- When you go out to watch special screenings of ET, he occassionally mumbles how aliens are being badly stereotyped.
- When he says he'll pick you up, he literally does using a tractor beam.
- Fly Me To The Moon is not a track song playing in the car. It's a date activity.
- People from immigration wearing black suits keep on following your ass.
- Whenever he mentions the telephone, his index finger glows red.
- Instead of an erection, something tubelike comes out of his mouth.
- His name is longer than your entire name combined - and he's not from Thailand.
- He doesn't think Michael Jackson is weird.
- He thinks you're cute.
- You're saying to yourself right now, "Nah, this isn't like him at all. God this is such a bad update Jet. When will you come up with updates that aren't random as hell?" But you're wrong.
That's what he wants you to think. The aliens, they're out there.
They will eat your liver when you're not looking (or when you say the bouquet of venus flowers he sent you smells like ratpoison).
Some people think I have xenophobia because I got abducted by aliens and got anally probed as a kid - don't believe those agents of the graymen, I was no longer a kid when that happened.
True story.
10 Signs That You're Dating An Alien from Outer Space
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Quoting Your Own Life
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
I think I've mentioned already before that I like collecting quotes. After a while I started making my own stuff which I regularly post here. Last night, a good friend of mine asked me about quotes. It was completely random, out of the blue. And it went like this:
Lyra: anong love quote mo??
After that a long pause.
Jet: haha funny, for all the quotes i have in my head, wala ako maalalang love quote
And then it hit me like the fist of an angry god into the anus of an unsuspecting temple visitor. I couldn't think of anything. No nada. Kalas. Nichts. Niente. NOTHING. My magical time/space warp brain flashed back to six years ago, ENGLONE class during freshman college. I remember our professor asking the very same question to me: "How about you, young man. Do you have a quote about love?"
I answered her with the shortest answer possible: stunned silence.
Figuring, there's no talking to a Machete turned into wood, she then replies: "Aw, no quotes? Maybe you've never been in love before."
I won't lie, I felt embarassed at that moment - slightly a bit more than I was last night (maybe because being freshman in college meant being able to piss higher than anybody else in a tacit pissing contest, and not being able to answer meant your peepee puttering out midway into the duel-o-dorkness)
And I thought a year or two of writing love stories -some of which got plagiarised a lot - would change my ability to think of a good love quote at a moment's notice. Well, I guess that didn't quite do the trick. Last night, it was ENGLONE all over again.
After a few minutes (i.e. half an hour of staring blankly at the damn monitor), quotes started flowing again. I was able to give a several quotes without any problems. For all of them though, I felt they were just inadequate. They were love quotes - yes. But not my love quote.
I guess if ever there's a topic I really have a hard time defining with a short witty line - it'd be love. For all the witticisms I've done I just cant make up one line that really says a lot about it. Maybe I just need inspiration. Or maybe I just lack the blood alcohol content. Or both.
Or maybe somethings are just beautiful because they can't be contained in something so small.
(And no, I'm not talking about fat-tards trying to fit into leather boots and micro minis dying to disintegrate from all the fatty masses crammed inside them. )
One day I'll be able to make a quote - or find one for myself - it doesnt matter. It'd be one that I can quickly say without any hesitation - or disappointment. It'd define love for me - and for everybody who hears it. When I find that one, I know exactly what to do.
I'll make bumper stickers out of it.
Then I'm going to be fucking rich.
note:
This is a half-serious disclosed post from the private section of this blog that wasn't supposed to be appearing on the primary page. Public Static Void Main. Get it hahaha! *snort* hahahah!
Lyra: anong love quote mo??
After that a long pause.
Jet: haha funny, for all the quotes i have in my head, wala ako maalalang love quote
And then it hit me like the fist of an angry god into the anus of an unsuspecting temple visitor. I couldn't think of anything. No nada. Kalas. Nichts. Niente. NOTHING. My magical time/space warp brain flashed back to six years ago, ENGLONE class during freshman college. I remember our professor asking the very same question to me: "How about you, young man. Do you have a quote about love?"
I answered her with the shortest answer possible: stunned silence.
Figuring, there's no talking to a Machete turned into wood, she then replies: "Aw, no quotes? Maybe you've never been in love before."
I won't lie, I felt embarassed at that moment - slightly a bit more than I was last night (maybe because being freshman in college meant being able to piss higher than anybody else in a tacit pissing contest, and not being able to answer meant your peepee puttering out midway into the duel-o-dorkness)
And I thought a year or two of writing love stories -some of which got plagiarised a lot - would change my ability to think of a good love quote at a moment's notice. Well, I guess that didn't quite do the trick. Last night, it was ENGLONE all over again.
After a few minutes (i.e. half an hour of staring blankly at the damn monitor), quotes started flowing again. I was able to give a several quotes without any problems. For all of them though, I felt they were just inadequate. They were love quotes - yes. But not my love quote.
I guess if ever there's a topic I really have a hard time defining with a short witty line - it'd be love. For all the witticisms I've done I just cant make up one line that really says a lot about it. Maybe I just need inspiration. Or maybe I just lack the blood alcohol content. Or both.
Or maybe somethings are just beautiful because they can't be contained in something so small.
(And no, I'm not talking about fat-tards trying to fit into leather boots and micro minis dying to disintegrate from all the fatty masses crammed inside them. )
One day I'll be able to make a quote - or find one for myself - it doesnt matter. It'd be one that I can quickly say without any hesitation - or disappointment. It'd define love for me - and for everybody who hears it. When I find that one, I know exactly what to do.
I'll make bumper stickers out of it.
Then I'm going to be fucking rich.
note:
This is a half-serious disclosed post from the private section of this blog that wasn't supposed to be appearing on the primary page.
Lazy Town = More Communism
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
People say Communism is dead. I say it's just evolving. A friend of mine showed me the video of a children's show Lazy Town singing a song about Baking A Cake. They may have fooled the rest of the world but not me. I know there's communist propaganda in that show. Just read the lyrics of this "baking a cake" song (I put in commentaries in communist red - the way they do it in soviet russia).
(Stingy)
I’ll put in some ingredients
but keep the rest for me
I’m not just disobediant
I’m careful can’t you see
Stingy is a capitalist pig (i.e. he's from the United States. See how he keeps ingredients for himself? Capitalism is bad. He's not working but look how much he's earning.
(Stephanie)
It's a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake
if the way is ha-zy
you gotta do the cooking by the book
you know you can’t be la-zy
There are two things that cannot be tolerated in the soviet union: Laziness and willingness to try something new without due permission from the Comrades. Remember, being different is the first step to godless capitalism.
never use a messy recipe
the cake would end up cra-zy
The idea of being unique is once again reitrerated and lambasted. If you don't do things uniformly, there will be no cake.
if you do the cooking by the book
then you’ll have a cake
Conversely, if you do anything in pure socialist style, you will have your cake.
we gotta have it made
you know that I love cake
finally it’s time to make a cake
(Pixel)
Making food is just like science
with tools that shred and baste
Notice the usage of "shred" - to cut and "baste" - to strike. Those two activities are the basic symbols of Proletariat Propaganda. Hammer and Sickle - ring a bell?
every fun appliance
gives the food a different taste
Hammer and Sickle = fun.
--------------------
Baking Cake song? I dont think so. Maybe a "let komrad Lenin be immortalized by painting the world red" for a title suits this song better. Because in Soviet Russia, the cake bakes YOU!
Anyway so you dont doubt me that this song is not just a faker. Watch the video here:
(Stingy)
I’ll put in some ingredients
but keep the rest for me
I’m not just disobediant
I’m careful can’t you see
Stingy is a capitalist pig (i.e. he's from the United States. See how he keeps ingredients for himself? Capitalism is bad. He's not working but look how much he's earning.
(Stephanie)
It's a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake
if the way is ha-zy
you gotta do the cooking by the book
you know you can’t be la-zy
There are two things that cannot be tolerated in the soviet union: Laziness and willingness to try something new without due permission from the Comrades. Remember, being different is the first step to godless capitalism.
never use a messy recipe
the cake would end up cra-zy
The idea of being unique is once again reitrerated and lambasted. If you don't do things uniformly, there will be no cake.
if you do the cooking by the book
then you’ll have a cake
Conversely, if you do anything in pure socialist style, you will have your cake.
we gotta have it made
you know that I love cake
finally it’s time to make a cake
(Pixel)
Making food is just like science
with tools that shred and baste
Notice the usage of "shred" - to cut and "baste" - to strike. Those two activities are the basic symbols of Proletariat Propaganda. Hammer and Sickle - ring a bell?
every fun appliance
gives the food a different taste
Hammer and Sickle = fun.
