(A Random Post)

Wow, William Cheng Is Mentally Crazy

The Champ – Ghostface Killah

I’m just going to insert a post in here and interrupt William before his thoughts consume his very soul. It’s funny that he was writing about slippery slopes a couple of posts ago, because ever since that post he’s been slowly sliding deeper and deeper into madness. An entire post about rock-paper-scissor? I don’t know what’s more amazing: That it happened now or that it didn’t happen sooner. You know what I mean.

Randomness begins.


Two videogames are consuming my life right now: Heroes of Might and Magic V and Guitar Hero.

The other night, I was playing HOMM and fought the same battle about fifty times. No exaggeration. I just kept losing and reloading, wracking my brain for a way to beat my unrelenting foe. It was like the Kobayashi Maru. WWJTKD? What would James Tiberius Kirk do? He wouldn’t have died fifty times like I did, that’s for sure. I must have stayed up until five or six in the morning struggling with this exercise in futility. This is my life, by the way.

Guitar Hero is insanely addictive and if you’ve never heard of it, it’s a game where you…play guitar. It comes with this custom controller that is shaped not unlike…a guitar. There isn’t much for me to explain is there. Consider it Dance Dance Revolution for your fingertips. Playing this game has actually got me playing my acoustic guitar again. Strange. I can give you a decent rendition of The Grace if you want. Though it probably won’t be as impressive as watching me get the high score playing Take Me Out in Guitar Hero. Come to my house now and be amazed.


I love when a good joke comes together. When you watch as much television as I do, you’re always trying to set up some kind of joke around people. More often than not (I’d say about nine times out of ten) the line never comes out as good as you imagined it. Still, you keep trying and every now and then you nail one.

My troubled protege and initial brother Adrian Leung came by the store today even though he wasn’t scheduled to work. He was shopping with his mother. On the way out, he says good-bye to me and attempts to say good-bye to this new girl working next to me as well.

“Bye Al, Bye Jessica!”

Her name is Sabrina. After the boy made an awkward escape, I start talking to her and I’m like, “You know, when I don’t know someone’s name, I don’t even try to guess it. It’s more insulting than admitting you don’t know.” She agrees. I tell her that we do have someone named Jessica who works here though. “That explains it, I guess. Does she look like me?” Sabrina asked.

“Oh, yeah. Except, you know, she’s black.”

Big laugh. And yes, I ripped off Dick’s inflection and timing from High Fidelity a bit. Remember kids, good artists copy. Great artists steal.


I’m supposed to be coming up with ideas for the Opening Events for New College Frosh Week 2006. Too bad for them that I truly do not care. I shouldn’t say that, I do plan to contact my other group members eventually. I am concerned that they haven’t contacted me first, though. I hate to become the de facto leader. Ugh.


I just found the Big Love and Carnivale episodes that Jess let me borrow. Thank Christ. If I hadn’t, the cops would have discovered my nuts buried in the rabbit hole next to Jess’ house.


On Sunday, Max and I went to go get tea with Annia, Shirley and Shirley’s new buddy, Brian (Chow). Not to be too cocky, but I have to say that Max and I were definitely in rare form. We were so on, that Shirley couldn’t help but marvel at our ability to conjure up bizarre, non sequitur imagery with no visible effort. We were so on, that I think Brian genuinely thought we were funny. And if he didn’t, he at least pretended that he did and honestly, that’s even better. I explained to her that it was simply a steady dose of watching Conan O’Brien. And snorting large amounts of fishscale.

I’ve been reading this book called The Perfect Team. It’s a basketball book in which they’ve gathered a bunch of respected journalists to form a perfect team of players. The chapters are filled with stories that justify that player’s inclusion and how he embodies a certain trait. For example, Michael Jordan represents “The Will To Win”, “Competetiveness”, “Awesomeness” and “Jesusness”. It is a great book. I’m getting into the chapter on Phil Jackson. I realize that our style of humour is a lot like the triangle offense. An excerpt:

Since not all four possible trigger passes can be denied without making the defense vulnerable to reverses, back-door cuts, or alley-oops plays, the ball-handler always has a receiver available. Every possible entry pass keys a different set of movements. Any subsequent passes create additional options.

Sorry, that was confusing I know. What it’s saying is that the man with the ball should always have an option and that option should lead to several different options. So if Max initiates a conversation about, say, Van Helsing, it immediately creates options for the rest of us. And depending on what we say next, it creates further options for everyone else. You might say, “But Alex, isn’t that how every conversation works?” Naw, B. We’ve all seen conversations that go nowhere, they’re brutal. A bad conversation is like the Raptors offense. One guy (Mike James) talks for a couple of minutes (dribbles the ball in one place aimlessly), leaves no options for anyone else to contribute (jacks up a terrible shot) and in the end it’s just awkward for everyone (see: the entire Raptors season). In the triangle offense, the ball is always moving and creating options. See the passage above? Replace “reverses, back-door cuts, or alley-oops plays” with “Van Helsing jokes, Arnold quotes, or whatever happened on 24/Gilmour Girls the other day”.

What I’m saying is that WE aren’t actually that funny. Everything we say or do is just a product of the offense. We’re well programmed, that’s all.

Of course, I’m still Kobe Bryant in this analogy. When things break down, just give me the ball and get the fuck out the way.

Elliot, I can’t talk to you about sex. I don’t understand any of that crazy gibberish you use. Penis is…schwing-something.
Schwing-schwong, Peepers, or Peep.
Right and vagina is…?
Disgusting, but also Bajingo or Hoo-Hoo.



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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