A day in the life:

I'm in the mood for some feedback. Send me an email and tell me where you want it.

piggyback : My good and spicy man sang has added the ever so useful panic button to his site.

The summer heat has been getting to me as getting to sleep has been a much more difficult task than usual. I'm the type that likes a bit of chill in the air so i can curl up in my down quilt with harry potter-esque jersey knit cover and down pillows.

My therapist tells me this desire to hide away in my bed is caused by growing up to bedtime tales about the sodomy monster hiding in the closet.

During my last chance to work with arnaud, we managed to produce this little gem.

bonus post: While tracy suggested I explore becoming a writer, others have expressed with as much enthusiam that i should look into becoming a professional asshole.

I figured in my spare time I could do something good for society, so I tried to volunteer at the local community center to teach martial arts to under privileged kids.

Unfortunately for me and those kids, watching steven seagal and chuck norris movies while just beating the shit out of each other wasn't their idea of a proper program.

from erin:
You're just sour it was my choice and not yours. I'd tell you not to worry, that there's plenty of fish left in the sea, but it's just not true.

lots of love, ernie.

p.s. next time you're having fries out there, get a pic of yourself with a dollop of mayo hanging off your chin. If you really want to hurt me, that'll do it.

I love ninjas.

icq excerpt from this morning regarding our moustache experiment:

While I'm being emotional (I wasn't piss drunk when I wrote that book of sentimentality down there), I might as well thank all the regulars who keep coming here and those who email me with feedback.

It's getting close to our one year anniversary and you guys and girls are all a part of the inanimate.ca family, except I could sleep with all of you without it being considered incest.

Wrong? yes. Illegal? no. That's all I need to get by.

There's nothing quite like Super Puzzle Fighter II X to staunch the flow of brain steadily leaving my head through my ears today.

edit: Skilla just threw HallandOates.com my way. Reciting snippets of their lyrics is a sure fire way to score with chicks caught in a rift of the space-time continuum. (I can't believe I just said space-time continuum).

My current project at work is killing more of my brain cells than a gas huffing marathon. Staring into the light from my monitors has suddenly become terribly enjoyable.

This post is especially for Ai, who was begging to hear all the intimate details of my brain tonight. All the candid details I'd never post otherwise, but i am now because you asked me to while drunk off your rocket.

Like your dad said, those bangs are really cute and you're looking great. Ceebs and Dario's party was awesome, Dario's girl is beautiful, and telling a girl she's beautiful without an alterior motive is a great feeling. Arch is just fucking awesome, Dario has the coolest shit in the world (original megatron, jetfire, and soundwave in their boxes among others), Brent is as good a friend as any, Sang is as an amazing a chef as he is a person, graeme will be a great dad, ceebs is looking great but not enough to make me switch teams, river city ransom was a fucking cool game, and sometimes getting what you've always wanted can be closer than you expected.

I miss taz terribly and while I'm happy now, the possibility of a greater happiness sits just at the edge of arm's reach from me. Maybe I have a say in it, maybe I don't, I don't fucking know right now and I lose a bit of sleep over it. It's 4:45am and I need to wake up early enough to catch breakfast with brent tomorrow, and I don't feel as old now at 23 as I used to.

I'm a touch nervous that the guys at work might harass me about this but they're possibly the coolest group of people I know, and that's why i can't leave them for a year and a half in amsterdam right now (and if they're really cool, they won't even bring this up at all on monday).

Finally, this isn't really the ultra private blog. That one comes one post at a time, in person, to only a handful of people with exclusive rights, but this is as close as it gets to on the web.

Riding my usual route on the skytrain tonight, this chick next to me started barking into her cell phone "Do I look like I care?" repeatedly.

I usually save that remark for when the other person can see how I look at that particular moment.

Chinese families in vancouver (and possibly elsewhere in north america) seem to have a very unhealthy obsession with leather couches and fancy but utterly useless furniture.

In the summer it feels like sitting on a sweaty fat man and in the chill of a winter morning, it might as well be a wet spot on the seat of a porn cinema.

edit: To elaborate, chinese buy leather furniture so they can show off to their other chinese friends how prosperous they are. I'd rather show off how comfortable I was in a nice fabric upholstered couch.

bonus post: Coworkers best stay clear of me tomorrow as ted and I rocked a garlic, olive oil, anchovy, onion, and parmesan pasta tonight that seems to be seeping from my pores now.

Tracy and I had an icq exchange last night that reminded me of the good old days.

It's been 3 years since and I still feel like a 5 year old playing with a loaded gun. mmmm... on second thought, maybe a 6 year old.

I've been feeling the burn of stress a lot more than usual lately, so I've resorted to giving my domokun a hug.

With his face a mixture of confusion, fear, and innocence, it's much like hugging a child except he won't shit or puke on me. But like a child, if I'm in a sour mood I can punt him across the room.

Someone else's happiness is my sadness. Possibly a good demonstration of how Internet and Meatspace don't seem well suited to each other.

At least Brent and I can finally stop competing in our own private special olympics. The web giveth, and the web taketh away.

I'm on day five or six of Fran and Sang's asian moustache growing experiment.

Currently I look as though I've got a five o'clock shadow on my upper lip. In about 8 months, I should have an appreciable growth on my upper lip that will paint me in the picture of a fulltime pedophile.

I can't wait.

Chicks who'll strap one on rule.

I'm finally scheduled to have my wisdom teeth removed in two weeks time and was informed that sedation would cost me $200.

The lady on the other end of the phone wasn't very agreeable to me bringing my own drugs even after I argued that street prices were much lower than what they were charging, needle included.