--------------------
Baking Cake song? I dont think so. Maybe a "let komrad Lenin be immortalized by painting the world red" for a title suits this song better. Because in Soviet Russia, the cake bakes YOU!
Anyway so you dont doubt me that this song is not just a faker. Watch the video here:
Los Baños Botanical Garden
Monday, November 27, 2006
So a friend of mine and I were talking about having gone to UP Los Baños at some point in our lives. I then think, who hasn't? Anybody who's been to enough field f'ing trips back in gradeschool/highschool should have gone there at least twice. I can't even count how many times I've been there. UPLB Botanical Garden is like a fieldtrip mecca. It's like no matter where we're supposed to be going for that field trip, we always end up having lunch/taking hikes in the UPLB botanical gardens. Swear. If it's not Jose Rizal's shitty house, it's the freaking botanical garden. And given the choice between the two, the latter always wins.
But then again, UPLB botanical gardens is anything but a garden.
A garden is where you take leisurely walks with flatland grass and shrubbery around you, and butterflies and other stuff. Then go you for tea or some other snack like crumpets and toffees. That's what I call garden. This botanical garden means going into steep trails that are slippery and wet 50% of the time (usually around the time most schools decide to go have a field trip here). There's no food available and the "botanical" part is basically big ass trees that you can see in any other part of the freaking mountain that you're on (because hey, you're in a mountain - trees are EVERYWHERE).
People don't even bother to give you a lowdown on what you can do there. They just tell you "Don't get lost. Don't drink the water in the stream. Don't die."
And then there's always this one idiot who slips/falls down/drowns in ankle-deep water everytime we go there. Always. What a party spoiler. I'm not saying going there can be likened to a party, but if ever there was one, having somebody die on you kinda spoils the fun (because the red from the blood doesnt match green). My teacher says it's probably Mariang Makiling at work (the resident faerie from folklore). I say it's just the omnipresent power of stupidity to screw things up.
Maaan I hate that place.
Minor note:
If you're Filipino and up to now you still dont know how to type the enye (ñ) on your keyboard, go chew on it. It's (hold)alt+165+(release)alt. Ñente?
Update:
I accidentally wrote 169. Slip of the Freud. Tit wasnt intentional. I swear.
But then again, UPLB botanical gardens is anything but a garden.
A garden is where you take leisurely walks with flatland grass and shrubbery around you, and butterflies and other stuff. Then go you for tea or some other snack like crumpets and toffees. That's what I call garden. This botanical garden means going into steep trails that are slippery and wet 50% of the time (usually around the time most schools decide to go have a field trip here). There's no food available and the "botanical" part is basically big ass trees that you can see in any other part of the freaking mountain that you're on (because hey, you're in a mountain - trees are EVERYWHERE).
People don't even bother to give you a lowdown on what you can do there. They just tell you "Don't get lost. Don't drink the water in the stream. Don't die."
And then there's always this one idiot who slips/falls down/drowns in ankle-deep water everytime we go there. Always. What a party spoiler. I'm not saying going there can be likened to a party, but if ever there was one, having somebody die on you kinda spoils the fun (because the red from the blood doesnt match green). My teacher says it's probably Mariang Makiling at work (the resident faerie from folklore). I say it's just the omnipresent power of stupidity to screw things up.
Maaan I hate that place.
Minor note:
If you're Filipino and up to now you still dont know how to type the enye (ñ) on your keyboard, go chew on it. It's (hold)alt+165+(release)alt. Ñente?
Update:
I accidentally wrote 169. Slip of the Freud. Tit wasnt intentional. I swear.
Still More About Elevators
Sunday, November 26, 2006
This is my third article concerning elevators. For some reason, I just never run out of comments about elevators. For something so small, plain, and mundane, there sure as hell are a lot of things to talk about.
Here are a couple of more observations inside elevators (particulary here in the Philippines):
Everybody likes to stare at the floor number. Maybe it's the awkwardness of having to stare at how badly-dressed the guy next to you is or how long the legs the hottie you're standing against are, or maybe it's the simple hypnotic allure of two red digits changing predictably - I'm not really sure. What I am sure of is that the floor number indicator always gets the attention it wants. Maybe if you're a camwhore, you should consider spending the rest of your life as LED for an elevator.
Next, people like to be out of the elevator as quickly as possible. Even if the cabin is a few feet away from the stop point, the door hasn't opened yet, and people are jammed between those who want to get out and the elevator exit. They'd go "Excuse me!" even though everybody knows, nobody's getting out until the elevator opens. Jesus. It's not like the floor will leave if you don't hop off in time you know? This isn't sky diving. The elevator _will_ wait for you to hop off. But noooo, people just have to squeeze themselves to the exit at the inconvenience of everybody inside just so they have that "amazing race" advantage.
By "amazing race" I mean "special children".
Lastly, I don't know about other elevators but in our residential elevator, there are a LOT of vandalisms. Most of them don't even make any sense. All I see are indecipherable writings of what looks like numbers, names, the name of our building (yes, somebody was retarded enough to "brand" our elevator with the building's name - maybe so the elevator doesn't get misplaced perhaps) and various intricate (i.e. shitty) diagrams of the male genetalia.
Don't get me wrong. I used to vandalize and scribble on walls too. Then I turned three.
As a saving grace though, there's one vandalism there that does justice to what it stands for. On a corner of Elevator B, there exists one written word: STUPID.
Previous Articles For Reference:
http://redkinoko.blogspot.com/2006/06/elevators.html
http://redkinoko.blogspot.com/2006/10/elevator-action.html
Here are a couple of more observations inside elevators (particulary here in the Philippines):
Everybody likes to stare at the floor number. Maybe it's the awkwardness of having to stare at how badly-dressed the guy next to you is or how long the legs the hottie you're standing against are, or maybe it's the simple hypnotic allure of two red digits changing predictably - I'm not really sure. What I am sure of is that the floor number indicator always gets the attention it wants. Maybe if you're a camwhore, you should consider spending the rest of your life as LED for an elevator.
Next, people like to be out of the elevator as quickly as possible. Even if the cabin is a few feet away from the stop point, the door hasn't opened yet, and people are jammed between those who want to get out and the elevator exit. They'd go "Excuse me!" even though everybody knows, nobody's getting out until the elevator opens. Jesus. It's not like the floor will leave if you don't hop off in time you know? This isn't sky diving. The elevator _will_ wait for you to hop off. But noooo, people just have to squeeze themselves to the exit at the inconvenience of everybody inside just so they have that "amazing race" advantage.
By "amazing race" I mean "special children".
Lastly, I don't know about other elevators but in our residential elevator, there are a LOT of vandalisms. Most of them don't even make any sense. All I see are indecipherable writings of what looks like numbers, names, the name of our building (yes, somebody was retarded enough to "brand" our elevator with the building's name - maybe so the elevator doesn't get misplaced perhaps) and various intricate (i.e. shitty) diagrams of the male genetalia.
Don't get me wrong. I used to vandalize and scribble on walls too. Then I turned three.
As a saving grace though, there's one vandalism there that does justice to what it stands for. On a corner of Elevator B, there exists one written word: STUPID.
Previous Articles For Reference:
http://redkinoko.blogspot.com/2006/06/elevators.html
http://redkinoko.blogspot.com/2006/10/elevator-action.html
Apologies: Serious Business.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
I apologize to the people whose trusts I appear to have betrayed by posting information I supposedly held in confidence. It was not my wish or plan to have that particular post published sometime ago as it was supposed to be an entry in the private section of this blog. I admit that it was very reckless of me to have ended up doing so and in making up for that, I have deleted the entry entirely.
Again, my apologies. Not a real post, just a message to the affected.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, good for me.
This is not a regular post, just a notice of apology.
Again, my apologies. Not a real post, just a message to the affected.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, good for me.
This is not a regular post, just a notice of apology.
AdSense and Sensibility
Friday, November 24, 2006
(warning: post not internationalized. come back tomorrow for a full english update)
Ang dami na ngayon na kumukita dahil sa Google Ads. Yung ibang blog na nakikita ko, kinarir na yung bagbebenta ng kung ano-ano sa website nila, mukhang divisioria na yung website, pero dahil dun, hindi na rin sila kailangan magtrabaho pa sa laki ng kinikita. Ayos diba? Parang Mayor na sila bigla, mayari ng isang e-palengke online.
