Archive for the ‘ Humour ’ Category

PowerNap

What the hell is it about powerpoint presentations that fogs the mind, displaces interest and throws the almighty nap switch on?

My colleagues and I were discussing this today, as we’re all smack dab in the middle of a two-day conference (sorry, “COLLOQUIUM“) and we’re dealing with listening to people talk for the major part of the day. Invariably during the talks, you miss one little point and it’s as if you suddenly realize all the effort you were putting into paying attention out of respect to the person has suddenly taken a one-way trip to don’t-care land. “Damn” you think, “what the hell did they just say? It sounded important. Wait… what the hell is he saying now? Damn! Shit! What the hell is that graph for?! Log-what? What does that Y-axis say? Maybe if I turn my hea.. crap! Next slide?! Already?!?!?”

Annnnnnd this is when the eyes glaze over. Thoughts turn to what else you’d rather be doing, something, anything other than pay attention to the rest of the talk, because at this point buddy, you’re fucked. Might as well think about the important things, like how much milk is left in the fridge, and how funny that joke about the 7 nuns and the midget you heard yesterday was. However, laughing out loud might bring attention to you, so mundane subjects might be preferable.

So maybe you lose track of something during a talk, and the rest becomes incomprehensible. Maybe. But there might be another deeper, more absolving reason for all of us to take to – namely, it involves blaming someone else. Yes that’s right. I blame Powerpoint.

The evils of Powerpoint have been well documented over the year [Hijalinski et al 2001; Fahrtsalot 2004] but I suspect something entirely more nefarious is going on here. For a vast majority of us, when we see a slideshow go full-screen, we feel.. something switch on. Admit it.. next time, pay attention, its definitely there. But what on earth can it be?! Hell, I’ll freaking tell you.

LCD projectors and Powerpoint presentations have grown in abundance hand in hand over the last years. Do you think this is a coincidence?! Observe the following graph:

……

Haha! You thought I’d have a graph? What a loser! Anyways, loser, so what I was saying is that there is almost certainly a collusion going on here between the software maker we all love to hate and the LCD projector companies. Each wants their technology to not only remain as the standard, but to increase until kingdom come. Now how, noble reader (loser), do you think they can accomplish this?

Really, its simple in its geniusity. Wait, how did that go again?…

Anyways, just think about it for a second – the LCD projects the Powerpoint presentations. Now, what is the one thing that Powerpoin..

Fine, OK, I’ve got nothing. I thought I was going somewhere with this, that I’d somehow stumble onto the evil plan just by laying it out beforehand, but seriously, I’m drawing a blank. go HOME people! Go work on your presentations! Because there is a multitude of people out there that are freaking just waiting for you to get up there to bare your soul, so that they can take a freaking nap!

And yes. In case you were wondering, this blog post was thought up today during a talk about.. well, of course I don’t freaking know.

File->Save.

Makeout Mugs

After that last mammouth of a post, I thought I’d never blog again, for fear of upsetting the secret quotas that the lazy haphazard blogger imposes on themselves.  A little more typing and I would (*shudder*) move up into a higher "participation bracket"!  And of course that would mean the worst of all: higher expectations!  Gah!

Anyways, I saw this, and I laughed a lot.  It’ll probably go down very soon because it was featured in a popular newsletter, but try to enjoy it while it exists.

Synopsis: Cameraman heads to local make-out spot and does his thing.  The looks of utter surprise and anger on the faces of his subjects are absolutely priceless :).

Link

Dance Dance BBQ

And lo, I find myself at a BBQ.

And there are three plates of veritable mountains of sausages to be cooked.  And it’s raining outside.  And let us not forget – the apartment is painted various shades of bright orange.

Welcome to the moving-out BBQ bonanza celebration my good friend Jon decided to thrust upon us last Friday.  A fine night, indeed!  …If you count eating big fat sausages in delicious French bread with sauerkraut, free availability of tam-tams, a truly retro music playlist (long live high school) and spontaneous dance-out sessions fun, that is.  Oh wait – I kinda do!  Well then hell – I may as well tell you about it!

