Pretty nice day for a sundae

Changing horizons

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 03:20:03 GMT

I now extend relationships to include dark haired non-Indian, non-African, non-hispanic women! The world can rejoice! Thank you, hot cashier at Loblaws!

I needed something to post.

Fortune Cookie

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 19:16:36 GMT

You are contemplative and analytical by nature.

It's a smash for sure.

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 22:04:08 GMT

Got it day of release, Ike and Pit are excellent additions, and of course the game is fantastic.

No More Heroes - Buy!

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 01:12:53 GMT

That is all.

Writer's Block: Giving Thanks

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 03:55:41 GMT

What are 10 things you are thankful for?

View 503 Answers

1. Life

In the new, out with the old

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 23:29:54 GMT

Oh, how I love
the morally sketchy
and controlling act
of purging contacts
permanently.

You've nudged me
many years ago
but now you lie there
ignored and collecting
MSN dust on your name.

Surreptitiously
without your permission
you are erased from
my existence for good.
Au revoir!

Don't cry don't fret
Just because you are not
a current and ongoing
member of my lie
My present life.

If you ever feel
like no one really cares
We'll always have Facebook
but if you mattered
You'd know to use a phone.

;)

Things to do by May 2008 (Justin finally updates his LJ, just for you)

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 23:06:32 GMT

OK, let's sort them by priority:

HIGH:
[ ] Go out with a Japanese girl
[X] Do better in grades this year (ongoing)
[ ] Find a new hobby/interest, preferably in popular media culture
[ ] Attend a fashion show (If you find tickets, please, I missed Fashion Week already, qq)

Moyenne:
[X] Buy fobby coat (Acquired recently)
[ ] Buy cashmere overcoat (expensive...might have to wait and save up)
[ ] Travel overseas for next summer
[ ] Learn and buy a Stratocaster (a type of electric guitar)
[ ] Meet up with some old friends
[X] Start sketching again
[ ] Attend a cooking class for desserts (ie. pies, cakes, pastries, decorating)
[ ] Go to some other city's university via bus to have fun times at parties

低:
[X] Go out with Cantonese/Mandarin/Korean girl (Last spring, July and Sept. respectively, but the canto one was more polite, no offense, mandos)
[X] Have my very first latte (Victoria Marshall is my witness, it was free too, as in they forgot to charge me)
[ ] Play competitive dota and start a UofT Dota Club (UTDC)
[ ] Buy a scarf
[ ] Start watching Scrubs from season 1
[ ] Try beer (I've had vodka, brandy, cocktails and wine, mm...wine, (Anime North friends are proof) but never beer)

Out of space

Fri, 19 Oct 2007 06:06:42 GMT

I really feel like there are just too many books and not enough desk space in my room. It honestly is not proportional; all those textbooks, notebooks, workbooks and disk boxes. And yet it is extremely necessary that I make a visit to IKEA soon, both for their frozen yogurt and shelves.

Here's to a new shelving unit! A toast!

Nostalgic

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 07:50:58 GMT

"Will you join us Tommy?"
"Oh, look, Zordon!"
"We are watching history in the making, Alpha. The prophecy has been fulfilled. The sixth ranger is one of us."
"Hoo-rayyy!"
"Alright then...It's MORPHING TIME!"

"DRAGONZORD!"
"MASTADON!"
"PTERADACTYL!"
"TRICERATOPS!"
"SABRE-TOOTHED TIGER!"
"TYRANNOSAURUS!"

"We're back, and we're ready to morph into action!"
"6 working together to fight evil!"
"To stop Rita..."
"...and all her menacing monsters..."
"...from destroying the planet Earth..."
"...and ruin the universe with evil!"
"Look out Rita, we're not backing down cause we're the...POWER RANGERS!"

Why Gurren Lagann Rocks

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 23:48:29 GMT

TTGL's ending was fantastic, the proper way for an anime to go. None of that bullshit no-one dies, we all live happily and the main character is our new king crap (cough cough, Naruto). Spoiler if you read on.

Basically, it's GAR to the max.