So naisip ko, bakit hindi rin ako? So nagsign up ako sa Google tapos nakiusap ako kay pareng Impe (yung mayari ng Google na taga Project 6 - ewan ko rin, yun sabi nya nung nakausap ko sya sa YM eh. Naniniwala naman ako) . Sabi ko, puro pinoy ads lang ilagay sa site ko kasi gusto ko maging makabayan gaya ni Belorya (yung expat na taga Hawaii).
Pumayag naman si pareng Impe. Kaya eto, may advertisment na rin ako sa website ko. Click nyo para dumami rin pera ko at hindi ko na kailangan pang akyatin bahay nyo at magpahabol sa aso gabi-gabi habang may daladalang colored television set saka betamax.
Click na!
Ang dami na ngayon na kumukita dahil sa Google Ads. Yung ibang blog na nakikita ko, kinarir na yung bagbebenta ng kung ano-ano sa website nila, mukhang divisioria na yung website, pero dahil dun, hindi na rin sila kailangan magtrabaho pa sa laki ng kinikita. Ayos diba? Parang Mayor na sila bigla, mayari ng isang e-palengke online.
So naisip ko, bakit hindi rin ako? So nagsign up ako sa Google tapos nakiusap ako kay pareng Impe (yung mayari ng Google na taga Project 6 - ewan ko rin, yun sabi nya nung nakausap ko sya sa YM eh. Naniniwala naman ako) . Sabi ko, puro pinoy ads lang ilagay sa site ko kasi gusto ko maging makabayan gaya ni Belorya (yung expat na taga Hawaii).
Pumayag naman si pareng Impe. Kaya eto, may advertisment na rin ako sa website ko. Click nyo para dumami rin pera ko at hindi ko na kailangan pang akyatin bahay nyo at magpahabol sa aso gabi-gabi habang may daladalang colored television set saka betamax.
Click na!
Traditional Origins
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Today, the town of Agono celebrates Higantes festival - where 10-foot giant papermache people (a.k.a. higantes) are paraded in the streets while spectators try to get each other as wet as possible, in the wholesome water-driven way. The festival is a tradition that is hundreds of years old, meaning at least three generations have done the same things over and over again - every year, for the last hundred years or so.
I just got to wondering, how do traditions like this get started anyway? I mean, sure it's easy to convince people to go crazy and splash each other with putrid river water and go build ridiculously big giants by saying "it's tradition" and that "our parents did it too" but what about the first people to actually do it? Did they make those giants thinking of it as a start of tradition or was it out of a need that they did it like so many other starts of traditions?
The mentioned origins of the Higantes festival is said to be the miraculous return of a statue of San Clemente after it was stolen by thieves from the church, chained and hurled into a lake. The statue was said to be recovered after a fisherman caught the statue on its net, without the manacles and chains.
I dont know, but the origin itself sounds like a conspiracy to me. What's more likely:
A statue gets stolen by a bunch of bandidos. They chain it up (using chain they probably bought/made with their own sweat/blood/tears) and just hurl the gold-coated statue into the lake like they dont need the money. Bandidos are like that. They're rich afterall. Why would they be bandidos if they didn't have the money? Anyway, the heavy statue magically floats to the surface using heavenly powers and removes it's chains all incredible hulk and stuff and then attaches itself to the net of an unsuspecting fisherman who is honest enough to return a gold-crusted catch to the church.
OR
A statue gets stolen by a bunch of bandidos because it's crusted with gold. The local priests worry that they may never find the statue and just pretend the nameless bandidos actually threw it in the lake. They make a copy of the statue, hire a fisherman to "pretend" he caught it as though it's the real thing and then go around calling it a miracle while effectively replacing the religious icon and at the same time giving it a miraculous aura.
I think it's the first one. It sounds more plausible. I mean, we all know statues are known to move every now and then. Look at Machete. He not only moves. He moves.
So anyway, what has giants got anything to do with the returning statue? And why do people needlessly get themselves wet for that matter? I imagine the prototraditionists (my new word for people who start traditions) to have conversed something like this:
Pedro: So I've heard the statue's returned to us.
Juan: Praise be! We should celebrate.
Pedro: Okay, I'll go kill a cow or two.
Juan: Wait, that's not enough. I want this celebration to be tit-awesome.
Pedro: Like how? How do we party like it's 1898?
Juan: I'm thinking big.
Pedro: I'm thinking lots of people.
Juan: Wait. Why dont we combine our ideas?
Pedro and Juan: BIG PEOPLE! LOTS OF BIG PEOPLE!
Well, maybe not. Maybe the giants are just there to attract attention, like the way drunk girls like to flash their flaccid boobies at passersby. And what better way to convey penis envy than huge "men"?
As for the splashing part, I think that because men were involved in the planning of the first festival (back then women were treated no better than furniture), the water splashing is just inevitable. I mean you just cant go wrong with parties that have wet t-shirt contests.
I <3 watching Wet T-Shirt Contests.
And I'm sure the giants do too.
I just got to wondering, how do traditions like this get started anyway? I mean, sure it's easy to convince people to go crazy and splash each other with putrid river water and go build ridiculously big giants by saying "it's tradition" and that "our parents did it too" but what about the first people to actually do it? Did they make those giants thinking of it as a start of tradition or was it out of a need that they did it like so many other starts of traditions?
The mentioned origins of the Higantes festival is said to be the miraculous return of a statue of San Clemente after it was stolen by thieves from the church, chained and hurled into a lake. The statue was said to be recovered after a fisherman caught the statue on its net, without the manacles and chains.
I dont know, but the origin itself sounds like a conspiracy to me. What's more likely:
A statue gets stolen by a bunch of bandidos. They chain it up (using chain they probably bought/made with their own sweat/blood/tears) and just hurl the gold-coated statue into the lake like they dont need the money. Bandidos are like that. They're rich afterall. Why would they be bandidos if they didn't have the money? Anyway, the heavy statue magically floats to the surface using heavenly powers and removes it's chains all incredible hulk and stuff and then attaches itself to the net of an unsuspecting fisherman who is honest enough to return a gold-crusted catch to the church.
OR
A statue gets stolen by a bunch of bandidos because it's crusted with gold. The local priests worry that they may never find the statue and just pretend the nameless bandidos actually threw it in the lake. They make a copy of the statue, hire a fisherman to "pretend" he caught it as though it's the real thing and then go around calling it a miracle while effectively replacing the religious icon and at the same time giving it a miraculous aura.
I think it's the first one. It sounds more plausible. I mean, we all know statues are known to move every now and then. Look at Machete. He not only moves. He moves.
So anyway, what has giants got anything to do with the returning statue? And why do people needlessly get themselves wet for that matter? I imagine the prototraditionists (my new word for people who start traditions) to have conversed something like this:
Pedro: So I've heard the statue's returned to us.
Juan: Praise be! We should celebrate.
Pedro: Okay, I'll go kill a cow or two.
Juan: Wait, that's not enough. I want this celebration to be tit-awesome.
Pedro: Like how? How do we party like it's 1898?
Juan: I'm thinking big.
Pedro: I'm thinking lots of people.
Juan: Wait. Why dont we combine our ideas?
Pedro and Juan: BIG PEOPLE! LOTS OF BIG PEOPLE!
Well, maybe not. Maybe the giants are just there to attract attention, like the way drunk girls like to flash their flaccid boobies at passersby. And what better way to convey penis envy than huge "men"?
As for the splashing part, I think that because men were involved in the planning of the first festival (back then women were treated no better than furniture), the water splashing is just inevitable. I mean you just cant go wrong with parties that have wet t-shirt contests.
I <3 watching Wet T-Shirt Contests.
And I'm sure the giants do too.
Coffee = Sex
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
It's amazing how long commercials that make use of sexual innuendos have been around. From that banned Tender Juicy hotdog commercial we had some 10 years ago to the newer energy drink commercials we have today, these commercials bank on the human potential to believe anything that implores their need to satisfy the third primal urge: sex.
One particularly good example is this relic commercial of the coffee brand Folgers. At first glance it sounds innocent, but when you make a second watching (or first, granted you've read and understood the first paragraph of this post) . Note that this commercial is authentic and probably older than a lot of people you know.
Actually I'd still prefer commercials like these. There's art in being a wiley sunnovabitch to get your targeted market to buy your product. Nowaday's we'd just settle for outright association - like that rubbershoes commercial that aired during pacquiao's fight. There's a shoe onscreen and a near naked woman about the same size of the shoe beside it. The commercial doesn't even bother to make the association, and the woman just stays there.
Totally brainless.
Maybe if they added the tagline "Real men use rubber." it just might work.
