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.... in 1600x1200 resolution using Mozilla Firefox 1.5

Now all I have to do is to make it work in other resolutions and browsers...
*sigh*
But first! Pizza and Beer!

Google has a Terms Of Service (TOS) and they say a lot of bad stuff will happen to you if you use it for evil. Your scrotum will fall off if you abuse it. Do no evil, eh? Anyway, google is good to assess the security of your webserver(s) and your miscellaneous php, cgi and other scripts that you sometimes installed without checking their records. And I've been hacked several times. So, that's a good excuse..

Look what I found searching for mysql plaintext passwords (my linebreaks):

INSERT INTO user (Host, User, Password)

VALUES ('localhost','david', password('hard2crack'));



INSERT INTO user (Host, User, Password)

VALUES ('localhost','avisia', password('tooHard2crack'));



INSERT INTO user (Host, User, Password)

VALUES ('localhost','caroline', password('laitaps'));

Among other things... :D

You should obtain and read j0hnny's The Google Hacker's Guide 1.0.
There is a reason Google has been so widely praised for its thoroughness. It even has a name. Google mining.

I was really quick in the bathroom (round 1) this early morning about 10 am. I was actually so quick that one of the girls mumbled something incomprehensible and gave me a thumbs up. I had hoped she was saying Come on into my room and have sex now, but that wouldn't explain the thumbs up and her desperate occupation of the bathroom, so I waltzed back to the bedroom.

The coffee was finished. My cigarette was rolled. I turned on the radio and looked absently out of the window.
I had a slight hangover, which was kind of strange, since I hadn't been drinking the night before.
Here's a transcript of my tête-à-tête with the radio this morning:
Radio: A wounded man was taken to the hospital in Oslo very early this morning with several stabwounds.
/me takes a deep inhale of my cigarette
Radio: The police is looking for a blond haired, thin man, 1.70m tall with glasses
Me: Shit! That's me!
Radio: The victim died soon after arriving at the emergency room
Me: Oh, bloody hell!
Radio: The man the police is looking for has not been caught
/me staring wildly at the radio
Radio: The 20 something Norwegian man was wearing a cap
Me: A cap? I never wear a cap!
Radio: And an army jacket
Me: I don't have an army jacket!
Radio: Well, maybe it wasn't you, then.
Me: It couldn't have been. I was here all night last night.
Radio: There you go. Nothing to worry about.
Me: Wait a minute. How can you answer my questions?
Radio: And now for the local weather...

I took a very long shower (round 2), washed my hair, and wondered why I didn't have an orgasm like the people in the Wella commercial always do. But it was nice having my hair washed anyway. I came down to work thirty minutes ago, fresh and clean and cleared from the murder charges, and most eager to get a cup of steaming hot coffee and a look at my mail.
As you are well aware of, there's construction work going on at my workplace.
My "real" "office" is full of dust and paint thinner atm.

So in front of the main door was a large truck.
I can imagine the conversation between the truckdriver and his son this morning:
Trucker: We have to find a nice spot to park
Son: Yes, dad
Trucker: Convenience is efficiency, son.
Son: Yes, dad
Trucker: But we don't want to upset no body either
Son: No, dad
Trucker: Let's put it here. Right in front of the entrance
Son: Good thinking dad! But isn't it blocking the fire exit?
Trucker: Now, you listen 'ere! I take a lot of lip from your mother I don't want it from you!
Son: Yes, dad. Sorry, dad.
Trucker: Besides, they're researchers. They'll think of something

I barely managed to squeeze in between the oily side of the truck and some railworks.
I'm just hoping someone has a fire drill today.
This eve it's QPP (Quiz Pizza and Pilz). And soon it's time for lunch! Wohoo!

My, oh my. In my mail today:

The lord has bigger plans for you than just sitting here reading this email.
Like taking your match from heaven to dinner, or to a movie, or to the alter.

STILL LOOKING FOR THIS MATCH FROM HEAVEN?

