The road goes ever on....

Today I sat in the microscopy room, as miserable as ever, taking shots of yeast cells stained with fluorescent dye (see lab tales part 3). The rest of my world consisted of four dark walls a microscope and a computer. I sit there all day wallowing around in my own filth praying to God for a meteor to crash down on me and bring sweet relief. Now I know how a hamster feels. Or do I? At least a hamster has a little exercise wheel and that little bottle with water. And a little container chock full of life sustaining pellets of hamster food. And light, my God I miss the light. All I needed was some shredded paper on the ground and I wouldn't even have to leave! Soon I would forget the taste of food... Or the sound of water or the touch of grass...

Well, as it turns out, envying a hamster is not a sign of good mental health. As such I thought it would be a good time to reminisce about my trip to Thetford Mines. You see, my trip there was the opposite of what I normally do in the lab. Thetford is countryside, vast fields with trees and other living things. Ah... the sweet kiss of sunlight... How I miss it.

So you're probably wondering, "Thetford Mines? Why?" Well, my long time friend Marie Eve lives up there and invited to show me around the place where she had grown up. Marie-Eve is what I like to call, extreme in that she does things other than watch movies and play video games. I'd never heard of such a thing! I was half afraid that she would pick me up on her motorbike. Here's pics of us posing on her motorbike in her biker gear. I think I look pretty badass and sexy. AND scary.





Being somewhat cowardly I asked if the air was bad cuz of the asbestos, and she explained to me as she coughed and wheezed, that the reason why asbestos is so dangerous is because of the way it's processed.

So we visit the mines. Human beings are kind of crazy. First of all, the rock from which they get asbestos seems rather ordinary. Who would even consider that it has any kind of insulation properties. Second of all, they had to drain an entire lake to actually get to the stuff. It's quite a breathtaking site. You can't tell just how deep it is from the picture, but yes, that is where you get asbestos from. You know, Vrej owned a set of Asbestos rings. I never told him, but their value was more than that of the entire Shire!



It's a completely foreign concept to me, but in the afternoon we decided to go blueberry picking. EXTREME blueberry picking. What makes it so extreme you may ask? The presence of the only black guy for miles and miles, that's what. I wonder what other black men have gone blueberry picking? 50 cent perhaps?
50 cent:"Hey, the Game, where's my gun?"
The Game: "You left it under that pine tree... But R.Kelly has it now."
R.Kelly(pointing his gun at 50 cent, the game, and a basket of blueberries in turn):
"Not another one of y'all sons of bitches say a word!
Cuz all of these blueberries I've picked is unheard!"

I figured we would have to drive to some farm... but no. In the country, you just walk down the road to any random field where there are evergreen's growing. Evergreen trees make the soil acidic, and thus blueberry's can grow. I got a bigass jar of them!!! It was a really charming experience. Her dog, Foxy came with us and romped through the fields. It was unreal for a city boy like me. Foxy's such a little lady too. I'm not a big dog person, but Foxy is so polite.



Later on we went to see some other places around Thetford mines and Disraeli. It's just beautiful. I could swear I have a picture in my Masta in China blog where I have the same cheesenormous pose, same cheesenormous jacket and the same cheesenormous smirk. Only true Gregg Factorphiles, like myself would notice.





There was a big piece of land, and she knew the owner. So we explored that a bit. Across a little stream we noticed some very interesting looking feces. It looked like cow pies, but how would a cow have gotten across the water. We had to cross a rickety bridge to get there. EXTREME feces watching took place.




I did a good job as the cowardly sidekick, letting Marie-Eve go first to see if everything was safe. Finally we got to the little island and found the much debated piles of s**t. Anyone able to identify what animal could make this?



Well, all really nice. Then we made some good food and played a game of Skip-Bo with her parents, her aunt and her uncle. Really nice people. Though I've never heard of Skip-Bo before, they all seemed quite fluent in the game. Fun times.

Then finally was the epic hike up that mountain. Extreme Hiking of course. It was exhausting, but well worth it. The sites were beautiful. The squirrels up there aren't terrified of people. I picked up some acorns for some reason. They're on my bureau now. At the top of the mountain we were able to see the mines from the other side. It was as if the entire trip came full circle.





Here's a nice pic of Marie-Eve beholding her place of birth... Like that Greek myth... where the guy looks out upon the world or something. I don't know, looks pretty epic.


So from now on when I'm feeling down in the lab, I'll conjure memories of nature. It's like at the beginning of Lord of the Rings. Bilbo just gets fed up with his mundane life, grabs a stick and effing leaves!!! "Eff the Shire!!! I'm out and I'm not even saying goodbye!" One day...

Thanks for everything Marie-Eve!

These songs R. very disturbing

To me, R.Kelly has always written the worst songs ever. I mean, lyric wise. The tunes are always amazing and catchy but the actual words to the song are usually absurd to the point of hilarity. Songs like, "You remind me (of my jeep)", "Kickin it with your Girlfriend", and "sex in the kitchen" are bad in so many ways. Disrepectful to women and absurd, but that I can deal with!

R.Kelly's most recent work includes Trapped in the Closet, a 5 song epic which he calls a hip hop opera. I don't know why he doesn't just do the obvious and call it a HipHopera. But that's neither here nor there. What is here and there is that you all MUST watch, cuz it's simply the funniest thing I've seen in my life.

http://www.r-kelly.com/index_main.html

So for starters it's a song about cheating. Fine, he's a bastard, that's not really surprising. But when the guy who's wife he's sleeping with walks in, he pulls a gun on the dude? He's like a psycho!!

I think what's brilliant is that he's the one toting a gun, but he's always telling other people to calm down. And even at the point where he's pointing a gun at the woman he just slept with, her gay husband and the gay husband's boyfriend, she still thinks they could work things out!?!

"All o y'all asses crazy, let me up out of this door!
Because this is way more than I bargained for!
Then she says wait, I'm sure we could all fix this! "

But the kicker, is by part three, it doesn't even seem to be an issue that he's having an affair. The real issue is his utter disgust at being in the room with two homosexuals. I don't have to emphasize the sheer hilarity of the fact that when forced to come up with names for two gaylords, R.Kelly settles on Rufus and Chuck. Then when Chuck says it was a living hell to be creeping around in hotels with his man, R.Kelly cocks his gun, points it in Chucks FACE and says, "Brotha, spare me the details!" And then when Rufus says they're getting married, it's more than R.Kelly can stands and he actually fires a bullet into the air!

"Not another one of you sons of bitches say a word!
Cuz all of this shit I'm going through is unheard!!! "

Part five is the most disturbing. He basically threatens to kill his wife, pulls out his gun again! But even wierder is they edit out half of the swear words with the sound, TOooK! "You'd better talk now before I burn this mothaTOoooKer! down!!" Observe the look of sudden mental retardation on his face when his wife says she knows he was cheating.

The whole thing is just so wrong. And long... Much like this post. I mean, it's bad enough that he's a pedophile on the loose, but then he advertises his love of guns and his album still makes millions! I mean, I should be making millions I can write ridiculous lyrics like. I can sing. Am I not dope? Am I not hip? Could I not write a lyric that rivals, "You're in the kitchen, cooking me a meal, something makes me want to come in there and get a feel!" He's just a nutty perv! I'm so angry... This is one album, I won't feel guilty stealing.

Why oh why did Dave Chapelle retire before spoofing this? Oh well, jimmy kimmel will have to do.

http://gorillamask.net/jklpizza.shtml

Lab tales part 3

One of my less pleasant chores in the lab is taking shots of yeast cells that we stain with certain fluorescent dyes. By staining the cells with certain dyes over a period of several weeks we can make certain conclusions about their metabolism, data which we use to make outrageous claims about longevity. But that is neither here nor there. You see, as interesting as the research is, what happens is we get a huge backlog of these microscopic samples and every now and then we have to spend hours and hours taking pictures of these fluorescent slides.

Doesn't sound too unpleasant, but when the day does come it is usually met with a great deal of reluctance. Basically I spend a day in a dark room looking into a microscope at some glowing little dots. It's very tedious. And after a while it starts to take a toll on my already waning sanity. Try looking at this for many hours at a time.



I try to pass the time by listenning to music but that resulted in some embarassment when one of the PHD's walked in to see me bobbing my head all gangsta like alone in the dark. "THE SAGA CONTINUES!!! WU TANG WU TANG!!!" Amazing how people can always walk in on you at the most awkward times. Other people come in periodically... Friends and foes alike. Wormtongue's visit was especially unwelcome, "Who knows what you spoke to the darkness, alone in the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seemed shrinking. When the walls of your microscopy room close in around you... A hutch to trammel some wild thing in." What a creep!

Inevitably I wonder to myself what Vrej, Neil and Derek are doing at work and inevitably I picture them all fast asleep in their respective cubicles with smiles on their faces. Then I wonder how much the world will have changed when I actually emerge from the microscopy room. It would be like some creepy science fiction movie. I would go back to my apartment and find people living there. And the father would yell at me, "What are you doing in our apartment?"

Me: "I live here!"
Angry father: "We've lived here for the last 3 years!"
Me: "That's impossible. My name is Chris Gregg, I just went to work."
Angry father: "What? This is ridiculous.... Chris Gregg died 17 years ago in a sky diving accident!"

Da Da DAaaaaaaaaaa!!!

Then in an attempt to unravel the mystery I would have to find people I know and ask them what's going one. I would discover it is the year 2085. And all of my friends and family have passed away. Then I would come across a somewhat familiar name. "Milen is still alive? Maybe he could help."

And I'd find his adress, go to his place.

