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Your momma
  Manifesto7, Apr 23 2008

always said "don't pick it!" "Don't pick it you will just make it worse!"

Prelude: Bodily Harm

Postlude: + Show Spoiler +



The moral of the story is always listen to your momma.

edit- you think ebay is an option?



****

Comments (31)


Bodily Harm
  Manifesto7, Apr 22 2008

"Maybe you should go to a doctor."

I seem to be hearing that more and more lately. Fortunately for my uninsured self, the madness ringing in my ears has drowned out any earthly concepts such as logic, reason, and self-preservation.

It started two months ago in a casual game of soccer. I was wearing loose shoes, and playing on a slippery dirt field. All was going well, I cut seams like Pele and struck like kaka, until I started to feel an ache in my foot. I ignored it, as I usually only eat pain at meal times with a side order of suck-it-up. However, after a while I was forced to go back to my office and examine the damage.

+ Show Spoiler [not pretty] +



After the initial shock wore off, which coincided with my buzz wearing on, I poked and prodded my toe until it became irate and began communicating with my nerve endings asking me to stop. Satisfied that I was still the master of my domain, I tucked my wound away into my sock where it has stayed, other than being the odd party trick, for the past two months.

"You should really see a doctor."

I swear if that devil woman keeps nagging me I'm going to saw my own ears off. It doesn't hurt, its just a nail. What is the worst that could happen?

+ Show Spoiler [you really wanna click this?] +


Yeah so apparently I haven't paid enough attention to my big toe lately and it is weeping sticky black fluid as a result. I tore the nail off earlier in the week playing basketball but who new that would piss it off? If things keep going this way, I may have to turn to the past resort.

+ Show Spoiler +


I'll keep you posted.
+ Show Spoiler +





****

Comments (38)


[Job] Web Designer
  Manifesto7, Mar 11 2008

Hello-

I am in the market for a web designer for a project regarding a local community group. The focus of the website is photo/video sharing, a calendar, and an announcement page. It will require a registration system. It will also require working with Japanese fonts (but no language ability is needed).

If you have experience in designing websites, please send me a PM detailing your experience, some examples of your work (if possible) and availability. I will send you more information at that time.

Price to be negotiated.

Thanks a lot,
Mani.



**

Comments (2)


Eulogy
  Manifesto7, Sep 19 2007

Many of us will remember my grandfather as an active participant in our most cherished memories. Throughout his life, Popa's ministry led him to rejoice in celebrations of life and union, and comfort in times of sickness and death. I have been blessed in my life to be able to share my greatest experiences with Popa. Upon reflection, it was not his counsel in times of stress that struck me most though; it was the times in between, the times we called the “usual things”. His ability to celebrate in these “usual things” is what I would like to share today.

My earliest recollection of this is when I was 4 years old. My mother and I were living with my grandparents, and she was departing for a tour of Europe. It was to be just my grandparents and I for two months, and then I would fly alone to meet up with her. In order for my mother to get caught up on my summer when we met, my grandfather and I started a diary. Each night I would dictate the day’s events as best I could, and he dutifully recorded my thoughts, helping me fill in any blanks. We soon developed the term “the usual things” when describing the process of getting ready for bed. A bath, teeth, pajamas, the diary, and a story book or two was the typical recipe. When I got the chicken pox, we added the calamine lotion to the list. Each night as we sat at the dinner table, my grandparents and I would see the planes taking off from the airport and say in unison “Hey Air Canada, wait for me!” in anticipation of my first solo flight. A usual thing, yes, but a usual thing we still fondly recollect today.

As I grew older, the usual things in my life changed. I spent rainy days in camp at the lake as a young man, and then began work and study further. Today I am raising a family of my own. Each week however, I knew I would be able to call home and talk to Popa about the week’s events. “What’s new?” he would ask. “Not much, just the usual things” I would reply. My challenges at work; his curling scores; my assignments for school; his upcoming travel or visiting plans. Half an hour later, our usual things did not feel so usual anymore. When we talked to one another, nothing felt trivial, and nothing was taken for granted. There was just a feeling joy in sharing our lives with one another.

