Here’s some little packets of thought that I found in my head during the course of this crazy week. (Title still pending…though I may just finally give up and use “Choking Yak’s Provoking Facts” because it sounds so deliciously gay.) This might possibly be my longest post yet. And I didn’t check for typos or anything (and also I am only half conscious right now), so go ahead and look for them – there’s lots to find. So let’s get it on!

– So I may have told some of you that there’s this dude in one of my computer courses that looks exactly like me, instead he’s cooler in every way I can see. He’s got a cooler hat, cooler glasses, he walks cooler…he’s just cooler. But I’ll sort that situation out in due time. Like I’ll kill him or something – not that I’ll become more cool like him. Way too much work.

– But anyway, there’s this OTHER guy now in one of my math courses that looks a lot like me too. Which…I guess isn’t saying much, since UofT is completely made up of skinny Chinese nerds with glasses. But I swear, this one had relatively more of a Yakness to him than all the other chinks. And he doesn’t seem to be as cool. Also, the other day in class, I saw him wearing a Jays jersey – though not a Blue Jays jersey. Meaning it had the new logo, and it was black. So today, I wore my old school, white Blue Jays jersey. And when I walked into the lecture hall and saw him, I pointed up at him, spit on the ground, and I screamed “I WILL HAVE YOUR WOMEN AND CHILDREN AND I WILL FEAST ON YOUR SNACKS!!! I WAIVE MY RIGHT OF CLONE PEACE!!!” And then we circled around each other sniffing and growling trying to assert dominance over the other.

– So okay…that didn’t actually happen. But man…he even had the same type of water bottle I did. So when we were dismissed and everyone filed out of the room, I did what any normal, sane person would do. I stalked his ass. I followed him from the Mining Building all the way up to Ramsey Wright – like ten minutes worth of walking. He had another class right after – maybe even another math class, that crafty bastard. So I followed him in – he might have started to catch on, since I followed pretty closely, and he ended up holding like five sets of doors open for me – and I sat around in the back for like five minutes, and then I left. …I have absolutely ZERO idea why I did that. I think I’m mentally ill.

– The professor for our math class is kinda weird too. He’s got this sort of old person, foreign charm to him. He speaks better English than all of my other previous math teachers (Russian and Swedish accents are difficult as hell to understand when they’re talking about parabolas, thetas, sigma, delta, and all that) but every so often, there’ll be these really strange lines he throws out. Like today, he put up some questions on the board, and then commanded “Quickly, show me how genius you are!” Or he’ll stop the class sometimes and proclaim how we don’t look lively enough, and say like “You’re all so FLAAAAAAT. So flat!” Between him, my double, this other girl, and all these other idiot guys, this class is amazingly entertaining.

– This girl, by the way has the shortest…uh…”laugh pause”…or whatever that I have ever seen. Whenever you laugh (ie. “HA HA HA HA HA”) there’s a clearly defined pause between each “HA”. Some people’s are longer or shorter, but there’s always a distinct, definible break between the HA’s, the HEH’s, or the HEE’s. But this girl doesn’t really have one – it’s just a continuous stream of “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”. Actually, not even. It’s like just a scream of “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” but with barely audible little breaks of interference or “laugh static”, that allow you to identify it as a laugh and not a scream. She laughs very loudly, she laughs at anything, and the fact university professors can tell the lamest possible jokes ever created and still get laughs…and well…there’s just a lot of laughing going on.

– Please, please…let me out of my class first before you barge in. I know it’s your class next, I know you’re so goddamn anxious to learn about organic chemistry that you can’t even wait that little bit…but please…just let me out first, eh? That’s how it works for the subway, that’s how it works for elevators, that’s how it works for the bus, and that’s how it SHOULD work for lectures. I swear to the next person that shoulder bumps me while I’m leaving class – I will gauge out your eyes with my thumbs. I’ll do it. I don’t want to feel those juicy spheres of sweet vision pop against my vicious thumbs…but you’ve left me no other choice.