Milen: "Who are you?"
Me: "I'm Chris Gregg..."
Milen: "That's ridiculous... I don't have time for this..."
Me: "Oh... But don't you? IceManPwnsU????"
Milen: "Mmm... IceManPwnsU? Now there's a name I haven't heard in quite some time..."
Me: "Yes... It's coming back to you isn't it? Back in the days when we would fight side by side on the crimson fields of Coagulation! You called me brother back then!!! Now I ask for your allegiance once more! Help me get back to my time!"
Milen: "Mmm... I'd rather not."

Then he'd probably slam the door in my face... And I'd wander the streets and in some bizarre turn of events save his youngest daughter from muggers. And I'd become an unlikely member of the family... From the past. Or something like that.

Yeah... microscopy... I don't know how much more I can take!

Now witness the firepower of this fully swinging and shagadellic sanctuary!!!

So I've mastered buying groceries, doing laundry and bumming food off of my dad. The final step of living alone... Entertaining guests.

Thursday was the first Poker game hosted at Casa da Masta, as my apartment will be henceforth referred to. Janine brought some awesome cookies, thank you. Others brought food and alcohol. I am greatful to you ... my people...

The actual poker didn't take so long as I lost very early. One of my evil friends won game after game by getting the perfect card on the river! She's the devil. Other people who lost early drowned their sorrows in alcohol. Not just any alcohol, but filthy ass wine which they poured out of a goddamn bag into my obi-wan/general grievous cup. The thing held about a liter of liquid and between two of them I think they had 2+ liters of wine. They then proceeded to mix the filth wine with a generic 7up called, Choose Up. We called the vile concoction Star Wars juice. It was pretty nasty. Like... the opposite of ambrossia. Anyway, one of them spent the evening drunk and ill on the floor of my bathroom. I feel conflicted about that... I mean, I felt bad that she spent the evening on the dirty bathroom floor, but I feel like I threw an awesome gathering to get someone that drunk. Anyway, cudos to all who showed up. It was great.




Saturday, alpha posse came over for Jbo's bday. Happy bday Justin. Thanks for the bowls Vrej. Now I can serve chips in them, instead of out of the bag. And Mad propz to Dave who brought over a bucket of KFC. He brought it based on the racist assumption that all black people love fried chicken. I was offended and secretely elated that Dave knew black people so well. Damn straight I love fried chicken. So if wearing a pimp hat and eating fried chicken makes me a stereotype black guy, Then BLACK ME UP WOMAN!!! Fried chicken is like... sweet, sweet ambrossia.


Mad props to Marie Eve who brought cake for Jbo's birthday and then tried to chop his head off. Excellent cook... brilliant assassin. Propz.


Vrej loved my apartment so much, he tried making sweet love to it, hoping to empregnate it, giving birth to little baby apartments.


The oddest part of the evening was playing this Karaoke game that Vrej brought over. You sing into a mic and it measures the pitch of your voice and rates how well you sing the song. Then you get a rating, either good, gold or platinum. In a disturbing turn of events I got Platinum for singing Britney Spears' Toxic and Norah Jones' Don't know why I didn't come. That's both gay and white! I'm going to have both my dizz and my blackness revoked... Like Michael Jackson.

Justin sang a rendition of Broken Wings that would quite simply peel the enamel off your teeth. Mend these broken wings??? Mend my broken ears!!! Mo also needs work.


Marie eve got platinum for any song she sung. Incredible. Kenny was pretty sick too, though I don't think I would buy his album... If he did release a single that is.



But the biggest surprise was Vrej, a man I've known for what... 15-16 years? He sings like one of the dude's from Nsync. Not justin timberlake... Maybe the guy who does drugs. What's his name again? Larry... Sync? Anyway, Vrej singing well was shocking.


Anyway, let's hope that Casa Da Masta becomes THE new place to hang out. It's great having various peeps over, and not just because they bring food and alcohol. Remember, when you're at Masta's place, don't make yourself comfortable... Make yourself, DAVE Comfortable!!!



... and bring food.

Ketchup.... Catsup?

Yesterday morning I got out of bed and went to make myself some breakfast when I noticed I only had end pieces left on the bread I bought last week. "Mom, we're out of bread," I bellowed realizing that there was no more mom... If I wanted more bread I would have to... gulp... buy some. I looked at the end pieces in the loaf and considered skipping breakfast. Then with a bitter curse I ate the end piece!!! I never eat the end piece! "END PIECE!!! DAMN YOU END PIECE!!! Damn you all to hell!!!"

I always enjoyed doing the groceries. But I feel somewhat overwhelmed when I walk in to a grocery store. Every time I go in it feels like the first time. Hundreds of thousands of products each one begging to be dumped into my cart. And all the people.. and the lights... I tried to recall what things I absolutely needed. Bread of course. Milk. Some kind of lunch meat.

Lots of strange things go through my head when I'm grocery shopping. For example I saw 2 boxes of Mr. Christie cookies for 5 dollars. I already had a box of cookies at home, but remembering how Vrej, Dave and Mo ripped through my junk food on the weekend, I figured I would need a refresher should the scenario repeat itself this week. I now have 3 boxes of cookies, cake-mix and popcorn in my cupboard.

Milk... I never really paid too much attention to the percentage of the milk until Vrej pointed out that what I was drinking was 3.25 percent. He sounded horrified, "You drink 3.25% Milk???" so this week I bought a lower percentage. Then I spent about 5 minutes deciding whether to buy butter or margarine. Hot dogs? Yoghurt? Why is that lady touching my cart? Mmm.. delicious clementines... grapes...

And after all that you still go home and realize you've forgotten something. I openned my cupboard in despair and beheld the two unopenned cans of tuna I had bought the previous week. They will remain unopenned as I have no can-openner. Stay tuned for next week when MastaCSG purchases a tool with which to unleash the awesome power of tuna fish.

Remember Shame?

The moment the temperature goes up a few degrees, girls start taking their clothes off. Nothing new there. What I think is more recent, is the idea that anyone can strut around in revealing clothing. This is not the case. If you have man teats, I don't care if it's a little humid. Put on a goddamn shirt, for all of our sakes.

For example, the other day I saw a young lady (probably very young) wearing a charming little backless number. At least it would have been charming if not for the fact that ripples of fat were wrapped around the straps. And what's the deal with fat girls wearing hip huggers? It's supposed to look sexy. Is it just me or is a fountain of fat oozing out from tight jeans not that sexy.

Call me shallow, but I miss the days of good old fashionned shame. I don't understand why fat girls insist on dressing like skanks. Be ashamed. You sicken me with your blubber. Only Jabba the Hutt has the right to flaunt his corpulence.

I guess my friend Min said it best.

Masta: There's a girl in my class with the last name Ho. I assumed she was related to your friend, Celine Ho.
Min: Just cuz her last name is Ho, doesn't mean they're related. There are lots of Hos around.
Masta: Amen to that...

My new "digs"

So I've moved out into my own crib. MAD MAD props, to J-bo, Marie-Eve, Rezaul and my cousin Chad. This move, involving about 40 boxes, various furniture, a trip to Cote-st Luc and three flights of stairs took from 9am to 11am. Thanks guys.

I enjoy the peace of being home alone. And I'm nearer to school which is also great. Though the other day I missed my bus and did something foolish. I took another bus to the orange line to connect with another bus that concievably would get me to school faster. Anyway, that ended up taking an hour instead of the usual 10 minutes. And I can't remember ever being on a bus with more old people. It was like taking a ferry ride down the River Styx.

Hard Core Greggophiles will have to come see the place at some point. Board Games and Poker to be played. Sites to be seen... Stay tuned...

Sales Pitch

For those of you who haven't heard, I'm moving into my own Swinging Shagadellic Sanctuary this Saturday! It should be interesting.

It's already interesting. I find myself thinking about things that I never had to consider before. Things in my house like food, clean clothes, microwaves, chairs.... It never occured to me that these things don't just materialize ot of thin air. Food has to be cooked.... clean clothes are actually derived from dirty clothes after a process known as washing them.

And chairs... well it turns out those have to be purchased! So this weekend I went with my dad to pick up some sofas at a place on Notre Dame street. This is after dissapointing trips to the much hyped ML which in my opinion has some of the ugliest furniture I've ever seen. Anyway, this place on Notre Dame street had a really nice couch. My dad and I were trying to haggle the guy to give us a deal that was beyond amazing.

Things got funny when the guy asks if my dad and I were from Jamaica. "No, we're not from Jamaica." Then the guy says, "My wife is from Jamaica!" I looked at my dad, "I don't see what this has to do with the sofas..."

Anyway, the salesman, a portly white guy with hair that was more than just a little askew, went behind his counter and got a picture of his wife. It turns out his wife is a super hot black woman. At which point I was trying to figure out how he got such a good looking wife and before I knew it! His trick had worked. Haggling decreased... The salesman's creed increased. And I bought the sofa. I still got an amazing deal. Sofa, loveseat, bed frame, matress and boxspring for 875$ taxes and delivery included.

But my thoughts still linger on how that chubby dude got such an amazing wife. Did he help her get her green card? Or maybe it's all just a ruse. Maybe when brown people show up in the store, he shows pictures of brown ladies. Maybe when Chinese people come into the store he shows them pictures of hot Chinese women and says that they're his wife. Well played salesguy... well played...

So wrong...

It was brought to my attention that Angelina Jolie was going to adopt another child. It was also brought to my attention that her current son wanted a black brother! I wonder why? Does Angelina Jolie expose her son to the latest in black entertainment... 50 cent videos and what not? He probably just thinks black people are cool. I would expect a son of Angelina to be so wise.

