Hungry times ahead

I completely didn't go on the grocery van again tonight.
Looks like it's back to eating that same bag of noodles and drinking lots of water again.
Ahh.... good times. I've already started the peanut butter straight off the knife.

Now That Twenty Aught Four is Over...

It was a good year. But it's over now, and I think it's been far too long since I properly talked about my CD collection. I mean, it's a big part of my life, right?
Incidently, my CD rack is full, and there is only enough space for five more CDs on my shelf... I mean, this is getting a little out of hand.
At any rate, I thought I might take a look at the music scene from the last year. Not so much the weird obscure crap I listen to, but the mainstream stuff that my indie rock inner self screams "Have you no scene cred at all!" at me for listening to.
Twenty Aught Four was a year rich in the fruits of good music. And I don't mean I enjoyed it, but still called it pop - I mean I actually ran out to buy albums this year because the singles excited me so much. I could prattle on about Flickerstick's Tarantula or Wax Mannequin's The Price, but these CDs the average North American wouldn't bother getting their paws on.
I'm talkin' Modest Mouse, The Killers and Franz Ferdinand here. You see, I've been hearing all this talk about 'The best album of 2004' all over the place. I figure it's important to note that its really not fair just to say one album is better than another because the single got overplayed. I'll admit it - Float On, Mr. Brightside and Take Me Out were all over played. Thankfully, I lived in a town that was void of good music up until September, so these songs weren't burned out for me. In fact, when I bough Good News for People who Love Bad News, I had never even heard Float On before. Franz Ferdinand with their single Take Me Out I was aware of thanks to the efforts of my local Galaxy Theatre. I actually went to a movie with the express interest of finding out who sang that song once. Incidently, I think I saw a movie to...
The Killers I got into recently, and as mentioned, I bought their album the other day.
The thing about these three CDs, and why I'm talking about them instead of The Tea Party's Seven Circles or Thornley or even Dave Matthew's Some Devil (which may have come out at the end of aught three... I remember it was winter anyways) is that they brought something new into the mainstream. I'll admit that Modest Mouse was pretty popular before their latest album, but they really broke through into the limelight this year with such an original album. Float On was only just the surface of Godd News, though. If you listen to that song, the lyrics are "Good news is on the way". Despite being a wonderfully hopeful prophecy (And yes; this world needs happy songs, not just emo) it seems like a prediction of what's to come. Right after Float On, we're hit with Ocean Breaths Salty, a wonderful follow-up single. Also on the album are the chillin Bukowski, the near ridiculous Dance Hall and the peacful and somehow very hopeful The Good Times Are Killing Me. This album is so good that at times I didn't know if i was laughing at the words or the sheer joy of life it seemed to convey through them ("Got dirt, Got air Got water and I know you can carry on"). I'm happy that sucha good band with such an original sound could make it big after years of making good music and bring so much hapiness to people.
Franz Ferdinand did well to bring us a new sort of pop-rock that, if you'll forgive the trecherous pun, really takes us out. I'm going to say it - their songs sound the same. But you knwo what? I like The Franz Ferdinand sound... the driving rhythms of songs like This Fire are just too damn good to pass up. And who couldn't love a song like Micheal when the words can so easily be changed to "Come and dance with me [Pucknell]"? Franz Ferdinand sound is just different enough to rope in guys like me andcause chronic listening. Best of all, it's good. Genuine good music. And people were afraid that the Boy Band was going to take over.
Which brings me to The Killers. I happen to be listening to their album right now. When i first heard the Killers it was a sort of "Alright, you're Mr. Brightside, whatever, I get the point" reaction. Now, I'm saying "Damn! You're Mr. Brightside! Kickass!" This band really grew on me. I mean a lot. It's like the 80's crashed into the year 2000 and absorbed the best elements of alternative in their strange synthesis. The sound is so different than anything we're used to, but its infectious. It's a good sound, and I enjoy it. Some of the songs are a bit different, like All These Things That I've Done with the edge of soul, and Change Your Mind, that sounds a lot like The Smiths.
These three albums are what I call the best of 2004. They are all original enough to let me admit to listening to them without fear being ridiculed by my idie rock friends. And more than that - they are all made up of good music that is quite enjoyable and yet still accessabile to the masses. If this is what pop is, than damn, I'm not going to hate it anymore.
Just don't tell anyone I own Sum 41 and Billy Talent.

Ahhh...

This was one of those weekends where you sit around and do nothing. Well, that's not entierly true, because I read a lot, and I went and picked up the only copy of Crisis of Idealism in existance at the post office. But, well, I didn't cause hijinks across the city or anything, I just chilled out and enjoyed a little time to myself. I even splurged and bought a shiny new copy of The Killers' Hot Fuss... a must superb album.
That being said, it has been well over three years since I found the Jade Monkey, and I still DO NOT have my shiny new donkey. Who do I see about this?

