Virtual vehicles for the metaverse
On a nice, hot summer’s day, there’s nothing like a double-scoop of your favourite ice cream. A Japanese website, Mainichi Daily News, showcases some favourite flavours from the land of the rising sun.
One of them is called “taco aisu”. Thankfully, it’s not taco-flavoured ice cream.
It’s octopus.
Having ditched the chicken costume, Eric of Webraw.com has cranked out a scene for the blogiversary contest, apparently written in a wireless cafe. Judging by the strangely surreal nature of the scene, I would have suspected a different type of cafe. We’ll have to ask him about that later.
This morning, my breakfast routine was interrupted. There on the door of the local McDonald’s was a letter-size piece of paper, fresh from the computer. It said:
SORRY
NO HASHBROWN TODAY
-THE MANAGEMENT
What’s this? WHAT’S THIS? No hashbrown? And it wasn’t even the plural, “hashbrowns“. Clearly they underestimated the demand for the greasy potato pucks and only kept one in stock.
Or maybe it’s more serious than that. Maybe hashbrowns aren’t as plentiful as I had thought. I must have eaten the last one yesterday!
DEBBIE: Hi, can I help you?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Yes, I’ll have the Egg McMuffin Meal.
DEBBIE: [hesitating] The meal?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Yeah.
DEBBIE: You mean… the Egg McMuffin and coffee?
CUBICLE DWELLER: And hashbrown. The “meal”.
DEBBIE: Uhhh. One second, please. [shouting to back of restaurant] Can I get the key to the hashbrown vault, please?!
[The manager emerges from the back]
MANAGER: Did you just ask for the hashbrown key?
DEBBIE: This gentlemen just ordered… he ordered… the hashbrown.
MANAGER: [to CUBICLE DWELLER] You ordered our hashbrown?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Uh… yeah.
MANAGER: Are you trying to put me out of business?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Huh?
MANAGER: You come in here, thinking you’re mister big-shot, and you expect us to just hand over our hashbrown? Do you know how much work went into its creation? Debbie here slaved for days, gluing together bits of french fries, making sure that it was exactly in the right proportion.
DEBBIE: [under her breath] Bastard.
MANAGER: What makes you think you can just… take that away from us? Without our hashbrown — without our precious, crispy, golden hashbrown — we’re nothing. Nothing! Do you understand me?
CUBICLE DWELLER: I guess I can’t supersize that, then?
MANAGER: What was that? A joke? Was it? Was it a joke? Were you trying to be a funny guy? Do you think it’s funny, showing up, throwing down your money, and taking away our very life’s work?
CUBICLE DWELLER: I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—
MANAGER: No! That’s just fine. You are the customer after all. You’re always right. Debbie, get the sign and put it on the door. I’ll get… [choking back a sob] I’ll get the hashbrown.
Well. Since you’re set on destroying my business, I suppose you’d like to take our ketchup packet too.
Well maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that, now that I think about it. But the sign did seem strange to me.
Well today’s the day… it’s the First Annual Endofline.ca Hyper-Intelligent Space-Penguins’ Choice Blogiversary Contest deadline.
If anyone out there is making the finishing touches to their entry (like Agent Q)… PANIC! AAAAAAAAA!!!!
Actually, I’m totally willing to extending the deadline to Sunday July 13th if anyone needs more time. Just let me know.
And as a reminder to those of you still sitting on the fence about whether to write something, did I mention that the winner will receive a RECTANGULAR OBJECT? Wow. How can a contest get any more exciting than this?
Oh, the excitement might be too much for me. I’m going to go take a nap on the conference room table.
It’s 8:45 in the morning, and it’s already hot out. Granted, I’m a wuss when it comes to heat. I’d probably keel over from heat exhaustion after a minute in the Arizona desert. I’m just not made for the heat, unfortunately.
As I swam through the muggy air to the office and felt the heat reflecting off the sidewalk, I was reminded of Mr Henderson, my grade six teacher. During the weekly “music” lesson, which was mandatory for all students, Mr Henderson would put on his favourite LPs and get us to sing along to songs from Jefferson Airplane, The Beatles, The Lovin’ Spoonful, and others. I can’t say how often we were forced to sing from his record collection, but it was often enough to make me feel ill when I hear Octopus’ Garden, even now.
Henderson had helpfully transcribed the songs for us and photocopied them. (Actually, it may have been a “ditto” machine… I seem to remember blotchy, purple ink. Does that date me?) Unfortunately, he transcribed them a little bit wrong and had the class singing The Lovin’ Spoonful’s Summer in the City: “Hot damn, summer in the city…” and “Walkin’ on the sidewalk, hotter than a mad chair“.
Consequently, I now think about mad chairs whenever the weather gets really hot.