I wonder how you qualify to be adopted by Angelina Jolie one of the hottest women on earth. I can just see a line up of black guys from around the world waiting to audition. I'm sure that Mike Epps, star of the box office smash Honeymooners would be first in line.

Mike Epps: "So what? Do I have to sing a song or something?"
Angelina: "You're a little old aren't you?"
Mike Epps: "This sounds like discrimination to me..."
Angelina: "Alright well... say something cute..."
Mike Epps: "I want to have sex with you..."
Angelina: "NEXT!!!"

Alfonso Ribeiro: "You have a nice chest!"
Angelina: "NEXT!!!"

OJ Simpson: "You're one white woman I would consider not killing!"
Angelina: "NEXT!!!"

Al Roker: "I've already seen you naked in that movie... So at least it won't be wierd."
Angelina: "NEXT!!!"

MastaCSG: "I require breast feeding."
Angelina: "Mmm... I wouldn't be much of a mother if I didn't breast feed my sexy black son. Alright, you're hired! I mean... adopted."

Wow.... what a life... I could be Anglina Jolie's adoptive son... With benefits!!! SICK!!! in so many ways...

Let me do a throwaway post in betwix

Sorry for the late update. I don't have internet at home and I find myself uncharacteristically busy and ill-tempered. Sorry Mo! But I'm like that black guy in the commercial for tropical halls. I got two jobs!

It ain't easy. Think I wanna work? No... I'd rather blog all day... WAtch Star Trek. Go to the mountains with a guitar and sing the songs I like to sing... I'd like to dress up as a clown, go to school and surprise the kids. I'd like to go to a movie theatre, take a dump in the back of the theatre and wait around until someone sits in it... Listen for the squish.. I find it funny!

But being the Masta ain't always easy. I'll write a real post soon.

10Q

So, it's a week late but, thanks to everyone for the birthday goodness last week! I got some cool gifts from lab folk(tania, janine, alex, simon, reza, colin, nishant et al)! Goodness from my parents. Cindy bought me a book and a new schoolbag cuz my old one looked like it was about to disintergrate. Alpha posse (You know, your droopy, chuchu, jbo, rez, M-E, tbone, Ba$$ medley) got me Dave Chapelle season's 1 &2 and other cool stuff!!! INSANELY AWESOME. Mel and Pat, thanks for the awesome book. Pam thanks for the awesome Yoda shirt. Great Bday everyone. Most mind boggling was the clubbing outing at Central Station. It was a huge highschool reunion. I've never seen anything like it.

On that note, I'd like to give a shout out to all my peeps. Ahem... Shoutout to Mo, Joe, Dave, Neil, Indy, Puishe, Conrad, Mike A., Manesha, Neera, Vikas, Ken Martin, Kevin Hui and that girl who who seemed to know me. Good times. Thanks to all! It was nice to see all you guys and gals! The biowife outing is still pending... They'd better get their act together! Unlike last year where we celebrated my birthday in late July!!!

Anyway, kind of an incoherent post... But what else can I say? It was a fun time... The only thing more thrilling than my birthday week was the discoery of new dryers in the bathrooms near the skating rink at Bonaventure. Now that thing freaking dries your hands! The thing is so powerful it actually causes ripples in your skin! It's insane!

The whitest black guy you know, may be the blackest black guy you never wished to know

The other day on my lunch break I ran into a girl I knew who proceeded to tell me that she had a flight to catch in a few hours. She explained that she was notorious for missing flights and after missing a flight she had to cry in order to convince the airline to give her a flight at a later time. Being in a particularly talkative mood I jokingly asked, "Mmm... I wonder if that would work for me! Or maybe I would have to take the other route and play the angry black man card, ie. YOU'D BEST GIVE ME THE NEXT FLIGHT BEFORE I TEAR THIS MOTHA F**KA DOWN!!!" She responded with a quaint giggle and said, "Wow.. that was cute. I've never seen you act black before." then she realized the irony of talking about missing flights when she had a flight to catch and left.

The point is if I had a nickel for everytime someone said, I don't act black or I'm the whitest black guy they know well, I'd also be the richest black guy they know. Ironically, being the richest black guy they know would also make me the whitest black guy they know. I used to take it personally then I realized that almost all black guys who aren't stereotypes striaght off of MTV have been told they act white.

I saw a brown guy the other day, blacking it up like an electrified black machine on the bus. He was wearing the super baggy clothes with basketball logos all over it, a dewrag and a cap which was worn slightly askew... Anyway, as droopy would say, that's neither here nor there. But he was talking to his friend about having forgotten something at his friend's house. He said something like, "I left my s**t at my friend's Crizzib... Now I have to go back to his crizzib to get my s**t... His crizzib is right near the autopark though, so it's not so bad."

I was pretty upset. I mean... crizzib???? Rule # 1 out of the How to be Black handbook, "You can call your house your crib, you can call your crib your hizzouse, but you must NEVER call your hizzouse your crizzib!!!" And that's for obvious reasons. How dare he throw centuries of ebonics out the window and dishonor my people so casually.

And therein lies the reason that fewer and fewer black people "talk black". Because many white people and some brown people have made it very uncool. And as one thing becomes uncool, black people adapt. For every Vanilla Ice, there is a Brian Gumble. For every Eminem there are 3 Blair Underwoods. For every Ryan Seacrest there are 7.5 Alfonso Ribeiros. And for every House of Pain there are 17 Chris Greggs. So bullocks to any knave who doesn't like the way I talk! Rule #1 about being MastaCSG, I keeps it RELLLLL!!! That's right... rell.

A day in the lab of...

For all of you who think that science labs are a boring place, think again! The lab is a workplace ripe with sexual tension. For starters, yours truly, the resident hot guy of the bio department works there. My buff body and ready wit are a constant distraction to the hapless women who wander in hoping to get their work done. Just the other day I bellowed, "Janine, GET ME A MOTHA F**KIN SANDWHICH!!"

So she didn't quite get me the sandwhich, but she was impressed by my macho commands. That's how you gotta treat these women! Let em' know who's boss!!! So I slapped her!!!

And this is how my day generally proceeds. I'm quite the pimp. But it sometimes works against me. Often, trying to get work done is impossible. It's like those commercials for TAG deodorant. Women leaping in through the windows trying to touch my delts and pecs. I'm too studly.

Something as simple as reaching for a pipette can turn into sexual harassment suit, as my gargantuan biceps brush against an unsuspecting feminina. I guess it has something to do with pheromones or something, cuz that's all it takes for me to be tackled by every woman in the department. This weekend in court is gonna be hell! It ain't easy being the hottest guy in the industry!

******************************************************

Brace yourselves!!! You've heard Chris' perspective on lab life, now let me tell you how it really goes down. I, the hot girl on the 5th floor (that's right Simon, your title has been usurped), walked into lab today and there was Chris... not wearing any pants, again. He says he finds them constrictive when he's pipetting. I try to get down to my cell counting, when along comes now shirtless Chris (he blames this on some girl in the hall). He's holding a beaker of concentrated acid and telling me some story about how Yoda is 10X more powerful than Darth Vader.

It is impossible to get any work done! I blame this solely on my hotness and know i must be an incredible distraction to the guys in the lab. Just today, I could barely get my work done with Chris begging me to let him cell count... I would have, just to give the poor guy something to do, but his speedo got caught in the centrifuge and he was busy with that for a few hours.

I tell you, it's a gong show. Ghost Dog signing off.

Featuring Guest Blogger Janine (who wishes to keep her identity secret, so we'll just call her Ghost Dog).

"Yuck! I'll just take the crab juice!"

Ever had a day that just wouldn't end? That day was last thursday for me. And it started off so well. I showed up for work at 11am, as I am often wont to do. And the professor said, "Well, there isn't much for you to do today. Just calculate the oxygen consumption for these yeast strains and go home!"

Sweet! That should only take about 20 minutes. Of course, I had to wait for my supervisor to draw the slopes for the oxygen consumption. Seeing as he was busy, I ended up waiting about an hour.

No big deal, still plenty of day left. After I had lunch and spoke to the secretary about getting a swipe card it was about 3pm. Wow... 3pm already! Time flies!!!

So I took the bus to the metro for some sweet relaxation at home. But the metro was stalled for an indefinite amount of time. Bleh! The available detour took about an hour and a half. Oh well, on the way home I met someone I hadn't seen in years who was a teacher for blind and mute children. Needless to say her experiences were very interesting. Most surprising was whereby she finished work looking bright and chipper, I usually leave work feeling like a train wreck.

At this point it was already well past 4pm. Going back to the South Shore was a rather foolish endeavor seeing as I wanted to go downtown again to make my Kali class (philipino martial art). Beeing slightly dazed and jaded and confused I went back to the Shore anyway, with the intention of getting a Lightsaber at Walmart. I would be a super star if I busted into Episode 3 wielding a blue lightsaber with all the noises and the lights and the *GlaVEn*!!!

So I took the 49 bus back to Walmart, and met a former coworker of mine. She asked, "Going to Walmart? What for???"

I was most ashamed to be searching out a lightsaber so I said, "Oh... I'm... ummm... Looking for a gift for my sister... Any suggestions?" I did in fact need a gift for my sister. No need to get into any impromptu lightsaber convos.

Of all things she suggests I buy her an agenda? "Hey that's a good idea!" I exclaimed, then moments later contemplated the level of dissapointment that would ensue if my sister actually did recieve an agenda. So I did actually look at the agendas at Walmart when I remembered my true purpose. LIGHTSABER!! Sister shmister...