Let Where Christians Meet take care of that- just sign up and we will hook you up with hundreds of worthy Christian singles

Quality Singles
Our extensive search and screening process introduces you to great people you'd never meet on your own.
About the same service you get at a whorehouse.

No Games
Online chat seldom works. We're for people who truly want to meet someone special and don't have time for playing games.
F-ugly women and inexperienced men in need of getting laid.

Meet Serious Singles
Our members don't just want to date. They are interested in meaningful long-term relationships.
They want to get married. No sex until you do the 'I do'.

Halfway into the first of two lectures on Philosophy of Science today, there was this fat good for nothing worthless excuse for a human existence that sat down just behind me. Both in my row, the row in front of me, and his row all the seats were empty. He still had to sit just behind me. Crouched over his book, so I could feel his breath in my ear.
Normally I'm OK with that, 'cause it'd be a nice looking girl whispering sexy things in my ear.
And it would be a dream.
This was a fat bloke and a nightmare.

(I just now got an SMS from my sister informing me that today she's a lemming...)
(Anyway... Moving on..)

My 1337 ninja skills are so well adapted to my entire being, that for me they are like reflexes. I walk around, somebody points a gun at me, and suddenly I've chopped his head off. I have learned to control it, but today my 1337 ninja skills wanted to bob my head back really fast to smash the fat dude's teeth in. I'm glad I didn't, 'cause the backs of the benches have really sharp edges, and I easily could have chopped my own head off by pure strength.

So what? Have I got a problem with fat people?
Not in general, no.
Have I got a problem with fat dudes breathing in my ear throughout a two hour lecture?
Indeed I have.

He made these sounds, you see. Expelling gas noisily from the stomach through the mouth. And not these funny burps that the burper and anyone can laugh of, no, but gutty, uncomfortable sounds of an organic machinery in internal collapse, mixed with lactose-smelling gas emitting from the chemical decomposition of cheese products and Original Coca Cola®™, deep down in the bowel regions.
The belching didn't at first even classify as human sounds!
It could just as well have been the first signs of the end of days.

Just imagine sitting there, having arrived just minutes prior to the lecture, a keen student you are, writing down notes and trying at best to focus your entire attention on what the hairless monkey by the blackboard is trying to convey; when some sloth-looking biped with a pony tail and a bottle of coke selects you as his target for acting out his perverse fecophilia fantasies. Wouldn't you too Kung Fu his ass?
Of course you would.

I would too. If it hadn't been for my flawless Prana-bindu training that allows me to be tranquille as a lemming in a butterfly jar even though all hell breaks loose, I would have done so too. Without it I'd have fly-kicked his head off, thrown the whale-like corpus to this open area between the trees outside my faculty, closed off a safe radius of a kilometer and alerted the authorities of the impending gas explosion. The fumes contained in that body could surely have wiped out a small country.

The lectures were ok, but they really need to add a little more spiff to it.

OpenOffice 2 has been out for a while now, and today I downloaded it, updating for the first time since version 1.1.2. I'm all in for open software, but what I really didn't like about OpenOffice (and MS Office for that matter) was the long start-up. Here's what I did to make it start faster:

Tools -> Options
Under the OpenOffice.org tab (the first one) click Java.
Check off "Use a Java runtime environment"

Open Office only use Java for special features. Since I only care about writing, I wouldn't normally use them. There are other things you can customize here, but for my old laptop it was the Java runtime engine that was the great white whale.
Click OK.

Make a shortcut on your desktop (or whatever) to the soffice.exe file in your OpenOffice/program folder and add parameters -writer and -nologo after the program path:

"C:\Program Files\OpenOffice.org 2.0\program\soffice.exe"  -writer -nologo

This shortcut will open the Open Office Writer with a new document, without showing the splash logo first, and without starting the QuickStart utility.

There are other parameters you can pass in command line or a shortcut like the one above. To see them all, see the Help files on parameters or simply open command line and run:

C:\Program Files\OpenOffice.org 2.0\program>soffice.exe -?