Last month, I was able to return to Canada with my wife and child to introduce little Hanna to her great-grandparents. It was a bitter-sweet event which we celebrated as a family knowing it would be the last one. I traveled home, and two weeks later I was saying goodbye over the phone. When I last talked to Popa, he told me that “death is the end of life, but it is not the end of love”. I will miss our weekly visits together so very much, but I will take comfort in the fact that as I raise my daughter, I will forever be accompanied by his love. When she gets older, I look forward to bringing out that little black diary, reading to her about my grandfather and I, and sharing with her how we discovered all the joy that is to be found in the Usual Things.




****

Comments (16)


Spider Hunter
  Manifesto7, Jun 13 2007

You Americans and Canadians are... how can I say this nicely... fetus like in the overall scheme of world history. Your civilization has lasted for scant decades, a pitiful accomplishment when seen with the world's great nations such as Italy, China, and Japan. As a result, the environment around you has not yet learned to adapt properly to the stench of human invasion. Earthquakes do not shake your foundations, wildlife does not hunt your children, and insects have not adapted to your poison. As a result, your people are weak in mind and body, complaining vigorously at the slightest sting.

However, in the ancient civilizations, nature has not been idle. Faced with an imposition of human will, she has battled back, creating stronger and more powerful breeds. In this environment one must be prepared for anything…




The train rocked gently on the tracks as it sped through the early morning gloom. The taste of stale cigarettes and staler women lingered unpleasantly in my mouth. The unsavoury events of the night before nagged the back of my mind, but were so used to being ignored that their pitiful protests soon faded out, leaving only the rhythmic thumping of my hangover to keep me company. Leaving the station I trudged north to my place of employment, Sano High School. This early in the morning its age of 106 years was apparent. The water tower perched on top looked down like the Eye of Sauron and the river flowing in front of the wall was a sinister black moat. As I pushed open the gate, the un-oiled hinges announced my presence to all… the two-legged and otherwise.

Winding my way through the dim hallways I slid open the door to the office. As is my custom, I had arrived early and busied myself for the day’s tasks. I started my morning routine of simple chores: flicking on the lights, checking my message box, and unlocking the copy room. I then turned towards the sink I realized I had not yet filled up the hot water pots. With my mind slowly getting into gear in regards to the day’s lesson, I threw open the faucets and dropped one of the two jugs into the sink. In my sorry state the half eaten cockroach should surely have raised alarm bells, but it didn’t. Thus, the next words out of my mouth were

HOLY SHIT!




A giant Spider, easily 8 inches in diameter JUMPED out of the drain and raised it’s forelegs in a monstrous show of aggression. My sorry condition instantly evaporated as I sprang backwards, landing on a desk with the balls of my feet. Throwing up my hands I quickly deflected the two hot jets of poison that the Spider slung towards my eyes. I rolled backwards and took up a defensive position behind a long row of desks. With my heart exploding in my chest, I risked detection by peering around the corner. Although the Spider was at the bottom of the sink, I could still see the tips of its legs waving above the rim. As I continued to watch, they slowly disappeared from view and the immediate danger was over.

What to do now. Eighty episodes of McGuyver ran through my head as I repeatedly whispered the mantra “What would Richard Dean Anderson do?”. Then, from the most unlikely source, I got inspiration.



God. He watches over his wayward son in the greatest time of danger. Remembering my Sunday-school days, the story of the great flood washed through my mind, bringing with it a tide of inspiration. I knew now what I had to do. Hitting the ground for a marine crawl, I made my way to the cabinet beside the sink. My heart resumed its spastic condition and my hands shook. Reaching up I plugged in the remaining pot, and quickly repositioned myself as the element warmed the remaining contents. I now understood my mission. I was God’s mercenary, and he acted through me. With the realization of my divine patron, my confidence grew and I stood up. The Spider saw me and raised its limbs again; however it now sensed my newfound power and backed down quickly. I glanced at the pot to gauge its progress, and eight eyes followed mine. Fate was at fifty degrees.