Walmart had no lightsabershowever (they actually had some creedless foam lightsabers but.. who cares?)... :-( So I made the long trip back into town. At this point I was very thirsty. I decided to spend 5 $ on one of those specialty juices at that place in Bonaventure. I decided to be adventurous. What do I do? I buy a Carrot, apple and ginger juice. What the hell was I thinking? I took a sip of it and my face contorted in horror. It was so awful I could only take about 4 sips before chucking the thing into the trash. I was truly appauled... At whoever decided ginger would taste good with carrot and apple, and at myself for actually buying something so ridiculous. 5$ well spent.

There was still time to kill. I went to the Bay, and went up the 4-5... 6?? flights of stairs to the toy department. It never fails to amaze me how huge the bay downtown is. Anyway, they had lightsabers there, but none that made cool noises. I still played with it. There were some older people there who tried to avert their gaze as I disgraced myself. So I passed on that. And went to my martials arts class. On the way home I missed several buses, and got home much later than I expected.

And that was my neverending day. If you have read up to this point, I'm impressed.

*Revenge of the Sith Review*

So I actually ended up seeing Revenge of the Sith on Friday (bereft of lightsaber). And was pleasantly surprised. More or less. I mean the movie was still utterly cheesy (bad lines, bad acting), but compared to the first two, it was a masterpiece. Rez would argue that the lines were cheesy in Eps IV to VI but I disagree.

General Grievous was a huge dissapointment. In the cartoons he was ominous and terrifying. In the movie he was comical and quite frankly useless.

Another dissapointment was Anakin actually turning to the darkside. They give a good reason, but the actual point at which he turns is silly. Whether the scene fell flat because of bad acting or bad writing I can't decide. But it definately did. I guess I can't say anymore without spoiling the movie.

This movie was very grim compared to the first two and therein lies the movies saving grace. Ewan McGregor as Obi Wan. He is the only believable character in the entire trilogy. All the darkness and disturbing connotations of the film would have been for nothing if not for Obi Wan. He's the only one who seems genuinely shocked and hurt by the way things have gone so badly. Maybe cuz he's the only one who can act. It also made for a very good ending to the movie. Where I expected George Lucas to force feed us some very contrived action scenes where spaceships and lightsabers and robots come together in some orgy of cartoon like violence, the movie actually climaxed on a somewhat emotional note.

Don't get me wrong, we still get our lightsabers and action and then some. But the movie still conveyed the tragedy of Anakin's fall to the darkside making this movie, good. It's also very interesting to watch Episode IV after that. You can't look at Darth Vader in the same way.

In short, Episode III redeems Eps I and II which were at best, mediocre Saturday morning cartoons.

*Today's post was brought to you from the lab as my interenet at home is not working for some reason... nyarr....*

How wrong we were!

So the other day Droopy informed me that he and some other people from where he... ahem... "works" were looking at old Centennial yearbooks. I can't imagine what kind of job provides so little work that someone woke up in the morning and actually decided to bring a yearbook with them for something to do, but I digress. The point is, I also broke out the old year book the other day and couldn't help but laugh at the hilarious messages some old High School people wrote.

Why so funny? Not because people were actually telling jokes, but in retrospect, one can fully appreciate the irony of what was on our minds some 7 years ago. I know I always beat this point to death but, the more things change the more things stay the same, despite some of our best efforts.

Let's take Tony's message for example. You can tell that post-high-school was supposed to be some sort of rennaissance for Tony. He wanted us all to shed our geeky personas and move onto bigger, better things. He wrote: "I can only hope to forget Star Trek conversations, cartoons and talking about rap music...." Wow... Nice try tony, but I have yet to speak to you without mentionning one or all of these things in an evening. Forget Star Trek Conversations??? WE ARE STAR TREK CONVERSATIONS!

Tony also wrote, "I'll be seeing you all summer and during Champlain!" Ironically, we barely saw Tony at Champlain. As most of us from high-school stuck together and refused to grow up a la Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, Tony decided to make something of himself by "studying" and "working hard" and "getting a girlfriend". How gay! Sure, schools from around the globe may be offering him scholarships, but does he know how many ships were destroyed during the Borg invasion at Wolf 359??? I imagine he doesn't (39 ships including the USS Saratoga... 11000 people died!).

Look what Vrej wrote. "It's not as if I'm never going to see you again.. So I have not much to say.. Ummm.. Big Hit this weekend (years from now this comment from the past will seem quite dated as no one will even remember what The Big Hit is or was or whatever." Well, I guess you're eating your words now. In the last 7 years, I would say we talk about the Big Hit at least once every few months. Strange but true. Even if just to squeal Avery Brooks' line, "BUST SOME CAPS!?!?"

I don't remember talking to Karthik much at all in High School, but when I read his message it all came flooding back: "You remember something when you go to Cegep. I will ALWAYS be behind your desk kicking your chair because I am the hunter and you are the prey." Dear God I used to hate you Kart. I remember you kicking my goddamn chair deliberately just to annoy me. ALL THE TIME! Why did you do that? I almost forgot, but here it is in writing!

Does anyone remember Faraz/Bassem shouting out SOBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB???????? Bassem even stuck it to Faraz good in the yearbook: "Thanks to everyone (even Faraz)." Ah... The Faraz/Bassem rivalry... as old as time. They're like Odo and Quark.

Before I was MastaCSG I was (according to the yearbook) referred to as, Kermitt the Frog, Mr. Garisson from South Park, Dikembe Mutumbo, G delta C (where C is a change in coolness) and Chrissy Greggy. There was also the less popular "Chris in Da Hood". A few people called me that and I tried to popularize it as best I could, but it never caught on.

And at least several people wrote in my year book that I've helped them. Rez: "Thanks for the memories and thanks for all the help!" Pam: "You've been a great help to me!" Conrad: "Thanks for the help!" What did I used to do to help people? There are even people writing apologies in my yearbook for writing curse words and vulgarity! Other people said I had a positive outlook on life. It makes me realize that in 7 years I have transformed from a kind, loveable, polite young man into a foul mouthed, ornery bastard! Cool!

Oh well, this yearbook is a nice little momento... I mean... In a way. It's just a reminder that everything is essentially the same as it was 7 years ago! Except many of us have been twisted by the darkside. Actually, there is one message that reveals the seed of evil that was in me at the time.

"Hey Chris! Ever since Rep in June... we have known each other! I was constantly humming X-men and you were always trying to avoid me. I could bet my life that you had learned more about Wolverine then you had during your whole life prior to meeting me. Now you are in sec 5 and all I get out of you is "SHUT UP!" It was nice knowing you, I know we'll keep in touch even though you're always trying to kill me! You're friend..."

Kill him? Wow. 5$ to the first person who can guess what poor sap would take that kind of crap from Chrissy Greggy.

Good times... I feel I should apologize because I know I was notorious for writing the most vapid, meaningless yearbook messages in school! "Good luck on exams! ummm... Nice knowing you?"

Thanks for the memories guys! (Except you Neil! You never did sign my yearbook you bastard! Most likely to succeed indeed... ) It's nice to know that as years go by, we're still in touch. Even Pat D. who's out in Sassy Saskatoon...Tony who's... umm... in Ontario. Jay K... who's... somewhere?! Pat KC... all y'all! Poor out some liquors!

The wallet fasts while the stomach feasts

So it was our friend, Viv's birthday and Cris made some reservations for a restaurant called Gibby's. I was all like, "Sure! Sounds like a larf!"

Larf my A$$!!! It was only later that I discovered that Gibby's is some high fallootin joint that charges about 35$ for a single plate of food! I didn't know Viv rolled like this! I paid 40$ for my meal! That's about 8 rotis! Or 30 hot dogs from Bell Province! Or 26 double cheeseburgers at McD's. DOUBLE CHEESEBURGERS!!! That's the equivalent of 52 burgers!

Oh well, at least I got to be loud, rude and belligerent in a classy place. Jon and Alex needed to smoke large amounts of weed to appreciate the meal that would cost them their children's education.



Here's Bahira and Alex, his eyes glowing with a healthy and somewhat demonic red glow. "There is no Alex only Zool!"



Here's Gina, and Viv, the one responsible for my very costly supper! Hey viv! You owe me 40$!!!



Cris and Janet


Cris and Chris


Chris, Jon and Simon


To make up for the ghastly cost of my meal, everyone who has viewed this site has been billed 40$ (just to make sure). And for future reference, I'm only going to pay more than 30$ for food if someone I know wins one of the following: An Oscar, a Pulitzer, the Nobel Prize or a Grammy. Birthday parties, Golden Globes or Barmitzvah's are no longer a reason to spend this kind of money on food.

Weekend in Tdot!

This weekend was my training weekend in TO. I applied to be an Mcat teacher and this weekend was when they would show me all the secrets of the trade.

Enter Joe. Friday after the cheesy intro training, I met up with Mr. Greiss who promised a night out on the town and delivered. Despite my insistence that I should be back at the hotel by 1am cuz I had to give a lecture the following morning, I was brought to a club with Joe and friend Kevin. Deep down I guess I knew there was no chance of me getting back by 1. We wandered the streets for a while, ran into THE RUSSELL PETERS when the most ditzy blond I've ever met got us into club DNA for free.

Nice looking place but almost empty... and sausage fest...

Or was it? I guess all DNA needed was three studs to liven up the place. The place was quite dead. Honestly. Almost no one dancing... very few girls. Joe decided it was time we gave this cemetery a break and show off our moves. We get to the dance floor. I'm not exaggerating. We were surrounded by women in minutes. I swear on a stack of bibles. Everywhere we turned. I guess toronto has never seen the likes of me before. Honestly we could have gotten any woman in that club... The three blonds in cowboy hats with shirts that said, "We love (are?) boobies!" Those really hot girls who may have been a touch on the young side. The supermodel-esque woman whom few dared approach. And those that Joe described as "decent looking girls about our age.". All very hot and all smiling and shaking their money makers in our direction. It was awesome, we were stars for the night! But 2am closing time for clubs in TO did not let me express my full creed! I was only getting warmed up. I explained to the women, "In Montreal, the clubs close 1 hour later than here! Back in Mount Real, we call 2am to 3am, Masta's Hour of Power!" But much to the dissapointment of the pleading cowboy chics, I had to go. Next time baby... next time...