A popup window will list all the available parameters. That's it!
I used to be able to have a cigarette while OpenOffice Writer started, but now it just pops up like it ought to. That's great, 'cause inspiration waits for no man.

Since I don't have a Maddox or Manliness category on my blog (aawwww that sucks!) I'm gonna have to post this under 'literature'. As an e-mail told me today: Today might be the best day of my life. That's because Maddox has announced the book that reportedly caused a great stir in all world religions is about to be released.



Click the banner to enter the super specialized webpage that kicks ass.
You can pre-order your seven copies at Amazon dot com! I have :)

My former boss won 1.3 million Norwegian crowners this weekend.
A friend of mine is registering a software patent that may render him a billionaire.
Another friend of mine is working with a patent on renewable energy.
Pauly was just at the friggin' Playboy Mansion!
Finally there was I, Sigg3, and me drooges, and we sat in the Korova milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with our lives...

One could fool oneself to think that everyone else is making progress, getting somewhere, changing the world - and if not - at least making money to live happily ever after. I know, 'cause I do that.
I'm not a pessimist. I just believe that when things go sour, they really go sour. That conventional happiness is a nevrotic lie, that alcoholism is underrated and that the good guys get shot in the end. It doesn't matter who shoots them, the point is that they get shot.

No. I haven't been shot.
I've just been way too lazy, doing what I shouldn't while the hovering voice of conscience makes sure I don't forget the things I neglect nor the fact that I neglect them. I'm sitting here at my work desk, not able to write hours on sitting here since I'm not doing anything, and this in spite of me not having finished anything I've set out to do. It's like Colombus just drifting idly in the middle of the Pacific ocean, nah, I can discover the shortest sea route to India tomorrow, scratching his belly and looking at the little monkey dancing. (There was always a small monkey on old ships that could dance. Nobody knows why.)

I thought about it when I was hurrying to work this morning;
I go to work to pay for a life I don't like.
When I could take a loan and live like I want to. Do what I need.
It all boils down to what you are. And what you are not.

... The Korova Milk Bar sold milkplus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence. Our pockets were full of money so there was no need on that score, but, as they say, money isn't everything.

Editor's note:
Having re-read that post, I realize it doesn't make much, if any, sense. Please ignore it and return to your daily life. Thank you.

Quote from Tao of Pauly:

The existentialist moment of "How the fuck did I get here?" (which creeps up on me every few months) got a hold of me as I stood in the middle of the largest concentration of Redwoods in Southern California. It kept the Mansion secluded from the outside world while it provided a lush habitat for his small zoo and aviary that housed Hef's parrots, cockatoos, peacocks, rabbits, and spider monkeys. If you are a fan of the HBO series Entourage, there was a scene where Johnny Drama was banned from the Playboy Mansion because Hef assumed he let all the animals out of the zoo during a pajama party a decade ago. During the course of the episode, the viewers found out it was Ralph Macchio Pauly Shore who got drunk and let loose all the monkeys and finally Johnny Drama was back in good graces with Hef. I prayed that none of us would do anything stupid enough to get kicked out (like puke in the Grotto) or egregious enough that we would be banned for life (like puke on the spider monkeys). At some point during the course of the evening, we'd all flirt with that one moment where if the impulsive side of our degenerate gambler brains would steer us down a dark path of lunacy. Fortunate for all of us, we all survived the mind fuck of wandering around the Hugh Hefner's backyard shithoused drunk.

You should stop by Pauly's the next couple of days, and check out his reports from the Playboy Mansion. Lucky fucking guy:)

This interview from around the 20th (March 06) unveils a few of the secrets about Christina and the shooting of Thriller (aka One Eye), which I reviewed earlier. Here are some relevant info from the interview by Kevin Gilvear from DVDtimes.co.uk:

About the fighting:
[KG]: How much of a physical challenge was that?

[CL]: Yes, for example I was trained in Karate during the two months that Thriller was made.

[KG]: So you actually took Karate lessons for two months straight?