I think... maybe... yes...

I think I'm willing to veture that, Aliens, in fact, are also cool.

Leiderhosen Luceil didn't catch on

Today in Critical Writing about Poetry we had to write a thesis statement and then have it analysed by the class. Yes, this is a university course. Naturally, we put them on overheads so the teacher could show the class how you could do better. Well, Constantine got it in his head that he didn't really want to write a good thesis statment, and it originally said "In Lady Mary Wroth's sonnet the idea is central." After a while, though, he went back to it and decided that it could be a lot funnier, so he re-worked it to say "love is central to the intensity of love for love."
It was incredibly funny to us at the back of the class, but no one else really laughed.
Oh well, at least we still have the love of love for love.

Sucks to your ass-mar

Classes from 7 untill 10 PM are most hanious.
I think I'd rather read Lord of The Flies again for children's lit than Little Women - Maybe Golding was right about exciting literature for young boys...

...

Nahhh

Torn Up and Thrown Down

Drop D radio was freaking awesome tonight. At first, it was a little sad because we were half an house late because The Good Constable wasn't in his office, but was off protecting and serving somewhere on campus (At least I know for sure he wasn't at Tim Hortons - it was closed). Eventually we got the key and ran the distence to the radio station, and threw on The Killers.
From there, it took a while to get things going - but when they did, damn, Mike and I had too much fun making fun of each-other on air.
The funny part you don't see is when we sing along - Actually, you know, perhaps its better that you don't see that.
The hip hop dancing isn't bad either.

Beer Pong

I've noticed a trend - most of my posts recently seem to, in some way, involve alcoholic substances. I really didn't expect to turn into a drinking machine at university, but last night I had to get out of my house and do something - so I went to G-9 where an illustrious game of beer-pong was being played.
The game is simple.... you have cups of beer on the table, and you try to bounce a ping-pong ball into your opponents cup. One bouce only. Challenger starts with four cups, winner starts with however many they had left over from last game plus two. Wen the ball goes in the cup, you drink it. Simple enough? The problem is, when English John lands four in a row and you have to chug back a lakeport Honey in less than a minute, well, things can only down hill from there.
In the end, it wasn't so much beer pong as it was stright shots of Jamacain Rum pong. I got sort of disorderly last night, and I watched a couple of episodes of Scrubs when I tried to talk to my friends on the internet.
ahhh... good times
In other news completely, I read the second half of Huckleberry Finn yesterday - what a good book.

And Pork Chops were Giveth unto the Masses...

Last night we hosted a party for Paul's 19th birthday. I got pegged with sober host (Them's the rules), but it was okay, because after the never-ending weekend a week ago, I could use with a break from the booze. Instead, I hung out, drank water and still managed to have a good time hangin' with the home-brothers and sisters (I love NY ... a little inside joke for the people who know me in real life).
Before the end of it all, our house's level of cleanliness dropped far, Far, FAR below the regular bar. I mean, it's been messy before, but like this? Never! The beer smell was everywhere, the beer was literally pooled on the counter and the carpet was ground in with road salt, popcorn, and whatever else.
It was a mission to clean up, and although we are not technically done yet, we're getting there. Seeing as the rest of my house was drunk (and thusly hungover today) or gone, Ryan and I are the only two with the capacity to take on the cleaning on any significant level. Through the scrubbing, we eventually decided that we could not continue going on being hungry.
And so, Porkchops were giveth unto the masses.
I'd been holding them in reserve for something, I didn't know what at the time. Now I know. They were for breakfast/dinner tonight (My first meal of the day at 5:30 in the afternoon). Ryan contributed some rice and vegtables, And i made the porkchops in soup and made some solid beans to go with them.
It has to be one of the best meals I've eaten in my life - having something other than oatmeal, spaghetti, grilled cheese adn granola bars is definetly a plus. Furthermore, it tasted awesome, and beyond that, it was slightly more nutrious! Yes!
No more malnutrition for me! Score!
All I need now is a girlfriend and my life is complete.

Damn, I'm Hungry

Malnourishment.

That word sums up my existence. I've been trying to ration out my remaining food until I can get to the grocery store as well as I can, but oatmeal, spaghetti noodles and granola bars can only go so far. I think I have some cheese, too.
If I can find some bread, I can make grilled cheese.
We went to go shopping last night at the 24 hour dominion. Mike graciously offered to give me a ride, and in return I told him if we stoped at a fast food place I'd buy him some fried. Not fried anything in particular, just fried in general.
Naturally, Paul, Ryan and Alex all jumped in the mike-mobile as well, and we made out way to Wendy's. We ate fast food at close to mid-night which would eventually serve to make me feel sick the next morning, but tasted ever so good. Then, to the grocery store.
Just our luck, when we find that the store is closed for renovations one night... The night we chose to go.