Not that the hotel was the most desirable place for entertaining guests at that time. The chubby guy who I was sharing a room with hadn't budged since I left. He was dead asleep and snoring with a book over his face. He had been studying for the lecture we had to give the next day. What's really funny about him is the way he wakes up. As I walked from the door to my bag, he springs up like a jack in the box. It was really funny. He fell back to sleep in like 40 seconds. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, he sprung up again, a look of terror in his eyes. "Relax dude!"

Anyway. He set his alarm for like 6am. I woke up and he bursts awake and with a groan slams the snooze button on the alarm. He's snoring again in seconds. I'm not so lucky. 5 minutes later it rings again. And again. I was woken up by the alarm at least 4 times!!! I was furious! "Why don't you just set the goddamn alarm for 7:00 and wake up then?!?" We both fell back asleep. Precious sleep.

When I woke up, it was about 8:15am. The alarm didn't go off and guy was fast asleep. "Dude!" I yelled. He popped up and with that fight or flight look to him and then cursed at the clock. We scrambled to get to the office on time.

And so, they gave us some training tips and then we gave our lectures. I was so out of it. I had prepared a pretty decent lecture too... Unfortunately I was too tired to deliver it. "The cell... has to replicate... It's DNA??? DNA... uuuuuuuugh...." I drew messy diagrams on the board and slurred and stuttered like I had just gone on a tequilla bender all night and woken up in a dumpster. I sucked.

That night, I met up with the legendary Pat Kim Chiaw, his gf , Mel, And some of their friends. We ate at the Korean Grill, which I had went to the night before with Joe. It's a place where you get to cook your own meat! I was tooooo happy! They just kept bringing us meat!!! Pork, beef, fish, chicken... An endless flow. Almost comparable to la Milsa with the added bonus that the grill is right there for you to use. Anyway, I stuffed myself, and went to the hotel early to prepare lecture 2.

Entered the hotel room, almost gave the Guy a heart attack. Studied. Woke up the Guy again. Used the bathroom, woke up guy for spite. Went to sleep. Woke the man up another two times, NO JOKE! and went on to give an awesome lecture. I got some props for my good work and then went to meet my Dad and my uncle who were in town that weekend.

Again, I ate like a king, this time at a friend of the family's. The food was so good... I almost cried. And for desert, some awesome cake. It was like... cofee cake, carrot cake, with chocolate and cream cheese icing... It was the jokes.

5 hour ride home... weekend's over... back to work!

Anyway, mad props to Joe and Pat and all the toronto honeyz for showing me such a good time in TO!

Catching the last metro EVER!

I hate mornings. I hate waking up, and taking the bus in various kinds of bad weather. But at very least, when I wake up, I can be entertained by the sheer stupidity of others.

I love watching people trying to catch a metro. I'm a pretty laid back (lazy) person. I refuse to run for a bus or a metro. They come to frequently to warrant such effort, especially during rush hour. But some people act as if the metro they are about to catch, is the last metro that will ever pass through this universe. They act like when the metro doors close, the entire station will be sealed off and then rapidly filled with nerve gas, peeling the flesh from their bones like a bad paint job off of a wet wall.

Have you ever seen someone leap down five stairs, knock over a bunch of old women and make a madcap dash for the metro, flailing arms and all? It's amazing how one psychopath can cause so much bedlam. There are people screaming and fainting as some lunatic plows through a throng of commuters like a broke ass football player. And what's the result? They almost skid right into the metro doors which have already closed. Then the metro takes off, and they realize that all of that foolishness was for nothing. Another metro is coming in 5 goddamn minutes. They make sure not to turn around so they don't have to see the wreckage they left in their wake and pray that no one is bold enough to confront them about being nearly knocked over.

Honorable Mention

Today, a colleague of mine (who incidentally is the jokes) informed me that Arab people are globally famous for their huge packages. "Why do you think they don't wear pants??? It's for comfort! It's like a pendulum down there! That's why they have so many wives. Cuz they are equipped to satisfy them all."

Now there are many stereotypes about black people. Stealing, violence... etc... And if you bring one of these up a black person may take offense. But I don't think any black guy has ever responded to the statement, "Hey, I hear you guys have huge penises!!" By saying, "That's just a stereotype, which may or may not be true! I take offense to that." No, more often we would respond with a self-satisfied nod, "Yes... Black people are well endowed. That's a scientific fact."

SCIENTIFIC FACT! Now this guy is telling me that Arabs hold the record? I take umbrage. And yet, what arguments could I present? There is no data establishing that blacks have the biggest package. That would involve a scientific experiment of a scope never seen before (I believe Joe would refer to this as "a good old fashionned cock-off). I'd have to get funding to get a sample group of some hundred people of varying ethnicities. Then have them line up in front of a table and have them unfurl their wangs. Then I'd have to pay someone to measure 100 penises! *Simon Bourque busts in with a ruler* "I'll do it for free!"

And what implications would this have on our society? Women would be in the clubs and have a choice between two men, one black and one white and quote my scientific paper "MMM.. according to the recent Nature article by Chris Gregg, Black people have coke bottle shlongs..." It would be pandamonium.

Until that dayI suppose Black people will enjoy the assumption that we have monolithic genetalia. All other races are free to battle it out for honorable mention.

A pore post

I don't know if I'm the only one, but dry air requires me to apply a layer of moisturizing lotion to my skin after showering in the morning or risk the whitenning of the skin that we black people call ashiness!

The problem is, living in a household with only women, when lotion is bought, sometimes little old me is forgotten and we can get some pretty feminine lotions. The result is I go to school smelling like lavender or strawberry's or some other damn thing.

The other morning I saw a new product. A short distance away I couldn't quite read the label but I feared the worst. "Just great!" I thought, "Another lotion that'll have me smelling like a sexy woman!" But this lotion didn't have a perfumed odor. It had something called "subtle skin reflectors". It was supposed to make my skin look somehow shinier. Even worse than smelling like a pansy! I couldn't go out into the world shimmering like Tinkerbell or some other form of mythical sprite. Or shining like C-3PO.... Or... some other metallic character like... Oh, I don't know... Robocop?

... Mmm... That's kind of cool.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching, and applied the lotion. Off to school I went, glistenning like (insert name of absurdly shiny thing here) Sure enough if I looked closely I could see little sparkling things on my skin. And sure enough, the hotties of montreal responded! "Wow, Chris! Your skin is irridescent like a perfectly cut diamond! I want you!!!"

This post was brought to you by Jergens Moisturizing lotion with Subtle Skin Reflectors. It's like a gangsta rapper's bling... for your pores!!!

Cabane a Jokes!

So, I thought Cabane a sucre was the jokes. It wasn't quite the ultimate posse cheese that I had thought. After all, we basically spent 20 dollars on breakfast and a horse ride in the rain. But what a breakfast it was! My cousin insisted we get our dollar's worth on maple syrop alone and did we ever.

Here's my cousin making good on his threat.


Here's Tony spiking the coffee! With Syrop! Please take note of the backhanded pouring.


Here's Pam with a bowlful of Bacon??? wTf???


At this point, my esophagus decided some of the meat had to go back the way it came.



Justin seems to be pleasuring this slab of ham.


Dave: "F**k it! I'm just going to eat this bacon right out of the bowl! I'm sick like that!"



Maeva: "Hello Breakfast!!!"


Vrej: "How about you and I discuss this later over a bottle of maple syrop? And your carcass!!!"


With adequate amounts of syrop, I could eat a horse!



I mean, in essence, it was just an expensive breakfast out in the boons! And there is something very disturbing about petting the animals we are about to douse in maple syrop and consume. But all in all, it was fun. Friends, family and food. All drenched in copious amounts of syrop. That's good!

Everyone's just full of jokes...

So this morning I walked into the lab and my colleague Tania informs me that she's pregnant. I didn't really react at first. I just looked up at her, then tried to find the right words to say. "Really? Wow... Incredible... Ummm... Congratulations?" At that she burst out laughing and told me it was some lame ass april fool's joke.

I'm getting senile in my old age. Yesterday the phone in the lab starts ringing. Lazy ass Jon, Viv and Tania don't answer it and actually complain, "The phone has been ringing all day." I walk all the way across the lab to answer. "Hello?" Someone sounding suspiciously like Homer simpson trying to be Mr. Burns answers.

Some Guy: "Hello??!?!?"
Me:"This is Dr. Titorenko's lab? Can I help you?"
Some Guy: "Dr. Titorenko's lab?!?"
Me: "Ummm... yes?"
Some Guy: "Really? Could you please check your fridge I think it's running away!!"
Me: "What the...?"

I look over my shoulder to see Jon Solomon laughing with a cell phone in his hand. The whole lab just erupted into laughter. Nice. That's the joke's jon. You get blog props.

As a final april fool's joke, after writing this, stupid blogger crashed and didn't save my post. So I had to rewrite it.

Give the public what it wants...

Simon, ask and you shall receive.

Today...

I got home today and decided to watch some TV knowing that eventually Scrubs would come on. I haven't watched TV in a while and I noticed a few things.

1) I hate commercials for the Apprentice. They're all the same. They try to describe one of the more contrived challenges on the show. Then, even worse, Donald Trump says something truly dull and irrelevant and they make it seem like he's just changed the world.