Dave was present at the party, and seeing how he never updates his blog, I’ll show you myself what a sporting guy he can be.  In my latest experiment on this human guinea pig my friend, I decided to see the effect of a party had on his demeanor.  This was a double-blind test (or some crap like that), since I didn’t know whether the party was going to be any good or not and Dave (as usual), had no idea what the hell was going on.  You can see here by his dim expression that he thinks my experiment is a fantastic idea.

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Don’t worry, we’ll get back to him later.

You know as well as I do that you always find at least someone at a party who knows at least a little something about the dark art of sensual massages, which I believe is a branching off of the ancient ninja skill of calming your opponent to death using various pressure-point techniques.  If you don’t usually see this, then you’ve really been going to the wrong parties.  Come on – get your damn life together already.  Anyways, guys tend to actually make an effort (yeah, who knew?) to learn this stuff because they know that it’s a free ticket to getting girls to expose their backs, and they figure that by that point they’re already halfway there.  Regardless, this guy actually seemed to know more than the usual mail-away graduate of the School of Back Bliss, since he claimed he was apparently studying this stuff at an actual "university".  Since he already seemed to have a girlfriend, I wondered aloud what possible use he had for continuing his education, since his scheme had obviously already worked.

I can tell you right now that I didn’t receive any satisfactory response to my inquiry.

So, back to the party then.  Despite the rain, the BBQ heats up nice and glowy in the back-alley-like "yard"/"pit" Jon has attached to his room.  Handy, that, for voyeurism into the other apartments – especially into those that didn’t bother to buy any blinds, I’m quite heartily assured.  While the sausages do their thing on the grill, the guests obviously need some sort of distraction – and Mr. Massage (legal name – I have his card) stepped up to the challenge.  Through his powers of the Force (albeit the stress-related variety), he sensed that one of my friends was way too tense, and needed immediate back re-tooling.  My friend, a little hesitant to have his back rubbed publicly by another member of his sex by his expression, reluctantly agreed.  My friend’s girlfriend repositioned herself to learn, and I, as a guy seeking to have girls take their shirts half-off, did the same.  But, before we even knew it, a back-massage train had broken out!  Hot Damn!

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You can see by my expression what a keen student I am.  My friend (second in line), being massu-saged by Mr. Massage (third, receiving some TLC from yours truly), still retains his own classic slightly-puzzled expression.

But that’s not all!  Did I forget the tam-tams?! Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy banging on things that make loud noises?  Did I know how horrible and scary I look when I really get into things?  (Warning: horrible and scary photo approaching)
[Update]: I’ve been told that since I’m putting such a ghastly picture up, may as well put it up in all its glory.  You’ll find the original demon-eyed photo on the right

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Well, now I do.  *shudder*.  I’m sorry about that.  Don’t go back and click it again – it’ll only reinforce the nightmares.  What I do have for you, though, is something that’ll ease your pain…

WHEREBY Danny hasn’t gone dancing in quite a while…
WHEREBY Danny has long since lost his sense of inhibition about his unique style of groove…
WHEREBY when Danny hears a song with a wicked beat, it’s all he can do not to start bobbing his head…
WHEREBY the rest of Danny’s body, attached to AFORMENTIONED head,  invariably follows…

You get this. (7 MB)

Heh.

But wait!  We still have an experiment running!

You’ll remember, dear unbiased scientific observer, that the initial state of our test subject was as follows:

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Not too impressive.  Certainly not worthy of submission to Nature, for example.  But wait!  Shortly after an injection of "Fun" factor version 11 mark 2…

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SUCCESS!  Notoriety, Fame, Corruption, and eventually Alcoholism, here we come!

Absence makes the blogger heart grow disinterested.

Or, how to make your way through academia hell and still live to write about it.