*cough* plug *cough* I should start considering a career in marketing.
Anytime now...
One particularly good example is this relic commercial of the coffee brand Folgers. At first glance it sounds innocent, but when you make a second watching (or first, granted you've read and understood the first paragraph of this post) . Note that this commercial is authentic and probably older than a lot of people you know.
Actually I'd still prefer commercials like these. There's art in being a wiley sunnovabitch to get your targeted market to buy your product. Nowaday's we'd just settle for outright association - like that rubbershoes commercial that aired during pacquiao's fight. There's a shoe onscreen and a near naked woman about the same size of the shoe beside it. The commercial doesn't even bother to make the association, and the woman just stays there.
Totally brainless.
Maybe if they added the tagline "Real men use rubber." it just might work.
*cough* plug *cough* I should start considering a career in marketing.
Anytime now...
Initial D Lyrics
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Initial D is a popular anime about drift racing. I won't go into detail as to what drift racing is - we have wikipedia for that. One stunning aspect of Initial D is that it's literally swimming in japanese eurobeat songs with english lyrics. Sometimes, the lyrics just get plain wacky. Wacky may range from "What the hell are they trying to say" to "I hope they just didnt say what I heard them say."
Here are some samples of the craziness of Initial D Eurobeat:
Song #1 Running in the 90's by Dark Angels
We are running in the nineties, is a new way to set me free
I'm just running in the nineties
yes I wanna know, yes I wanna see
Cyber talking
Cybersex is on the line
New desire
I'm guessing that the 90's is the speed at which theyre going - and hopefully in American miles and not in kilometers. What speeding has to do with cybersex though, I have no idea.
Song #2 24 Hours a Day With You by J.Storm
You're like a bomb like a bursting fire.
Burning around the place.
Fill me tonight my bed desires.
I wanna see your face.
If I were an arsonist pyromaniac who happens to like to watch anime, maybe this song will turn me on. Having an entire song about burning shit while making love is just plain freaky. I mean "you make me hot" sounds nice but mentioning "bomb like a bursting fire" crosses the line of domestic violence right there.
Song #3 Back On The Rocks
In the beginning you get crazy, spending all the money you got.
No more women to love you now, you gotta go and leave town.
This just might be the next best song for seamen. But that's just me.
Song #4 Big in Japan
Superstition, heavy fiction
Earthquake on the mind
See this action any reaction
You...can...try the emotion
This song is about as random as a clown walking into a boardmeeting naked, where the boardmembers are lizards wearing cowboy hats. It just doesn't make sense.
Song #5 Jumping Up The Nations
Washington, Tokyo, Paris and Rome
Are the best for crazy dance (crazy dance)
London, Miami, L.A., Monaco
Are the best for groove, sexy cool
What's crazy dance? And what do Washington, Tokyo, Paris and Rome have in common? (aside from being capital cities of their respective countries) And what the hell is a groove sexy cool?
I give up.
The craziest part of this is that I didn't even take the time to actually listen to all songs. It's like I can get these kinds of lyrics on _any_ song in the albums of Intial D. Is there some sort of conspiracy going on? Are these lyrics made to sound like random babble intentionally?
I don't really know the answer to that. What I do know is that I have a CD in my car just for Initial D songs because hey, I'm not really in for the lyrics.
*sings* Na.. na.. na.. na... burn me with gasoline.. nah nah nah nah
Here are some samples of the craziness of Initial D Eurobeat:
Song #1 Running in the 90's by Dark Angels
We are running in the nineties, is a new way to set me free
I'm just running in the nineties
yes I wanna know, yes I wanna see
Cyber talking
Cybersex is on the line
New desire
I'm guessing that the 90's is the speed at which theyre going - and hopefully in American miles and not in kilometers. What speeding has to do with cybersex though, I have no idea.
Song #2 24 Hours a Day With You by J.Storm
You're like a bomb like a bursting fire.
Burning around the place.
Fill me tonight my bed desires.
I wanna see your face.
If I were an arsonist pyromaniac who happens to like to watch anime, maybe this song will turn me on. Having an entire song about burning shit while making love is just plain freaky. I mean "you make me hot" sounds nice but mentioning "bomb like a bursting fire" crosses the line of domestic violence right there.
Song #3 Back On The Rocks
In the beginning you get crazy, spending all the money you got.
No more women to love you now, you gotta go and leave town.
This just might be the next best song for seamen. But that's just me.
Song #4 Big in Japan
Superstition, heavy fiction
Earthquake on the mind
See this action any reaction
You...can...try the emotion
This song is about as random as a clown walking into a boardmeeting naked, where the boardmembers are lizards wearing cowboy hats. It just doesn't make sense.
Song #5 Jumping Up The Nations
Washington, Tokyo, Paris and Rome
Are the best for crazy dance (crazy dance)
London, Miami, L.A., Monaco
Are the best for groove, sexy cool
What's crazy dance? And what do Washington, Tokyo, Paris and Rome have in common? (aside from being capital cities of their respective countries) And what the hell is a groove sexy cool?
I give up.
The craziest part of this is that I didn't even take the time to actually listen to all songs. It's like I can get these kinds of lyrics on _any_ song in the albums of Intial D. Is there some sort of conspiracy going on? Are these lyrics made to sound like random babble intentionally?
I don't really know the answer to that. What I do know is that I have a CD in my car just for Initial D songs because hey, I'm not really in for the lyrics.
*sings* Na.. na.. na.. na... burn me with gasoline.. nah nah nah nah
Some Manny Pacquiao Wallpapers
Monday, November 20, 2006
Everybody wants to be inspired and motivated. That's why we have motivational posters. And who better model in an inspirational poster than the biggest iconic hero in our country today? I've created a couple of posters that you may want to place in your workplace or study area, just to remind you of the basic truths in life.
Anyway, enjoy.
Anyway, enjoy.
MANNY "PAC MAN" PACQUIAO and ERIK "EL TERRIBLE" MORALES
Sunday, November 19, 2006
This hype for the MANNY "PAC MAN" PACQUIAO and ERIK "EL TERRIBLE" MORALES is plain crazy. More than just rivaly between just 2 fighters, the whole damn thing has turned into a serious national rivalry. How do I know? There's a masked wrestler waving the Mexican flag. Masked wrestlers in Mexico aren't the same type you see in WWE. These wrestlers never take off their masks until they die and they kill babies with their bare hands (or at least I expect them to). And now the biggest star wrestler stood in the ring. It has to be serious.
The premise of the whole rivalry has boiled down to "Kill a mexican and you're a made man." for the Filipinos and "Show them why corn is better than rice." for the Mexicans. I wonder if Spain, a former colonizer of both countries have anything to do with this...
Governador General: Watch 'em slaves dish it out, Padre.
Primo Frayle: I vote for the country that starves more.
Governador General: I got my money on the Filipinos too.
Notice how most of the boxers are always hispanic, black and asian? White people do not know how to box. Black people box better. Mexicans even better. Filipinos are just as good. The lower the economic status of the country, the better the boxers are. I'm not sure, but if there are any boxers from Uganda, I'm sure they'd pretty much take anything out in a round or two.
Anyway, the fight is about to start now in the bootleg channel fired up by the cable technicians. Manny's entrance song is his OWN song. You dont get that too often. I'm not really rooting for him, though it'd make things a lot easier if he won.
I'll just keep an eye on that mexican wrestler and the steel chair he's sitting on...
Update:
Manny won. Rice > Corn. More music records for Manny! Yay.
RICE POWER.
The premise of the whole rivalry has boiled down to "Kill a mexican and you're a made man." for the Filipinos and "Show them why corn is better than rice." for the Mexicans. I wonder if Spain, a former colonizer of both countries have anything to do with this...
Governador General: Watch 'em slaves dish it out, Padre.
Primo Frayle: I vote for the country that starves more.
Governador General: I got my money on the Filipinos too.
Notice how most of the boxers are always hispanic, black and asian? White people do not know how to box. Black people box better. Mexicans even better. Filipinos are just as good. The lower the economic status of the country, the better the boxers are. I'm not sure, but if there are any boxers from Uganda, I'm sure they'd pretty much take anything out in a round or two.
Anyway, the fight is about to start now in the bootleg channel fired up by the cable technicians. Manny's entrance song is his OWN song. You dont get that too often. I'm not really rooting for him, though it'd make things a lot easier if he won.
I'll just keep an eye on that mexican wrestler and the steel chair he's sitting on...
Update:
Manny won. Rice > Corn. More music records for Manny! Yay.
RICE POWER.