This week on the Apprentice, can the team sell their own organs on Wallstreet?!? AND the most shocking boardroom ever.

Donald: "I should really get my prostate examined...... You're fired...."

:-(

2) I hate Walmart commercials. I've been watching them for so long I never realized that they actually just show this smiley face destroying signs with numbers on them. So you see a price of 130$ then the smiley face does his finishing move on it, and it becomes, 127.43$. But, they aren't even correlating that with any product. What is their freaking point?

130$ is more than 127.43$. And that's a good deal regardless of the product or service being provided.

And finally 3) Scrubs was a rerun.

Eff da PoPo!!!

Recently a colleage of mine was ranting and raving about how much she hated cops. Needless to say her ire was raised by something she had done wrong so I asked, "What did you do?"

She began her story by saying, "Well... I was going about 10 km an hour and..."
I cut her off immediately, "Oh, let me guess. You burned a stop sign!"

"Yeah, well... I was only going 10 km an hour! Cops suck... they're bored and have nothing better to do than give me a ticket!!!..." What followed was a very disturbing monologue about how much she hated cops. I couldn't stifle my laugh when she asked, "Chris, are there any rap songs about people who hate cops?"

"Duh!" Was she joking? Rap songs fall into 1 of 3 categories. Songs about running from the cops, being killed by the cops or performing acts that will lead to one of the former.

There's "F*** the Police" by Daz Dillinger, "F**k the Police" by Ice Cube, "F**k the Police" by Bone Thugs in Harmony, "F**k the Police" by Dead Presidents, "F**k the Police" by Dope. Oh, and let's not forget the irreproachable Public Enemy song, cleverly titled, "F**k the Police". There's another song... I can't remember the title. But I remember the rapper insisting that I MOTHA F**K THE POLICE, an original take on an old classic. I think the song was called, "I Heart the Police", but I could be wrong.

So that night on my way home I listenned to some songs about rappers and their relationships with POPO! Among them was "Crooked Cop", from the Training Day Soundtrack. That song is the jokes, because it's one of the few rap songs where the guy claims he didn't do anything. A rapper with real street creed will always admit to being a criminal, and then boast about how wily he is to always make bail.

You'll love "ATF", by DMX. Trust me, download it. The whole song is a narrative of the ATF coming to his door and him running out through the fake tunnel under his house, running down the street to an escape vehicle he parked there "just in case". A heated police chase ensuses, where the cops hit some woman and finally shoot DMX to death. What's great about this song is the sound effects are part of the lyrics. The song starts off with DMX bellowing, "BOOM BOOM BOOM! OPEN THE DOOR! ATF!!!" Then there's my favourit lyric, "Whoop! Whoop! Damn, they're back on our a$$! (the cops) Put your foot back on the gas, step on it fast!... "

And of course, " HEY LOOK OUT!!!! RRRRRR (car screeching), DAMN, CAME SO CLOSE! You almost hit that b**ch! (Like you said n**ga, almost)." The whole thing is interspliced with dirge bells and police siren noises, and gunshots. That's art. What I never understood is why rappers don't make themselves seem more dashing. It's always a desperate messy getaway with them. They cast panicked looks over their shoulder, they jump fences... When James Bond is escaping somehing, he makes it look so easy. I guess rappers like DMX are all about realism.

There's "Gangsta Party" with Tupac and Snoop Dogg. The video to that is great. Both rappers are in court at one point with their super hot lawyer. They're throwing papers at the prosecution, rapping and dancing the whole time. They're day in court is more fun than my day at work. Then there's "Hypnotize", where Biggie is making a getaway with his convertible driving in reverse. Despite the obvious disadvantages inherent to driving a car in reverse, he manages to escape. Furthermore, he shows up, only fashionably late for a party complete with hot women and mermaids in the living room. Me... I take the bus to get home! Then I watch Star Trek DVD's.

The moral of this story is, breaking the law is fun and a great way to get women. Rappers have known that since the dawn of time when the first cavemen had to get away from dinosaur riding policemen. It may seem strange to you and I that they glorify being hunted by tenacious, racist and often savage cops, but when you consider that most rappers are actually being hunted by other rappers, you realize that the cops are really a cake walk. Biggie and Tupac basically killed each other, right? So, a heated police chase is more like a warmup before the real thing, when some psycho, rapper rival gets out of jail to bust some caps! Sad but true. If you checked your "msn news" today, you'd see that 50 cent and the Game were involved in some shoot out recently. Ridiculous! They're rich! Why don't they enjoy their money instead of being crazy gangstas? I'll never understand. Oh well, at least it makes for good songs.

NEW MASTA IN CHINA!!!

By now there are at least 3 brand spanking new Masta In China Posts!

Why now? more than half a year after the fact? Meh... Cuz I don't have much to say these days... Unless you want to hear about my day of counting Yeast cells!

Leave messages and remember ... the latest posts come first and everytime you click on one, you lose all the subsequent posts on the list... I don't know why. To get a fresh list of the posts on the right (where it says previous posts) click the MastaInChina Logo!

And what's this? I've pimped my blog too??? Has Masta gone nuts... No... Masta has gone nowhere.

What's trackback?

New Lingo: Jokes and Dirts

You guys down with the latest lingo? Do you say good things are Jokes, and bad things are dirts? I had to show Pam the ropes tonight.

pam says:
what can i change my name to? pam is boring

pam says:
not me i mean... the name "pam" as my msn messgae

Masta says:
Pam is...

Masta says:
the..

Masta says:
Jokes.

Masta says:
Pam is Jokes.

Masta says:
there.

Masta says:
Or...

Masta says:
Jam is Pokes.

Masta says:
no?

Masta says:
YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT IT????????

pam says:
thats lame

Masta says:
your lame.

Masta says:
The Jokes, is the new thing that everyone's saying.

Masta says:
It means, it's good or fun.

Masta says:
You're just not with it.

Masta says:
example..."Wow, Pam told the most hilarious joke the other day. Pam is the Jokes!"

Masta says:
GET WITH IT!

Masta says:
Or if something is bad, you say it's dirts.

Masta says:
example... "The other day Pam kicked me in the groin and stole my wallet. Pam is dirts."

pam says:
hehehe...chris is the dirts

pam says:
heheh

Masta says:
blah.

Masta says:
"yo mama had us all over for some sweet home cookin the other day! Yo mama is jokes!"

pam says:
heheh.... ur weird.

Masta says:
Am I?

Masta says:
Or am I jokes?????

pam says:
ur dirt

pam says:
hehehe.....

Masta says:
dirts...

From there the conversation deteriorated slightly.


pam says:
sorry...my bad

Chris is Dirts! pam is jokes says (Pam):
chirs is apple

Chris is Dirts! pam is jokes says:
chris is sand

Chris is Dirts! pam is jokes says:
chris is pebble

Chris is Dirts! pam is jokes says:
hhee...well...dirt is on the groundso are sand and pebbles.

Chris is Dirts! pam is jokes says:
hehehehhe

Chris is Dirts! pam is jokes says:
im hilarious

Pam is Dirts! Chris is jokes says (Masta):
Your obviously dirts.

Now you ALL know the Lingo... Use it wisely...

"Michael Jackson didn't molest those children! He made love to them!"

I don't know if anyone has been keeping up with the Michael Jackson case. I find it one of the most fascinating media circuses ever!

If you remember last year they had that documentary with that English reporter who you can't help but loathe. He spent a year or something with the King of Pop, complimenting him to his face, "You're a natural with children Michael!" and then bashing him roughly behind his back! "He's the worst father ever! And a pedophile! And he wants to be white!"

A few weeks ago they had a follow up documentary and this one was 10 times as disturbing. I never realized that Michael Jackson always had a boyfriend nearby. Even when he went to the grammy's with Brooke Shields all those years ago, he had a little boy in tow! Who knew?

Another thing I didn't realize, is that the case that was settled a few years ago when Mike paid off the family of a boy he most likely molested, the cops had a rather bizarre warrant on him. Because the alleged victim had seen something readily recognizable on the King of Pop's shlong, investigators stormed his compound and began taking pics of his "penis, his buttocks" et al! There's a job I wouldn't want to have. "Okay, we're hear to photograph your balls and your a-howel..." I think Joe's the only one who would willingly submit to such an intrusive investigation (If you really want to know you could check the message board on Kart's blog Feb 10th). Mike must have resisted somehow. Then what? A battle to unfurl his wang ensues? And what's worse, is they actually found incriminating evidence from this! What could they have found?

Detective Smith takes the stand: "As described by the victim, Michael Jackson shaved his pubic area and has a tatoo depicting Pinocchio's face, and yes, his nose is the King of Pop's Dizz!"

It would make a good comedy movie I think. All the celebrities they have showing up as witnesses.... Eddie Murphy is a witness in the trial! Can you imagine a movie with him doing his Michael Jackson bit from Delirious? Other witnesses include Chris Tucker, Quincy Jones, Jay Leno???? WTF?????? I can just see Big Bird taking the stand...

Big Bird: "He touched my preen gland... again and again... "

Chris Rock: "Michael Jackson only started this s**t when he turned white!"

Then they could start herding in Michael's animals... his giraffe, his monkey... It would be great!

And of course, what media circus would be complete without special musical guests Bel Biv Devoe singing Poison and decked out in good cheesy 80's clothes, Biv sporting his monolithic High Top. "We knew Mike back in the 80's! Before he was a crazy white man!"

