- Ian

It's a cold and miserable Sunday on the Labour Day long weekend. I have managed to accomplish the following so far:

1. I bought myself a new iMac, making the switch from PC. I'm fed up with all the crap that comes with PC, and also, my old laptop was sounding like it was trying to take off anytime it was on. It seemed to be the right time.

That is all. I ain't done shit. Fall is apparently underway in Calgary. We had a high of 6 degrees today, and we're not expecting beyond mid-teens all week. Supposed to be really cloudy and generally garbage-like.

I'm not at all satisfied with the quality of this post. It's really reading like a WIHFB blog, as defined by Jon quite some time ago. You know the type: "So, I got out of bed, then I watched TV, then I went pee, and oh my lord please kill me, this is my life!!!"

Ooo, my lovely financee (Apologies for the lack of accents there, but I have not yet figured out how to add them on the Mac just yet) has decided to contribute to my fledgling word count:

"Ian has a cute bum. And--it is cute. Have a happy weekend :)" And I shit you not, that last sentence just pushed me beyond the minimum requirements for posting as per the rules of The Irish Bull's First Ever Blogging Challenge.

What a train wreck of a post. Do I blame it on the booze consumed last night? Do I blame it on the fact I stayed up playing Rock Band and watching Top Gun during this booze-a-thon? Well, it can't fight back, so yes. I will take the opportunity now to blame them.

I promise Friday will be better.

Umm...

Up, up and buffet!!

Moving Blues - by Jon

I am still in the process of moving, and do not have home interwebz. Therefore, I am again at my friend Dave's apartment, tearing him away from his thesis in order to keep this blog alive. I should get some kind of plaque.

Things I've Learned This Week:

1) Nobody in Toronto can properly navigate a 4-way stop when there are more than 2 cars stopped at the intersection. I don't know why this is, honestly. In the past week, I have counted at least 5 times when I've been stopped at an intersection, and have seen somebody move out-of-turn. So far, my working theory is that drivers just get too distracted when they need to track more than one other variable. So when there are two other guys stopped at the intersection, everybody just forgets who was there first.

2) In response to #1, I have run out of original swear words to use. Is "douchetard" in the lexicon now? I like "douchetarde" because it sounds more offensive than it is. And "wafflecrapper" doesn't work, because it actually means something good. Suggestions are welcome.

3) It's probably a good thing that I can't masturbate solely using the power of my mind. I'm on a really boring 3-week training course at the moment, and I would have been fired AND prosecuted by now if I had this skill.

4) Not having the internet at home sucks. This one pretty much speaks for itself.

5) My friends > GPS > Map Book. I've gotten lost in Toronto/Mississauga about twice daily since I moved, just trying to figure out routes from home/work, etc. I may break down and buy a GPS, but I've always felt they were a silly frill. I have, however, been phoning friends A LOT lately to Google Map me things while I'm driving. Am I a bad friend? Thoughts?

Sorry this post is so thin, but it was written in a bit of a rush. Should be back to normal next week.

Fin.

In Tha Zone - Ian

I'm going to level with y'all. I really don't feel like writing today. As I may have mentioned before, while I work for as a public servant to pay the bills, it's hardly my dream career. I want to write for a living. While my samplings provided here certainly give no indication I have any potential or this so-called "talent" to do this for a living, it's the thing I want to do more than anything. In fact, until a few minutes ago when I remembered it was my evening to write here, I was continuing work on a story I've been working on for some time now. Well, I started it a few months ago, then, like most things I start, I left it.

Then, one night, after a deep, drunken and spiritual conversation with a drunk accountant and aspiring business owner, I decided to dig this back up and try to finish what I had begun. Perhaps my writing skills will one day be able to pay the bills. The thought of that makes me giggle, to be terribly honest, but who knows? The geniuses at Penny Arcade make a living off their site now, through their own humble beginnings.

Now, the question on everyone's mind is: What is this epic story you're working on, Ian? Well, the inspiration for the story came from a clock on my office wall. I will leave it at that. I have no idea who reads this and would be desperate enough to steal an idea with such feeble inspiration. But such a clown might be out there, so I will keep this under wraps. If it somehow gets published, I'll be the first to gloat, perhaps offering an "In your face!" to Jon.

Where is that guy, anyway? Haven't talked to him in some time.

That said, I was in the middle of a thought, when I remembered the challenge I refuse to luse. See what I did there? I unnecessarily altered the spelling of "lose". I think it's modern and hip.

