A random female stranger grabbed my buttocks on the Skytrain last night. I wouldn't have minded so much if she happened to be hot (or at least cute), so as a result, I was slightly annoyed. She apologized profusely, saying that she mistook me for someone else, but it did shock the hell out of me. Is this normal, to go around grabbing the buttocks of members of the opposite sex if you happen to know them? Because last I checked, any attempts on my part to do so will result in a swift kick to the groin.

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So, having spent the past few weeks going nuts between helping my buddy with his wedding, getting ready for my Capoiera belt ceremony, trying (unsuccesfully) to clean my apartment, and trying to find work, I managed to land a two-and-a-half month contract with a printing company as a checker/proofreader. Emphasis on checker, at least now, just because I'm new and they don't want me causing too much damage at once.

Admittedly, a bit of a paycut from A&B Sound, but at least I know when my term is finished and it's paying the bills. That means as a result, I'm not exactly rolling in the hookers and blow. Come to think of it, it's not even strippers and booze. If I'm lucky, it's internet-downloaded porn and sniffing glue.

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Opening roda at Capoeira Aché Brasil. Seated l-r: Mestre Derli (Brazil), Mestre Elias (San Diego), and Mestranda Edna Lima (New York). Standing: Mestre Eclilson De Jesus (Vancouver)


Barboleta, Camara, and Pantera doing Maculele


Cordao Amarelo Escuro ("Dark Yellow") L-R: Dandara, Jazz, Toquinha (yours truly), and Casado


Professore Superhomem ("Superman")


The masters of Capoeira

After weeks of hemming and hawing about oh, I'm not going to get my belt, that test was way too easy, Mestre already knew what my belt level was going in, blah blah blah, I am the proud owner of a shiny new amarelo escuro ("Dark Yellow") belt, having managed to skip amarelo claro ("Light Yellow"). Now, to train extra-EXTRA hard to qualify at least for azul claro ("light blue").

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Once again proving my theory that is physically impossible to look bad while wearing one of these.


Post ceremony photographs at Coal Harbour


"We have arrived at your destination sir and ma'am."


Reception toast




Gabe and Jialin play Lady and the Tramp.

After running around for 18 hours straight, I'm pretty frickin' tired. Congratulations to the bride and groom, and may you have a lifetime of wedded bliss. May your love always grow, propser, and flourish.

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Hangin' with my big sistah. Why am I more tanned than her? (Self portrait, with flash)


BT (AKA Brian Transeau) works the crowd at Richards on Richards


Experiments in no-flash photography mean a lot of really blurry pictures that will have to be discarded. Occasionally, I'll get lucky and people are shooting flash at the exact same moment, which means a lot less red eye and preserved colours that you won't get if you just shot with flash.


More experiments in no-flash photography, which makes for some very abstract and cool looking shots. But be prepared to toss a lot of them along the way.


Hangin' wit' my man BT.

After downloading a few random BT tracks such as "Never Gonna Come Back Down" and "Dreaming", I made a point of actually buying Movement in Still Life, after which I promptly became a fan.

Since I missed BT's last stop in Vancouver, I had to take the effort to catch him this time around. My excuse last year was that I couldn't get anyone to go with, but this time I managed to drag my sister along. This time BT's promoting the upcoming release of This Binary Universe, which hits stands this week. Great show, although it'll be great when my hearing finally returns back to normal.

And thus, adding to my collection of autographed CDs, having since met Joe Satriani, The Crystal Method, DJ Rap, and Kinnie Starr. Although there was that time someone asked me to get an autograph from Linda McRae, formerly of Spirit of the West. She made it out to me, thinking that it was mine. Oops.

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Wow, that certainly didn't take too long.

After a whopping six weeks on the job, my department was downsized by 50%, which leaves me typing this blog at 9:40 in the morning when I'm supposed to be updating the company's web fliers and assisting layout for the print flyer program. I can take some comfort in the fact that it's nothing personal and very little to do with work performance (given the fact that a person with considerably more experience and expertise was laid off at exact the same time), but that leaves me with the obvious dillemma as to how I'm going to eat and pay rent.

Today, I'm hitting the beach and taking my guitar with me, then I'm gonna go watch Snakes on a Plane. Tomorrow, I'm planning my next chess move.