[CL]: Yea, one of the policemen in the movie, Jan Kreigsman, he was my personal trainer then and he took care of my body (laughs).


About the inserted* scenes:
[KG]: Because I notice there’s so many scenes in that film where there doesn’t appear to be any stunt doubles. Everything I see seems to be done by yourself, in close up, such as driving and fighting. Did you do everything by yourself? It certainly looks real on screen.

[CL]: Yea, I did everything myself except for those sex scenes (laughs). It’s not me.


About the eyeball scene:
[Kevin Gilvear]: OK, well I’ll ask about that in a moment, but I just want to get to the other famous scene in the film – the gruesome eyeball scene. Now I’ve heard the rumour that a real corpse was used for the shot where you have your left eye gouged out. So I’m curious of course. How was that achieved? Is there any truth to the rumour?

[CL]: Yes, it’s true. It was a young girl that had committed suicide and Vibenius, he used one of the biggest hospitals in Sweden. And they made it you know. They just put some mascara on the eyes.

[Kevin Gilvear]: That’s quite shocking. How did he actually get the body? Did he just walk in, ask for permission?

[CL]: Probably with some kind of permission from a doctor or something like that. I really don’t know how he could, and I have been asked by many people connected with this situation and everyone says that’s just the way it was.

Oh, and she was 21 when she did Thriller. You can read the entire interview at DVDtimes.co.uk, with exclusive pictures.

(* I have been misinformed about these shots, apparently. My apologies.)

If you're not a reader of Blogjam dot cow you should become one. It's fast, it's furious and it's free. Like most other blogs. But Fraser is a really cool guy, who makes enormous meals (like omelet from ostrich eggs) and is also the inventor of the oh-so-popular Kittenwars.com.

In his latest entry he posts a few emails from contestants in the reality show called The Apprentice. He has only asked them one thing: If a grizzly bear got into a fight with a gorilla, who do you think would win, and why?
I don't watch the Apprentice, but I know that it's about some people trying to suck up to an old guy and whomever wins get to suck him. But the mails are fun even for those of us not interested in TV. That's because it is a very good question Fraser is asking.

What would I reply?
Well, for me it's not as much of a reply as it is the recounting of a story a little while ago. I was in the desert, and it so happened that I met a grizzly bear, a gorilla and Chuck Norris (who was followed by a news chopter). It got to a little fighting, but that was ok, since I needed the excercise. Luckily there was a papparazzi following Chuck that was able to take this picture:



As you can see, the gorilla is a peaceful and docile animal. It doesn't attack a friend of nature like myself. The grizzly bear, however, attacked me. It was probably confused since it was in the middle of a desert, I dunno.
Please note how calmly the gorilla allowed me to stand on its back while I kicked the bear's ass. In this shot, the bear is just about to fall down from my high kick. I'm really proud of this picture. See how keenly Chuck Norris studies my technique.

You wouldn't believe it, but I actually share my appartment with a couple of chicks. There's a vacant room here now, so if you're fast you can grab your once in a lifetime opportunity to live with Sigg3. I would've done it without thinking. Anyway, they are nice girls, although we've had some differences in the past. One of them really likes to watch Prison Break.

I've seen a couple of episodes since I downloaded a few of them for her, but I really can't say I'm impressed. It's supposed to be inspired by Shawshank Redemption, which is one of the greatest prison films I've seen, but being inspired by such a great film hasn't helped them guys produce a decent story at all. It has got the same feel to it like most modern TV, with flashy camera shooting instead of quality acting. Why is it that modern producers are so afraid of showing a full scene instead of trying to impress us with fast-paced cinematographic maneuvers? Is it because they are trying to cover up the fact that their script sucks?
I mean, it's a great idea, but let's face it; it's not followed through.

First of all, none of the main characters are convincing.
The young kid which is the architect mastermind, a feeble blue eyed kid, would've been gang-raped from his first day. Not that I want to see that at all, but he doesn't act like a person who's locked in at all. He act like someone being inside a compound. That's not the same as being a prisoner in a compound.
The "evil guy" who wants to do the blue eyed mastermind is just completely evil. You must hate him from the start. Why? Well, he doesn't go for a human being at all. That's just stupid.