Nia dying: A nice little twist actually, it was expected that "oh look, the anti-Spirals are gone, it's going to be ok." Really made for a nice exit
Not abusing the Spiral Power: Now, fanboys were probably pissed there was no rebirth of Kamina, Nia and the other members of the Hyper Galaxy Gurren Brigade, but I mean, that was self-explanatory.
Simon leaving: He was a digger after all, and unfit to lead.
Rossiu: Good man, the most realistic of the series, and a very politically correct character that I feel Gainex really developped properly.

Why can't all mechas be like this? Fucking Gundam Seed.

Tale of the Ice Cream Lover: Part 2 - Based on 40% reality and cream

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 06:01:49 GMT

...When the fighting began, certain taboos were being enforced, you know, the type of things these people were taught as a little boy/girl. For a while, it seemed that although large in scale, the number of deaths daily ranged from 3 to 19, mostly accidental friendly fire. Myself a Canadian, I was somewhat angry when I found Americans dropping paper cups on our men, but anyways....back to the issue at hand.

Deaths were minimal, until one club, Almond Eggplant Butterscotch Venezuelan Orange and Tangerine Ice Cream Club began using chocolate peanut-dipped cones instead of the expected plain cones. One Veronica Jameson recalled the scene. "My god, it was horrible. My mother, she always told me that a little bit of chocolate was okay on the cone, as long as I cleaned it out afterwards, but peanuts? Those things are small, prickly and I've been allergic to peanuts all my life. I ran and got away, but my brother was struck down and his throat closed up and [he] choked to death."

Oh, the terror that began to occur on the battlefield escalated. Scallops, almonds and other allergic compounds were being brilliantly grafted onto the battle cones, and scoopers were coated in peanut oil and lobster sauce. One club, having lied to press reports about their untold combat skill and arm talent seemingly wiped a colourless soybean and peanut blended wipe on their weapons. Peanut clusters and grenades wiped out hundreds of allergic soldiers at a time, and medical staff struggled for a supply of Epipens, which mysteriously dwindled in supply conveniently in time for this.

Meanwhile, our protagonist was very close. Having assassinated several of the top figures in the conspiracy, he was on the verge of finding the secret organization's headquarters. His work, while ended the life of another and other moral jumbo, was nothing short of magnificent. Let us remember that those men were evil, had no families, dedicated themselves fully in a selfish position, and murdered their own parents. That should be enough justification for his work, which was, as I digress, nothing short of magnificent:

The first act of his, was actually somewhat of an accident. Having stumbled into a warehouse of crate upon crate of imported tofu (these were found later replacing some of the hand-thrown projectiles), he was caught by a burly unshaven thug. Fortunately, this imported tofu was a substandard product and expired a long time ago. Our hero grabbed a piece of nearby coagulated soy milk and slammed down hard on the thug's face, snapping his neck instantly. He later told his superiors that he meant to blind him with what should have been pasty in texture, but still got a good laugh at the office when the story was passed around. Traumatized nevertheless, He couldn't drink soy milk for days.

Two months later, at the head of a major metallics company that was responsible for manufacturing ice cream scoopers, security at this building was amazing. So, one night, he simply slid down the air vent of a thirty-four storey building all the way from the top, knocked out the security team and janitors with various flying kicks and fancy handwork, placed them all in a janitor supply closet after taping their mouths shut and wandered in the next day through the front door. There wasn't any security, so fake ID, courtesy of Guard 49, was enough to get to the top floor, where he was able to hack the addresses of a number of correspondents. On the way out, he was stopped by the VP of Finance, inquiring about the lack of dress code he had followed. Our ace took a sundae spoon and choked him to death with it, because the VP had both posed a danger to his operation, and refused to understand the subtlety in fashion sense between our hero's watch colour and tie.

[Author's note: Further interview with a source implies that our hero was impeccably dressed, always. Let there be no further question about the businessman's deserved death.]

