Machines 3, Fleshlings 0

typed for your pleasure on 5 January 2007, at 1.32 am

Sdtrk: ‘Speedlearn broadcast’ by F. Peters

I swear to christ, I’m gonna build a TARDIS, go back in time, and flat-out murder whoever invented the flu with my bare and twitching hands. This is utter bullshit. Not only have I missed two days of work — under normal circumstances, that’d be something I’d be crowing about, but I like having money — and worse, I’ve not showered or shaved in two days, so I resemble some fucking hippie filth. Normally, I wouldn’t admit that sort of thing publically, but I’m brimful of Alka-selter/Halls/some generic anti-flu drug, so I don’t fucking care. Frankly, I’m surprised taht Im lucid enugh to speling as goood as I am.
So to everyone I need to Email back — you know who you are — give me a couple of days to remember how to spell my own name, and I’ll get back to you immediatement. Okay? Okay!

In the interim, I’ve just downloaded all three volumes of the soundtrack to ‘The prisoner’ from X-Y-Z Cosmonaut’s CosmoBlog, one of those crazy .mp3 blogs that I scour on a daily basis. One of my favourite episodes was ‘The General’, the one with the supercomputer with the subliminal learning technique that it televised to all the inhabitants of the Village, and I recall that tune that was played during the educational broadcasting was very very ace, as it was like all of Broadcast and Ghost box‘s output condensed into 42 seconds. So I’ve been playing it over and over for the past hour! And now you can hear it, too! FOREVER

Also, I want a Nissan Figaro, just like Sarah Jane Smith drives.

Okay? Okay! Back to lying down! But first, let me stumble over to the bog and puke some more WOO YAY

Random similar posts, for more timewasting:

Happy 23rd! on May 23rd, 2005

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Did I link to this article before? / Die Vogelgrippe??

typed for your pleasure on 3 November 2005, at 2.05 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Let the wind catch a rainbow on fire’ by Death in June

Found another article on das Infobahn about Japan implementing robots into everyday living. I mean, moreso than usual. However, it does make prominent mention of Kobalabs’ SAYA-chan, so there you go.

In the meantime, I’m fighting what may be a small-scale flu. I’m not as fatigued as I was yesterday, and food is tasting less like looseleaf paper, so I think I’m on the Road to Recovery. I still feel like a pig shat in my head* a wee bit, though. Damn this frail human body! *weakly shakes fist*
In any case, I’d better be well enough to see Broadcast, as they’re playing at the Magic Stick this Saturday. Perhaps I’ll go back to bed for the rest of the day

*fifteen Cool Points to anyone who can name the film that quote came from

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Machines 2, Fleshlings 0, or, Please have kidney bowl ready

typed for your pleasure on 12 June 2005, at 11.27 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Head’ by The Jesus and Mary Chain

Ahhh, Monday. The day that I finally had that damnable chalazion scraped off my head. You don’t forget something like that! No matter how hard you try.

I got round to my eye doctor last Monday, at 6pm. The actual appointment was at 6.30, but of course they’re like, ‘fill this stack of papers out that absolves us of all guilt and responsiblilty should we accidentally carve up your eyeball’, so they had me show up early. Having finished those in due course, I was escorted to the operating room proper, where the nurse placed a shower cap-like paper hat on my head, and had me lie on the cushioned cot/counter thing, with my head resting in a cushion to keep it from rotating. She then applied some eye drops, stating that Dr Lim would be in shortly, and made her way to assisting other patients.
Whilst I was lying on that pleather-upholstered cot, attempting to calm myself down by thinking pleasant thoughts, my mind drifted to what someone had once said about a universal truth to doctor visits of any kind. You wait for an interminable period, then they usher you into a smaller room, where you wait by yourself for another interminable period. I was waiting on that cot for a little over half an hour. At one point, I guess my focussing on pleasant thoughts had worked, as I actually fell asleep for a few minutes.

Dr Lim returned with the nurse presently. Dr Lim (her first name escapes me — I think it started with a ‘J’) is a short Asian lass, probably in her early thirties, and with a pleasant demeanour. She began swabbing my eyelid, stating that ‘The part that hurts the most is when we do the injections to numb the area.’ ‘Yeah, I remember that part from the last time I was here to get a chalazion removed,’ I replied. ‘It was really pinchy.’ And with that, we were off!
Now perhaps times have changed since my last chalazion removal — last time, in all honesty, the injection part was not all that bad — but on this go-round, I don’t know what happened, but the procedure wasn’t as smooth as last time. Truth be told, it hurt like a motherfucker. I don’t know if there wasn’t enough lidocaine, or too much, but the thing to remember with lidocaine injections is that they burn. It’s acidic. Factor in that that shit was near my eye, and you have a pretty wild scene, man. Plus, as I was expressing to Dr Lim and the nurse, I wonder if more of my pain was more psychosomatically induced, cos I’ll tell you: you know when you visit the dentist, and they use that pick thing to remove plaque from your teeth? You’re familiar with that sound and that general feeling, yes? Well, Dr Lim didn’t have a pick, but she was doing practically the same thing in removing the core of my chalazion. I could hear that pt pt pt sound as she was extricating it. Yeah. And heh, it’s not as if you can close your eye!

