life – Page 128 – Cubey Terra

January 8, 2003

Cubicle Dweller’s Stickynotes to Self

Most of us learn from our mistakes. I, on the other hand, am doomed to repeat my mistakes endlessly, because I keep forgetting what I learned. That’s why I’m compiling a list of Cubicle Dweller’s Stickynotes to Self. Although I’m sure some of these could apply to someone else, I’m writing these rules for myself. I don’t expect anyone else to consider following these.

Here they are…

Be excellent to one another. I’m stealing this bit of wisdom from the most excellent Bill and Ted. (I suspect that they’re plagiarizing that Jesus guy, but they phrase it so well.)
Never buy anything that you wouldn’t mind losing. I’m guilty of breaking this rule repeatedly, so it merits listing near the top. It applies to cars, televisions, computers, stereos, and any other cool gadgets that you don’t necessarily need. For example, don’t put yourself into debt to buy a sports car, if losing it will cripple you financially. Accidents (and car thieves) happen.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be. It’s funny few people are aware that this line was spoken by an addle-brained old man in Hamlet. Nonetheless, it’s good advice. Feel free, however, to give away your money if you find a good charitable recipient, but look a gift horse in the mouth. A gift of money always has strings, be they extremely subtle ones.
Don’t wear a purple jacket with an orange shirt. This happened to me only once over ten years ago and it left unforgettable scars.

I have a lot more stickynotes to myself. I’ll share them as I discover them.

January 7, 2003

Name that food

I’m eating this right now. One part contains:

WHEAT FLOUR, MODIFIED STARCH, CORN FLOUR, SALT, GUAR GUM, PALM OIL, RIBOFLAVIN (COLORING AGENT).

The other part contains:

SALT, SUGAR, MONOSODIUM GLUTAMATE, RED PEPPER, ONION POWDER, SOYSAUCE POWDER (SOYBEAN, SALT), CITRIC ACID, BLACK PEPPER, GINGER, SESAME, KIMCHI BLOCK, DRIED GREEN ONION, DRIED CARROT, ARTIFICIAL BEEF FLAVOR.

January 5, 2003

In the fields of battle

He was the mighty warrior, the one called Shadowrider, Champion of the Three Villages, and wielder of the dreaded blade, Bunniesbane. From beneath his shining helm, his eyes glowed in triumph over his foes. From across the field came the sounds of the dying battle: shouts of victory floated through the settling mist, amidst the moans of the wounded and dying and the occasional startled yelp from someone who had just been inadvertently stepped on.

The battle, hard-fought, had left its mark on Shadowrider: axe-marks hew the noble device on his shield, his armour was smeared with dirt from the battleground, and his sword was caked with the blood of his enemies and a certain number of his friends too, which was almost certainly accidental.

The Reortor, son of Reorthus, the village chieftan approached, followed by his daughter, Betty, who led Shadowrider’s steed by its reins.

“Hail, Shadowrider Quicksword,” proclaimed the chieftan, “the one who is also called Blademaster, and occasionally, Stan. You have bettered our enemies and left them slain in the field,…”

“Thank, you, Lord Reo—”

“…where their sucking chest wounds will ever prevent them from rising again against our land,…”

“Yes, my—”

“…and whose noses will surely be plucked from their faces by the winged carrion-eaters.”

“Uh… yes,” Shadowrider said carefully. “Hmmm.”

Betty, Reortor’s daughter, approached Shadowrider, her eyes wide with wonder. He sheathed his sword and bowed deeply to her.

She smiled graciously in return and handed him the reins, saying, “O Shadowrider. Quicksword. Will you ever again return to our land and grace our chieftan’s hall?”

“My lady,” Shadowrider said, standing, “I will never be far, should the villages need me, for I live in my parents’ basement, which is but a few minutes from here.” He considered this for a second. “If,” he said, “I can borrow my father’s horse.”

“Oh,” she said. “I see. Well… thanks.” There was an awkward pause, which she ended with a friendly wave. “Bye.”

Taking that as his cue, Shadowrider turned and leapt onto his mount. In his excitement, however, he overshot his target and slipped off the other side, hitting the ground with a solid thud.

“Could, um,” he began. “Could anyone help me up? I seem to have fallen on something pointy.”

January 4, 2003

Jean-O-Matic Quote Maker

Jean Chrétien is reknowned the world over for his sharp wit and lucid commentary. Never is Jean caught without an insightful word for the media.

On Iraq and weapons inspections: “A proof is a proof. What kind of a proof? It’s a proof. A proof is a proof. And when you have a good proof, it’s because it’s proven.”

Regarding drugs: “Well, it’s more trade. … Oh drugs! I thought you said trucks!”

On the abuse of pepper spray at the APEC protest: “For me, pepper, I put it on my plate.”

On President Bush: “He is a friend of mine, he is not a moron at all.”

On weapons: “I don’t see why people buy assault weapons and nuclear arms for fun, a family could have a domestic incident that could get out of hand and they may use those weapons.”

Now, with the Jean-O-Matic™ Quote Maker you can learn from the master! I placed words from the quotes above on his photo below. Simply drag the words into any order you want! Make a quote. Express yourself with clarity!

Speak with the wisdom of the prime minister himself!

[Java fridge magnets deleted. Sorry!]

Add your new Jean quotes in the “sticky notes”!

January 4, 2003

Rowrbazzle! Bazz fazz!

And I mean that!

I think there’s a secret law of physics that controls when your car battery mysteriously goes dead. If I were still in school, I’d say that there’s an inverse relationship between the power in your battery and your need to get somewhere quickly. But now that I’m not in school anymore, I wouldn’t bother putting it like that. Now I just scream “BLOODY HELL!!” at the top of my lungs, until my neighbours give me odd looks and back away slowly.

I guess I’ll either enlist the help of a passer-by (now that they neighbours are afraid that I’ll actually become violent) or I’ll phone CAA. Again.

Less than a month ago, I was happily driving home over the Cambie Street bridge, when suddenly the accelerator stopped cooperating. It was as if the car just went, “Alright, I’m taking a break now,” and started idling. It ignored me completely, no matter how I firmly I told it to go. Swearing at it didn’t help either, believe it or not. Neither did pounding the steering wheel with my fists, which I was sure would fix it.

My momentum took me over the top of the bridge — fortunately, too, since it was rush-hour — and down the other side. I rolled, unpowered, down the first off-ramp, up a short incline, turned right, then left, and into a parking lot, where I rolled right into a parking space. I gave thanks to the car gods before calling CAA for a tow.

So now it’s time to call CAA again. At least I’m getting my money’s worth out of that membership.