The other 319 can be found in the archives of ICRAP, although that likely isn't available for the public anymore. Anyways, the point is that he was on the verge of finding the real HQ for the conspiracy group that plagued their world. The reason why you cannot obtain those records is because A) the ICRAP is a secret international organization, and B) It was bombed by Sprinkle Missiles two years after our hero's 321st murder. It wasn't actually hard to find its location, because as you always know, good guy security is never better than bad guy security and a lack of background check here and there, and the 3% who survived that attack happened to be stationed outside of the city where the office was.

Excluding the young hero, now more or less a fugitive seeing as the badge he held had little much of anything anymore, the remaining survivors enjoyed two paychecks, one from the government, and one from a mysterious organization in Swiss accounts. Seeing as those men were secret government employees, ironically this erased all proof of both their government work and illegal negotiations with the mysterious organization.

Anyways, gone were the day of sugar and waffle cones fought hand to hand in the field. Catapults of massive tubs were hurled across towns, frozen treats rained on the houses of the innocent, striking down many of the lactose-intolerant and vegetarians alike. Aerated whipped cream created both immense messes and clotted arteries, resulting in the strokes and heart attacks of many thousands when airplanes traversed across the skies, firing the sickly material. The President of some country overseas, along with the King of another land nearby, increased the spending to indulge the battle, increasing the economy, and thus the secret organization benefited immensely from wartime production of scoopers and things like that. The aftermath of each battle covered the land in what appeared to be an ice-cream-less sundae that some teenager with poor hand-eye coordination made.

Perhaps the saddest outcome was the extinction of many clubs and smaller associations. In wartimes, both military strength and technology proved a great cost, and many, including "Italian Meatball Spaghetti Chili Powder," "Cheesy leather glossy pen," and "kimchi arugula health mix" are nowhere to be found today as a result. Sooner or later, the soldiers would be using heavy cream nukes and brownie a la modes, powerful but delicious caloric destruction across countries. No one wanted to go that far yet, but as the number of bodies increased, and the number of worldwide flavours decreased, time could lend its opportunity extremely soon now.

So, both in fear of the organization and the loss of his flavour, our hero desperately made a request to see the Finance Minister of a particular country whose people had suffered greatly. His evidence was mostly wiped out in his agency's attack, but he had a file folder and several discs and a laptop of vital information. While it did not contain any of the major corporations and names that he was originially looking for, he was hoping that the listed smaller estabilishments and groups would start pointing fingers in a powerful snowball effect.

Led into the office by two relatively docile-looking fellows with large guns, the investigator meets the Finance Minister and gasped in shock at the sight.

Other than being extremely ugly and grotesque in appearance, it was the fat, obese man who was supposedly murdered for his heinous crime of defacing local ice cream. Granted, many porous scars had left his face somewhat spotty in design, and even more hideous. Rolls of skin gaped out, barely contained in his expensive and budging tailored suit, but it was duly noted that his shoes were of the finest taste.

One of the friendly, smiling guards pointed his weapon behind the head of our hero, who was only equipped with the evidence he had carried with him. His gun was resting quietly in the hands of the rather attractive secretary, who happened to slip it down, among other things the night before.

The demand was simple. "Give it to me."

The response was, as well. "Alright."

Wasting no time, our hero pulled out a DVD from the paper package he was holding and slit the throat of the guard on the right. Then, he managed to elbow the gun behind away from him and ripped the DVD across the eyes of the guard who had dared to threatened him with a large overcompensating gun. He was smiling when an electric shock rippled throughout his body the next second, and the world turned into the colour of the deepest fudge.

To be continued....

Tale of the Ice Cream Lover: Part 1 - Based on a true story and heavy cream

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 03:12:48 GMT

[Certain names and places have been changed to protect certain names and places, and only historically confusing but truthful information has been left]

A boy had loved a certain ice cream flavour ever since his parents allowed him the consumption of the tasty dessert. The flavour itself is irrevelant, only the fact that the boy only loved that one kind of flavour beyond compare.

He always ordered the same ice cream from the many stores around the world. He noticed a slight perkiness in the taste in Paris, a creamier nature in Italy, a somewhat manufactured taste in China and an awfully healthy and nutritious product in Japan.

