So far the flack has flown over flowing flowery hillsides in key west... (that's Florida for the fellows who don't know a flippin' thing). For corn-FLAKEs, I can't fish when I'm flushed in the face.. It's all that mace in my face, maize in my face. I enjoy popcorn with my socks drawn and held at 2 ninety degree angles. I don't mind if they're worn so long as to keep my feet warm for lorn in the the cold scorn of a Canadian winter season. With reason of course, you wouldn't do without the sport. I can't endourse that horse. He won't win : don't bet on him. Your lovers grin shouldn't spin you to bet on him. Your lovers chin might though so BE CAREFUL! It's a dareful venture, let's seat on this bench here, think for a minute. Chew the meat, look at our feet, our fleet. Of diligent toes from boskow to moskow, I think fritzy is the only one who'll stick around when the moneys gone, then we'd both be out of a job and off balance cause I'll be leaning on you and i'll be fat at the sad loss of my toe fleet, nothing to capture my toe fleece. My socks vacant and my shoes unaware, I'll know what they've done - where they've left me - where I'd run.

The above screenshot(click it to zoom), was taken from this share button I'm working on for a client. I was in the middle of adapting StumbleUpon's submission link when I noticed an unfortunate concidence. They have the url encoded where / is represented as %2f, so /article reads %2farticle. Not your top shelf stuff but it caught me off guard and amuses me still.

If you visit http://fightskillz.com/time you'll see a clock and an insulting yet motivating phrase. The phrase is random, I'll be adding more to the pool whenever I get a chance to ponder what a lazy bastard I am, and it changes every minute. I want to implement this better, but I don't have time right now so it'll have to do.

Here's a screenshot or two:

 

Two perfect streams, with one perfect seam. I look down and scream, although to myself, it appears.

Once everything is soaked, not a happy artichoke. I off to the store, to return and get more

But apparently there's a policy against my accident.

 

I wrestle with the store clerk and tell 'em he'll pay,

he said no you have to.

Left pondering in an isle, cans all strewn about. It's vengance i want, yet i'm all flushed with doubt

FULCHED! i say...

i mean FLUSHED. That's it, i've got it, the answer i want

it.

Today in my full stream, full scream, private isle.

I soaked the place silly and grafted on a smile

 

When clerk returns to see what I've done

he doesn't so i look around, put away my gun

my face, my hands, my stupid grin

i missed all the cans, all the cereal, everything.

i return past the tills, covered in shame

at my own, my own, improbable aim.

ah wells, ah wells, a grin on the store clerk.

so i throw an old lady's walker at him, what a jerk...

the old lady falls, tralls, fippersnaps.. oh wait, that was her back.

 

so off the hospital covered in pee, my bathroom i know, looks just like me.

at the back of an ambulance, i'm to blame, for the old lady's accident, and my accident fame.

quite the opposite i tell some local news, all of them, the entire crew.

they'll have none of it they question and they blame.

so i pee on all of them and proudly exclaim.

MY FANCY, SEAM OF A STREAM IS MIGHT, NOW I'VE GOT YOU ALL IN MY SIGHT.

so soaked they be, and soaked they were.. I left them there it was a mutual blur.

I'd just soaked the town and began a new day

 

soon later I was parched.

I AM AMPHIBIOUS!! I CAN LIVE ON SEA OR IN LAND. DO NOT TAKE MY SATCHEL. IT IS WHERE I KEEP MY THINGS. I'm one of those days, That just don't make sense. I'm one of those feelings, Like an anger I'm intense. I'm one of those landmarks, That judging from afar, I'm stuck in a rut, Like dinosaurs in tar. too badd you're all pigs, oink oinking in your mudd. I can't believe all of yous, actually eat that crud. It's cheap and it's tawdry, All wrapped in a ball. Eating it makes you, Think you're 6 feet tall. At the end of this winter, It'll be warm. I wish I was an orange, Someday I'll learn. by Yoav Givati

.tel domain names are being hyped and advertised all over the place. The company that owns the rights to the .tel extension believes they should be used like a switchboard where everyone has their contact info permanently available at their own .tel domain name. The idea is obviously ridiculously stupid for too many reasons. The most prominent facet of idiocy is name collision. But beyond that a .tel domain based contact directory is to OpenID what a wheel-less bicycle is to a rocket ship. Unfortunately this stuff isn't new, godaddy has been pushing .me domain names for a while now. Oh well.

I regrettably haven't recorded any music lately. In fact I've barely given myself time to play, but way back when I was like 16 I did take the time. Honestly I never really put a lot of effort into outlining the song, it was more of a play random stuff until I like the way it sounds, do some minor editing and convert it to .mp3. I guess people liked it back then, I put them up on my Myspace band profile and somehow ended up with 900+ fans/friends/whatever. After that I felt Myspace turning into the marketing frenzy born of the faceless soul draining vortex of the web it is today and deleted the account. I just happened upon some of those tracks in my iTunes right after some Frank Zappa, which may have influenced the way I feel about my own music. Anyway, this track is called Invisible Jungle, I name it that cause I'm an idiot. The inspiration for it came one day when I broke, I believe, the 3rd string on my guitar. It wasn't my awesome brazillian guitar or one of my electrics, no it was my first guitar--the $30 acoustic from Sears that buzzed horribly. Since at the time I didn't mind breaking it I decided it was a good opportunity to try a 4th string where the 3rd should go. This resulted in a tuning of E-A-A-G-B-E, which sounded interesting to me and I hit record. I should also note that the lone ride cymbal smack near the beginning was an example of lazy editing, if it wasn't there you would perceive a skip, jerk, or something to that effect which instead of simply splicing it out, I thought hitting a cymbal would be better practise. Clearly idiocy is my strong suit. Click the link below to play, right click+save as to keep. invisible-jungle