It also has the really annoying story build up, like Lost and other shows have.
Nothing is really happening since half of the show is trying to impress you with what they can do in the editing room. The producers should ask themselves not what they can do but what they can do with it - in order to make the story more convincing. And if this is not supposed to be a drama, you should stop acting like it.
The pace is stupefyingly slow, and only results in me switching to other stuff instead of catching an interest, as would be the point of it. If you want to know how a good drama is built, see Agatha Christie for reference.

But this chick watching it, she really loves it.
She hasn't seen Shawshank Redemption yet, but she will, and she will use Prison Break as the standard. I fear that most people really like Prison Break, and that it is I who is at fault when it comes to television shows. Maybe my standards are too high since, after all, I do watch a lot of alternative film. I beg to differ. I recognize quality when I see it, and Prison Break is nothing new, horrifyingly boring and altogether utter crap. Which is really bad, since the initial concept was so good. Just another waste of my time, all hype. Can't wait till Sopranos gets on again.

Breaking news! This just in! Author, pokerblogger and old friend Pauly, from the Tao of Pauly, has been invited to the legendary playboy mansion. If you click that picture, you'll not get a picture of a house, but of Heffner and a bunch of half-naked girls. 'Cause that's what the Playboy Mansion is all about.

Pauly confirmed the rumors today:
Yes, the rumors are true. I'll be heading to LA on Saturday to the Playboy Mansion with a group I'd like to call Pauly's 8 in homage to Ocean's 11... Spaceman, Bobby Bracelet, Chad, BG, Joe Speaker, CJ, and... AlCantHang. I'm still looking for an acrobatic Mandarin-speaking Chinese guy to fill the last spot on my crew. Oh and we need a wise cracking black guy for the zany one-liners. If you have any leads, shoot me an email.

You shold read the post. He initially TURNED DOWN THE INVITATION (To The Playboy Effin Mansion, The Very Same House Marilyon Monroe Stripped Before A Camera, The Mansion Where Taboo Is The Rule, The One With The Legendary Grotto Where Dreams Come True.. you get the picture) but thanks to some emergency psychoanalytic probing from his closer friends, he eventually accepted. And spent $400 on a new outfit. If things could possibly get better, it would involve divine intervention and Katie Holmes.

from Red Dwarf was submitted by Kekepower.

Lister: Do you think Wilma Flintstones sexy? Maybe we’ve been in deep space too long, but every time I see her on that show that body drives me crazy. Is it me?

Cat: I think, in all probability, that Wilma Flintstone is the most desirable woman who ever lived.

Lister: That’s good. I thought I was going strange.

Cat: She’s incredible.

Lister: Whad’ya think of Betty?

Cat: Betty Rubble? Well...I would go with Betty...But I’d be thinking of Wilma.

Lister: This is crazy. Why are we talking about going to bed with Wilma Flintstone?

Cat: You’re right. We’re nuts. This is an insane conversation

Lister: She’d never leave Fred and we know it.

Here's my economical status quo:

Bank account: 111,38 NOK
Wallet: 40,50 NOK
Phone account: 0 NOK
Transportation card: Expired

In addition I delivered my list of hours too late to get paid this Monday...
If anyone tries to tell me things can get worse, I'll smack'em.

But thanks to the nice people who appreciates my work at the place I'm employed, they'll fix an 'irregular payment' to make sure I can eat. If they hadn't, I'd die from starvation, and lose my internet access @ home. Not to mention get thrown out of my home.

At the moment I walk, concentrate my resources on covering the most important (e.g. food) and use the phone company's free SMS services on their website. Got 19 free ones left this month:)

Anyway, I'm feeling a lot better!
This entire weekend I've been lying on the couch watching movies. That's quite a feat for me. I usually push myself to be constructive even though I'm lingering between life and death. It's not that I didn't try, but my mind was so asynchronous compared to the rest of the universe, that I had to call it a weekend.
I was out Friday to have a beer, but got all queezy.. FROM ONE BEER! I think that should prove that I really was sick, beyond any reasonable doubt:)

After over-sleeping this morning I got to work and actually got some sh*t done.
Also, congrats to my uncle, celebrating his 40th birthday today!

