Things That Drive Me Insane Vol. 3 - Date Abbreviations That Don't Make Sense

After the overwhelming response I received to Volume 1 and Volume 2 of this series, I really had no choice but to continue explaining things that make me want to gnaw my own hand off out of irritation.

In this installment, I'd like to mention people who insist on stating that (as an example) the year 2008 - pronounced "two thousand and eight" to most of us - can instead be shortened cleverly to "two-oh-eight". I don't know who the fuck started this, but "two-oh-eight" would be...you know...208. The start of the 3rd century. According to my friends at Wikipedia, this is what was happening then: "After the death of Commodus in the previous century the Roman Empire was plunged into a civil war." Not 2008, when ...uh..."Dawson's Creek (2003 series finale): The characters meet once again. Dawson, now 25 is the creator of a television series, The Creek, based on his life." Um...right.

I'm really not sure why this bothers me so much, but sweet fuck, it really, really does. Really.

Just realizing that I'm creating a blueprint for people that want to irritate the shit out of me,
JohnnyM

P.S. Did you guys hear that the toilet on the International Space Station is broken? They have one toilet on the whole station? That's just asking for trouble. What do they do when it's they're all eating hot and spicy food on (freeze-dried) Indian night?

Brainer

To my shock and dismay, my hero's attempt has failed! His balloon floated away without him, taking with it both $200,000 of his budget, and my hopes and dreams.

But I'm confident he will try again. Despite the naysayers and their "intimidating risks", and despite spending $12M to date, only to fail three times? Fuck yeah.

And damn it, I can't think of a more important thing in the world to spend $12M+ on than a giant balloon ride to the edge space. Except maybe a bunch of smaller balloons to give to the one billion kids on this earth who live in poverty. Or food for them. Or they can all find hope in this one big balloon as it rises to the heavens, transporting a bored millionaire to space.

No-brainer

Headline news today is the record-setting-skydive attempt by retired French paratrooper Michel Fournier, who plans to jump out of a hot air balloon on the edge of the stratosphere (the threshold of space, mind you), and plummet towards the earth. Delayed several times, the launch crew has been awaiting the right conditions. While they’re waiting, I thought I’d give them my views on this brilliant idea.

It makes so much sense that frankly, I’m embarrassed for all humanity that it took someone so long to do this. This whole thing seems like a no-brainer to me. Here is what the article calls “an intimidating set of risks”:

• Upper-level wind shear that could damage the balloon (Fournier's first two attempts in 2002 and 2003 ended when wind gusts shredded his balloon before it even became airborne).
• If the apparatus he’s riding in fails within the first 1,000 feet of ascent, there will not be enough time for Fournier to bail out, or for the balloon's parachute system to deploy. The engineers call this low-altitude segment the “Dead Zone”.
• When he first exits the apparatus, because the air is so thin, he will not be able to correct his path by manoeuvring his body in the air – if he goes into a spin, he probably will not be able to recover before he blacks out from the force of acceleration. After falling about 15,000 feet, Mr. Fournier will pass the speed of sound. Even a minor kick could initiate an unrecoverable tumble.
• If he is unconscious when he lands, his team must find him and remove his helmet before his spacesuit's air supply runs out. He could land anywhere in a 40 kilometer radius.

If it works (is there really a chance of failure here?):
“He will land, get some high-paid speaking gigs and take his place in aviation history”. High-paid speaking gigs? Aviation-fucking-history? Fournier’s got it made!

If it doesn’t work:
He will die, and take his place in aviation history. Just like this guy.

Coachella Hotness Contest: Emily Haines vs. Richard Ashcroft

During JTC's recent sojurn to Southern California for the Coachella Arts and Music Festival, there were a few bands that we were quite looking forward to seeing play live. For me, the biggest draw was probably The Verve; CoCo was quite smitten with Metric.

Following these bands' performances, it became apparent that we were interested in perhaps more than just the music (although I defy any musical artist to open a set better than ripping into "This Is Music", like The Verve did). No, no - we were also quite taken with the lead singers of the respective bands. To settle the argument, I have decided to declare the first ever JTC Hotness Contest.

Step right up, peeps - it's Emily Haines of Metric versus Richard Ashcroft of The Verve:

Hotness Category #1 - Torso Attire

Haines: May not have been wearing a bra

Ashcroft: Definitely not wearing a bra (I saw nipple!)