That's it, I'm getting a ticket back to South Africa and not coming back until someone's figured out how to solve snow. The weather network I blogged about earlier must be using some kind of archaic and inaccurate scale of measurement because the supposed 10-12cm of snowfall predicted yesterday is more like 3 feet and it's still falling. There was a practical blizzard yesterday and so distribution isn't exactly equal, our side of the street was like the bottom half of an hour glass at the 45 minute mark, while across the road everything was fine and peachy. I feel like I've written about this before but because of the sheer height of the snow and the apparently insufficient size of my snow shovel I'm effectively shovelling the entire driveway 3 times. In other words there is a top, a middle, and a bottom to the snow cover. Further more someone, and this could only happen to me, took all the left handed gloves in the house. AND HID THEM, or ate them, or something. This is a bad thing for two reasons. The first, is that it's -10˚C without the wind chill factored in. The second is that my extremities are extremely sensitive to cold, and after 5 minutes in this kind of cold(15-25 with super warm gloves on) my fingertips, followed by my hands lose dexterity, turn red, and lose all feeling except for something comparable to what it would feel like to have an elephant sitting on it. Then again maybe it's not me, because it seems my ipod can't cope either, if it's not tucked away against me it shuts down after 10 minutes and the little ipod on the screen starts shivering. Not looking forward to the fact that it gets as cold as -45˚ in late February. On the upside every so often I find some snow treasure. Today I found 2 newspapers, and a pristine tomato that must have been inadvertently flung into the driveway by a Tomato Carrier while it was still snowing, as he was skipping down the street singing about growing methods, artichokes, and clucking like a chicken as they do. When you're on the virge of frost bite you're supposed to warm your hands slowly so as not to encourage them to fall off. Lucky you I chose to do that by writing this, but I still have to go back out there and chip away at the last 4 feet of snow—piled up by forceful snow plows, which left over night through a quazi-blizzard is a lot like rock candy and regret. Update: Thought I'd add some pics for the sceptical among you. The first one is of the peachy side, the second is not an artificial hill in any respect aside from one lump directly above the ruler, it's just how much snow there was.

With the holiday season rolling around you can't go anywhere without seeing ads for just about anything. Even with the failing economy it doesn't make sense to me why an enourmous amount of retailers are showing ads that offer a percent off their products. You'd think that people that are looking to save would want a discount in the markup, or look for products made of cheaper materials, or generic brands. I just saw an ad for a coat store offering 70% off their coats. I don't want to meet the person that would buy 30% of a coat just so they can say they have something name brand. What does 30% of a coat even look like? How do they decide what 30% of the coat to give you? and What do they do with the 70% they took off? or is that what they sell you during the year when they price it at 30% off.

At seemingly random times, my printer makes a noise. My only defence was to unplug it from my computer for the last week sending it into a deep coma. But alas after 7 days of only being connected to power, it made a noise. A devious noise that to a laymen would sound as though the ribbon was moving, but having hunted printers since I was nearly a fetus (I just had to add 'fetus' to my spell check, ridiculous right? ) I know full well what the sound means. It's one of those rare hairless printers that you can unhinge the jaw and peer inside at it's poisonous ink cartridges. I was told by the pet store that it'll only spray when it's munching on paper, but one day it was choking on one such piece of paper and I had to reach in, as I did it swung its sharp cartridges over my arm covering me and half the room in a wide variety of vivid colours. I had to immediately go to the local vet for the antidote and he said I almost died, that if I'd gotten there just 10 minutes later he'd have to have amputated my t-shirt, and thrown it away. When I arrived back home I found it on the carpet at the end of it's cord with a trail of inked footprint outlines behind it. If you ever wondered what printer's footprints look like, it's like the outline of one of its corners. My particular printer though, the shifty thing, was printing out pages of small human footprints behind it as it was making its escape. I suppose it was trying to fake a scene for the police where it would look like the printer had been kidnapped by a small man, and they would wonder, "How could such a small man carry such a big printer, let alone get it off the desk or climb down the stairs..." and by the time they figured it out the printer would have made it to Mexico, bought a villa, and moved in. My printer comes from a long line of top performers in all their categories, unfortunately it was the runt and is a bit slower and less accurate than its siblings. There's good days and bad, sometimes everything's going well and all of a sudden you hear it gagging on page 24, and other days it can't keep anything down. There was even one time where it needed immediate open compartment surgery to remove a whole stack of crunched up papers from its lower abdomen compartment. Just the other day it sneezed as I was feeding it a particularly dusty page, aside from being incredibly disguisting it started cackling so hard it fell off the back of the desk.