From the Clutches of Defeat - by Jon

Making this blog post has been extremely difficult, as I am in the process of moving from here:

to here:




The new place isn't exactly at Bloor and Lansdowne (apparently, one of the worst cocaine neighbourhoods in Toronto), but it's within a 10 minute walk. Or, to look at it another way, 5 seconds of bullet-time.

I'm definitely excited about the move, though - more on the new house later.

I'm currently at a friend's house, typing on his computer, taking him away from his MSc thesis. As such, I don't feel that it's cheating to get up to the required word count as quickly as possible.

One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty.

I am disappointed to report that I've missed the Beijing Olympics almost entirely - this wasn't intentional, but because of the time difference, and my work schedule, actually watching competitions was near impossible.

My roommate and I, however, did turn on the CBC once to watch its Olympics coverage, which was centred at that precise moment on the Women's Heptathalon. Without any particular stake in the race, we picked a name at random, and decided to cheer for that particular athlete.

Ergo, not only did I miss the biggest sporting event of the year, but I'm batting 1,000 when it comes to accidentally supporting dopers.

Wheeeeeeee....

~Jon

Waterworld: Redux - Ian write this

I should begin this post by apologising to Jon for taking a light jab at his portly figure. He isn't really fat and also he is pretty good at Jiu Jitsu and could remove my head from my body in an instant, take it to the local bowling alley and roll a strike, then come back to my body which wouldn't have hit the ground yet and just make it disappear into oblivion with some weird voodoo jitsu curse.

Besides, it's a bit hypocritical of me. For those of you who don't know me, I suppose it wasn't that many years ago that I had a physique that, if I didn't know better, could only be the product of Jabba the Hutt mating with the Rogers Centre. In the last year or two I have lost a lot of weight. Apparently my BMI is normal, but I still feel too light. On the advice of friends, I have decided to commit to a healthier diet, eating more food, drinking more water. That sort of thing.

I never realised how difficult it is to drink water. Did you know you're supposed to drink at least 2 litres of water a day? That involves drinking a lot when you're not thirsty and results in way too many trips to the toilet. Yesterday, I must have gone at least a dozen times. It was ridiculous. The Man must have been disappointed with my productivity yesterday, it having been interrupted so many times by nature's incessant call. Maybe it's just my body getting used to receiving water again, and I hope it is, because I see little point in drinking 2 litres of water a day just to give it a quick tour of the body.

The doctors say this is good, though. My body will learn to actually retain the water and this is healthy. For my urinary tract. I'll have a healthy urinary tract. It seems to me that drinking this much water to develop a healthy urinary tract is similar to compulsive masturbation
to ensure healthy testicles, but am I really willing to invest the effort into both of these ventures?? Really, now. I'm only one man.

And so Jon and I both ponder our existences, but I'll tell you this. Who's going to have the healthiest balls and urinary tract in Western Canada? This guy.

Half a Thought: by Jon

It’s 11:23pm, and after several false-starts on this blog post, I have decided to throw caution to the wind and get as much down on paper as possible, coherent or not.

… on screen, I guess.

Not important.

Anyway,

The funniest thing I read on Wikipedia this week was about the “Yuppie Nuremburg Defense.” As you might know, the “Nuremburg Defense” was utilized (unsuccessfully) by defendants during the Nuremburg Trials, who stated that they committed their crimes because they were only following orders. The “Yuppie Nuremburg Defense,” as referenced in the novel/film adaptation of Thank You for Smoking, states, “it pays the mortgage.”

(I suppose the corollary to this might be the Maxim Defense – according to Maxim magazine, until the age of 30, a man can defend any action by uttering the words, “Dude, I was sooooooooo drunk!” After the age of 30, a man can defend his actions by uttering the words, “Hey, I pay my taxes!”)

Anyway, I never saw myself becoming a Yuppie. As my sister so lovingly puts it, I “used to make a career out of fighting The Man, and now I am The Man.” But one day, I woke up, and realized that I was living in a yuppie neighbourhood, driving my yuppie car to work, high gas prices and environmental impact be damned. I order takeout instead of cooking, I buy toys that I don’t need, and I cheerfully start far too many sentences with, “I was reading the Globe and Mail today, and…” I stopped paying attention for a few years, and when I clued back in, I had become everything I used to mock.

