Well I'm about to depart for a weekend retreat up north in a few hours and I thought I'd share with you the contents of my toiletries bag I just found:
2 band-aids
3 cottonbuds
1 hairband
1 pair of contact lenses
1 pair of goggles
6 citronella and sandalwood sticks (for repelling mosquitos)
2 disposible ponchos
1 stick of glue
1 what appears to be a urinal cake
Of course I've repacked it now to suit a human being and not some alien/MacGuyver hybrid, but what the hell was I doing on my last trip?
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I have had a dream #1
Does anyone out there know how to interpret dreams? I tend to have really vivid dreams where I can remember things in great detail so I figured I may as well post the occassional dream (or at least a small part of it) on my blog.
I was walking along the front of my house (which for some reason had a trench around it) when I noticed down in the trench an old replica handgun I used to own. I picked it up out of the trench and walked over to my mate Geoff who was relaxing under his car.
"Hey Geoff, look at this," I said.
As I walked under Geoff's car I noticed the gun was dirty so I started wiping it clean. Eventually I managed to open the whole thing open and that's when I discovered two rooms inside the gun, one on top of another. The bottom room was full of ambiguous organic structures. The top room was crawling with what looked like thousands and thousands of maggots and larvae. Some of them had begun to take shape and were starting to look like baby koalas.
I called my biologist friend who reluctantly came over and had a look.
"You know, I'm really disappointed that I came," she said after inspecting the rooms. "When you called me, I assumed this would be the same thing it always is. I was really hoping it would be something different."
"Is it koalas?" I asked.
"No, it's water buffalo."
I nodded. That made perfect sense.
"Yep," she said. "This is what happens when you don't clean out the bottom of your house. You get water buffalo."
Seriously, if you can interpret dreams or would just like to take a wild theoretical stab at what's wrong with my head innards, drop us a line.
I was walking along the front of my house (which for some reason had a trench around it) when I noticed down in the trench an old replica handgun I used to own. I picked it up out of the trench and walked over to my mate Geoff who was relaxing under his car.
"Hey Geoff, look at this," I said.
As I walked under Geoff's car I noticed the gun was dirty so I started wiping it clean. Eventually I managed to open the whole thing open and that's when I discovered two rooms inside the gun, one on top of another. The bottom room was full of ambiguous organic structures. The top room was crawling with what looked like thousands and thousands of maggots and larvae. Some of them had begun to take shape and were starting to look like baby koalas.
I called my biologist friend who reluctantly came over and had a look.
"You know, I'm really disappointed that I came," she said after inspecting the rooms. "When you called me, I assumed this would be the same thing it always is. I was really hoping it would be something different."
"Is it koalas?" I asked.
"No, it's water buffalo."
I nodded. That made perfect sense.
"Yep," she said. "This is what happens when you don't clean out the bottom of your house. You get water buffalo."
Seriously, if you can interpret dreams or would just like to take a wild theoretical stab at what's wrong with my head innards, drop us a line.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
No, you cannot play with daddy's Xbox! You see this controller? Mine! And this controller? Also mine!
I had a very lazy day yesterday; leftover Chinese for breakfast, Peanut butter and jam on bread for lunch. (Daily vegetable intake for the day: zero. Unless... can peanut substitute as a vegetable? Please?) It was a day conducive to gaming, so that's what I did.
I decided to play Nazi Zombies - a simple yet fun game where you and three other players fight off wave upon wave of evil nazi zombies.
The first player I encountered had a relatively high-pitched voice. I assumed it belonged to a male whose testicles had yet to descend until I heard the voice say, "Sweetie, drink your water or you'll get thirsty."
"Who are you talking to?" I asked.
"My daughter," she answered.
"Oh, how old is she?"
"She's three."
"You uh, let your daughter watch Nazi Zombies?"
Which fyi looks like this:
"Yup," she said. "She's actually laughing right now at the way they walk around."