Ah, Michael. How could it have went so wrong? Most disturbing is how badly everyone wants to believe he didn't do it. But I think it's pretty hard to deny now. Look at any RnB music video now and you can appreciate how all there movies are just derived from the brilliant and yet twisted Michael Jackson. Now instead of being remembered as the performer who pretty much invented dance as we know it, he'll be remembered as the most notorious pedophile of our time.

Pics of La Milsa, Pam and Dave's party

Apparently I have an Ofoto account. So practical. Uploads pics in a flash...

Pam's party

La Milsa (better late than never)

Where my Dogs at?

It's probably not something to laugh at but, today getting off the metro, I saw the most incompetent seeing eye dog ever. The poor lady. The dog gets off the metro and then starts walking toward a wall... Then she had to turn it around and lead it to stairs. The damn mutt looked like it was afraid of the stairs. She had to pull it up the stairs. Quite frankly I think she would have been better off without it. The thing had no idea where it was going. And you should have seen that hang dog expression on its face. You know when someone does something really stupid they have this look on their face, "Oh, my bad."

If only the dog could talk. Maybe it would be more hostile and look less oppressed.

Blind Lady: "Walk up the stairs you stupid bitch!"
Dog: "Who are you calling a bitch, whore? Another outburst like that and I'll leave your white ass right here, I swear to Dog I will! I mean, I swear to God! Where the hell are we supposed to be going anyway? The depanneur? F**k that s**t, I'm going to the dog park... You can come if you want."

It raises a few questions. How do you get a totally useless seeing eye dog? I mean, who's responsible? Did they just get lazy like Professors at a bad school? I could see the trainer doing a test run of the dog. It starts meandering over train tracks and into manholes. Starts likcing itself in the middle of a highway. It pees on the guy walking it. Then the trainer decides, "Meh... Good enough! It's just a dog after all. A+!!!"

That would be the ultimate practical joke. Replace some guy's seeing eye dog, with some kind of retarded rottweiler. The guy leaves his house and the dog leads him out to bum effing nowhere, with nothing but cacti and tumbleweeds all around him. The following week his friends see him on the side of a milk carton and laugh their asses off. "That was the best! Even better than the time we replaced his guinea pig with a lobster!!!!"

*coming soon* pics from Pam/Dave's party.

Chinese medicine

Here's a strange one. When I was sick last week, I asked the sweet lady who works in the lab if she had any suggestions on how to fight it. She's chinese, so I guess I had some vague notion that she had some ancient mystical cure for me. What she told me was too funny though. She said, "I have something, but it's for chinese people. I don't know how it would affect people from other races."

I replied, "What??"
She clarified by giving me an example of what the word race meant, "I don't know how it would affect Black guys, white guys... etc... It might kill you! How can I know?"

:-o

So I asked the next logical question. "What about Japanese people? Can they take the medicine?" She told me they could. "What about other asians? Koreans? Vietnamese people?"

She explained that she had no idea how the medicine worked. She just knows that if chinese people take it when their cold is just starting, it usually cures it. Fascinating. I had learned that the genetic differences between one race and another is less than 0.01% or something like that. Is that difference sufficient enough that we would all have different medicines?

I almost want to try the medicine just to see what would happen. Or maybe get a range of people of varying asianess to try it out. What if I gave it to Vrej, technically West Asian. How would it affect him? Maybe he would become Chinese. There was an episode of Star Trek where they tried to cure this guy of a disease using some kind of futuristic technique, and it began activating dormant genes in his genome. Naturally he began to de-evolve. What do I mean de-evolve? You know those diagrams where the monkey turns into a man? Well, this went in the opposite direction until the guy became a caveman then eventually a spider creature. Then other people caught the viruse, and they all de-evolved too until the whole ship was filled with cavemen and prehistoric acid spitting lizards things....

Yeah, I promise to cut down on the star trek references from now on. Unless I do end up taking the medicine and it does somehow transform me.

The Rezolution of Kman's Cup of Moist JoeStud's Musings

Blogs are like the Borg... At first there were only a few, but in a short time, they proliferated like deadly cyborgs, over-running the internet. And like the Borg, all of our individual blogs come together. We are one... This blog is an expression of that oneness, as well as an expression of the envy I feel for not having a cool sign off.

I was walking down the street when some smoker tells me he prefers Full Screen Movies to wide screen! What's up with everyone being stupid except me??? Man, being an engineer is tough... We see so little action, we use condoms as balloons! And we fill balloons with ketchup to throw at politicians who work for Bush! Corrupt racist american bastards, always trying to keep a brown guy down! FYI, I haven't showered in a week!

Hooray for anime and other bizarre hobbies! EXPOS!!! Star Trek!

Kman says: "I'm Joe Greiss and I have no penis! And that's my cup of Mo!"

The final touch would be to not update my blog for many months. But sorry Jbo, that's not what Gregg Factor is about! Gregg Factor is part of a collective! Just like a beehive! It's about many voices becoming one... Long live Black Log

Resistance is Futile!

Well, I thought i was invincible. Anyone who's spent time around me while they were sick has heard my boasting. I believed my immune system had become too powerful to allow any disease to breach the bastion of strength and the virility that was my body. I would have gladly french-kissed a gangrenous leper to prove it too! "Are you sick? What a sissy! I haven't been sick in years! You know what that comes from? A strong immune system! I don't wash my hands every two seconds. I let my immune system cope with what is thrown at it so it can adapt. Much like the Borg from Star Trek adapt to different phaser frequencies." When I was feeling particularly grandiose I would even throw in a comment about how I was hit by a car and not hurt. I thought I was... Superman.

Now with my raspy throat and runny nose, I suppose it's impossible to deny that I am somewhat vulnerable. I know what it is too. I had to correct 60 lab reports. I know a few people who were sick... God only knows how many different viruses I was exposed to as I went from one lab report to another. Filthy students...

And this flu, cold... whatever it is.. seems to be getting worse. My throat is better, but I keep sneezing. And I have a really bad headache. I've forgotten the taste of bread and berries... The sound of water... I'm alone in the dark... and behold nothing but a wheel of fire!!! I can see it with my waking eyes!!!!

Hopefully it will pass soon, and I will infect as few people as possible. To everyone who I watched the super bowl with... Sorry in advance.

Speaking of the super bowl. What's the deal with going from Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake to Paul McArtney? The guy is too old... That's final. Did everyone here him bellowing, "THANK YOU SUPERBOWL!!!!!!!!" ? I think he's getting a little senile.

Big whoop! We saw Janet's 40 year old teat. Are you going to punish the world for ever now? Who'll be performing next year? The Pope???

You can't just play it safe all the time. Sure, I could avoid sick people to avoid getting sick... And we could try and hide the children of the world from explicit sexual material. But resistance is futile! The germs will get you eventually and sooner or later, everyone gets to see a woman's breast! Even Engineers!

Thank you Super Bowl. Thank you for helping me come to terms with my illness....

ps. If you think the Borg are super cool and awesome then go here...

Barfable Beverage

I have been contemplating moving out. There are a few reasons. Least of which is not the kind of beverages I find in the fridge. Our family has honored a long tradition of making juices from concentrate. Which is cool.. when it's actually juice from concentrate.

I'm tired of passion fruit in every goddamn drink on the market. What is passion fruit anyway? Then they try to jazz up the names of things that they can no longer call juice cuz they've added too much sugar. What the hell is Berry Infusion? Pink Lemonade Euphoria? Tangerine Wavelength? Please note this site claims one of the ingredients is made from the body of a dried insect. YUM!

Recently I've found something in my fridge. I smelled it... poured myself a glass and just asked God, "What the hell is this?" It was kind of purple... maybe? so I guess that rules out any kind of citrus designation. Usually when it comes to beverages, colors with higher wavelengths indicate some sort of berry. But it certainly wasn't a strawberry drink... Or a blueberry drink. Or cranberry. I would only hope they wouldn't dishonor the magnificent grape by making that gross a drink out of it.

Honestly, I don't think this was any kind of juice. If I had to name the drink I would call it High Frequency Urine Infusion from concentrate. It is one of the most vile drinks I've ever had. Mom, if you're reading this... It's called apple juice! Buy some!

Tire'd

Like all good stories, this one ends up at McDonalds... Mmm.. I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all started while I was TAing the biology lab. Faraz busts in and offers me a lift home. I say to him, "You know, if you're done, don't wait I'll be another hour here anyway." He insisted. He comes back after an hour and offers the lift again being the good guy that he is and wanting to spare me the cold. So he even waits for me to get all my stuff from my office and the lab and the kitchen.

The conversation in the car is what you would expect from two uber geeks.

Faraz: "I read some spoilers for Star Wars Episode 3... Mace Windu is totally owned by Darth...."
Me: "Faraz why do you always have to spoil the freaking movie for me!!!"
Faraz: "Remember tha star wars card game where...."

BOOM!!!!

The car hit something and we had to pull over. The tire was completely busted, totally flat. Soon after another car pulled over and the guy promptly changed his tire and drove off. Our attempts to change the tire on Faraz's car failed... Of course. Our only option was to walk back to a nearby motel and call his dad to bring another tire and different tools.

Walking up the long, cold highway we came across that which was responsible for the flat tire. The pothole was easily a foot deep and twice that wide. But what made the pothole so epic were the FIVE hubcaps strewn alongside the road. Apparently we weren't the only suckers to hit the pothole. So we made the phone call and then walked down the street until we saw the Golden Arches of McDonalds... And then we ate McDonalds and laughed about our plight!

When Faraz's dad picked us up and we went back to the car, there were another 3 cars there, all with angry men changing their tires. The pothole got them all too! Thank god one of them was Italian. He got a good rant going while Faraz and his dad changed the tire.