Nonetheless, the same flavour was eaten and loved by this little boy. There was something about the way she liquified in a hot day, stood firm and constant amidst his own personal changes, that drew his attention to the lovely creme de glacee.

Sure enough, his parents, friends and betters often spoke to him about this. Some felt his natural dedication towards a single flavour beneficial and obedient, spanning a heritage of proud ancestry and familial affiliation, and other overexaggerated dabs in vats of gloatful pride. Others, however, felt that the love of that single flavour was because of a childhood of brainwashing and subtle pressures of external influences.

Of the latter, many thought that perhaps the boy HATED all other flavours, and that this type of ice cream superiority complex was really going to his head. Sure enough, there were reports about other fat, obese men claiming that their certain flavour was the best tasting, the longest lasting, and wrote books and spoke publicly to indulge their distaste for all other flavours. It all got too far when one of these ignorant men purchased one hundred of the best local cones in a local town, and ran to a local ice cream club to publicly toss and squish them between his feet, smiling as the ice cream cried beneath his feet.

What happened next was an outrage: The fat catalyst, known as such for his eventual exploits, was immediately pushed onto a sharp metal waffle cone bed, and mercifully died when the cone impacted his skull upon his fall. It still bled though, and while I stress that I shouldn't disclose any information about this, the liquid that came out of the man was mysteriously similar to the ones found under his shoes.

So, the death of the fat catalyst brought his family of longtime lovers to an anger so fierce that the local weatherman could see a massive change in climate patterns in the Antarctic the Saturday it occured. Suffice to say, the two ice cream clubs met in the courts, but the settlement was unfair for both sides. Justice, and apparently not the right flavour, had been served. So, the clubs ran at each other brandishing various scoopers and toppings and attempted to kill each other. Fortunately, the fourteen survivors became paraplegics and or mutilated so poorly that they enjoyed government pension and pity the rest of their lives.

While the weekend atrocity was labelled by global newspapers as "Tempers Melt and Violence Explodes" and "A Bloody Sundae" and a slew of other puns that are as redundant as those, once you stop laughing, a small town lawyer found a certain flaw in the binding way that the judge had closed the case beforehand. Not really an ice cream fan anyways (His parents thought he was somewhat retarded, gay, amongst thousands of maladies to justify his career choice and lack of human compassion), he asked a slew of ice cream clubs and assocations whether they would like a profitable bit of transaction to occur. The natural desire of wealth acculumation, combined with past feuds with "that little asshole who doesn't like the cranberry ribbon" or the "bitch without the gums to chew the fudge," equalled big dreams for both the struggling lawyer and the clubs.

The battles between the clubs began as a thousand little ice cream clubs in a thousand little towns, with the lawyer going to the biggest and largest of those clubs to hopefully obtain the most money. It soon reached the international level however with a number of mishaps across the world: Fighting broke out when the running of the bulls crushed an ice cream cake; two families with different ice cream associations shunned their children who had fallen for another in a Romeo-and-Juliet-worthy suicide outcome, although without the happy ending; a food fair judge was assaulted shortly after announcing a newcomer's ice cream flavour over the locals' Mary Sweetcakes'.

Many of the clubs understood that their threshold was about to collapse: They had given their houses, cars, vacation pay and third sons to pay for the lawyers. Surely but slowly, some clubs began to negotiate with each other, those with the closest of flavours began to group together. Collaboration talks usually led to the larger group to swallow up, effectively the little ones.

Those minor things eventually grew larger, until they reached tremendous differences such as "the percentage of cream used" and "imported Strawberries instead of local ones," but people did not care as much anymore, provided that the other major group that formed did not win the settlement. With the judge's decision pending during the third Sunday of July, which was the upcoming week, drastic measures were being made.

Meanwhile, the boy was now a relatively young man, at the age of, to remain confidential in this matter, early twenties. Being an extremely hard worker, he had risen to the top as an investigator of the world's top secret Ice Cream Research Association of Protection, aka ICRAP. He smelled something suspicious about the way and things that were going on. In turbulent times such as these, something was obviously and surely not right, and he was the opposite, which was right.