Memories of A Distant Past
Saturday, November 18, 2006
1994- Hiphop and Metal was all the rage. Dragonball Z is the only real action-packed anime hitting local screens - and it's dubbed in English by Filipino translators. Sega's website is nothing more than a picture of Sonic and promises of more text content about the upcoming Sega Saturn. 90% of the A-B population doesnt even know that "internet" means.
Me? I was in fifth grade. Section A. My adviser for that year was Mrs. Ameurfina Andrade - widow, diabetic, and single parent to things that behave less like human children and more like imps straight from hell.
We frankly called her the Andradeum Monster, as represented in the Slam Jammers, a series of handdrawn comics my barkada made back then. Man, we hated that teacher.
She required us to write a "Dear Mom And Dad" report everyday, which our parents needed to sign. I usually didn't do it, because
a) it's stupid, report cards exist for that same reason
b) i hated being scolded by my mom for not performing well in school
c) im just plain lazy
One day she reported me to the principal's office. On the report slip it read, "No mom and dad."
In one test, she made what still is the world's dumbest exam question. It was in the final exam. The question went like: "Ano ang mas masarap, chicken or beef?"
I'm serious. The answer is beef. I almost failed the exam because of that.
We often ate at her house during lunchtime, as she offers better food at about the same price as the deathtrap that is our canteen. Her dogs hated me then and chased me evertime I go to her house. I'm sure if I go there now, they'd still make me know the fear of having a chunk of my buttcheeks bitten off by guard dogs.
She was the only teacher who made me dance hiphop. We performed hiphop dance during the mini-fair of that year, where 90% of the performers were metal and the only other hiphop performing group had all their members backing out for fear of death except one. The only performing member got hit by a coin thrown from the third floor down to the stage. We peformed right after that - wishing we had another chance at life. I got lucky.
She was the only teacher who made me sing. WI became part of a carol group for our christmas party and was photographed by the yearbook team with my mouth open. On the yearbook for that year, my picture was printed. It said "Najijingle na kami: part 1"
One time she confiscated all trading cards in the classroom because of rampant tex gambling. The following morning her son had the school's largest stash of trading cards - most rares looked extremely familiar.
She was the only teacher in my entire educational life who actually gave us "sleeping time". During that time, she had a policy wherein if you didnt want to sleep, you have to eat candy. But not just any candy. The candy should be bought from her. Dont ask. The hell if I know.
During my stay in her class. Our classroom almost burned twice, once during an actual fire drill. When smoke started filling the room, she sent us to the gradeschool library, three rooms away.
In the same wooden building.
That was 12 years ago.
Memories of my stay in her class are still sharp as hell. My class number back then was 48. Our classroom was three rooms past the gradeschool library, 2nd floor. The room had a hole at the upper right end of the flooring, enough to sink an entire leg.
When I finished fifth grade, I thought I'm the happiest man alive. Most of my classmates thought the same as well. But that was 12 years ago. Somehow, all that craziness was never replicated elsewhere. And it's somewhat nostalgic to think about it.
Then, just today, I opened my friendster bulletin and found this:
Mrs. Ameurfina Andrade has
now joined the Father in His Kingdom.
Her body lies in state at the San
Nicolas Chapel, La Huerta, Parañaque.
In this world where craziness is a norm and norms are but scorned,
we needed a teacher who thinked like the storm.
And though moments of passing we found nothing but rain,
it is through this madness we become surviv'bly sane.
Thanks and goodbye.
Me? I was in fifth grade. Section A. My adviser for that year was Mrs. Ameurfina Andrade - widow, diabetic, and single parent to things that behave less like human children and more like imps straight from hell.
We frankly called her the Andradeum Monster, as represented in the Slam Jammers, a series of handdrawn comics my barkada made back then. Man, we hated that teacher.
She required us to write a "Dear Mom And Dad" report everyday, which our parents needed to sign. I usually didn't do it, because
a) it's stupid, report cards exist for that same reason
b) i hated being scolded by my mom for not performing well in school
c) im just plain lazy
One day she reported me to the principal's office. On the report slip it read, "No mom and dad."
In one test, she made what still is the world's dumbest exam question. It was in the final exam. The question went like: "Ano ang mas masarap, chicken or beef?"
I'm serious. The answer is beef. I almost failed the exam because of that.
We often ate at her house during lunchtime, as she offers better food at about the same price as the deathtrap that is our canteen. Her dogs hated me then and chased me evertime I go to her house. I'm sure if I go there now, they'd still make me know the fear of having a chunk of my buttcheeks bitten off by guard dogs.
She was the only teacher who made me dance hiphop. We performed hiphop dance during the mini-fair of that year, where 90% of the performers were metal and the only other hiphop performing group had all their members backing out for fear of death except one. The only performing member got hit by a coin thrown from the third floor down to the stage. We peformed right after that - wishing we had another chance at life. I got lucky.
She was the only teacher who made me sing. WI became part of a carol group for our christmas party and was photographed by the yearbook team with my mouth open. On the yearbook for that year, my picture was printed. It said "Najijingle na kami: part 1"
One time she confiscated all trading cards in the classroom because of rampant tex gambling. The following morning her son had the school's largest stash of trading cards - most rares looked extremely familiar.
She was the only teacher in my entire educational life who actually gave us "sleeping time". During that time, she had a policy wherein if you didnt want to sleep, you have to eat candy. But not just any candy. The candy should be bought from her. Dont ask. The hell if I know.
During my stay in her class. Our classroom almost burned twice, once during an actual fire drill. When smoke started filling the room, she sent us to the gradeschool library, three rooms away.
In the same wooden building.
That was 12 years ago.
Memories of my stay in her class are still sharp as hell. My class number back then was 48. Our classroom was three rooms past the gradeschool library, 2nd floor. The room had a hole at the upper right end of the flooring, enough to sink an entire leg.
When I finished fifth grade, I thought I'm the happiest man alive. Most of my classmates thought the same as well. But that was 12 years ago. Somehow, all that craziness was never replicated elsewhere. And it's somewhat nostalgic to think about it.
Then, just today, I opened my friendster bulletin and found this:
Mrs. Ameurfina Andrade has
now joined the Father in His Kingdom.
Her body lies in state at the San
Nicolas Chapel, La Huerta, Parañaque.
In this world where craziness is a norm and norms are but scorned,
we needed a teacher who thinked like the storm.
And though moments of passing we found nothing but rain,
it is through this madness we become surviv'bly sane.
Thanks and goodbye.
Memorable Philippine Commercials
Friday, November 17, 2006
warning: This post is not internationalized. Come back again tomorrow for a full english update.
This post is from a thread in Ragnaboards. Somebody asked for th best Philippine Commercials ever made. Well, I had in mind quite a few of them actually - commercials that went in so deep inside of my head, whoever pulls it out can become the king of England.
------------------
Eto na ata yung pinaka magandang commercial para sakin. May kanta pang kasama:
Si nanay at tatay, laging naghahanda:
Mitlop at sodeds, metsado at kornbip~
What can you say?
HA-LI-DEY!
That was from a Holiday Food Products commercial from the early 90's.
I swear, nothing can beat that commercial.
Wait. Meron pa pala. Yung commercial sa mga anime ng IBC13 saka RPN9 dati.
Sakanaaaaaami Fishes [sic] Snak! Sakanaaaaaaaami Fishes Snak!
me: WTF is a fish snack? Pagkain ba ng fish yun? Hanggang ngayon hinahanap ko pa rin ang Sakanami, wala akong makita. Parang naloko ako ng commercial.
Eh yung Seiko Wallet?
Seiko Seiko Wallet~
Ang wallet na maswerte~
Balat nito ay geniune ~
panginternational pa ang mga design~
Seiko Seiko Wallet~
ANG WALLET NA MASWERTE!
(try mo kantahin yan nang hindi tumatawa, pagkatapos, try mo naman sumipol)
Saka yung:
PADDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCKS JEEEEEEAAAAAAAANS!
(usually eto sa mga commercial ng basketbol lumalabas. Sobrang ikli lang. Kala mo tapos na kasi sobrang ikli na ng commercial. Akala mo makakahinga ka na tapos babanatan ka ulit ng instant replay nung commercial!)
PADDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCKS JEEEEEEAAAAAAAANS!
Walang binatbat mga Imported commercial dun.
Meron din yung commercial ni Ruby Rodriguez for Beam Toothpaste:
B-E-A-M-E SMILE (oo, mali dinig ko nung bata ako, kaya highschool ko na natutunan ang tamang spelling ng "Beam") Tapos lahat ng mga tao sa commercial akala mo hindi mga pilipino kasi mas maputi pa sila dun sa toothpaste nila!