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I really don't know if this is a good thing or not.

Your Brain is 73% Female, 27% Male

Your brain leans female You think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

What Gender Is Your Brain?

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The problem with eating Chinese is that an hour later, you're hungry again. I think that's why mosquitoes like me so much.

In addition to driving people around who don't know their way home, Saturday was also spent being sucked dry by the winged vampires that inhabit my barbecue host's residence. My legs are covered with more welts than I can count. However, after limited success in tracking down a thing of benedryl and not seeing any positive benefits out of popping an antihistimine, since my employers could not permit me to run to a drug store, I Googled it and found that Scotch tape actually works to stop the itching. Could it be? An inexpensive office product that is in most households can alleviate the symptoms of mosquito bites?

After tracking down a roll, I quickly drop strips of tape on each bite mark, and low and behold, I'm not itchy anymore.

I still remember the hiking trip taken with friends, where you can actually feel the insects removing chunks of flesh. One bit me and it swelled to the size of a golf ball. For the rest of the week, my arm was so puffy that I could wrap my hand around it and leave an impression.

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EXT. FOREST

LOCKE
Come here. I'm going to show you something. [They walk to a plant with a cocoon on it]. What do you supposed is in that cocoon, Charlie?

CHARLIE
I don't know, a butterfly, I guess?

LOCKE
No, it's much more beautiful than that. That's a moth cocoon. It's ironic, butterflies get all the attention; but moths -- they spin silk, they're stronger, they're faster.

CHARLIE
That's wonderful, but...

LOCKE
You see this little hole? This moth's just about to emerge. It's in there right now, struggling. It's digging it's way through the thick hide of the cocoon. Now, I could help it, take my knife, gently widen the opening, and the moth would be free. But it would be too weak to survive. The struggle is nature's way of strengthening it. Now this is the second time you've asked me for your drugs back [he holds the heroin up]. Ask me again and it's yours.

(from Lost season 1, episode 7, "The Moth")

Having spent the better part of an hour driving around while trying to locating the apartment of a young woman, with the intent of dropping her off at home after a party, I got to thinking on the drive home as to what parents today are doing to their children.

While I'll admit to a significant portion of blame, it's frustrating when I'm in an area with which I'm unfamiliar, when someone I'm driving around is unable to give directions to her apartment because she is even less familiar with the area, and even worse, does not know how to read a map, and is thus unable to navigate.

After dropping her off, my drive home was fairly uneventful, but between tracks on my MP3 player, I'm realizing that the lack of necessary life skills at a certain age bracket is the likely end result of overprotective upbringing. I'll admit to having a very sheltered life at a younger age, of which I'm trying to compensate for it now (although some would say overcompensate). As much as I love my mom to death, there are a lot of things that I wish that I could have figured out on my own at a much earlier age.

Not being a parent myself, I cannot speak from experience. I do not envy the responsibilities that come with the task, because they're really daunting and parents will constantly be judged for the end results. I understand the rationale behind sheltered parenting - parents want their children to have the opportunities they didn't have when they were kids, so they do everything for them. However, when the time comes for the children to act on their own, they will be so weakened from the experience that they won't be able to fend for themselves. While parents may think they're doing their kids a favour, by doing so, they lack the confidence building and independence that comes with figuring things on their own.

There is the extreme opposite though...children with minimal guidance are subjected to negative influences and grow up to be scarred and damaged from the experience. While may do have the maturity (and possible self-sufficiency) of the coddled child, without moral guidance, these are the kind of kids that grow up into a troubled life. Usually one that involves drugs.

When growing up, there were a lot of things I was unable to do before my formative years. My parents essentially forbade me from doing a lot of things, which largely kept me on the straight and narrow, but really kept me from experiencing a lot of things that kids are supposed to experience on their own. So, as a result, I'm making my mistakes NOW.

A sheltered upbringing has left me without specific life skills that are probably holding me back. For example, I lack the ability to read people, I get in trouble from impulsive decisions, and because I was fairly sedentary when I was a lad (parents didn't want me getting hurt too much), I lack a certain sense of body awareness, which means I'm really prone to getting injured from pushing myself too hard. Additionally mistakes, have a lot more consequences when I'm older, mostly because I'm expected to know better, but also because children can get away with a lot more than adults can.