Edge: Ashcroft

Hotness Category #2 - Footwear
Haines: No one could remember

Ashcroft: None. All that hotness has to escape somewhere

Edge: Ashcroft

Hotness Category #3 - Haircut*

Haines: "Could use a trim"

Ashcroft: "Looks way better with his hair like that"

* Quotes are courtesy of my CHP

Edge: Ashcroft

Hotness Category #4 - Smitten JTC Board Member

Haines: CoCo T. Monkey

Ashcroft: JohnnyM

Edge: Ashcroft

Hotness Category #5 - Aging?

Haines: Yes

Ashcroft: Gracefully

Edge: Ashcroft

Hotness Category #6 - Genitalia Location

Haines: Internal

Ashcroft: External

Edge: Haines (DAMMIT!)

So there you have it - through this totally scientific process, Ashcroft wins by a clear margin of 5-1.

I'm pretty sure CoCo has sex with men, and this is gayer than that,

JohnnyM

WTF Volume 5: The Baconator

In this edition of JTC’s continuing “WTF” series, we analyze “The Baconator”, Wendy’s new hamburger, which is essentially a cow wearing buns.

Wendy's Strategy

WTF Factor: Palm-covered face

For a company that prides itself on quality and freshness, offering this colon-clogging behemoth is quite the fucking departure.

The Egregious Size of the Burger

WTF Factor: Speechless Pointing

Two quarter-pound patties, six slices of bacon, cheese, cheese sauce, mayonnaise. It sounds like a week’s worth of groceries.

The Nutritional Content

WTF Factor: Crinkled Brow

840 calories, 1880 mg of sodium: That’s just the burger. It’s 1660 booty-plumping calories with a large coke and fries. I feel like I’m putting on weight just looking at pictures of it.

People Who Order It

WTF Factor: Condescending Stare

Fast food enthusiasts can relish in their dissent of a pussy, health-conscious society, saying “fuck off, you granolas – I’m going to do what tastes right!”

The Experience of Eating One




WTF Factor: Clenched Anus

Wrapping your quivering lips around this meat-stronsity may quell your longing for grease, but trust me, your beleaguered bowls will pay for it. Constipation: what a rush!

fds

The Lack of Warning Labels

WTF Factor: Puzzled Stuterring

They have warning labels on cigarettes. Why not for this hamburger? The wrapper should read with at least the following warnings: Do not operate heavy machinery within 3 hours of consuming the Baconator. Women nursing or pregnant should avoid contact with the Baconator. If eating the Baconator results in an erection lasting longer then 8 hours, please contact your doctor.

Random Thoughts

So - we've been back from Coachella for over a week, and haven't posted anything - our bad. Turns out that our "real jobs" are actually keeping us all pretty damn "busy". That's okay though - here's a random listing of shit I feel like talking about:

1) The Fucking Toronto Transit Strike

We've gone on and on about how a strike by the Toronto Transit Commission would be pretty damn cool. The union insisted that they would give at least 48 hours notice before going on strike, so we should be fine to leave town for a weekend to go to California, no? No. Those fuckers went on strike, ignoring the 48 hours notice promise, and we were in Cali, unable to enjoy the hysteria. By the time we were back, all transit was once again running smoothly.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.



2) Best T-Shirt Seen At Coachella

While we saw a ton of great t-shirts at Coachella, the one with this graphic was hands-down our favourite:

3) This Deserved A Pair Of Bad Idea Jeans

So there we were, 4am on a Monday morning, driving the rental car back to LA, and we needed to fill it up with gas. I spotted a station, and pulled off the highway. The following conversation ensued:

CoCo: "If we get shot, this was your idea."
JohnnyM: "Don't be silly. I'm not getting out of the car. You are."

What followed was fucking bizarre. I got out of the car, to try to pump the gas. A car immediately pulls up beside me, and some woman gets out, offering to sell me a pair of "high-end car jacks". I then notice her vehicle has no rear wind shield. The gas pump won't take my fucking credit card because it's asking me for a zip code (hilariously, I tried "90210"). CoCo and I then tried to talk to the guy in the attendant booth, and give him $20 to pre-pay for some gas.

Despite some excellent miming of the action of gas pumping (which in hindsight MAY have looked like we were pretending to shoot someone lying on the ground) and the fact that the guy WORKED AT A GAS STATION (what did he think we wanted?) he had no idea what was going on. As more and more weirdos came out of the woodwork, and seemed to be taking a lot of interest in us, we decided to leave and purchase our petroleum derivatives elsewhere. I enjoyed this comment from CoCo - looking at the map - as I gunned our white-kid-carrying-rental-SUV straight outta there:

"Jesus - you just tried to buy gas at 4am in Compton."