Lastly, yung Family Rubbing Alcohol. Iba kasi talaga pag may lumalapit sayo sa supermarket na mamang panot na nagpapakilalang referee sya.
HINDI LANG PANG PAMILYA, PANG-ISPORTS PA!
Iniisip ko tuloy, pag bumili ba ako nito, may lalapit din sakin mamang panot? Totoo mang mukha lang syang child molester pero hindi naman?
Kaya ata hindi ako bumili kahit kailang ng produkto nya. Hindi ko na gusto malaman kung nangmomolestya nga sya ng bata.
So there you have it. Padump-psh
This post is from a thread in Ragnaboards. Somebody asked for th best Philippine Commercials ever made. Well, I had in mind quite a few of them actually - commercials that went in so deep inside of my head, whoever pulls it out can become the king of England.
------------------
Eto na ata yung pinaka magandang commercial para sakin. May kanta pang kasama:
Si nanay at tatay, laging naghahanda:
Mitlop at sodeds, metsado at kornbip~
What can you say?
HA-LI-DEY!
That was from a Holiday Food Products commercial from the early 90's.
I swear, nothing can beat that commercial.
Wait. Meron pa pala. Yung commercial sa mga anime ng IBC13 saka RPN9 dati.
Sakanaaaaaami Fishes [sic] Snak! Sakanaaaaaaaami Fishes Snak!
me: WTF is a fish snack? Pagkain ba ng fish yun? Hanggang ngayon hinahanap ko pa rin ang Sakanami, wala akong makita. Parang naloko ako ng commercial.
Eh yung Seiko Wallet?
Seiko Seiko Wallet~
Ang wallet na maswerte~
Balat nito ay geniune ~
panginternational pa ang mga design~
Seiko Seiko Wallet~
ANG WALLET NA MASWERTE!
(try mo kantahin yan nang hindi tumatawa, pagkatapos, try mo naman sumipol)
Saka yung:
PADDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCKS JEEEEEEAAAAAAAANS!
(usually eto sa mga commercial ng basketbol lumalabas. Sobrang ikli lang. Kala mo tapos na kasi sobrang ikli na ng commercial. Akala mo makakahinga ka na tapos babanatan ka ulit ng instant replay nung commercial!)
PADDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCKS JEEEEEEAAAAAAAANS!
Walang binatbat mga Imported commercial dun.
Meron din yung commercial ni Ruby Rodriguez for Beam Toothpaste:
B-E-A-M-E SMILE (oo, mali dinig ko nung bata ako, kaya highschool ko na natutunan ang tamang spelling ng "Beam") Tapos lahat ng mga tao sa commercial akala mo hindi mga pilipino kasi mas maputi pa sila dun sa toothpaste nila!
Lastly, yung Family Rubbing Alcohol. Iba kasi talaga pag may lumalapit sayo sa supermarket na mamang panot na nagpapakilalang referee sya.
HINDI LANG PANG PAMILYA, PANG-ISPORTS PA!
Iniisip ko tuloy, pag bumili ba ako nito, may lalapit din sakin mamang panot? Totoo mang mukha lang syang child molester pero hindi naman?
Kaya ata hindi ako bumili kahit kailang ng produkto nya. Hindi ko na gusto malaman kung nangmomolestya nga sya ng bata.
So there you have it. Padump-psh
Lack of Updates and new piano project.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
I know, I know. I haven't posted anything for the longest time. It's because I've been busy. That and a one-armed bandit from zanzibar took my keyboard away. Well, maybe not. Maybe he had two arms, but it doesn't really matter.
I've been talking or rather trying to talk to a bunch of publishers the past few days and so far, they still can't understand half of my primitive hand gestures. Dealing with people from another planet can be quite taxing, specially if you're the one coming from outerspace.
Arr. Anyway, here's a little something that I want to learn before the year ends. An arranged sheet is available for download online but it's obvious my fingers wont be able to take the strain of the damn song, so as always, I'll be making a compromised version again.
What?
Yeah, I'm lazy. So sue me, Elton John. Can you see the fingers of that man? His right hand was spread wider than the head cheerleader in the football team locker room - FOR THE ENTIRE FREAKING SONG. We should stop calling those things "fingers" after they start hitting the MI of the next octave with your thumb still in the base DO. Tentacles sounds more apt.
Stop giggling, you nerd.
Anyway, I have to do more finger pushups for this song.
Definitely.
I've been talking or rather trying to talk to a bunch of publishers the past few days and so far, they still can't understand half of my primitive hand gestures. Dealing with people from another planet can be quite taxing, specially if you're the one coming from outerspace.
Arr. Anyway, here's a little something that I want to learn before the year ends. An arranged sheet is available for download online but it's obvious my fingers wont be able to take the strain of the damn song, so as always, I'll be making a compromised version again.
What?
Yeah, I'm lazy. So sue me, Elton John. Can you see the fingers of that man? His right hand was spread wider than the head cheerleader in the football team locker room - FOR THE ENTIRE FREAKING SONG. We should stop calling those things "fingers" after they start hitting the MI of the next octave with your thumb still in the base DO. Tentacles sounds more apt.
Stop giggling, you nerd.
Anyway, I have to do more finger pushups for this song.
Definitely.
Sucks to be this girl
Monday, November 13, 2006
The video kinds speaks for itself.
Mousewhoring = bad.
Mousewhoring during dates = pure evil.
Don't let this happen to you. Kill your social life while you can. F
or make greater benefit of Intarweb.
Basic Steganography
Steganography is the art of interlacing information into digital images. It's basically like hiding stuff into cake that you send inside prisons. To a normal person, the resulting image after steganography is no more than just an image, but given a special program and a little knowhow, you can actually get any type of file extracted from the image.
Example:
1. Click on the image to my left.
2. Save the full size of this image.
3. Send it to your C:/
4. Rename it to code.rar (using command prompt)
5. Open using WinRAR
Practical applications? Well I can't really think of anything useful for it. Maybe if you feel that you must hide your pornstash inside your harddisk (if you're crazy enough) but don't want to be found out using the search tool, Google desktop or manual searching, this technique is for you.
Either that or industrial espionage, but I'd rather not discuss the implications of the latter.
Example:
1. Click on the image to my left.
2. Save the full size of this image.
3. Send it to your C:/
4. Rename it to code.rar (using command prompt)
5. Open using WinRAR
Practical applications? Well I can't really think of anything useful for it. Maybe if you feel that you must hide your pornstash inside your harddisk (if you're crazy enough) but don't want to be found out using the search tool, Google desktop or manual searching, this technique is for you.
Either that or industrial espionage, but I'd rather not discuss the implications of the latter.
YouTube has a mind of its own
Friday, November 10, 2006
(subtitle: and what an evil mind it is)
I was taking a break from the grind of programming (translation: typing and clicking in a defined, routine pattern that requires the thinking power of a candy wrapper) earlier when I decided to go check out the top 10 Japanese commercials in some random website. After a couple of entries, I loaded the top commercial but didnt play it. I resumed listening to Rammstein at full volume (the only way to listen to Rammstein) just to keep my mojo going .
After the movie loaded, I hit the play button - just as my supervisor appeared beside me to ask about a question. So I minimized it and left the video playing. I removed my headset (large Panasonic DJ earphones that get really loud when cranked up - and at that time it was) and turned to him.
Just in time, the video started to show a scene of a woman giving birth (in a blanketed, safe-for-work way). Long story short, the moans started leaking out.
The rest of the conversation was a struggle to contain laughter (and excessive blushing). I wanted to say "I know what you're thinking..." but decided that the best way to end the agony was to answer the question as quickly as possible.
Today is definitely not a high point in my life.
I swear youtube is trying to destroy me. Or maybe it's plotting with that evil lemming from my dreams, Arnold.
Damn you, Arnold! I will get my revenge. *shakes fist*
I was taking a break from the grind of programming (translation: typing and clicking in a defined, routine pattern that requires the thinking power of a candy wrapper) earlier when I decided to go check out the top 10 Japanese commercials in some random website. After a couple of entries, I loaded the top commercial but didnt play it. I resumed listening to Rammstein at full volume (the only way to listen to Rammstein) just to keep my mojo going .
After the movie loaded, I hit the play button - just as my supervisor appeared beside me to ask about a question. So I minimized it and left the video playing. I removed my headset (large Panasonic DJ earphones that get really loud when cranked up - and at that time it was) and turned to him.