I've been preoccupied this week so I'm a little low on my special inanimate sauce, but I did find "domo-kun masturbation" as a search term used to find my site.

I hadn't even considered using him for that before now...

This morning I tried and failed to turn my computer and home theatre system into the most expensive alarm clock I've ever known.

My cheap clock radio woke me soon afterward with a tinny shot of the shitty inescapable modern rock that passes for music these days. It does it's job well enough though as I'm forced to pull myself up to shut it off, preventing any further mental retardation. I can't really afford to suffer any more unless I can find a reliable source for velcro shoes.

I'm a fairly big fan of asian cinema, quite possibly due to growing up watching all sorts of Hong Kong films in local cinemas while munching on fresh popcorn and the best gummy cola bottles I can remember.

They used to always have double features, probably because the chinese are all about value but I'd usually have fallen asleep halfway through the second movie. I must have seen all five dozen of Police Story and its sequels, all starring Jackie Chan, usually running from a populated mall with dynamite strapped to his chest or sliding down the handrails of an escalator. His Hollywood movies don't quite seem to have that same cheap Hong Kong film authenticity I crave, with horribly cheap special effects, grainy scratch-ridden film, and yellow english sutitles riding the bottom of the screen.

I'm peeing in my pants (literally, the wetness is just starting to hint at discomfort) waiting for this year's vancouver international film fest which will hopefully show off some fantastic foreign films.

I recently started going to a new dentist, and was a touch surprised to find her in possession of a lazy eye.

While medically I'm sure this has little bearing on her capabilities as a dentist, it's a touch unnerving for someone who's eyes don't seem to be focusing on the same spot to be jamming power tools into your mouth.

On an only mildly related note, I'll be sure to find a female doctor with slender fingers when it comes time to have my prostate examined.

Had dinner at Raku with Sang and Ryan on our way to pick up the final piece of Peter's care package (which among other things, includes meat, magazines, pocky, and studded latex finger gloves with spermicide).

Sang had mentioned the place often but seemed to have skipped the part where the waitresses relay your order immediately to the kitchen by turning around yelling the requested item name across the room (which left ryan and I looking at each other widemouthed in amazement). The staff continue to communicate by yelling in japanese throughout your meal, which somehow seems a lot more fun here than when they do it at Dennys while you stare down a grand slam breakfast.

The food was good, the experience quite unique (possibly the closest thing to an authentic yakitori bar in town), and the presence of many japanese girls didn't hurt.

It would be the coolest thing ever if my head would emit TIE fighter sounds while running past people.


A surprising number of female readers have mentioned their daily enjoyment of this site, and I'm a little concerned now that they come only because I reveal a few too many Divine secrets of the ya-ya brotherhood.

Nonetheless, I'll be organizing an afternoon of tea and twister to thank all you ladies for your ongoing support and lack of hate mail.

To celebrate Erin's return from europe, Bart's visit to vancouver, and our passion for meat we (plus a few of erin's friends [smoo!]) hit Samba on Alberni for a Brazilian allyoucan! (picture Ken unleashing a dragonpunch).

The meat in general was bit bland and overcooked (even my still bleeding sirloin cuts) which made this much hyped experience not unlike what Eddie Murphy must have felt when he realised he had picked up a chick with a unit.

In the world of meat, this encounter ranked a bit low. For $23, Seoul House will make you vomit pork bulgogi just so you fit more of it in you, while Samba leaves you wondering how you mistook him for a her.

Something a little different for a change today, the tagline up top has been replaced with some new dubs to randomize it rather than the same "putting it in your ass since 2001" that had lived there for almost a year.

There's 20 different ones in all, one free with the purchase of each inanimate.ca happy meal (or a simple refresh will do). Not suitable for children under 3 years of age, as they are too stupid to realize that trying to swallow plastic toy bits can kill them (and that the internet is the tool of the devil).


It's nice to be back home after a weekend of sleeping on air mattresses in the homoerotic confines of a bachelor suite crowded with 4 guys. My own bed, my flannel and jersey knit sheets, and a lack of other peoples farts lingering in the air will hopefully make for a very comfortable night.

Spending the weekend in Victoria, we hit chinatown yesterday and I was a bit stunned by the popular lunch specials consisting of chop suey, lemon or almond chicken and some sort of chow mein. I was afraid I'd be offered a fork and coke with my meal.

The dim sum restaurant we visited was mediocre at best and was quite expensive by vancouver standards, but we had an idea of the situation due to the lack of line up or asians dining there.

For an old and historic chinatown which used to house opium factories the authenticity pales in comparison to vancouver's loud, dirty, stinky, and thoroughly amazing version.

While Beast Wars made me cringe (why would optimus bother transforming from a bipedal humanoid Gorilla form to another incredibly similar bipedal humanoid form?), old school transformers still make me giddy.

A canadian company is involved in bringing back the original transformers with brilliant new artwork that smells deliciously of manga class production quality. There's also a new tv series debuting soon but sadly, they've altered the characters from their original forms.

Also on top of my list of sweetek:
Lime cordial and coke
lime frisks

Wow! Dr. Nelson Makanda from South Africa is offering me 30% of 27.1 Million dollars if I help him transfer the money to a foreign bank account.

Fuck this job shit, I'm riding the money wagon now.

I've been a bit lost in thought lately and the only real thing I've come up with is this.

Life is a lot like an ass. It's not about what you get out of it, It's about what you put into it.

You're all afraid to admit it, but farting is some of the most fun you can have by yourself.

poot!