As the pot ticked, so did the inevitable. The Spider was no longer on the offensive, but was instead scrambling to gain purchase on the wet sides of the stainless steel sink. In its panic, the legs failed to grip, and it fell backwards onto the drain cover. Infused with celestial power, I strode forth and checked the temperature. At a blistering 98 degrees it was time. I unplugged the pot and popped open the lid. The squeals from the Spider were lost with the righteous chorus ringing in my ears. Holding the pot above my head, I gave proper blessing to the execution:

”COME SON OF JOR-EL... KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!!!


The payload was tipped, and a rush of boiling fury enveloped the Spider, cooking its insides into paste and causing spasms in its limbs. Turning on the faucet once again, I washed the remains of the spider and its cockroach breakfast down the drain. As I looked up, panting with the thrill of victory, I saw a sliver of the sun breach the horizon. A new day was born. Behind me the door to the office slid open, and my senior teacher came in. Without revealing the morning’s trials, I mumbled a simple ohayo gozaimasu and went about the rest of my day.



This entry dedicated to my cat Ernie, who for 16 years was the greatest spider hunter of them all. RIP. Also dedicated to exalted, who fails to realize the inability to effectively kill a spider also neuters his opportunity to mate in this lifetime.




****

Comments (39)


Shopping Wars
  Manifesto7, May 27 2007



I woke up early, with the summer sun prying through my eyelids and welcoming me to another sauna-like day in Osaka. Twenty-nine degrees and it wasn't even eight am yet. Fuck. My eyes reluctantly opened further, and I surveyed the room. The half empty bottle of Suntory whiskey stood like a general on the cabinet, surrounded by its beer can foot soldiers laying tragically crushed on the ground. The dull ache in my kidneys and cramps in my legs told me it would take more than a simple cleanup to rid myself of last night's mess. I couldn't afford to try and sleep it off though, today was an important day. There was a sale on, and I am a Shopping Warrior.


Shopping Wars


In November of 2005, two shoppers were injured in a massive 300 person stampede in a West-Michigan Wal-Mart. A 13-year old boy named Deja McHerron was taken to hospital after helping up a pregnant woman shoved to the ground by an aggressive mob looking to get in on a Black Friday XBox bargain.

The scene was repeated in Maryland, as a lack of security and planning caused more trampling injuries as staff desperately tried to control the surging mass of consumer frenzy at the gates. The manager of the store later said the cost of damaged goods in the mad footrace was far greater than the profit made by selling the games. A local resident said "It's a bad example. You got families out here, kids. It's sending the wrong message to people. It's not worth it."

Lastly, in Orange County, Patricia VanLester was knocked to the ground by a hoard looking to cash in on $30 DVD players. Talking to the media outside the store, her sister described the scene: "She got pushed down, and they walked over her like a herd of elephants," said VanLester's sister, Linda Ellzey. "I told them, 'Stop stepping on my sister! She's on the ground!"

What can we learn from these unfortunate examples? It is really quite simple. If you are not a TRAINED SHOPPING PROFESSIONAL, stay the fuck out of my way. These people represent the chaff in the competitive shopping world. They are the muck in your shoe tread and the 15 second clip on the nightly news. These are not the people I worry about.

This is my story, the story and advice of a seasoned veteran. No, not just seasoned. The advice of someone who has dominated crowds that number in the thousands. Someone who has stared the devil in the face over a 2.99 DVD of Pulp Fiction and refused to blink. Here is what it takes to be the best.




My target for today was a local baby goods store, not far from my house. I felt like shit and I knew that I would have to be on top of my game to be successful today. Mothers with newborns represent the top of the pyramid when it comes to aggressive shopping. Their instincts are honed by heightened hormone levels and their birthing aggression clearly reasserts itself in this environment. To make matters worse, they hunt in packs of three or four, and come fully armed with strollers, baby bags, and even the squabbling brats themselves. God knows what kind of sick, twisted memories are being impressed upon the malleable mind of a child.

The product was diapers, a risky proposition. To make matters worse, there was a supply limit, only 30 boxes. With the store opening at 10am, this was clearly a lure sale to help increase the take on a Sunday near the end of the month. The manager had to make his quota after all.