After years of infiltration as a milkman (perhaps a great hint about the date, although we still have them today), and a confection worker in Taiwan, the young ace had determined indeed that there was now an international mastermind corporation of the world's most evil. All the ingredients in the ice cream business had skyrocketed in price with the worldwide crisis reaching a boiling point. A shopkeeper in Alberta, Canada, traded his first car, two cows and a corn silo in return for a case of fudge, to better illustrate this point. Money was rather worthless, and people tended to trade in goods. So the young ace determined that when one of the confection companies started manufacturing corn ethanol, his worst fears were known.

However, to save the world, he would have to find proof, legal information or something else. So, the details of his mission were unable to be located at this time, so I will return you to the story at hand, the judge's decision.

Now it was July 10, and Sunday came later that week. To be honest, the judge already made up his mind about which flavours and which assocations were in the right. He was actually in great relief about ending the greatest conflict in society and was already thinking about the numerous accolades and worldwide debt. Deeply abusing the taxpayer's wine cabinet in the office, he was bragging about his brilliant decision to the aide, who was nonchalantly sipping quietly at the lovely vintage.

That Sunday, the highest viewership of television and online broadcasts was a record, even beating the world famous Rolling Cones concert two years ago. Although, somewhere in the secluded office of some underground bunker somewhere unbenownst to the common public, an evil man laughed gloriously and pressed a big red button on his desk, labelled "Emergency."

The short, stocky judge tried to retain composure as he enjoyed himself with the final decision and speech. [8:10 am] "After years of delibration, various murders, allegations of courtroom mismanagement, evidence tampering, washroom closings.....[omitted until 10:58 am]...and lawyer gagging, we find ourselves at the end of a very unneeded argument. I myself am forcefully tired, having to have spent days pouring over the numerous points, all at the expense of staying at the lovely hotels across the country to remain unpartial in my decision-making...[omitted until 1:34 pm]...and rare steak when I specifically ordered medium-well done. It started when a single individual and his obsessive love and obsessive hate took him too far....[omitted until 5:32 pm]...and so, in favour of clubs...BOOM...BOOM..and of course...BOOM...What is that infernal racket?"

The loud crashes had awoken the audience as well. Outside, nearby bystanders pointed and screamed as the building was being bombed by gigantic sprinkle missiles, historically the most accurate and explosive non-nuclear device since their invention years ago by a raving candymaker as a delicious, bite-sized prank. All 904 of the people in the building, the judge, flavour representives, lawyers and witnesses were dead and grusomely littered in multicoloured bullets, leading to a surplus of ants and flies that circled and bred exponentially for the next 42 days until they could (sadly to the people of certain religion) cremate them all.

Three days later, allegations were thrown back and forth, sometimes with loaded cherry bombs and hot steaming fudge, until no flavour trusted another. As fathers brandished industrial scoopers and mothers drew out their fudge brownies, the clubs, numerating in the tens of thousands of different flavours, inevitably headed to the greatest clash August had ever known.

To be continued...

A personal taste, night writing

Wed, 25 Jul 2007 06:01:59 GMT

The student

"A self-professing illusion
broke partial addiction
conjured halfway between
rock and subtle pebbles
lenient rain still breaches violations
of soul
when commercialized skies
and corrupted machines overstay
waste/welcomes/hotel visits/
becomes supposed vigour
designates politics
of textbooks and pornographic desktops
subjugate confirms ingrained phrase."

Love Sky

"Keep it Yellow Son
Stay away from the rainbow
Red Orange Green Blue Purple are evidently
absent from sight missing from touch
Vitamin D un-obscured from the sun
Away from Shades
of white and black
keep off the grass in your destitute mind
topsoil regardless of form
contagion containment of pestilation
under the trees
necessary to comprehend yet causes causes apprehension
moving to a moment of semi-automation"

Infatuation

"Supposition implies desire to conform
curiousity is rarely an infection
merely deviation from the bell curve
the lovely figure sexually reliant on
undulations for a positive position
It's scarcely apparent for the sad little orphans
Portion understated from the limited entertainment
Amusement barely abusive from
the poison touch of unhindered enchantment
Blessed by the christening or
Slashed by the divine rapier
Free targets of lament kills
Enlightenment and the Babel falls over dead."

meh

"To whom was I coerced into
manipulating rhyming schemes,
similar words, carrying dreams,
Brought into this mess
Of fashion and Guess?"

