(A Random Post)

This post will be pretty much be like a 100% stream of consciousness post. It might seem a bit odd to call particular attention to that, as due to my poor writing skills and insane thinking patterns, it probably seems like every single one of my posts is a pure stream of consciousness deal. Thus it may frighten you to know that I generally do have a vague and general structure to each post. I guess that’s a bit like finding out that a bronze metal winner at the Special Olympics isn’t really disabled. But in the long and illustrious history of this site, out of my relatively longer posts (over two paragraphs), I think there have been maybe only a half dozen where I’ve just started to type it out with absolutely no idea where it was going to end up. This is one of those posts.

I do it whenever I’m really stuck and strapped for content. What generally happens is that I try to rant and ramble for long enough to fill the page with so many words about nothing particularly interesting that you’ll just give up and not read any of it. Hopefully you just click away from the site with the impression that this thing is updated on a frequent, if irregular, basis. Has that happened here today yet? No? Probably not enough paragraphs yet. I need to make some breaks to create the illusion of pauses and space.

I used to do that a lot for English essays.

However the problem with paragraphs in this context is that it has a way of breaking down and organizing the text into semi-readable and manageable chunks. Like if I had just combined all these words so far into one lump of text instead of splitting it up into four paragraphs, it would probably have been daunting and intimidating enough that you probably wouldn’t have even reached this point. …so maybe not a great idea.

Usually at this point I just pull a random thought off the top of my head, and end up devoting five hundred words to like…wondering if the model of evolution eventually calls for monkeys to grow the desire to wear clothes and to maybe eventually make monkey sitcoms if their resulting clothed social and economic structure allowed and called for that, and whether those sitcoms would be any good because of their enhanced physical agility and dexterity that would have slowed or prevented the development of slapstick comedy and thus may ironically stumped the overall evolution of monkey comedy…or why Spider-Man can take full out punches from guys like Iron Man, Rhino, or the Hulk and yet still be easily cut with edged weapons like the Green Goblin’s razor bats that theoretically deliver less pounds per square inch than the Hulk’s punches…

But I don’t really have any of those, so I have to go with small personal anecdotes and fluff them up to completely unjustifiable extents and see where that takes me. Join me, won’t you? It’ll be such an exciting journey.

The fluorescent light in the men’s washroom at work flickers like every hundredth of a second, almost imperceptible to the human eye. Every time I go in there I can feel something going wrong with my brain, like how the American army used that microwave frequency to disrupt Green Lantern’s thoughts when the JLA was fighting the Ultramarines.

…hurm…not much there, must move on to the next anecdote.

So I’ve been using the stock keyboard on my laptop at work for the entire time I’ve been here…and yesterday we all got goodies in the form of new keyboards. I don’t know if it’s because I’m just not an inherently trusting person, but it’s times like these when I can’t help but wonder if there’s ulterior motives behind it. Like maybe while we’re all enamored with our new shiny, spiffy Logitech Media Center keyboards, they’re going to fire us all and throw us out on the street. And we wouldn’t make a fuss, because we’d all still be like “Well…tough break…but at least while I was employed I had a nice new keyboard!” That’s suspicious as hell. I still don’t completely grasp the concept of giving people gifts randomly, just out of the goodness of your heart. It’s unnatural.

It’s a nice keyboard though. It makes just the right key-clacking noise. It’s right at that level where there’s a satisfying clack to every keypress, and when you’re writing an email or a blog post and there’s a stretch of sentences that you already have laid out perfectly in your head, and you just completely blitz through it, the amount of clickin’ and clackin’ makes you feel like some sort of primordial techno-god. I don’t know about you, but hearing that and feeling like I can type four hundred words a second arouses me. Sexually. But it’s not loud enough that it becomes obnoxious. And most importantly, not loud enough to be notably noticed in the surrounding cubicles so that everybody knows when I’m typing and when I’m not typing. And I’m not looking to arouse anyone around me with my typing prowess, so that’s fine.

The only thing is that like for all new keyboards, the set of Insert-Home-End-Delete-PageUp-PageDown keys is always configured differently. So I have to rewire the psuedo-touch-typing (I don’t really use my pinkies for anything other than Enter) section of my brain, because they moved the End key to the upper right and doubled the size of the Delete. End is actually the key I use the most – moving it even farther away is just sadistic. It’s messed up is what it is. So now I’m Paging Down instead of Ending all the time…I have to fucking look for the End key every time like I’m some sort of slack-jawed, senile, computer illiterate faggot. God, life isn’t even worth living anymore! I really don’t need this type of stress in my life. I don’t know why they can’t just standardize them like every other key on the board – every company’s gotta change it up for every single keyboard they put out, in some grand delusional quest for ultimate ergonomy. …ergonomecy? Ergonomancy? Is that even a word? Should I have just said “ergonomics?” Damned English.

Anyway, for a piece of equipment that I heavily use for like eight hours every weekday, getting a nice new keyboard is not an insignificant change in my life. I’m not exactly sure, but I roughly guesstimate that I type like five bajillion words a day, so even a slight upgrade in comfyness per letter represents a big improvement when multiplied a bajillionfold. It’s a lot like how I have to spend weeks scouting out potential candidates whenever I need a new hat – holding marketing surveys, studying results from focus groups, hiring personal image consulting firms, and a full spectrum of sabermetric analyses to determine the potential success and bandwagoning potential of the sports teams that appeared on them. At least when I used to wear hats a lot more.

Regardless, I have already begun designs to steal this keyboard and swap it with my crappier home one, which I use like 16 hours every weekday after I come home from work.

Speaking of crappy personal anecdotes – I went down to the Richtree Market Restaurant in the Eaton Centre earlier at lunch, which are the natural nesting grounds of my favourite prey – the delicious apple crumble. And the piece that the nice girl handed me was so massive and crumblicious that the plastic case thingie she put it in wouldn’t even close properly. There was crumble exploding out of it, like it could not be contained and was laughing and jeering at the universe at large for even considering such a fantastical notion.

You just know sometimes whether or not it’s going to be a good day. Generally you’d like to figure that out at the beginning of the day, but it’s hardly reasonable to complain about finding out at lunch time. At least you found out. Because at the very least, it’s like you know the rest of the day certainly isn’t going to be bad.

Ever wake up with like Walking On Sunshine, Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, or whatever your personal happy song is? (You Set Me Free by Michelle Branch) Generally that’s a good sign of a good day. That…or you’re gay for having Wham! on the brain unprompted. Or you look outside to see a nice clear blue sky, roll out of bed with your hair already good and combed somehow, or the gate at the front of the parking lot is busted and not taking any money so it just lets you in for free? You just know things are looking up when your crumble’s overspilling. It’s like waking up on a Saturday.

I am having a good day.

And I think that’s a good note to end on.

Can you hear the jack whales singing?

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Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.

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