Just in time, the video started to show a scene of a woman giving birth (in a blanketed, safe-for-work way). Long story short, the moans started leaking out.
The rest of the conversation was a struggle to contain laughter (and excessive blushing). I wanted to say "I know what you're thinking..." but decided that the best way to end the agony was to answer the question as quickly as possible.
Today is definitely not a high point in my life.
I swear youtube is trying to destroy me. Or maybe it's plotting with that evil lemming from my dreams, Arnold.
Damn you, Arnold! I will get my revenge. *shakes fist*
I spy with my little eye... cofibean!
The picture to the left is a set of coffee beans. Or is it? Hidden in the beans is a face. That's right, a face. This is not a scary-figure-pops out trick. There's a face right there, like a sand-niggered waldo staring at you.
They say if you can find the man in less than three seconds your right brain is a lot more developed than most people.
If it took you more than thirty seconds to find him, well let's just say you shouldn't be leaving your kids inside the ballpit playground.
Or have kids in the first place if you still have none.
Seriously.
Me? It took me more than three seconds. The quickest way to find him is to just stare at the big picture and look for angles not expected in a bean. It goes against the common read logic of scanning but it actually works faster.
Whoever said computer principles dont apply in real life hasn't tried searching for a face in a sea of beans.
Talk about random Fridays huh?
They say if you can find the man in less than three seconds your right brain is a lot more developed than most people.
If it took you more than thirty seconds to find him, well let's just say you shouldn't be leaving your kids inside the ballpit playground.
Or have kids in the first place if you still have none.
Seriously.
Me? It took me more than three seconds. The quickest way to find him is to just stare at the big picture and look for angles not expected in a bean. It goes against the common read logic of scanning but it actually works faster.
Whoever said computer principles dont apply in real life hasn't tried searching for a face in a sea of beans.
Talk about random Fridays huh?
Whoops.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
This is a priceless vid from the Country Music Awards. The video ain't really that special, at least until you see Faith Hill going "OMFG I WON!" on her little screen for a good 1 second before her brain synapses started to kick in, telling her to go yell "WHAT?" after realizing "Faith Hill" sounds nothing like Carrie Underwood's name even when heard through a blonde's ears.
I wonder how that would have felt, not the thinking youve won by mistake but the realization that you've just acted like a total retard on a big awards show without actually intending or even at least showing qualification to be one (Eminem for example, has a right to do so, along with the right to use the handicapped parking at the local mall)
Here's to you, Faith. You may not have won the award, but you sure made the days of a lot of people worldwide.
If you think you're having a bad day at work...
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Try accidentally saying "cock"in front of a nationwide audience because you've had too much (or too little) the previous night. Freud must be dancing after he saw this series of unfortunate slips on YouTube (yes, I have this belief that YouTube can be seen even from the depths of hell).
Winning Moment: 25 seconds into the video, her co-caster appears on feed with a really bad shiteating grin that just screams "congratulations, you've just announced to the world how much of a tramp you are." Jane Skinner then grits her teeth and wishes for a sudden visit from the grin reaper.
After a while she starts screaming "YouTube me! YouTube me!" Well, I don't know what to say about that. I mean, Lindsay Lohan has her occassional (read: biweekly) moneyshot genetalia-in-picture sessions but I don't hear her screaming "Oh you should totally put that online!"
Either way, Jane knew she was f'ed and that's how she wanted to let it out.
But what the hey, it's Fox news. Nobody expects anything from that channel anyway.
Trolls
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Trolls are evil. There's been so many weird toy sensations that I've seen in my lifetime but none can really surpass the immense evil aura that I get from Trolls.
You know those things. They have more hair colors than Dennis Rodman (a feat that can only be achieved with demonic guidance), faces that look like they're going to start eating your liver when you let your guard down, and almost every known uniform known to man. Furby doesn't even compare.
I saw Japanese School girl troll a few years before, I couldn't sleep for days.
And remember when they were all the rage during the early 90's people actually thought they had special powers? Touch the hand and you will get laid. Touch the stomach and your enemy will die of the black plague. Rub the hair and you'll win the lottery... stuff like those. I dont remember the details but I just thought it's plain evil.
They may be able to fool the rest of the world with their crooked smiles and deformed faces but not me. I know they're just waiting for us to grow complacent. Sometimes I can almost hear them talking to each other.
Anyway, here's my proof that Trolls are evil: Imagine Kim Jong Il spreading his arms out.
That's right. Apparently Korean Dictator Troll comes in only one outfit:
+7 Bad-fitting jumpsuit of Madness.
You know those things. They have more hair colors than Dennis Rodman (a feat that can only be achieved with demonic guidance), faces that look like they're going to start eating your liver when you let your guard down, and almost every known uniform known to man. Furby doesn't even compare.
I saw Japanese School girl troll a few years before, I couldn't sleep for days.
And remember when they were all the rage during the early 90's people actually thought they had special powers? Touch the hand and you will get laid. Touch the stomach and your enemy will die of the black plague. Rub the hair and you'll win the lottery... stuff like those. I dont remember the details but I just thought it's plain evil.
They may be able to fool the rest of the world with their crooked smiles and deformed faces but not me. I know they're just waiting for us to grow complacent. Sometimes I can almost hear them talking to each other.
Anyway, here's my proof that Trolls are evil: Imagine Kim Jong Il spreading his arms out.
That's right. Apparently Korean Dictator Troll comes in only one outfit:
+7 Bad-fitting jumpsuit of Madness.
Cautionary Warning
Monday, November 06, 2006
Just a bit of warning for all readers. I just got this message today.
This message is a fisher message. Even if the yahoo site link is authentic, it redirects you to a fake site.
It will steal your password if you try to access the link.
Remember kids, only you and Jesus should know your password (and only if you're Christian).
This message is a fisher message. Even if the yahoo site link is authentic, it redirects you to a fake site.
It will steal your password if you try to access the link.
Remember kids, only you and Jesus should know your password (and only if you're Christian).
Library of The Ancients
Sunday, November 05, 2006
All schools have libraries. Granted everybody reading this blog had to do research sometime before the advent of internet winning over homework (lucky next generation bastards!), we all spent some time in our libraries.
I'd like the time to recall and share with you my experiences with our highschool library. Why? I think if libraries were school kids, our library would be the one wearing a helmet and riding the short bus to school.
A normal library contains history. There, we can go search books and find details about the past. For our library, this is not necessary. Our library IS historical. You can open the encyclopedia and you'll find everything there is outdated. The pope isn't anybody you'd recognize, countries that no longer exist are still there (Kampuchea and Congo anyone?) It got so bad that my friend checked Mao Tse Tung on one encyclopedia and found his birthdate but not his date year. (i.e. He wasnt dead yet as of writing.) I looked at an Atlas and half expected the world to be dictated as flat.
So maybe it's just the books that are outdated. Wrong. I routinely check our Time Magazine racks for new issues. Last issue there is March 1991. (When I found that issue, it was 1999 already) And that was the latest issue. If you checked stuff there, you'd see a LOT of articles about the cold war. And not in the hindsight perspective. It's like you've been blasted on a rocket of retardation to the past.
I don't really know why they keep things that way, with a couple of new buildings sprouting at about the same time I visited that library, I'm certain budget's not a problem. The closest clue that I can think of is our librarian, who, for the love of everything edible is always eating in her seat (and this same person has the gall to scream at students who smuggle gum inside). If you see her table, it's always like a buffet of sorts. Eating and updating catalogues don't mix it seems, effectively freezing our library in time.
Despite this problem, we were actually forced to go to the library every week, with a 1 hour library period allocated just for, well, staying at the library. No goals, no objectives, just pure STFU-and-stay-there-to-pass subject (like Art Appreciation 101 in college).
So here are the things we actually did during library period:
- Talk about the latest series of VHS porn circulating the classroom. Either that or WWF wrestling.
- Eat gum/candy anything we've smuggled in or found stashed among the books (stored there by other students, probably)
- Play desktop RPG (pen and paper)
- Play snake on the classroom's 3210 (since everybody has access to it)
- Gamble using the random function of our calculators or page numbers of really think books.
- Do assignment for the next period.
- Make kodigo if there's an exam following the library period.
A classmate of mind had his ears pierced during library period. Me? I'd rather sleep.
Before I graduated though, the library was finally demolished. Chances are, the books are actually better (i.e. with correct info) in the new library. It's probably a lot more useful now. But then again, how the hell do you stash food inside book racks that people are actually using?
Boo.
I'd like the time to recall and share with you my experiences with our highschool library. Why? I think if libraries were school kids, our library would be the one wearing a helmet and riding the short bus to school.