I think I might eat those mouldy crusts, after all.

I'm Mr. Brightside

Last night was a day to be remembered in the history of all that is cool.
Mike on a Bike and I Threw down our first radio show ever, and the Drop D hit the airwaves with at least three listeners! And it was good times.
Expect an awesome show next week... A little bit of planing has Coheed and Cambria and Outkast in the setlist already...

Partied Out

I don't even know what to say. After the Pub on Thursdayt night in the previous entry, I thought I would be able to chalk this weekend down as good. But then, on friday, I got a call from an old friend... "Hey there stranger" says the voice I did not immediately recognise from the other end of the line. It took me about another four seconds to realise who it was... Andrew Dzenis, aka Beats. One of my co-workers from camp this summer and a friend of mine, inviting me to a party at his awesome pad. There were some intense transit directions that involved no less than four transfers, but in the end it was well worth it. There was one hell of aparty and i ended up sleeping on J-Bo's floor. Again. And then I thought it was over, so, last night, I was laying in the dark watching the Chronicles of Riddick when mike burst in and says "Road trip!"
Who am I to deny that? It was a pre-party for Paul's birthday party. And again, there was more drinking and more people, and more fun. But now, now I could use a good solid day of doing laundry and homework... and maybe even sleeping, too.

Can't Complain

The good times, they're not killing me. Not yet, anyways. Last night, there were some good times, and I'm still around to say that they were good. There was a Pub on campus, and although that isn't usually my thing, for two bucks, who can complain? What else was I going to do, sit around and play video games? Maybe poker? I wasn't in the mood for either, really. So, what the hell, I figured I might as well go.
First off, I am the very last person they let in, which was pretty cool. But they had packed up the cash box after Paul got in, and i didn't have exact change - so they just let me in for free. Score! As it turns out, there were a few people there I knew, like Andy and that guy that's in all my English classes and Matt and stuff, so, good times began to be had.
At one point, I bought a four dollar drink, and then found five dollars on the floor! It was intense! It's like the world paid me to go have a good time... eventually it was just 'Romero' 'Erin' and 'Kelly' with whome I could hang out with... the fake names were all part of the stupid fun that was had (I was Rodriguise).

Ahhh.... Good times....

i think I might go find a party at an old friends house downtown tonight. If Transit doesn't kill me first.

Grilled Cheese Enlightenment

After four and a half years of searching, the devine knowledge is at long last mine. On that day, four and a half years ago, I thought I was a master of grilled cheese until a man named Evan showed me differently. I reluctantly admitted that he made a better sandwhich than I did. I admitted, happily and freely, that I made the second best grilled cheese sandwhich in all of Ontario. A lofty claim, perhaps, but the only sandwhich better than my own I had ever eaten was Evan's. My claim to grilled cheese superiority was bolstered by those around me, who would eat my sandwhich and atest for their wonderful quality.
We even planned evenings around a bountiful feast of grilled cheese (complete with retro 80's Dune and Geek). We anticipated the evening for weeks, talked about it in english class and, yes, the sandwhiches were good, but not as good as Evan's.
Time passed, sandwiches were made and eaten, and eventually I was forced to move on to the wonderful land of university. I was soon forced with terrible circumstances: strange pans and elements, new kinds of bread, lack of butter. It was difficult to overcome these obstacles. Eventually, however, I was satisfied with my craft, and could say that, while in Scarborough, I could still make the second best grilled cheese sandwhich in all of Ontario.
Then, there was a fateful day (today, in fact). I found myself facing a terrible truth - the pan that is better for making eggs had dissapeared, and the grilled cheese pan remained. Although I had intended to make bacon and eggs, I instead began crafting the sandwhich. Three slices of cheese per sandwich, carefully cut to the perfect thickness to allow for the best possible flavour and quantity of cheese without being messy. I got out the butter, and began to apply it to the bread. I carefully turned over every other peice, so that when the sandwhiches were cooked, the faces of the bread that had been together as it was cut would remain facing each-other. This is so the cheese does not leak out unmatched sides of bread. Lastsly, I walked over to the pan, and droped the sandwiches in.
A Perfect Circle played on the stereo quietly, and you could just hear my roommate playing the bass softly in the distance. The butter sizzled in the pan and began to turn the bread a golden brown colour, transforming it to the crispy outter shell of a grilled cheese sandwich. The radiant heat of the pan made it's way throught the transforming bread and started to melt the cheese. At the perfect moment, I flipped the sandwhiches, and the process was repeated on the other side. Soon, I took them off the pan, and placed them carefully on the plate. Looking at these two sandwiches, I knew there was something different about them, something special.
I applied a glob of ketchup to the plate, and carefully went to sit down and eat.
As my teeth sank into the first sandwhich, dipped in the ketchup, I tasted something that I had only ever tasted once before --

THE BEST GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH IN ALL OF ONTARIO!