Then I realized that I’m closer to 30 than I am to 20. Ouch. Maybe there’s no turning back. I probably shouldn’t throw away my career and pension to go chasing my 18-year old self’s dream of becoming a famous jazz musician, because in the end, the risk might outweigh the payoff.

Then again, maybe I could take high-school Algebra and Geometry, and apply to Queen’s again, but this time as an engineer. Just to see if I could do it. What’s the harm in trying?

I’m in my mid-20s, finished my education, and am just embarking on what I hope will be a great career. But it’s not my dream. So here’s my question:

Do I still believe that, fundamentally, you can achieve anything that you put your mind to? Or will there always be insurmountable obstacles, depending on where your personal circumstances in this life?

I have to think about this one some more.

Anyway, I’d write more tonight, but I have to get up at 5:45am tomorrow. It’s a tough schedule, but I guess it pays the mortgage.

This is Zero-Echo-Niner, over and out.

Of Cars and Cockiness - Ian

I may be living some thousands of kilometres from Jon at present, but I can feel his nerves. He's scared about this challenge. His last posts have been laden with macho posturing, but it's just that. It's all a show. Since he threw down that smelly gauntlet, he's probably lost about 15 pounds through sweating alone. If you know Jon, you know that's not a significant amount of weight, but still impressive. Maybe this challenge is supplement to a diet he's started and not told me about. But I digress. The point of this rant is to say to our massive readership that I will not fold!

I should also add that I am writing this post from work, writing a full thirteen and a half hours before deadline. (edit: Turns out I was writing this a full sixty-one and a half hours before deadline, and almost forgot to post the effing thing before midnight, but didn't. Eat it, Jon.)

20 minutes have passed and I can't think of anything to write. Browsing news sites hasn't turned up any gems. Jon must have some sort of sway over the media. Don't know how, but he must.

Hey, here's a thought I just had. Both readers, any input on this? I will soon be in the market for a new automobile. The lease on my 2005 Civic is just about up and I'm wanting something new. I would love a VW Rabbit, but it's just a bit more than I can afford, so I've been looking at other hatchbacks. Eventually, I decided to start checking out domestic cars because, well, they're losing money, and I figure I can probably get a Corvette for about 19 bucks. While browsing GM's site, I came across the 2009 Vibe. It's actually a pretty sweet looking car. I hear they used to handle like a 3-wheeled shopping cart, but maybe that's changed. It's sleek, comes pretty loaded even in the base model and this is what I don't get: It costs less per month to BUY than it does to LEASE, by about $150 per month. I have never heard of this.

I'm no moneyologist. I took wordandsentenceology in school. This makes no sense to me. Are things that bad at GM now? I've been away from the 'Shwa for a few years, but wow, this blows my mind. So, shit, come December, I may be a Pontiac driver for the first time since I drove my phat 1991 Firefly in high school. Refer to the TIB archives for stories involving the blue beast and related follies!

Hope y'all had a good weekend. It was a heater in Calgary, complete with a buttload of sun, and I did little more than celebrate birthdays and play soccer. Peace out.

A Deadly Game of Blog Chicken - by Jon

Thursday Night.

11:24pm. EST

Time to Deadline: 36 minutes.

Ian is online right now. MSN for sure.

Probably Facebook, too, although I haven’t checked.

I’m not saying “hi” to him. He’s not saying “hi” to me.

I know he’s waiting to see if I’ll update the ‘Bull.

He’s not saying “hi” to me because if he does, he thinks it will remind me that an update is due, and I’ll have a chance to scramble together 200 words and keep alive in the bet.

He’s wrong. I’m writing, and waiting.

He’ll say something, though. Probably 2 minutes before midnight. Just long enough to think about defeat. He’ll be too late, though. I’ll be posting by then.

I’m writing, waiting, and playing a game.

A deadly game of Blog Chicken.

Who will flinch first, Ian? You, or me?

11:31pm. EST

Time to Deadline: 29 minutes.

Ian just sent me an MSN message. Olympics-related. Forget everything I just said.

My favourite thing on the internet so far today is this post I came across on Yahoo! Answers:

JFK Assassination Help???

Brunettelady622 asks,

I'm writing an essay about the JFK Assassination and I'd like to know if Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone or was he part of a conspiracy in the assassination? I checked different sites but they don't know for sure. This is a question I have to answer.

