Alex's Alliterative Adventures

I just spent the past 15 minutes blogging, only to have my efforts thwarted by the sand-solid palm operating system. Stable, my ass-mar. The post I had started to write was about the writer’s block my presently awesome life was giving me, but now the words are just flowing, aren’t they, palm treo. AREN’T THEY. I’M NOT MAKING A SCENE, YOU’RE MAKING A SCENE. I’m sorry, honey, you’re right. I’m taking my anger at realplayer out on you.

A buddy of mine sent his laptop in for repairs today. Since this is effectively the only computer he owns, the repair estimate of 3-5 days is understandably causing him a bit of stress. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he must be going through right now. They might as well have told him to hold his breath until he gets it back. It would take the pain away sooner. His suffering made me think: I would be totally unable to live productively in the real world without touching a computer of any kind. Between PCs, laptops, cell phones, and miscellaneouses, a vast majority of my life hinges on these powerful toys. If I want to socialize or plan, I turn to msn. TV and movies, selected from various avi files, are watched with VLC or the xbox. My day job involves sitting in front of a computer to write code. I keep people updated with my blog, which I write on my cell more and more often. Need a doctor? Better google map it first. Low on groceries? Online delivery adds less than $10, which is nice considering my lack of wheels. Wikipedia always scratches the itch of random questions. Transportation is planned, checked, and booked with a few clicks of the interblag.

I’ve read a few articles touting the dangers of internet addiction, stating horrifying statistics about people that find it difficult to go for more than a few days without plugging in. I definitely fall into that category. Then again, I also find it difficult to go more than a few days without opening my eyes. I hope I don’t read about the dangers of vision addiction any time soon. One self-diagnosed crippling addiction is all I need right now.

Observation of the day: eating while running is surprisingly hard, considering the deceptive ease of walking while chewing gum.

Also, this is spectacular.

From what I’ve seen so far, London is the friendliest town in Ontario. People exchange smiles when they pass each other on the street. Conversation flows easily between strangers who are passing time. A couple of weeks ago, I had a chat with a hotdog vendor while eating his delicious meat (no brokeback) that was followed up by a random dude asking me how the hotdog was. Today a random in shopper’s asked me if I was a drummer, at which point I noticed that I had been busting out a flurry of funky finger beats on my legs. The random then invited me to play drums in his church’s band. I’ve also swapped stories with bus randoms, one of whom invited to the bar that he owns so, of all reasons, I could join the staff in a game of D&D. This town might be a flashback to a time when the people that surrounded you were your neighbours and friends instead of thieves and rapists. If not, it’s full of a bunch of fucking psychos who are startlingly charismatic in their attempts to kidnap, rape, and kill me.

Random note: a laundromats are surprisingly conducive for blogging.

Sometimes I wish for my own personal camera crew to follow me wherever I go. I mean, it would be awesome. My alzheimeric memory would be a thing of the past. I would finally be justified in randomly bursting out in song and the occasional smattering of loosely choreographed breakdancing. If I got tired, I would carry a whip and make them carry me while fanning me with palm leaves. But best of all, when I wipe out for the second time on the icey-slick death trap that is my front steps and end a fabulous display of futile tap-dancing by helping a week’s worth of dirt laundry the exhilerating feeling of being airborne, I could finally achieve my dream of having America’s funniest home video.

I also wish for a rocket-powered ninja pirate. With lasers. That is also a robot. But I’m not picky.

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not dead, I’ve just been going non-stop since I’ve been renationalized. I’ve moved into my new room in London (Ontario [Canada {Earth}]), and I’m living with an awesome new roomie. Why is he awesome? Well, he has kittens:

No, dammit, I said kittens:

Not only that, but he’s a man of character. Any man who starts watching 24 before I go to bed and is still watching it when I leave for work in the morning earns my respect. He also gets points for telling me about ask a ninja.

Work is also unimaginably awesome. I spend every day breaking my brain in the most satisfying way imaginable. I’m surrounded by people who are giants in their field, and I’m trying to soak up as much knowledge as my little brain can handle. Plus, they feed me tacos.

I’ve locked myself in my room for the past two weeks, and I’ve done almost no unpacking to show for it. To reward myself, I spent the weekend crashing in the loo. I definitely think that talking to good friends until the sun rises is my favourite thing ever. The only thing that makes it better is if a guitar somehow becomes involved.