Life sans life

"Recoil with refinement embark on a journeyman's path
Around the coroner of Maim and Wonderland
misled words spoil on limiting imagination
Confusion is rarely needed No one is listening to
sentence fragments anymore pentametric sounds like
satanic prayers"

Damn music

"Salvation thanks to distinctive voices of EH?
Soft, raspy, high, throaty and
grow up and blow away we will
maintain without question that it was
no fucking question whose sound reared the children
maintain one last thing before dystopia the common word
of today is used to extinction like us."

Note: The song finished as I was done. It's not my fault.

Just another night at the BR

Sun, 22 Jul 2007 01:11:44 GMT

Last night, Rick Mercer of Rick Mercer's Monday Report came at around 9 pm to Baskin Robbins. He was in a white T-shirt, cargo shorts, and talking to his wife (I think) on his Blackberry. If memory serves me correctly...

JK: Hi, are you Rick Mercer by any chance?
RM: Yes I am. Do you have any cones that are like cups? I'm taking the car home.
JK: Get them separately, if you like, the regular cone is better for holding it though.
RM: I'll have a chocolate chip in a cup, and a chocolate mousse in a cup. And get me one of these waffle cones as well.
JK: So do you actually reside in Toronto?
RM: Yeah, I'm just on the Danforth. How bout you?
JK: Closer to the east end, Scarborough. That everything?
RM: Oh yeah, thanks.
JK (gesturing him to the cashier): Your total's $7.03.

He paid and left me 75 cents.

In other news, I need to buy the 2nd half of Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton CD because those songs didn't make it on her first.

Justin Kong

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Thu, 19 Jul 2007 16:52:28 GMT

It was, to say, everything I expected to happen, did, but done in a fashion that is fitting. This one, along with number 4, are the best books, without a doubt. If only the other ones delved into such a magical story, I would have really enjoyed the universe that JKR created. This was the story that, although likely the most magical in nature, was most easily identified with and seen as the most plausible, particularly when dealing with the human condition. I liked how she played the press into thinking too much about the red herrings that really, mean minor details in comparison to the whole Deathly Hallows thing, which is really what this book is about. No sequels needed for this one, nothing more to say.

Satisfied,

Justin Kong

PS - In other news, I got to read it before you did! Suckers! Wow, a lot of jerks are just pasting spoilers on their LJs, facebook, etc. Stay away from media lol, and if you've already read it, fight the temptation to be an ass. I recommend using a Shield, Disillusionment and Muffling charm.

Thank you, 多謝你

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 23:55:45 GMT

Today at East General they called for anyone who could translate Cantonese to rush into the ICU, apparently they needed to extract vital information before critical surgery. I can't go further into details because it would violate confidentiality, but I will say that it was a large commotion and I'm glad the whole ordeal has passed.

This is why, learning Mandarin in Toronto was utterly useless. Thank god for my proud proud Canto heritage.

Cantonese and hell yeah, I'm the mother#$%^ing prince,

Justin Kong,

What would Jesus, Miyamoto, or Tite Kubo do?

PS - People who speak Mandarin look as if they had something in their mouth the whole time. Call them puff cheeks to be polite, #$#%-jobbers to be rude.

Spoiler: Bleach 283 pg 19

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 05:25:06 GMT

Yeah, this rocks.

Writer's Block: By Any Other Name

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 05:23:41 GMT

If you could rename yourself in real life, what would you choose, and why?

I would change my given name to something far lower than 56th most popular in 1988. My surname is encrusted in my past, present and future, to be carried by my 2 sons. They better have sons the whole way through. That's immortality in its simplest form, bitches.

Fornicate this,

Justin Kong

A clear sign of civilization

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 11:38:02 GMT

I've begun to judge people based on what they order at Basken Robbins. It's quite fun and passes the time quite nicely on Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm also a big fan of the regulars whose faces and orders I remember; seeing them always puts life into my otherwise merely cheerful disposition.