I suppose an update is in order, if only for the worldly network of friends that I still manage to maintain by systematically meeting, heading to a place where we can drink, and yelling to each other over the music and the idiots yelling about the superiority of their state of inebriation.  Which has only been happening since Friday, which is the day I have now come to know as the day I finally had fuckall to do.  Has a nice ring, yeah?

How did this come about?  Well, instead of boring you, you and hell, especially me (let’s face it, I live with myself 24 hours a day) with the detailed retelling of my academic schedule, I present to you: the Coles notes version!

Act 1: Scene 1
Dan notices crap on the horizon
-Much shit is coming, all in the same week.  Feeling two weeks ahead is wayyy too far to plan for, Dan slacks off and plays Halo.

Act 1: Scene 2
Dan loses at Halo and life in general
-Some bad sessions go down, Dan drops a few levels and is suitably pissed off, even though he remembers swearing to his xbox that they would never go to sleep angry.  The xbox, as usual, remains cold and uncompromising and a dark shade of plastic.
-Dan spends many hours on a poster describing his masters project, and is quite proud, but judges are idiots who know nothing about the tremendous (:|) importance of fitting curves and bad explanations in French by anglophone students!  For shame!  Dan wins not the $150 prize money and attempts to console himself with Mr. Xbox, but once again, is ridiculed and shunned.  Will there ever be hope for them?

Act 2: Scene 1
Presentations abound; Dan becomes chronically hoarse
-Although the poster was in the previous act, the timeline remains linear and so does Dan (about 6 feet, 4 inches to be precise).  He therefore jumps off that presentation and into one at a Genome Quebec retreat at L’Hotel Cheribourg for a couple of days the following week.  See following "visual aids".
-Fig 1: An ‘Incredible’ van ride there

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-Fig 2: Uneven roofs equal ‘classy’

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-Fig 3: Free pens for everyone!

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-Fig 4: (Talking to waitress) "Excuse me miss, are we allowed to swim in the lake?"  "Lake?!  What lake?!"

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-Fig 5: Dan communicates with nature

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-Fig 6: Dan ‘working hard’ on his presentation the next day

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-Dan talks about stuff, and people gawk at him.  ‘Nuff said…

Act 2: Scene 2 (The Final Curtain)
I can now pull the Tree of Life out of my ass with one blindfolded, with one hand, and that hand being on fire at the time
-With the retreat fresh in his blood, Dan feels slightly nauseous from the 80%+ people that presented phylogenetic projects.  Not to be outdone, he foolishly volunteers himself to present a phylogenetic paper in class on Friday, having realistically only one evening to do it.  Dan shoots himself in the other foot to keep things symmetric.
-Friday passes, Dan takes on a permanently gravelly voice due to overuse (damn sexy to the ladies, don’t you know), and most importantly – say it with me now: Has. Fuck. All. To. Do!
-Rejoice!  Dan takes in much Fringe-ness.  And beer.  Mostly beer.

Fin.

Communication Problem

This is amusing, and has probably been around since the begining of the internet (you can still remember what it was like before, can you?).  Anyways, thought I’d share.

An English Professor assigned his students to a joint writing exercise that quickly degraded…

"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right.

As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on, back and forth.

Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the  e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached. "

The following was actually turned in by two English students, Rebecca and Gary:
—————————————————————-

THE STORY:

Rebecca (first paragraph):

At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl.  His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the    question.

Gary (second paragraph):

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17", he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far…" But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship’s cargo bay.  The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the
cockpit.

Rebecca:

He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one’s innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

Gary:

Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu’udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy peaceniks that pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu’udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can’t allow this! I’m going to veto that treaty!   Let’s blow ‘em out of the sky!"

Rebecca:

This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semiliterate adolescent.

Gary:

Yeah? Well, you’re a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F***ING TEA??? Oh no, I’m such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."

Rebecca:

A**hole.

Gary:

B****.

Rebecca:

Get screwed.

Gary:

Eat sh**.

Rebecca:

SCREW YOU – YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!

Gary:

GO DRINK SOME TEA – B***h.

**********************************************
TEACHER:  A+ – I really liked this one. Only group to get an A.