lower floor, maybe, maybe. Mrs. Kemph, now standing, began to mentally pace, back and forth, back and forth.

She was greeted by two very official looking men. Both wearing dark blue suits, young, maybe thirty at max. Both men looked very serious, very official. They ask politely;

“Mrs. Kemph?”

“The one and only…” replies the old, but quick-witted woman.

“Would you mind coming to our office? We need you to file a quick report before you ask us any questions. It’s just a formality. Protocol, really.”

“I just want to..”

“We know, your husbands doctor told us about your concern, but we insist.” Each of the men, now divided, to the left and right of Mrs Kemph, stiffly attach themselves to the underside of her upper arm, motioning her forward.

“HEY! HANDS OFF! LET GO!” Mrs Kemph, now regretting her curiosity, protests as loud as possible, hoping for her husband to hear.

The men, still in a very calm voice.

“Mrs. Kemph, we’ve arranged for your husband to meet with us in the office, you just need to sign a piece of paper.”

“NO! MARTY! MARTY!” The hospital seemed completely vacant. Mrs. Kemph cried out for her husband, for anyone.

Within a blink, nothing. No pain, no shock, no fall, just nothing. No memory, no flash. Nothing.

Mrs. Kemph opens her eyes barely, with no ability to reason. She can not remember how she found her way here, to this increasingly bright yellow room. There are voices of the two men. Her husband in a chair adjacent to her, unconscious. He is not bleeding, but does not look well.

The voices now, louder, but breaking up.

”Are these two the last ones?”

“Yes, but they wa…”

“I know, I know, we’ll make sure…”

”Phone it in?”

”Yeah go ahead, I’ll get rid of them too, it’s my turn.”

A man enters the room. Almost immedieately after his entrance, he jumps to the sound of two sharp crackling sounds. He crooks his head to the right, grins.

“First timer, probably never seen that before.” The man says, talking to himself.

It is from nearby, behind the man. A man is escorted past the door, appearing to be police, but handcuffed, wearing a jacket with bright letters reading CSU on the back. He is visibly upset. Cursing at his captor, insisting release.

The man in the yellow room, now turns to Mrs. Kemph, raises a closed fist to Mr. Kemph’s chin and speaks.

“How’s the cough?”

A story I will continue.

The camera follows a man placing stickers on the bodies of the recently deceased. Dust covers suit jackets, track pants, shoes and flip flops all the same. The victims have been quite obviously dragged to their position, with no intention of evidence preservation, but an emphasis instead on, basically, storage.

The stench alone was horrid. Corridor past corridor of bodies, lined, piled and stacked, in any manner, so as to keep them confined to this section of the hospital. Administrators of St. Pius’s General didn’t want such a sight on any floor accessible to the public, so they; the victims, were piled in the second floor basement.

This area was usually considered barren, amidst scattered waste management supplies, dust and the occasional rodent. Such conditions would not be accepted in more upper-regions of the city. Most were sure that although health inspection officers had passed through yearly, they were probably offered ‘executive gifts’ from their old-rich counterparts, to give extra check marks on their cork clipboards, that otherwise may not have warranted such a pen-stroke.

Each victim, as outlined by the CSU Lead’s filed report, had distinctive similarities between each injury, which, strangely, were lacking the ‘usual’ signs of both acute decomposition and rigor mortis.

“Victim sections A-3 through A-5, still flexible and glassy.” Whispers.

The CSU unit leader removes a sticky tag from a young man’s ripped denim knee. He replaces the label farther up this time, close to the victim’s chest. The label reads (A-3f) under ‘name’.

The man turns now, to the shaky cameraman. His badge reflects a sharp white briefly into the lens. The man holding the camera, a junior CSU, has been with the department for 3 weeks now, fresh out of university. His hands are quivering.

“Kid, breathe.” The Lead says, calmly looking past the lens.

“I’m good, I’m good.” The Junior says, his voice fading with suspended exhalation.

“Good. Now, let’s keep going.” The Lead turning now, away from the camera, bends down to the next grouping of bodies. In one motion, the Lead stumbles back onto his palms and kicks his feet away from the victim. He breathes heavily, almost masking the panting from his camera-wielding partner.

“W-what!” The Junior manages to let a word escape from between his clenched teeth.

The Lead continues breathing heavily. He stops. Looks back at the camera smiling.

“Gotcha.” The lead chuckles to himself as the cameras focus turns to the floor, with a soundtrack of sighs and sounds of relief.

“Not funny man, NOT funny.”

The camera stabilizes on the Lead CSU now standing still, head tilted down and to the left, almost puppy-like. He seems puzzled.

“What?” Asks the green Junior, not knowing to keep his questions silent when the Lead is doing his ‘thinking face’.

“You got a phone?” asks the Lead.

“Yeah.”

”Get Captain Gerget here.” The Junior, in the interest of job security, questions after the Lead’s request.

“Okay, but it’s like nine thir…”

Interrupted suddenly, violently.

“DO IT! NOW!” Shrieks the Lead, so unexpectedly it makes the Junior shake the camera wildly, making the focus go completely awry.

The camera swings from the floor, to behind, the floor, to behind. The Junior running for the elevator. He tosses the camera, with no concern for the state-purchased equipment, towards the Lead’s case. The focus swivels a complete two turns around before finally resting, focusing on the Lead’s coat, on the floor beside his case. In the distance, the Juniors running steps can be heard, while he speaks, almost yelling, frantically into his phone, trying to get a signal.

The background imagery is as disturbing as it is real. Barely visible, the Lead’s silhouette can be seen backing away slowly, into a standard standing firing position, his weapon drawn and pointed low.

Two shots echo through the corridors. Bodies. Victims. Dust.

Another 12 hour bor-me-to-death-fest. I've taken to writing again... fiction that is.

I'm gonna start writing some short stories when I'm stupid bored, and I'll post them here.

I'll post the first one after I'm done.

moi.

...start spreadin the news.

Well well well.

I find myself at work again, in the middle of a 12 hour shift, and TV is melting my brain... more.

So, an update. Me and amy have been taking a combo-ballroom-dancing thing every sunday night for two weeks now, and will stretch over ten more weeks. we have been working on the Foxtrot, and in my opinion, we are quite good!

I learned how to lead yesterday, but apparently I need to take more control... it's hard to get used to when you're not very familiar with dancing.

I love it though, it's sinatra, martin, crosby!! cmon!

Also, I've been playing tonnes of XBOX 360 (thanks BACKUPSERVER.CA). And am proud to say I'm finally beating my brother on it.

I'm also in the midst of recordinsome music, I'll be sure to post when I'm getting some stuff done.

That's all for now..

Ta ta,

moi.

Snow.

Well, after a much needed trip home, I'm back in St Johns. Back at the grindstone.

I snapped some pictures of my street this afternoon.

Enjoy.