As I worked the cobwebs out of my mouth with a can of wine, I went over my plans for the enth time. I knew the floor plan of the store well, having run a reconnaissance mission the other day. The layout was clean enough. A simple straight dash down two parallel aisles, designed to take shoppers to the back of the store, but also give them enough space to rip apart the packaging without damaging anything else. My strategy was to take the left route down, as human psychology has shown that humans naturally go right before they go left. If I ran into difficulty such as barriers, wet floors, or track star mothers, I also had the option of juking right and trying to cut off any problems (between boxes A, B, and C).



The other trick was to go for the back. I knew as soon as the mothers got to the pyramid, they would rip open the first boxes they found regardless of their desired size. I can only assume it is their feral nature, but it is the one thing that I can use to my advantage. With them distracted at the front, I would be able to manoeuvre around back, and find the large size which I needed to obtain.

I arrived at quarter to ten, and already there was a line. I counted back and found myself in seventh place. Depending on the product the arrival time varies, but I was happy with my position. Too far to the front and some unwieldy grandmother is likely to pop you with an umbrella enema to get into the pole position. Too far to the back, and you're simply left in the dust.

Using my height advantage I peered into the gloomy interior of the store. I couldn't make out everything, but I could see the mound of boxes at the rear, just as I had suspected. I stretched my calves a bit, surveying the competition around me. The mood of the lineup was pensive, broken only by the occasional bark of laughter from a group at the front. I examined them more closely and felt a lump form in my throat. Standing three abreast, each with a state of the art stroller, were three new obasans. New grandmothers. This was the worst possible scenario. With their daughters at home and fatigued from the long trauma of childbirth, these women in their mid-50's were determined to do well by their daughter and save 190 yen on a bag of diapers. I watched as one cracked her knuckles, and then her back, as she eyed me contemptuously. I looked nervously at my watch and saw I had about a minute left. This turn of events changed everything, and I had no time to replan.

With a whoosh the doors swept open, and the line surged like thoroughbreds out of the gate. With my size 12 boot planted firmly on the foot of my nearest competitor, I revelled in the gasp of pain as I launched to the left, determined to take what was mine. Ahead of me, it was already chaos as a mother eager to run had neglected to release the brakes of her stroller, sending both herself and her child to the linoleum. As I passed, I booted the child’s plush toy under a rack of booties, thus ending any chance of her getting back in the running.

However, my good start was halted as I saw a serious flaw in my plan. The three grandmothers had split into two groups, with two of them completely blocking the right side, and one of them swerving back and forth down the left, threatening gross bodily harm to anyone who attempted to pass her. As they reached the pile of unopened boxes, they did not stop, but simply drove into them at full speed, knocking them back and cutting off my back-door strategy. However, it did open up another path. Using my ninja-like reflexes I squeezed between two strollers and planted two quick kicks on boxes labelled "L", sending them away from the initial rush. Their contents burst open, and out came 8 bags of diapers, gleaming under the fluorescents. Like sharks smelling blood, the frenzied tearing began as the grandmothers swiped at the prize. With my momentum, I vaulted over a display table and used my right hand like a dragnet, scooping them up by the handle. Landing smoothly, I pivoted and repeated the action with my other hand, ensuring a full catch. I felt something tug at my bounty, but I responded quickly by hammering it with my knee. The yelp of pain gave me a grim satisfaction. Out of the scrum I emerged, double fisted with glory. As I slowly walked away, I could hear the primal howls that accompanied success and failure alike. Making my way up to the register, I smiled broadly at the petrified sales clerk and gave her the cash. Mission Accomplished.



Summary:
7x packages of DoReMi diapers, regular 799 yen, today 590. Total savings: 1463 yen (like 12 bucks).

- Discipline
- Training
- Planning
- Alcohol-fueled rage

These are the things that will make you a successful Shopping Warrior. Do not be ashamed if you are not up to the task, only a select few are. If you are though, heed my words, I show no mercy to anyone.



****

Comments (36)




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