Then, as I performed headshot after headshot, a second player piped in with, "Hey guys, I'm just gonna be gone for a sec. I can hear my daughter crying in the other room. Cover me for a sec alright?"
So I moved to that player’s now motionless avatar to provide defensive gunfire should a zombie get too close.
He returned shortly with, “Hey guys. I’m real sorry I’m gonna have to leave. My daughter just threw up all over her bed.”
At this stage I was wondering what had happened to all the teenagers in the world so I asked the third player in our group, “Hey mate, how old are you?”
“Me? I’m 27,” he said.
“Whew!” I thought. My age. The guy sounded young and I figured he was someone much like myself; just relaxing during the holidays, still taking life easy.
“Well,” I said jokingly as I lobbed a grenade into a group of zombies. “Looks like you need a daughter to play in this room.”
“I’ve got 2 of ‘em,” he said.
What?! So evidently I'd just stumbled into the Parents with Young Children who play Violent Videogames room.
Just then the mother-of-3-year-old (who hence forth will be referred to as ‘Motyo’) interrupted with, “Hey can someone cover me? My daughter’s passed out on my bed. I should move her to her bed.”
“This is getting ridiculous,” I thought as I stabbed a zombie in the chest before moving to cover yet another motionless avatar. I couldn’t see how this style of game-play was sustainable.
A few rounds later I heard Motyo say, “Sweetie, you’ve got to stay in your own bed. Daddy’s taking you out tomorrow at 10am. You need your rest - oh shit, what the hell was that?! That zombie just came out of nowhere!”
All I can say is, I was happy when the zombies finally managed to overwhelm us.
The next game I played was a much happier affair involving myself (an Australian), an Englishman, an American and a Swede. But that’s a story for another time.
I decided to play Nazi Zombies - a simple yet fun game where you and three other players fight off wave upon wave of evil nazi zombies.
The first player I encountered had a relatively high-pitched voice. I assumed it belonged to a male whose testicles had yet to descend until I heard the voice say, "Sweetie, drink your water or you'll get thirsty."
"Who are you talking to?" I asked.
"My daughter," she answered.
"Oh, how old is she?"
"She's three."
"You uh, let your daughter watch Nazi Zombies?"
Which fyi looks like this:
"Yup," she said. "She's actually laughing right now at the way they walk around."
Then, as I performed headshot after headshot, a second player piped in with, "Hey guys, I'm just gonna be gone for a sec. I can hear my daughter crying in the other room. Cover me for a sec alright?"
So I moved to that player’s now motionless avatar to provide defensive gunfire should a zombie get too close.
He returned shortly with, “Hey guys. I’m real sorry I’m gonna have to leave. My daughter just threw up all over her bed.”
At this stage I was wondering what had happened to all the teenagers in the world so I asked the third player in our group, “Hey mate, how old are you?”
“Me? I’m 27,” he said.
“Whew!” I thought. My age. The guy sounded young and I figured he was someone much like myself; just relaxing during the holidays, still taking life easy.
“Well,” I said jokingly as I lobbed a grenade into a group of zombies. “Looks like you need a daughter to play in this room.”
“I’ve got 2 of ‘em,” he said.
What?! So evidently I'd just stumbled into the Parents with Young Children who play Violent Videogames room.
Just then the mother-of-3-year-old (who hence forth will be referred to as ‘Motyo’) interrupted with, “Hey can someone cover me? My daughter’s passed out on my bed. I should move her to her bed.”
“This is getting ridiculous,” I thought as I stabbed a zombie in the chest before moving to cover yet another motionless avatar. I couldn’t see how this style of game-play was sustainable.
A few rounds later I heard Motyo say, “Sweetie, you’ve got to stay in your own bed. Daddy’s taking you out tomorrow at 10am. You need your rest - oh shit, what the hell was that?! That zombie just came out of nowhere!”
All I can say is, I was happy when the zombies finally managed to overwhelm us.
The next game I played was a much happier affair involving myself (an Australian), an Englishman, an American and a Swede. But that’s a story for another time.
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