Don't let 'im fool ya!
This Friday when saying goodbye to one of the guest researchers at the institute, I met this Australian guy who worked with wildlife n stuff. Blimey, mate, that's a giant croc' right there, mate. Now, let's see if we can get a little closer. I'm gonna see how he likes having a stick put up his a**, mate. Crikey! Don't do this at home!
You know the kind..
Anyway, this particular Aussie told us about how lethal fur seals can be. They can stand upright, and they are pretty effin enormous, and they can outrun a grown-up human for a short distance. They use their sharp claws to attack, and he told about a colleague who had gotten her faced clawed off. They were ususally armed with sticks when facing these deadly monsters, but there was one time he got attacked himself, and barely managed to fend him off by boxing the seal in the face as hard as he could.
He laughed with us but added solemnly that he was fighting for his life.. If it's one thing I've learned, it's that what initially sounds improbable, is probably true.

I was reading John Stuart Mill's Utilitarianism last night, when I became so hungry that I just had to finish off my last orange. It was big as a small sheep's head, a d-cup perhaps, and it satisfied me grotesquely. As I sat there, natural juice running down my cheeks and onto my clothes, laptop and Blackwell edition of said book, I wondered how Mill would have eaten it. At a british tea party during the colonial times.

Poll #22: «The Sophisticated way of eating oranges?»

1. Peel slowly and see
2. Make conversation and observe the others
3. Treat it like the plague
4. Treat it like a tit
5. Small, non-dripping nibbles
6. Ethiquette and fruit are incompatible

If you do have any funny fruit stories, please submit. But vote either way. The weekly poll is my way of prodding my readers with obscene questions. You should just admit that you like it already. I've read Freud too.

There are a lot of sick people reading Sigg3 dot net. Among the top 20 search strings this month are: history of the word fuck, tatu naked, jenna jameson and salma hayek sexy. But I don't blame you. Look at me as your therapist.

This is why it was necessary to ask whether underwear gets you off or not:

Does underwear get you off?
Yes, oh, yes!: 71%
Depends on who's in'em: 19%
No: 4%
I'm a nudist: 4%

Number of votes: 21

I had expected a few more nudists actually, but the problem with my question was that this answer seemed to oppose the notion that nudists can like underwear too. If you are a nudist, please make use of my comments to tell me your preference.

I had this great dream last night, starring Christina Lindberg, the 24 year old version. Naturally it had some explicit content I am not going to elaborate, but it also had some One Eye style of combat/revenge. Actually it was only combat, but since Lindberg was innit I think it's safe to assume that we had some hateful good reason to do what we did.

For some reason, she couldn't walk. I'm not sure if it made sense in the dream but it does to me now. She couldn't walk. In order to kill people, which is half of what Lindberg is all about, I would have to carry her on her back while she did all the shooting. It didn't make sense that I was going to shoot nobody, since she had a helluva better aim than I. Except for this one guy who sneaked up with a knife from behind. I gutted him John Woo style; one girl in my left hand and a .38 in my right.
It was kind of cool.

Anyway, after killing some dudes in the 2nd floor of what must have been somebody's house, we heard someone coming that wasn't supposed to come. Maybe it was the police, I don't know. As by magic, Lindberg was now already in the 1st floor. I jumped down a spiral staircase, which is harder than you'd think since you have to avoid the walls and some centrifugal forces, and saw the woman in brown fur coat and her bastard son.

For some reason they were the villains and we had to go for them before the police thought about going for us. I was standing half-way up the stairs and saw Lindberg lying on the floor (since her feet didn't work) and the evil fur-dressed woman, who was a fat mama, walking towards her with some sharp object. It was obvious she was going to kill Lindberg.
This is when I did the jump.

