You know Sudoku? The newest craze in puzzle brain food? (Apart from my aunt, who doesnt know what the rules are, so just puts random numbers in and then says "Im pinish! Dat wassant dat ard")
Well try this: Time yourself and name all your elementary school teachers (Anyone that is 12 years old doesnt count)
Kindergarten: Ms McCormick
Grade 1: Mr. Horn.
Grade 2. Ms Adams.
Grade 3: Ms Lady-I-cant-remember-who-got-the-whole-class-to-stand-up-and-say-the-lords-prayer-daily-even-the-hindus-and-sikhs
Grade 4: Mr. Rosen
Grade 5: Ms. Parker / Ms. Ng
Grade 6: Mr. H
Grade 7: Mr. H
That took me 12 minutes. I got stuck on Grade 3 and Grade 5. And for grade 3, I swear thats her real name..
{Post Edit note: 4 hours later.. Ms GOLDIE! Thank God... I was getting a headache}
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Police vs Snow Patrol
Im currently in love with well done mash ups. This is one of the best ones Ive heard, coming really close to Hanson vs. QTip.
Also, with this I enter into my foray of posting bigamy. I put this on facebook as well. Blogger might get jealous now and send my computer a virus. Thank goodness I have a mac book pro.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Stupid Facebook and the Soviet Union
I think my personal facebook madness is finally slowing down... finally... which is a good thing so I can slowly get back to my normal life of doing sfa (sweetfeckall). Honestly i paid no nevermind to the endless invites id been getting over the last few months because id grown tired of Friendster and Myspace, so naturally I thought really this Facebook was no different. JM however performed an armlock submission on me until I joined last weekend... and further goaded on by Trisha who at the same time was kicking me in the head until I succumbed to their brutal bullying. I was coerced, manipulated, a little boy who was given free candy by the manipulative drug dealer stranger, even though he only likes healthy vegetable sticks. Next thing you know, Im up until 3am every night for the last week scoping out profiles to find out who has hot friends... disaster. I couldnt even blog anymore (ha) because i now had to memorize the multiple baby names of friends i havent seen in 10-20 years, join social groups with old elementary school cohorts, and discuss with a refound former roomie (turned lawyer) the merits of Jessica Simpsons new tan and her recent migration towards constantly exposing obscene amounts of cleavage. My friend Christine reminded me though that we must be good citizens and treat Facebook with respect... use it for good and not evil. And I am after all a good boy... so I will not let it lead my life. From now on, Ill restrict myself to checking it only once a day. Full stop. or maybe two...
Soooooo... as predicted India trip 3 sucked. Even worse actually than I thought it would because multiple things went wrong. First, British Airways lost half my luggage as I arrived in Kolkata, which left me totally ill equipped to do my work duties. In fact the bag is still lost, 1 month later. Sometimes I really hate airlines, I went through the past 10 years never losing any bags ever, and now that it has turned 2007, Ive lost bags 3 times this year already. WTF. Secondly, half related to the lost luggage, I pulled in a 103 hour work week, which is a personal best.. or opposite, personal worst; I cant believe I went 3 digits. Thirdly, I was in the Indian jungle again as you know, but this time there was no power or running water at the guest house. I went 4 days, working 15-20 hour days, without showering or shitting on a proper flushing shitter. And the worst of it was I was in India, and the BO of my local collegues would build daily to excruciating levels. It would KNOCK YA seriously, like a De la hoya left hook to the head... argggghhhh.. you dont understand.. I think we are talking Bigfoot stench levels, concentrated to a brown molasses substance that everyone would stick in their armpit... I could barely eat. The saving grace was a German co-contractor that was there with me, so I had a whinge partner to hate ever second of it with. Misery loves company.
Russia update: long, almost 1.5 months in the making. Okay. Heres my impression of the former Soviet Union;
-imagine every large scale projects ghetto youve ever come across in the States; you know like New Jack City type... The towers in The Wire... South Chicago... huge concrete decrepit buildings side by side, awefully designed to pack in sorry people as densely as possible. Now take that thought, and imagine a whole city where that was all there was to housing. A whole city of only project buildings. Thats where everybody lived. And then repeat for every city in a whole country. The largest country in the world no less (not including, so much, the bigger cities like Moscow and St Petersburgh, because they were full of party government people that had it better through the years). This is how the Soviet system operated, free housing free everything, but unless you lucked out or positioned yourself better or where good at sports, you were more likely to be stuck in a box within a big ugly concrete building like everyone else. A complete eye opener ( I didnt take pictures, for some illogical reason, I thought someone would steal my camera, it looked like a whole city of projects for fecks sake).
-this was the first time as well that I fully did feel completely illiterate. It was different in Russia than say when I was in Japan or Korea or China... cuz there you knew where you were, everything and everyone looked asiany, so it was always firmly within context; so naturally not being able to read characters didnt affect you as much. You were in a way, mentally prepared for the literal rejection. Russia though... it was different because everyone looked Russian first and foremost, but also European. It was a complete white wash, so subconsciencely you get tricked. Further compounding difficulties was the writing in Russian Cyrillic.. with backwards Rs and Ns, upside down Us and some 6s thrown in. I kinda know now what its like to be dyslexic. Most of Europe, even though there are different languages in each country, at least they use the alphabet, so you could in a pinch, when required, sound things out. In Russia? Please, feck if I know what anything said or sounded like.
