Sharkboy and I are going to The Point this long weekend. Checking the weather on Sunday afternoon had Port Dover suffering from 100% precipitation all weekend. Now it’s 20C and 10% – 20% rain.
I feel truly blessed by God.
PS: Expect more doll cruelty.
Back to the gym, my doctor cries! And lo, Sharkboy and I find ourselves working out at the mansweaty, loud, well designed, “try not to look at your sauna-neighbour’s dink tattoo” arena of masculinity called the Downtown Y. We’ve been twice since the ink has dried on our goofy pass pictures and I’ve been going easy but despite holding back, my arms, shoulders and manboobies are pained by all the lactic acid I made this weekend. My hand slides across the desk to my tea, instead of reaching for it.
It’s been 3 years since I’ve been working out and I find that I am sleeping deeper despite not being able to lift my arms to turn myself over. Also, my general mood has changed: I dont want to bring a high powered rifle into the office and I actually welcome work on my desk this morning (still hate the place and have every intention of being someplace different inside two months). Most importantly, I dont feel that working out is a chore. It’s goal driven (200lbs here I come!) and fun, especially with Sharkboy there.
Last night, after Tom had got his million, Kobe paraded the image of his daughter out in front of the cameras like a Joan Crawford news reel, and we were snuggled deep into Sharkboy’s couch, I looked up at him and realized that I had a real satisfying weekend. “I love you,” I said smiling.
He jabs me in my aching pecs. OW!
What’s the one thing that makes you try to remember every little detail you experienced from shower to office desk.
Easy!
Discovering your fly being down.
Like mine was, all morning.
No wonder that woman froze up when I sat beside her on the subway.
Well I’ve done more embarassing things. Like forgetting to take off that
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…sticker off the leg of my new-bought pants.
Speaking of which: why do straight guys never take off the small white cotton loops that hold the tags on new jeans?
Via Furface, who I am sure is a reformed Catholic boy and had this site touch him in many ways. Incredible mail art mixed with mea culpa.
If any of you want to confess something without the hassle of sending sail mail, just click on the comment button below and post as “Annie Monomus”
MacObserver.com uncovers a patent application by Apple for a new tablet “Electronic device”. According to the drawings, there aint much to it. Think “Laptop” without keyboard. It would be on the touch screen, right? Note: they actually applied for this patent a year back. The article also “covers its ass” by saying Apple has pushed through many patents that never see development. Scared of Jobs, much?
And speaking of the turtlenecked guru, if you follow the links and open the US Patent site in Safari, the page doesnt display correctly. I think he’d be pleased of that.
And just like Andy Warhol, I brought my camera.
UPDATE: Last night’s drinkfest and my subsequent murdering of human communication via alcohol-blurred Words is documented in a subfolder here.
Update: Sorry people, space restraints has forced me to remove the galleries. If you need to see them, contact me and we’ll work something out!
I saw a guy tip over and fall off a three wheeled bike up on the Danforth while he was waiting at a light. I am reminded of the time I fell off my bike standing still, also waiting at a light. I can still hear Sharkboy and the Mailman laughter as I went down.
Somewhat related: I see the Smart Car forums have removed all reference to “Smart Tipping”, an urban “cow tipping” fad that is afflicting these small yet elegant cars. Brad (A to B ) beware!
Anyone catch the picture of Tony Blair on vacation with no shirt?
Hubba hubba!
I tried googling it but came up with nothing. A little help?
UPDATE: Thanks Hephaestion! Look upon Mr Blair’s Bearishness!
I went to my Da’s for dinner on Sunday to teach him how to use iPhoto and in return he fed me. We took a picture of a roast ham. I’m reminded of the nuclear glow of Marge Simpson’s pineapple ham.
The Black Hole on IMDB.com. Great trivia. Bizzare explanation of the ending on the message boards. Geek Reading is Fun!
Disney’s first PG rating, indeed.
When I think of this movie, I’ve always imagined Disney as the struggling T-rex in a pool of tar as the little dinos sprouted feathery wings and flew away. However, as cheesey as it was, the movie had some impressive visuals. The Cygnus ship design was close to “science fact” with it’s supports and caged environments.
But I doubt that NASA will be putting in amusement ride tie-ins with their mission to Mars.