A few thoughts:

1) Recent studies have shown that you can now cite internet sources as reliable, scholarly information (Some Internet Guy, 2008). Fuck libraries. Fuck 'em!
2) I'm really sure that there are people out there who know the definitive answer to this question. I'm also really sure that those same people, who have successfully kept one of history's greatest secrets for nearly 45 years, aren't going to let the cat out of the bag on Yahoo! Answers just because you ask nicely.
3) "this is a question I have to answer" ? What the hell are the parameters of this assignment? Who's teaching this class?

I had to write some killer essays in my day, but demanding a definitive answer on the Kennedy Assassination seems a bit extreme. I wish I knew what grade-level this girl is in.


One for the Torontonians:

NFL Game Prep Snarls Traffic

"In fact, the backup from the Spadina exit on the eastbound Gardiner has traffic tied up beyond the Humber River."

Followed by the surprisingly optimistic,

"[Hosting an NFL pre-season game] is a unique opportunity for the City of Toronto ... it's great for the fans and we just ask that people be patient."

Yeah, so, to anybody who had to go to the Rogers Centre today, sorry that the lineup for the game started in ETOBICOKE.

11:50am.

Time to Deadline: 10 minutes.

Ian is salivating.

Of this, I'm sure.

Anticipation of winning the bet, or unrelated drooling problem?

You be the judge.

Time to seal the deal.

Another post, b*tches!

The war rages on.

I Love Time Zones - Ian

Oh, how I love time zones. If it weren't for them, I'd have lost this challenge on day one, and then again now, the next day, which I shall dub "two". What will I discuss? Well, as much as I love to avoid big ticket items, I'm going to lean on such a one.

Now that I have you writhing in your seats, sweat dripping from your chins in anticipation, ready to burst with excitement, here we go: Michael Phelps.

Allow me to preface this by first saying I would be foolish to dismiss his talent and abilities as a swimmer. He's an incredible athlete. And I don't resent him as an athlete. Hell, I wish Canada had a Michael Phelps. Maybe we'd win a medal before day 6.

I just can't take the attention. I expect it from NBC. I expect their Michael Phelps gold medal counter in the bottom corner of the screen and the countdown until his next race. That's their thing that they do. What I want to know is why CBC is giving him just as much attention? We have over 300 athletes participating at these Olympics. Can we not give them ANY attention? I'm not saying they all need a 10 minute spot or more, but something beyond the "a 57 year old trap shooter didn't qualify for the final", which seems to be more their style. That's all I'm asking. So many sports are neglected and so many athletes, too! Ever heard of Handball? Highly doubtful, unless you're from Quebec or Manitoba.

Anyway, I can't imagine how Phelps deals with all this attention. Well, I have an idea. By now, you must have seen his ridiculous macho posturing after winning gold medal number two, in the 4x100m freestyle relay. It was such a ridiculous display of testosterone it made me ill. Then what made me more ill was the thought of him alone in his room: "Oh, Michael Phelps, you're such a good swimmer, Michael Phelps. I love you, Michael Phelps. Eight gold medals, Michael Phelps? Let me get you a Kleenex, Michael Phelps." Oh lord, I feel dirty now. Just like Michael Phelps. Gross.

This just in: Jon smells.

This Post is Unrelated to the Toronto Explosions - by Jon

G-d help me, I almost forgot to write a blog post. And if I had forgotten to post this post by the posting deadline of midnight, I would have owed Ian…

Nothing.

We didn’t publicly (or privately) agree on stakes, so I’m guessing that it’s only pride up for grabs. No matter, though, for this is a bet I intend to win.

Point the First:

Ian has only ever taught me one useful thing about life. Here goes:

If your car has a remote keyless entry feature, you can extend the range of the little key-fob-dealy by using your body as an antenna.

(Suffice it to say, gaining this tidbit of knowledge has not nearly compensated for the 10+ years of drudgery that knowing Ian has brought upon me.)

I demonstrated the key-antenna thing to a friend in an IKEA parking lot earlier this weekend, and when she asked how I ever found this out, it prompted the following conversation:

Friend: “How did you ever find this out?”

Jon: “My friend Ian told me.”

Friend: “Yeah, but how did HE find out?”

Jon: “I don’t know… I just assume it’s one of those things that you don’t ever really think about, and then you see it on the internet, give it a try, and realize that it’s great.

*pause*

Jon: … like anal.”

Anyway, your true friends in life are the ones that you can have the preceding conversations with, without local law enforcement getting involved.

Point the Second:

More Canadians Deported from China for Protests

I think my favourite part of this article is where the guy says,

“They ransacked our entire apartment, went through all of our bags, all of our luggage, despite the fact that we never consented to any searches."