Italian guy: "Hey! Pretty big F**king pothole, huh? F**kin' United states probably thought someone was hiding in there or something... Hey I broke my f**kin Jack can I borrow yours! The city is going to pay for this s**t! Wait... What's that truck? Is that the ville? Is that the Ville????"

A big truck had pulled up across the street, apparently from the city. "Look at that, 10 f**kin guys in the truck doing f**k all!!!!!"

Oh well... My fingers still feel numb as I type this. But at least I was able to f**kin' blog about it f**k! I hope the f**kin' city is reading this s**t....

Jedi Bums 2

My professor seems to be somewhat prophetic indeed. On Friday he saw a bunch of us doing nothing in the lab and somehow got into a rant about vagrants in San Fransisco. He says they put Montreal bums to shame as far as effort goes. He heard excuses such as "I'm Michael Jackson! Can I have a dollar?" and "I'm a former NBA star about to see my daughter and i have no money..."

Good old bums... Anyway, being the naive young man that I am, after a movie I was walking back to the 45 bus and got to those escalators just before you get to Cinnabon at Bonaventure. Some pathetic soul cries out, "Does anybody speak English?" And as if I had never heard of beggars before I stopped and said, "I do!" I immediately realized my mistake when the man became very upset and bellowed, "DOES ANYONE SPEAK ANY BLOODY ENGLISH????" At this point I realized he was quite drunk. He gave me a long story about how he couldn't find the train station and he was going to see... of course... his daughter... and he needed change.

What truly puzzle me is the fact that I stopped. Why did I actually think this guy was anything other than a beggar? And I realized what it was... A most insidious Jedi Bum trick indeed.... He had a British accent. He sounded classy and sophisticated even through his slurred drunken speech.... I was foiled by my own prejudice. No other accent could have made me stop and consider what was being said by this slovenly looking gentleman.

Were my professor's stories a warning of the bum in my future? Did he see this fate for me and want me to steer clear of it?

No...

*Note* If you don't know what Jedi Bums are, then you haven't been with Gregg Factor as long as you should have been? One of the first posts

Robocop... review?

Another night at Dad's house. Flicking through the channels I catch Robocop. It's really odd, but just knowing that I was watching it gave me a sinking feeling. There's something about this movie that is totally violent and disturbing and dark... But I couldn't rip myself away from it, it's quite engrossing. For all its over the top violence it's quite ironic and funny.

The first act you realize that crime has gotten sooooooooo bad, that scientists decide to build killer robots to beat all the criminals. In a scene that makes me want to vomit, they test one robot. The test of course uses live ammo and an innocent man is violently killed. Enter Robocop. In a scene that makes me wince to this day, a cop named Murphy is horribly mutilated by the bullets of a gang of criminals. Scientists use his remains to make a monster cyborg called Robocop that fights crime.

The second act opens with a hilarious montage of Robocop fighting crime by doing what any logical machine would do to fight crime. Shooting guys in the penis, destroying depanneurs and launching criminals out of windows. Then, the police force gets fed up, cuz the criminals are playing too rough and killing them. So what do they do? They go on strike! And the criminals take over forcing Robocop to take it up a notch.

But most hilarious is the abrupt ending... Robocop is programmed to be unable to kill any member of the company that built him a fact he states in plain english. The villain of course is a senior member of this company. Upon realizing this, the president of the company says, "Oh yeah? Well... He's fired!" Then Robocop says, "Thank you!"The robot say THANK YOU!!! And shoots the villain about 10 times... The villain obviously falls out of the window of the skyscraper they were in. Everyone kind of smiles at this and the president of the company asks, "Nice shooting.. What's your name son?"

Robocop answers: "Murphy!"

And the movie cuts right to the credits.

I don't why I felt the need to write about the movie. Kind of nostalgic for me. Movies were just sooooooo violent in the 80's. To the point where it's just wrong... They blew the cops hand off man! It's awful. BUT! At least there was a story. As absurd as it was... I couldn't stop watching. Every minute was engrossing. I think that's what movies lack these days... Stories. Too much style and flash, but no story. What is Ocean's 11 about? They rob a casino... What's American Beauty about? Some guy who feels sorry for himself. A story should have a beginning a middle and an end, not just be a bunch of slow moving events with no logical progression or point. Bah! Long story short... I like Robocop. It moves me.

The more things change...

For a full acount of this weekends Hi and Low Jinx, you should go to Droopy's site. Still, I would like to hi-light a few things that he downplayed.

After video game fest of Halo and Tetris, we went to eat then movies. First off, before even going into the theater for Ocean's 12, we BUSTED into Elektra to see the Fantastic 4 trailer. Then we went to see Ocean's 12 where I fell asleep for the entire second act! Walking out, we stopped at the exit and started discussing whether or not we should sneak into Elektra. Like two ladies Rez and Vrej were hesitating. We looked so obvious. Then finally I stepped up and lead my brethren to Elektra.

For which I am not to be praised. Elektra is really one of the worst movies I've seen in my whole life. At first you could see Droopy was about to have a nasty joygasm at watching a movie for free. "WOW LOOK NINJAS!!!!!!!" The ninjas were hilarious to see. Good, old school ninjas with little black suits Asian eyes that widen in horror as Elektra kills them violently. Still, ninjas aside, terrible, right down to the very end where the little girl says, "You saved my life Elektra."

In a rage I bellowed, "Go ahead! Say it Jennifer GARBAGE! Say, 'and you saved mine!' Say it you stupid #$@%@!!!!!!! SAY IT!!!"

Elektra: ".... ahem... And you saved mine."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARGHHHH!!!!!!!!! Brazen rioting ensued with chairs being torn, grenades being tossed and excessive urination on public property as an enraged audience tried to unleash a fraction of their rage.

Following Elektra, mandatory McDonalds where a heated dispute about Transformers resulted in the eventual discovery of this site. I thought it was ironic that this site is about all the cartoons we used to watch when we were 7-10 years old. It was another reminder that the more things change the more things stay the same. Playing video games with Vrej and his brother is nothing new. Way back in the day we could spend whole afternoons playing games. Then go eat like pigs, then go see lousy movies. And we still do. Except this weekend, Vrej's bro played Halo with his new born daughter in his arms! I never thought I'd see the day!!! I almost felt bad humiliating father and uncle Hezarans at Tetris in front of a girl who will look up to them one day.

Masons versus Bricklayers

So Dan is a nutty guy, always willing to try something new and different and sometimes even absurd. So I was of course quite apprehensive to see five emails from him entitled, Fortress!! Each one developping his vision of how we should spend our Saturday.

Email #1- "Hey guys! It snowed a lot. Let's build a snow fort!"
Email#2- "I've decided we should build a snow fort at a park near the Big O!"
Email#3- "Change of plans, we'll be building the fort in a cemetery in Cote Des Neiges!"
Email#4- "We're starting at 11am! Bring recycling bins and shovels!"
Email#5- "What? No one's interested?"

An email reply was inadequate for this level of madness. I decided to call Dan up and personally tell him off. "Dan, what is this? We're grown ass men! I'm not going way the hell up to a graveyard in Cote des Neiges to build a snow fort!"

Obviously, despite what I was saying, the idea appealed to me. Sadly I had to go to the lab the next day and wouldn't be able to stay even if I wanted to build the fort. But I was convinced to go anyway and grudgingly decided I would go for a few hours just to check it out. "I'm gettin' too old for this s**t!" I grumbled.

Anyway, by the time I showed up they already had the whole fort building thing down to an art. They used recylcing bins to make the bricks and pack them down real tight. Then layed the bricks down. Layer one was pretty much done when I arrived and I was assigned to be "a mason". I imagine in the real world anyone laying bricks and putting mortar in between is a mason, but in snow fort world, masons put snow in between the laid bricks and packed everything tight so it was smooth and solid. Those who made and laid the bricks were called brick layers. The masons fancied themselves more skilled than the brick layers who really did a crumy job on the back wall. Likewise the brick layers though brick work was more difficult and we were constantly at odds. "You call this a brick ya lace wearin' panty elastic?" Pam and I were masons for most of the time and I truly feared she would bludgeon me to death with her shovel



Every hour I would say, "mmm... I should really get to work." But with every layer we added to the fort I became more committed. And I definately wanted to be around to plant the flag. We used a big plastic KFC banner that the late and great Kenny Chu stole in the summer, folded it up and placed it on a bamboo stick. But what to write on the blank side? Looking at yonder gravestones Lindsay proposed, "No zombies!" I suggested, "How about, Zombie barracks?"

They all grumbled and told me, "No, we want something that implies it protects from zombies."
Me: "Oh I see.. How about... Zombie Sanctuary?"
"Chris you're not getting this..."
"No, no I am... How about... Zombie Safehouse?"
We settled on, "FOR SALE" and put Dan and Lindsay's phone number on it. Then planted it piously in the North Eastern Parapet. Actually I don't know if those little things can be called parapets but it's the word we started using and we stuck to it.





Surprisingly only 1 onlooker decided to join us, a guy who apparently watched most of the project from his apartment. He brought at very least ten soda bottles and vodka bottles filled with water to seal up the weak points in the fort. We calculated that we used some 140 recylcing bin sized bricks to build it, and it was four layers tall not counting the "parapets".

When I did the rounds to look at the completed work, I noticed that the senior mason, Val, had really done a beautiful job smoothing out the fort. It looked like it had grown out of the ground rather than built from bricks. He actually traced lines into the wall to create the illusion of bricks... and someone drew a naked lady on it.




Following that... a snowball fight of course (video available upon request if you see me on msn)... And then it got dark and they closed the cemetery. I got to work at about 6pm! Will I ever grow up? Unlikely.

The End