-Still alot of russians wear those big furry hats. And all the women wear the jackets with big hoods with fur along the rim. A russian stereotyped that was confirmed, this actually delighted me to no end.
-Another thing that delighted me, seeing Ladas. Old shitty, dirty ladas, driving around everywhere. Brilliant.
-At restaurants? The table settings are like this: fork spoon knife (standard), big plate small plate (standard), water glass, wine glass (standard), and shot glass. For vodka. At every table setting. So awesome...
-Oh yeah, russian girls are hot. there is no joke there, its true. Wow. Especially when they are looking at you all bundled up with those crazy blue eyes through those furry rimmed hoods.
-In the end though, everything was completely new and stimulating, I had a ton of fun. Especially pleasing was the insider conversations we had with our Russian customers over dinner, who could barely string two words of english together, but just enough to get the point across of answering our questions regarding what it was like living in the old Soviet state. Amazing stories. Also, I kept myself amused by constantly thinking in the back of my head, how anyone of these guys could probably kick my ass in Chess. They all looked liked freakin grand masters. Paciba... ('Thank you', the only russian I learned to say properly; apart from Da and Nyet....)
Soooooo... as predicted India trip 3 sucked. Even worse actually than I thought it would because multiple things went wrong. First, British Airways lost half my luggage as I arrived in Kolkata, which left me totally ill equipped to do my work duties. In fact the bag is still lost, 1 month later. Sometimes I really hate airlines, I went through the past 10 years never losing any bags ever, and now that it has turned 2007, Ive lost bags 3 times this year already. WTF. Secondly, half related to the lost luggage, I pulled in a 103 hour work week, which is a personal best.. or opposite, personal worst; I cant believe I went 3 digits. Thirdly, I was in the Indian jungle again as you know, but this time there was no power or running water at the guest house. I went 4 days, working 15-20 hour days, without showering or shitting on a proper flushing shitter. And the worst of it was I was in India, and the BO of my local collegues would build daily to excruciating levels. It would KNOCK YA seriously, like a De la hoya left hook to the head... argggghhhh.. you dont understand.. I think we are talking Bigfoot stench levels, concentrated to a brown molasses substance that everyone would stick in their armpit... I could barely eat. The saving grace was a German co-contractor that was there with me, so I had a whinge partner to hate ever second of it with. Misery loves company.
Russia update: long, almost 1.5 months in the making. Okay. Heres my impression of the former Soviet Union;
-imagine every large scale projects ghetto youve ever come across in the States; you know like New Jack City type... The towers in The Wire... South Chicago... huge concrete decrepit buildings side by side, awefully designed to pack in sorry people as densely as possible. Now take that thought, and imagine a whole city where that was all there was to housing. A whole city of only project buildings. Thats where everybody lived. And then repeat for every city in a whole country. The largest country in the world no less (not including, so much, the bigger cities like Moscow and St Petersburgh, because they were full of party government people that had it better through the years). This is how the Soviet system operated, free housing free everything, but unless you lucked out or positioned yourself better or where good at sports, you were more likely to be stuck in a box within a big ugly concrete building like everyone else. A complete eye opener ( I didnt take pictures, for some illogical reason, I thought someone would steal my camera, it looked like a whole city of projects for fecks sake).
-this was the first time as well that I fully did feel completely illiterate. It was different in Russia than say when I was in Japan or Korea or China... cuz there you knew where you were, everything and everyone looked asiany, so it was always firmly within context; so naturally not being able to read characters didnt affect you as much. You were in a way, mentally prepared for the literal rejection. Russia though... it was different because everyone looked Russian first and foremost, but also European. It was a complete white wash, so subconsciencely you get tricked. Further compounding difficulties was the writing in Russian Cyrillic.. with backwards Rs and Ns, upside down Us and some 6s thrown in. I kinda know now what its like to be dyslexic. Most of Europe, even though there are different languages in each country, at least they use the alphabet, so you could in a pinch, when required, sound things out. In Russia? Please, feck if I know what anything said or sounded like.
-Still alot of russians wear those big furry hats. And all the women wear the jackets with big hoods with fur along the rim. A russian stereotyped that was confirmed, this actually delighted me to no end.
-Another thing that delighted me, seeing Ladas. Old shitty, dirty ladas, driving around everywhere. Brilliant.
-At restaurants? The table settings are like this: fork spoon knife (standard), big plate small plate (standard), water glass, wine glass (standard), and shot glass. For vodka. At every table setting. So awesome...
-Oh yeah, russian girls are hot. there is no joke there, its true. Wow. Especially when they are looking at you all bundled up with those crazy blue eyes through those furry rimmed hoods.
-In the end though, everything was completely new and stimulating, I had a ton of fun. Especially pleasing was the insider conversations we had with our Russian customers over dinner, who could barely string two words of english together, but just enough to get the point across of answering our questions regarding what it was like living in the old Soviet state. Amazing stories. Also, I kept myself amused by constantly thinking in the back of my head, how anyone of these guys could probably kick my ass in Chess. They all looked liked freakin grand masters. Paciba... ('Thank you', the only russian I learned to say properly; apart from Da and Nyet....)
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