I mean, this guy is protesting against China’s human rights abuses in Tibet, and… he seems… surprised? That the State Police can search your apartment without a warrant? Or asking your permission? I mean, I’m not cheering for the bad guys here, but this clearly lies within the “foreseeable range of consequences” category. Was he hoping for hugs and kisses?

Point the Third:

Up until now, I had no idea how to quick-change between tabs in Mozilla Firefox. By accident, I have learned that you can open tabs by pressing "CTRL+1" or "CTRL+2" for the appropriate tab. So if you, like I, am too lazy to Google the basic functions of your everyday programs, I hope I just taught you something.

Over and out.

Of Milk and Men - an Ian novel

So, Jon express-posted the aforementioned glove, which I received today at home and immediately upon being freed from its cardboard prison leaped up and slapped me repeatedly across the face. The resulting concussion is probably what gave me the brilliant idea I came up with, a personal challenge within the blogging challenge issued to me on Tuesday.

Arriving home thirsty on a hot summer's day in Calgary (the high was 30 something, apparently), I checked the fridge to see what could quench said thirst. Inside, I found one thing, probably the worst thing to have when thirsty, milk; an unopened 2 litre carton of milk; an unopened 2 litre carton of milk that's best before date was Wednesday August 6. I figure it's probably safe to drink since it wasn't open, but I should finish it soon, but how soon?

Today soon? Yes. Today soon.

I grabbed the nearest pint glass and filled it up, adding some Nestle Quik. 5 pm. 25% of the way there. That wasn't so bad. Dare I say it was even delicious, which means something coming from someone that does not drink milk if he can avoid it. I immediately refill the glass and repeat. Half done this challenge inside 5 minutes. This will be easy, says I! Then I remembered how milk treats the ol' digestive system. Then I remember that a little bit later this evening, I'm supposed to play hockey. The last time I played, I managed to stink out the dressing room from the toilet, a milk-fuelled fiasco and an embarassing moment to be sure.

Mercifully, I got through hockey tonight without incident, but it's 11:10 as I type and I have to meet the challenge of writing this by midnight-o-one and I still have 1 litre of milk to drink. At present, I am drinking 800 ml of chocolate milk. I know it's 800 ml because I'm drinking out of a measuring cup. My stomach, along with my back and legs, ache. At this point, I am ready to blame the milk for all my pains. But only 200 ml to go.

Oh, Christ. I guess my pint glasses weren't full pints. Upon completion of the 800 ml serving, I somehow have 500 ml to go. That math doesn't add up. Time to chug-a-lug.

Done! Now, let's review my checklist! 200 word entry completed before 00:01 Friday, check! 2 litres of milk consumed in 6 hours, minus time allowed for shopping, going to hockey, playing hockey and returning from hockey, check!

....

Uncertainty as to which end is going to give way horribly to this torrent of milk, a reluctant check. Oh, I'm going to be ill. Have a good weekend, everyone. And by everyone, of course, I mean Jon. Fuck milk.

Throwing Down the Blogging Gauntlet – A Challenge by Jon

Ian and I suck at blogging. It’s a harsh reality that we’ve had to come to terms with, but there are several inescapable facts here: The Irish Bull is like a coma patient that wakes up at random intervals, asks if there are hovercars and roboprostitutes yet, then falls back asleep in shame and disappointment. It’s heartbreaking for the family, and you just wish that your comatose blog would come back for good one day, or at the very least, that you could silently put one in the back of its brain and cover your violent act of blogthanasia up to look like a mob hit.

… alright, that analogy spun out of control on me, but the point is, I’m rusty.

It’s time to put the ‘Bull back on a regular schedule. To that end, I am mailing Ian a gentleman’s evening glove from Toronto to Calgary. I expect that upon receipt he will promptly smack himself in the face with it on my behalf to signify the following challenge:

1) The Irish Bull will now go to regular Monday, Wednesday, Friday updates.

2) Posts will be a minimum of 200 words.

3) Posts will be posted by 00:01 of the date in question in order to count.

4) Jon and Ian will alternate posts, with this post serving as the post for Wednesday, August 6^th, 2008. The next post to be posted will be on Friday, August 8^th, 2008.

The stakes in this wager will be finalized by Friday’s post.

What about you, Ian? Are you NERD enough? Or are you scared? Or are you BOTH? Or are you HUNGRY? Because I could make you a SANDWICH.

... nerd.