I was going for the fur-coated woman by air, hoping to knock her down from behind with my weight alone, and wriggle the weapon from her cold hands. I'm not sure whether I had a gun or not, and if I did; why I didn't shoot her, but since I jumped I think that's fairly irrelevant.
So there I was. Doing the jump.

I don't know if you've ever jumped on a big woman with a fur coat from behind at exactly the crucial moment when she's going to kill all that you care for (viz. Lindberg). But if you have, you know that timing is vital. If you screw this one up, it's goodbye Christina, curtains up and waking up to another sad day at the office. And the fat lady sings. So you must make it.
You know this as you're about to jump.
And I knew, just having jumped, that I wouldn't make it.
It was this kind of slooooow mooootion cooooold waaash ooooff faaaailure.

So remember kids: Whenever you want to jump a fat lady with the body mass of the Titanic and a fur coat from a higher vantage point behind her; time it correctly!

I landed at the back of her ankles, meaning I hit myself at the ground harder than I'd hit her. For sheer evil purposes she went for me instead, blinding me with her hairy coat and thrusting the knife at me like the cornered alien in Alien III did at Ripley when she tried to make it kill her.

Somehow I think we won, or I woke up, since I still have a good feeling about that dream. Or maybe it was all the sex before all this happened that made up for it. I just hope Christina didn't get hurt.
But the feeling I got from knowing that I wouldn't make the jump was terrifying. It has lingered with me throughout the day like a blue note from a melancholic Tindersticks' track. Just knowing that I didn't make it, in a FREAGGIN DREAM! still makes me a bit embarrased.
Maybe Christina made it anyway, who knows?

..

I've been kind of quiet lately.
That's because I've gotten several intruiging varieties of some of the flus creating havoc this spring. On Monday I could hardly look at food without throwing up. Tuesday I almost fell on the train tracks up at the University, since I got overwhelmed by a pang of dizzyness. That would have made a good headline: «Kid roasted on railroad tracks. Investigators blame the flu.»
Right now I'm trying to balance my headache, my flu and my utterly economical depression so that neither gets total control of me. If I can just keep a hazy limbo of apathy, I'll be "fine". I don't want to end up like Darth Vader. You don't know the power of the dark side. Or the ridicule of being called 'the black bucket'.

I think I've been more or less sick for three weeks now.
Interestingly enough, it is about the same time-span we've had paint thinner, dust and uncategorizable material in the ventilation system at work. The air in the open office I sit in is so heavy that if you put a scale on the floor it would give a visible reading, much unlike air in other corners of the universe. Air in my open office has a spatial stretch. You can take it with your hand and knead it into a ball.

In addition the heat is still running. My problem is this girl that keeps closing the windows and turning on the ovens. What is her problem anyway? What is she trying to do? Write an exotic paper on Examining the Consequence of Social Science, Statistics and Sauna?
I dunno.

But it goes up and down, up and down, I tell ya.
Most of my time is spent on trying not to think. That is until I realize that when I'm trying I've already failed. And it doesn't really concur with my studying philosophy at all. But I do my best.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll try not to think while I devour my pizza.

There was just this Pakistani cab driver outside giving us quite a show with his beloved, and fairly smashed, cab. That was kind of strange. We don't have much parking space, since there's always construction work going on in the building, but he insisted on showing off on the ice. Sprouting pebbles on parked cars and innocent bystanders. Acting like a bull in the pen.
It gave me a flashback to ye olden days in the North where the car emphasized the status of your penis.
I drove a Volvo 940. My penis was therefore top notch.

Anyway, he was swivelling around there, arm lazily out of the window giving us this crazy stare.
You effin with my cab? You EFFIN WITH MY CAB? he was saying in motorized maneuvers. Nobody dared to point out that his car needed some repairs, and that he consequently just looked ridiculous. Or very dangerous.

Five minutes later I saw one of the scientists get into the car.
She has told me earlier that she often gets carsick:)