A normal library contains history. There, we can go search books and find details about the past. For our library, this is not necessary. Our library IS historical. You can open the encyclopedia and you'll find everything there is outdated. The pope isn't anybody you'd recognize, countries that no longer exist are still there (Kampuchea and Congo anyone?) It got so bad that my friend checked Mao Tse Tung on one encyclopedia and found his birthdate but not his date year. (i.e. He wasnt dead yet as of writing.) I looked at an Atlas and half expected the world to be dictated as flat.
So maybe it's just the books that are outdated. Wrong. I routinely check our Time Magazine racks for new issues. Last issue there is March 1991. (When I found that issue, it was 1999 already) And that was the latest issue. If you checked stuff there, you'd see a LOT of articles about the cold war. And not in the hindsight perspective. It's like you've been blasted on a rocket of retardation to the past.
I don't really know why they keep things that way, with a couple of new buildings sprouting at about the same time I visited that library, I'm certain budget's not a problem. The closest clue that I can think of is our librarian, who, for the love of everything edible is always eating in her seat (and this same person has the gall to scream at students who smuggle gum inside). If you see her table, it's always like a buffet of sorts. Eating and updating catalogues don't mix it seems, effectively freezing our library in time.
Despite this problem, we were actually forced to go to the library every week, with a 1 hour library period allocated just for, well, staying at the library. No goals, no objectives, just pure STFU-and-stay-there-to-pass subject (like Art Appreciation 101 in college).
So here are the things we actually did during library period:
- Talk about the latest series of VHS porn circulating the classroom. Either that or WWF wrestling.
- Eat gum/candy anything we've smuggled in or found stashed among the books (stored there by other students, probably)
- Play desktop RPG (pen and paper)
- Play snake on the classroom's 3210 (since everybody has access to it)
- Gamble using the random function of our calculators or page numbers of really think books.
- Do assignment for the next period.
- Make kodigo if there's an exam following the library period.
A classmate of mind had his ears pierced during library period. Me? I'd rather sleep.
Before I graduated though, the library was finally demolished. Chances are, the books are actually better (i.e. with correct info) in the new library. It's probably a lot more useful now. But then again, how the hell do you stash food inside book racks that people are actually using?
Boo.
Labels:
Picks,
Red Book - My Life Story,
School
Racist victim? No, just retarded.
Friday, November 03, 2006
BUREAU of Immigration Commissioner Alipio Fernandez Jr. gave the immigration officer who berated Evangeline Lourdes "Luli" Arroyo 72 hours to explain why he should not be charged administratively.
Edgar Padlan apparently reprimanded President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s daughter after she questioned the immigration officer why he allowed a foreigner to jump the line of passengers waiting to be checked in at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport Wednesday afternoon.
Source: INQ7That was in the news yesterday. Basically the presidential daughter was in line and she got linejumped by a foreigner. That's it. And now people are going nachos about it.
First, people are praising that Luli (the daughter) did not use her influence as first daughter to get what she wants. HELLO? She's in the VIP lane, for VIPs.
"Immigration officers should refrain from facilitating the VIP processing of passengers unless they are government dignitaries, members of the diplomatic corps, senators and congressmen, cabinet members, members of the Judiciary and handicapped," Fernandez said.
Source: INQ7
She's not a diplomatic envoy, a senator, a congresswoman, a cabinet member, or a judicator. Hmmm. Is she handicapped? I won't even go there. Not using her influence? Well kiss my ass and call me first daughter, if that's not using influence.
Next, over the radio today, I heard calls of racism from the DJs. Racism? Howz about learn more about how the system works before we start shouting foul?
My work and lifestyle allows me to travel a lot. This past year alone, I've exited the country at least eight times. I at least have an idea how the immigration section of the airport works. If there's a long line and in that line there are passengers that being waited for by a plane that's about to depart, they get sent to a "priority queue", a special line least used by officers to process passengers in a hurry. So happens that that priority queue is the same lane as the VIP lane (because hey, we're not expecting VIPs all the time right?)
So here's what happened: Foreigner gets late for his flight, he gets sent to the front of the priority lane. The amazingly indignated Luli Arroyo gets riled up because she's there first, without even bothering to think for herself why that's the case. Anybody would get pissed over people asking about your job (and it's been reported she's already incensed at his point). The foreigner isn't in the wrong place. SHE's in the wrong place. So she gets the reply that she deserves and then gets all Osama about it. Talk about preemptive bitching.
Luli could cry about being late for her flight. I say let her cry all she wants. If she's really not that special, then she should have at least arrived 2.5 HOURS before her flight like all normal people using international airways.
Now where's racism there?
I used to think Luli Arroyo actually behaves better than her first daughter counterparts (Kris Aquino still has the throne, and probably forever will until she becomes President and her retarded kid becomes first son/daughter). My hope for this world has once again been junked.
-------------------------
Dammit! I tried to not make this blog as political as possible. But politicians are just too retarded to stay out of the freaking way. Because when it comes to the land of the stupid, they're all over the place.
I Got Two Words For You
Thursday, November 02, 2006
(taken from The Red Manual, authored by the owner of this blog)
Brevity they say is the soul of wit, and you'd be surprised how much you can contain in something so short. In this exercise, you are to think of very short sentences that are of notable nature. For this exercise, try thinking of two-word sentences that leave strong impressions or have a special significance. No researching on the net to check for ideas for other entries. You may use the net to verify quotes.
(No cussing please. I'm the only person allowed to swear here.)
Anyway, here's what I've come up with as of writing this article:
"Let's roll." - Obscure quote from one of the passengers of the ill-fated United Flight 93 before they tried to take over the hijacked airplane, as heard from the phone logs. Apparently, large commercial airplanes are really bad when it comes to rolling.
"I'm pregnant." - Yes, the world's most popular marriage proposal line is the most powerful one as well, so powerful it has legal power.
"Suck it!" - Anybody who's watched wrestling in the 90's should be able to recognize what appears to be the most ridiculous catchphrase in the entertainment industry that's not into adult pornography. (But let's face it, we all enjoyed running around yelling that phrase at some point in time) Degeneration X is what it is, word per word.
"Consummatum est." - Rizal's famous last words, spoken in latin, meaning 'it is finished.'. Not quite, Rizal. We're going to put your face in a coin, name a province after you and turn you into a bronze statue that will forever stand in the midst of a park now most notable for half-dollar hookers.
"Got milk?" - Gotta love those commercials. It almost makes me not want to be lactose intolerant. Almost.
The goal of this exercise is to practice the quick indexed access of both short and long-term memory in your brain under a limiting circumstance. Speedy and accurate recall of nonimporant events will aid you in becoming random and incoherrent in public (because cool people hardly ever make sense j/k).
Care to try?
Brevity they say is the soul of wit, and you'd be surprised how much you can contain in something so short. In this exercise, you are to think of very short sentences that are of notable nature. For this exercise, try thinking of two-word sentences that leave strong impressions or have a special significance. No researching on the net to check for ideas for other entries. You may use the net to verify quotes.
(No cussing please. I'm the only person allowed to swear here.)
Anyway, here's what I've come up with as of writing this article:
"Let's roll." - Obscure quote from one of the passengers of the ill-fated United Flight 93 before they tried to take over the hijacked airplane, as heard from the phone logs. Apparently, large commercial airplanes are really bad when it comes to rolling.
"I'm pregnant." - Yes, the world's most popular marriage proposal line is the most powerful one as well, so powerful it has legal power.
"Suck it!" - Anybody who's watched wrestling in the 90's should be able to recognize what appears to be the most ridiculous catchphrase in the entertainment industry that's not into adult pornography. (But let's face it, we all enjoyed running around yelling that phrase at some point in time) Degeneration X is what it is, word per word.
"Consummatum est." - Rizal's famous last words, spoken in latin, meaning 'it is finished.'. Not quite, Rizal. We're going to put your face in a coin, name a province after you and turn you into a bronze statue that will forever stand in the midst of a park now most notable for half-dollar hookers.
"Got milk?" - Gotta love those commercials. It almost makes me not want to be lactose intolerant. Almost.
The goal of this exercise is to practice the quick indexed access of both short and long-term memory in your brain under a limiting circumstance. Speedy and accurate recall of nonimporant events will aid you in becoming random and incoherrent in public (because cool people hardly ever make sense j/k).
Care to try?
Bad Science
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
I tried to impress my nerdy date with what science I've mastered.
Apparently being an alcohologist doesnt count.
Apparently being an alcohologist doesnt count.
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