To attempt to get my mind off what they were doing to me, the nurse was like ‘You know, you look like you play an instrument. Do you play anything?’ So I attempted to explain that yes, I used to play guitar and keyboards (but not at the same time) in Dole age and Wreath.VCA as best I could. You know, trying to be my usual humourous and flippant self whilst exacavation was underway on my fucking eye. So in between gripping the nurse’s hand like grim death, I also told them about the Dears concert from that previous Sunday. That went well.
Eventually, Dr Lim couldn’t get all of it out via the inner eyelid. I neglected to mention that all surgery up til this point was performed on the inside of my eyelid, so as not to leave a scar, so they applied a lidclamp and flipped that bad boy open, which also hurt like a sonofabitch. But like I’d said, she couldn’t remove it all through the inside, so she announced that she was going to have to make an incision on the outside and get the rest out. I didn’t feel the scalpel incision at all, but the cauterising that she had to do on both sides of my lid was not pleasant, I’ll tell you. Ye gods. If I ever, ever, develop another chalazion ever again in my life, when I get it removed, my first words upon seeing the doctor will be ‘Fill me with Valium tabs until I no longer remember proper English.’

Everything could’ve been worse, however. The nurse was telling me that on Monday, she and Dr Lim would have to treat a bloke who had four rather large chalazions on each eyelid. They had gotten so out of hand that they were kinda spreading to his upper cheeks. Think about that one for a while.

If I’m not mistaken, the whole procedure, including the wiping up of the blood, and the wound cauterisation, and the eyewashing, and applying the eyepatch that made me look like a character in a Trevor Brown painting, took about an hour. I get to see Dr Lim again for a follow-up this Tuesday. Hooray for Modern Medicine!
Lucky for you, I forgot to take ‘before’ photos, so you’ll just have to use your God-given imaginations. And you can stop throwing up now, I’m all done with my story!

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Happy 23rd!

typed for your pleasure on 23 May 2005, at 2.46 pm

Sdtrk: ‘Will you be staying after Sunday’ by The Peppermint rainbow

And Happy Victoria Day, Canada! When I move to you in five years, you’re gonna have to esplain to me what that holiday’s all about. (Or rather, aboot.)

Went to the eye doctor on Friday, as I have a chalazion on my left lower eyelid. Actually, I’ve had the bastard for almost two months now, but I’ve been financially unable to have it seen to. Hurrah.
A chalazion, if you’re not familiar with it, is just a fancy Greek name for an eyelid zit. It doesn’t hurt unless I squint real hard, but they’re fecking annoying, and rather damaging to my already-tenuous opinion of my self-image. Mine is currently the size of an airsoft BB, and if I glance to the left and down, I can see it. Mnyeh. I’ve had them before, back a couple of years ago when I was working in the Blood and Serum Mines at Quest diagnostics, and they were hateful back then, too. Since I had really good health insurance through my job, I went and had ’em scraped out. That’s right! The eye doctor clamped on some Clockwork orange-style lidlocks, flipped my lids inside out, and scraped out the offending material. I went in one week to have one done, then went back next week for the other. Thanx to modern localised anaesthetic, the procedure didn’t hurt a lot, it was just very pinchy. So on 6 June I’ll have this one done. I should take before and after pics, so you will know what a chalazion looks like..

I’ll attempt to write something not steeped in nausea later on. Some people are still digesting lunch right now!

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Ugh, ack

typed for your pleasure on 24 February 2005, at 3.18 am

Sdtrk: ‘Piazza, New York catcher’ by Belle and Sebastian

To quote the inimitable Withnail, I’ve got a bastard behind the eyes. Actually, I’ve had it for a couple of days now, and I’m sure going to class this eve, where every other student was coughing, didn’t help. Brilliant. 😐
When I awaken tomorrow, I’ll be sure to grab a fistful of ibuprofen to stave it off, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll pronounce it a tumour. Bleh.

At least I bought my copy of Nausicaä, a snip at $17, from Meijer. Not too shabby

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I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth

typed for your pleasure on 20 February 2005, at 6.58 pm

I’m gonna quote an excerpt here, and you can just go and click that link yourselves.

Op to remove baby’s second head

Manar Maged was originally one of conjoined identical twins, but her sister failed to develop in the womb.

As a result she was born with a second head attached to her own — a condition known as craniopagus parasiticus.

Yeah. Now may I follow that up with ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHH!!!!’

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Machines 1, Fleshlings 0

typed for your pleasure on 22 November 2004, at 5.28 pm

A couple of years ago, my first ex-roommate Steve & I were sitting around in the livingroom of our townhouse, discussing something or other, and somehow the subject of Androids & Gynoids came up. (With me in the room? The devil you say!) ‘Wouldn’t it be ace if you could put your brain in the body of an Android?’ I remarked. ‘You wouldn’t have to worry about getting sick, or having to eat, or getting old, or at least a dozen other things!’ Steve, in a shining moment of hyper-lucidity, replied, ‘Yeah, but I’d rather put my brain in a Gynoid’s body. Think about it.’ OMIGOD YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES. I would probably never leave the house. *big pervy grin*

Yesterday my parents & I were ransacking the house for disposable items, as today is Bulk Garbage Day for our neighbourhood, and my father decided he wanted to finally get rid of the stove-converted-from-an-oil-barrel that had been sitting inactive in the basement for at least a decade. So, believing I had nothing better to do with my time, he handed me a bucket and a garden trowel, and told me to empty the ash from the stove into that, so we could haul it out. After using a larger implement, like, y’know, a fucking shovel, he decides that it’s light enough to haul it out. I had maybe left about two-thirds of the ash in there, as it was so sedentary over the years, that it had become compacted and dense. Nevertheless, out it was going. Everything was alright until we headed out the door, and that’s when I felt a rather sharp pain in my lower back. I don’t think either one of my parents had ever heard me curse to that extent, so it’s nice to know I could teach them something.
So last night, I went to bed at just before midnight, with a throbbing feeling in my back, and I called into work this morning, as Monday is our nine-hour day, and I wasn’t gonna put up with this shit while at work for nine hours. Yeah.
Now who do I grab by the lapels so I can get hooked up with a Gynoid body that resembles Alyson Hannigan? I DEMAND SATISFACTION!!

Right, back to bed wi’ me, I suppose


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