Alex's Alliterative Adventures

I didn’t know they made 26 pound turkeys.

Hours spent studying: 5
Hours spent in line for the club: 1.5
Hours spent dancing, drinking, and stripping: 2
Hours spent sleeping: 3
Hours spent writing exam: 2.5
Hours spent grabbing life by the nuts and twisting: 11/14, since sleeping greatly reduces my capacity to twist nuts

I’ll leave for home soon enough when I leave my home behind.

“The ‘Dear Diary: jackpot’ incident.”

“I didn’t hear about this incident.”

“You NAMED it, when you wrote a hilarious journal about it, while laughing.”

“I can’t remember 30 seconds ago. Refresh my memory.”

“The girl got all pissy, the guy said some nasty yet hilariously true things, she went crazy, never wanted to see any of us again, you got off scot free, and I was the bad guy?”

“I vaguely remember this. This wasn’t the night that the guy got action for some definition of the word action, right?”

“No. Can you really not remember this?”

“I vaguely do.”

“We never saw her again after it.”

“Not ringing any bells”

“You had the subway club with extra bacon, I had the extra abcon with a subway club?”

“RIGHT.”

is the fear of large words. Well, sesquippedalophobia is the fear of large words, but hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is just the sequel, with added hilarity.

A friend and I have had a good laugh discovering a few questionable phobias:
Papaphobia – Fear of the Pope
Papyrophobia – Fear of paper
Parthenophobia – Fear of virgins or young girls
Xanthophobia – Fear of the color yellow or the word yellow
Urophobia – Fear of urine or urinating
Thaasophobia – Fear of sitting
Syphilophobia – Fear of syphilis
Sophophobia – Fear of learning
Russophobia – Fear of Russians
Peladophobia- Fear of bald people
Levophobia- Fear of things to the left side of the body
Anglophobia- Fear of England or English culture, etc

I could go on like this, but I’ll just direct you to the questionable source.

London stuff will come eventually, but there’s just too much to write down all at once.

My good friend linked me to xkcd yesterday. It’s absolutely chock full of geeky hilarity. I was particularly won over by binary sudoku, immediately followed by mixing curse levels.

In more real news, Amir was recently detained in a Norwegian airport, because he was brown. For those of you who don’t know Amir, he’s the least-brown brown man I know. He’s as brown as Tom is white. It’s kind of frightening that racial profiling has changed from something that cruel brothers scare their younger siblings with right before bedtime, and is now something tangible, something that has breached my happy little fantasy world where meals are gifts to be worshiped, pixies spread fairy dust while you blink, and racism is stupidity, not accepted professional behaviour.

Note to self: post the pictures, gosh-dammit.

I think that my ADD has accelerated to ADHD. Over the past few weeks, instead of enjoying my favourite songs once and skipping over 80 tracks to find the next hit, I just play the same tune again. And again. And again, and again, and then just to mix things up a bit, I play it once more. It’s like my ears unquenchably thirst for that particular flavour of freshly squeezed song-juice, so I must wringe the fruity notes dry until they bleed like stones.

I also beat minesweeper in expert mode in 83 seconds. One of my all-time favourite games is now empty and meaningless to me, since beating that score would require three or four pacts with Satan, with a few sacrificed babies thrown in for good measure.

I have watched the first 27 episodes of Prison Break in the past 4 days or so. I should try harder to remember that Jamie and Kate combined are almost always right.

5am sucks.

Housing in London is dirt cheap. I’ve been digging through ads for rooms that average around $350CAD/mo, with the low ballers coming in at a tight $250. You can land a bachelor pad for around $500-$600, or even $450 if you’re willing to adjust your definition of the word “pad” to include closets. Some places offer free daily breakfast and weekly barbecue, others tempt me with a jacuzzi and galley kitchen, and most wave the cost utilities with a quick hand, a bright smile, and a loud, plaid jacket. I just hope I don’t let my lust get the better of me, since I’m weakened by the most tempting vixen of them all: a private bathroom.

I just can’t understand why prices are so low. I mean, Waterloo offers some pretty fan-fricken-tastic deals when compared to Toronto, but you can’t really go much lower unless you’re compensating for things like frequent drive-bys or plagues of locusts/frogs/miscellaneous. Those are pretty unlikely, though. Infestations don’t normally crop up during Canadian winters, and the salted roads are bad for rims, so there has to be another explanation. My best guess: Hellmouth.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, Python is roughly analogous to the Worst Thing Ever, No Questions Asked, Amen.

Thought of the day: why is bureaucracy so damned hard to spell?