With ecstatic joy, I consumed the two sandwhiched, avouring every bite. They were perfectly crispy and golden, there was just enough cheese melted to the perfect point. The flavour is unlike any other grilled cheese sandwhich you can imagine. I even applied the absolute perfect amount of ketchup to the plate. I did not need to add more, and yet none remained after the last bite. I do not claim to have surpassed Evan, merely to have matched his skill. I have reached the point where I can say I can make the best grilled cheese sandwhich in all of Ontario. I have matched the master, and need not go any further.

I have reached Grilled Cheese Enlightenment.

I'm sorry... so sorry

I watched the Empire Strikes Back today. My roommates tried to make fun of me for watching Star Wars.
"How can anybody watch this?" Derval asked at around the time that Han Solo was being put into carbonite freezing.
I dunno Big D ... you're the one that stayed until the movie was over ...

Past the point of no return

Last night I relived a huge part of my childhood. I remembered a time when my brother and oldest sister acted out a scene from the tha phantom of the opera in the kitchen of my first house. It was just some kids playing, but I look up to all my siblings so much, that at that moment, The Phantom of the Opera became one of the coolest things ever. My best friend from elementry school days, BVT, was also a big phantom fan - he went so far as to learn to play the songs on the piano.
In grade eight, it was a big deal when my class went to go and see the play at the Pantages here in Toronto. It was the last year that the musical ran there, and an understudy played Raoul ... turns out he was better at it then the guy who was supposed to.
Last night I went to go and see the movie. I was, at first, a bit leery of the film. I was afraid that it might not be very good, but then I learned how much Andrew Lloyd Weber was involved in the making of the motion picture. You can't go wrong when the original compser is involved!
I have to say, the movie was incredible. I mean, it wasn't shocking or surprising, I know the story oh so well, but it was enjoyable. The film medium gave the story one feature that the stage could never provide - the visuals were beyond description. Really f'in good, if I may say so myself.
Although the movie really can't hold a candel to the original film, it was real good-like. I enjoyed it, anyway... Plus, I already know all the words!

In other news, the next Dirk Pitt movie is past the point of no return (a little phanton quote there). It wouldn't be hard for Sahara to be better than Raise the Titanic, but it looks like they messed it up... which is sad for the movie makers, because they have the rights to three books and could make one hell of a film franchise if they'd only stay true to the books like Clive Cussler asked. Oh well, I'm going to see it anyways - it is my favourite action novel, and, well - in fact, it was the first Dirk Pitt novel I read.

If I hadn't've Been Drunk, it Would Have Been Embarassing

A bunch of us went to the mighty Fossil and Haggis to watch the world junior hockey gold medal game the other night.
We stayed for kareokee.
After watching Canada score four goals in the the fourth period, it seemed wrong not to drink copious amounts of Canadian.
And lets face it, after enough pithers are on the table, you're bound to say yes when anybody asks to do a duet. Even if Andy from E-9 is stone sober and suggest "Girls Just Wanna have Fun." It seemed wrong not to do a roger baan style falseto while singing that song. And well, Ricki Martin, well, that was Matt's idea. We lived la vie da loca, oh yeah [sarcasm]. But it didn't end there, oh no, it didn't end there. After a few more beers, there was "I'm gonna be" (AKA 500 Miles) by The Proclaimers... I felt compelled to use the punk rock lyrics ... "And If I haver, whatever the fuck that means, I'll be the one thats haverin' to you..."

Of course, in my state, I forgot that Johnny Blue, the Karoekee man, is, in fact, scottish.

Twenty Aught Five

After the long break at home, I have returned to Scarborough. There are a lot of stories I could write, like tobaganning on Christmas with my family, or sending Franky to sleep with the proverbial fishes, or playing through Rogue Squadron II with my brother, or the time a sheet of Auto glass exploded six inched from my face, or a five hour trip for a five minute consultation with a dentist, or even the tale of new years eve and all the people in my basement.
But instead, I'll tell the tale of "RODENY!!!!!!!"
There was a guy outside my house, who shouted "RODENY!!!!!!!" a couple of times. I was experiencing some light insomnia at the time, and his shouting wasn't helping.
It stopped, but then I heard footsteps on the porch, and a knock at the door. Then, after that, I heard the door open.
I was about to get up when I heard my step dad walk down the hall to find a man looking for somebody named Rodeny sitting on out couch in the dark ... perhaps, even, waiting for Rodeny.
It took him a while to realise that we weren't going to sell him drugs.
I guess I'm desinted to be looked upon as a drug dealer... even though I'm not.