Justin

Raped at Anime North

Wed, 30 May 2007 08:17:29 GMT

So weekend's tremendous Post-Offer Reception followed by Anime north is over and I'm writing about this now. Post-Offer was meh, but I'm pretty sure it was exciting for the students before they are disillusioned after Frosh week in September. Afterwards, I sped as fast as my little Asian ass enabled me to and hurried to Toronto Congress Center for Anime North. There, I have a very clear memory of exactly what I did. To correlate to my previous writings however, I think you might want to look at Julian's pictures sometime to better put it.

Just remember that an Asian's capacity is far superior to any white boy's, and that the volume consumed that night was definitely second only to the MC. Also, photoshop is a powerful thing these days.

2 days of the year that don't suck, at least.

Justin KONG, not Cheung, for crying out loud.

Potstickers sans oil: Thinking about switching to Mech.

Mon, 14 May 2007 06:38:52 GMT

Attending the school whimsical,
I ponder at the lovely voices
Screeching in my cavity
I rotate, dilate, sublimate
Vaporize me
Like those cartoon aliens
We cannot hope to mimic
Their perfect lack of anomalies
Flawless diamonds buy the slaves
and get the girl
We thank the stones in the river
Beneath us
once we've crossed
where
where the sign tells us to go
How did we end up
so far from the campsite
Without a knife and staring
Into the lovely
diamonds that shine in the
Pretty little sky
Of a smiling famished wolf
The world turns dark
The nightmare ends
You find yourself
Cold Sweat in the Hot night
A summer dawn in
The stomach of a beast.
Acid burns the skin only.
Sun rises.
Exeunt...some.

Music

Wed, 09 May 2007 02:49:42 GMT

There are different tiers in music and consumer music:

The ignored: Crap.
The listened: Nothing impressive, possibly due to overexaggeration after the first listen, or a lack of originality but listened to the same. Music that has potential.
The downloaded: Artist/Group worth listening too. I've deemed their worthiness.
The purchased: Actually supporting the artist in their endeavors.

Afterwards, I look at comparative albums to determine their placing in my pantheon of musical culture.

Justin

Sun, 22 Apr 2007 05:05:57 GMT

Other than matrices for data, what exactly is algebra for in the real world?

Praxis: The Epilogue

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 10:08:39 GMT

I sincerely never want to be involved in a design process with a team of 2 again. But now that's it's done and dealt with, here's a youtube video showing how giddy I got after completion!

Sincerely sincere,

Justin

Pissed Praxis Perils Post

Sun, 15 Apr 2007 08:59:49 GMT

So, I've been writing in my dainty Praxis (think design) notebook....

Basically, I've done most of the work so far, the RFP, the Interim Design Report. Of the final presentation, I will be filling the poster and the brochure. My amazing partner will be doing the prototype.

Aye, there's the rub. I requested it to be done Friday, which would give me lots of time, but he/she decided to start today. Ok, so I would spend the time working on the poster and brochure and at around 1, I decided to check on progress:

Him/her: 60%

At 4 or so, I was feeling rather...annoyed, so I asked again:

Me: % complete?
Me: Actually, give me an approximate time of when expect this portion to be complete.
Him/Her: You should sleep now then
Me: Make sure you finish the project. I don't want you to hand me it tomorrow evening to do last-minute work.
Him/Her: I'm going to sleep now. (Goes offline)

Honestly, this moment of time, I'm probably the most pissed off I can be. Given, that level of agitation isn't really high compared to the normal human's level of anguish, I must say, it's rather a pain in the ass.

So, let's just say it's only fair that I will no longer provide support in the design notebook of your actions, and will enjoy any creative output you can muster.

Justin Kong,
Who will not sleep tonight, because the night has been lost.

PS - A big (expletive) to the ESC102 course. I thought you would stress and accentuate the strengths of engineering, but you have only shown me its numerous faults. Redemption from your prerequisite? More like irreverrisible convictions that stack with increasing returns.