– Turns out I’m pretty good at poker. Maybe it’s just beginner’s luck, but I had IT, you know? That feeling you get where you just jack up no-look fadeaways from twenty feet out and you just know they’ll go in? I had THAT. I was chasing impossible straights and flushes and hitting them, I was getting full houses (which despite what ESPN poker tournaments teach us, is actually pretty damn hard to do), I was going practically all in with a pocket pair two’s…just thank God we don’t play with real money, or else I might get addicted. Not that I have a strong history of that. (Magic, OverPower, comics, MvC2, fantasy sports, and all the other hundreds of stupid ass things I’ve gotten hooked on over the last dozen years notwithstanding.) The rational side of my brain was drawing upon all the impossible odds regarding gambling that I learned in OAC Finite and STA247, and it was screaming “YOU’LL NEVER HIT THAT FLUSH YOU CRAZY BASTARD!!!” at me but I didn’t listen. There were girls there that I had to impress, by destroying them and stealing their money. I felt like I was in one of those God of Gamblers movies. Where they use their psychokinetic powers to change their cards by rubbing them. Next time I’m going to bring a big piece of chocolate, and then I’ll be set.

– Please tell me that at least one of you dirty chinks that read this site have seen at least one of the God of Gamblers movies. With Chow Yuen Fat, Andy Lau, or even that Stephen Chow guy from Shaolin Soccer. Speaking of which…Shephen Chow’s God of Gamblers installment (God of Gamblers III: Back to Shanghai) is my favourite Chinese movie of all time. This beats out stuff like Druken Master II, Fist of Legend, or that one Once Upon a Time in China where they fight while lion dancing over twenty foot tall wooden poles and stuff (or did they have that in every single one?).

– Also, speaking of Chinese movies, I watched The Huadu Chronicles: Blade of the Rose over the weekend – the first film of Jackie Chan’s son, Jaycee Chan. And it was goddamn TERRIBLE. Just…SO FUCKING BAD. And not Van-Helsing-bad-but-oh-so-good type bad. Just plain bad. Jackie Chan himself was in it, but considering his more recent stuff (Shanghai Knights, The Tuxedo, The Medallion – all movies I’ve watched and regretted watching) it was probably a bad idea. And then yesterday I saw Rush Hour 2 on television…and I openly wept at how good it was compared to The Medallion. Oh man…it was so damn bad. The Medallion was a bad choice.

– I was at McDonald’s over the weekend with some church friends, and I had told them to hold the pickles for my order. Because I am gay. And the girl at the counter gives me this look – which I assumed was digust – and she goes like “…okay, whatever.” Which I thought was a little strange, but I’m not going to say anything, because afterall, I’m the one that doesn’t want pickles on my burger. So everyone gets their food, we’re sitting down, people are getting napkins and straws and whatnot, and I get to the food first. I pull out a quarter pounder, and I see that there is no special sticker or whatever they attach whenever someone requests not to have pickles or onions or whatever. So I’m like “COME ON!” and I start complaining to the people around me, telling them about that look she gave me, cracking jokes about how they did it because I’m Chinese…you know – standard stuff. Meanwhile, I open the quarter pounder and I’m removing the pickles with my bare fingers, because…once again…I am gay. So suddenly, Mike comes back with the straws, and he just stands there for a whole minute watching me do all of this, gets over his confusion, and finally asks “Why are you…touching…my burger?” (There was a definite Tom Carter feel to the words – it was like he was horrified.) And I freeze there, holding a pickle up with my ketchup and mustard covered fingers, and absolute horror crosses my face.

Because…silly me…I didn’t order a quarter pounder.

Turns out that I told the girl at the counter I wanted a McChicken. Which doesn’t even have any pickles, which would explain the look she gave me – she thought I was retarded. And I am. But I could swear to you, I really did want a quarter pounder. I didn’t want a McChicken – the fact that I said “McChicken” actually scares me a bit. It means I’m FUCKING INSANE.

– MAN, I cannot get over how much The Medallion sucked. Why did I bring it up again? What shocks me is how much of it I actually remembered. I think it’s the same as watching a car crash or catching your parents naked – stuff like that just burns into your brain. I would gladly trade my Medallion experience with anyone who’s watched their parents having sex. (And since it would me YOUR parents and not mine, there’s an outside possibility that I may actually enjoy it. And by “outside” I of course mean “definite.”) Ugh. Why did I watch it? It has even less Van Helsing quotient than that Rose Blade Chronicles whatever movie. It’s so damn bad! Jackie Chan made a bad choice. (…wait, did I use that already? Ah, fuck.)