For example, just the other week, I saw a guy on the Skytrain who had tons of grass stuck in his hair. In usual helpful-Vince fashion, I gently point this out, because, hey, if I had crap stuck to me and I couldn't see it, I'd want someone to tell me. At this point he starts getting hostile and starts swearing at me, and I'm not sure if he's going to try to kick my ass next. Not often getting into situations like this, my first reaction is often to freeze. Had he been a lot crazier, I probably could have been seriously hurt, or panicked and used excessive force to defend myself (I'm banking on the former rather than the latter, though). It's only afterwards that I realize that he recently got into a fight (and I'm not going to even speculate on who started it), resulting in his messed up appearance. Had I been a lot more aware of these things when growing up, I probably would've avoided the situation altogether.

Bringing me back to my drive. After driving around for 15 minutes in the wrong direction and trying to assure my passenger that I'm not angry at her, merely frustrated that someone at her age is unable to provide sufficient directions, I tell her straight up, this is a skill that she will have to learn at some point. Preferably really, really soon. She's been in the country for three years, does not know how to read a map, and cannot provide directions to her apartment, even after we pass by a landmark that she recognizes about three times.

(To my one-time passenger: if you do end up reading this blog, I'm not trying to be mean. I can't really blame you for this stuff because you simply never had to do it before so it's not like you'd know any better. However, when I see you, I realize that there are a lot of things that you have to figure out on your own...this is one of them...and it's not even the most important one! Good luck.)

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As about 95% of my personal effects have finally been moved into my new digs, there is about 5% of square footage that is easily navigatable by foot. This is a sad reality of our consumerist lifestyles -- we accumulate way too much crap. Everything from old papers to old magazines to stuff that I really should ditch via Craiglist (stack of old magazines and a DVD tower, anyone?), I really have to sort through it all before I can make any decisions.

My to do list is as follows:

-Complete touch-ups and additional coats of paint (will be difficult with furniture and crap)
-Get everything squared away (which can only occur once all final renovations are complete)
-Get items Craiglisted out (among them: old vacuum cleaner, massive stack of magazines, DVD stand).
-Throw housewarming party (which is in turn an additional incentive to get my ass in gear and get the first two tasks complete).

Oh, and my Internet connection hasn't been established yet, as I've been too damn busy to obtain a cable modem. Fun times, fun times. But at least I can now concentrate on getting my stuff squared away.

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This has been a fairly eventful few weeks, so I guess my few and faithful readers will have to excuse the lack of entries. The usual routine - wake up, do stuff, eat something, do more stuff, eat something else, hop on bus to Vancouver for my regular Capoeira class, go home, eat something, sleep - has been shaken up a touch.

Since my last post, I've gone through a bunch of different jobs, mostly through a temp agency (which shall remain nameless, due to the size of the local work pool). I initially singed up for the organization as a graphic designer/writer, responding to an ad on Craigslist. But, in an effort to keep me busy, the agency gets me work doing a variety of things while waiting for the design work to materialize.

Hence, my first job is data entry/research/telemarketing for a software company, followed by folding clothes for a major department store, distributing translator radio receivers for the Chinese head tax apology forum held in Vancouver, and stuffing plastic yo-yos into plastic bags for an event sponsored by a major oil company. Somewhere in the middle, I am informed that the expected design job has failed to materialize. I don't know if it's fair to assume this, but does it seem odd for a person with a university degree to be stuffing yo-yos in plastic bags?

I am much happier in my current situation, having recently taken a position for an electronics and media retailer as a graphic designer, which will also be unnamed, due to a series of non-disclosure agreements I have been made to sign. When compared to freelance rates, my salary is low, but considering the number of paying freelance assignments I've been doing, I'm in really good shape right about now.

But, that also involved ditching my previous employer, which I had no problem doing. What I did take exception to was the fact that "I'm not supposed to be looking for work" while I'm with the agency. I do understand the rationale, considering how much time and effort is taken in finding workers for the clients and for finding jobs for the workers. However, when I'm only working an average 12-hour work week at around $10/hr, that isn't even enough to feed me. That, and stuffing plastic yoyos in to plastic bags is about as far away from graphic design as one can get.

I recently celebrated my 29th birthday, and for once, it was actually ON my birthday. Given the fact that many of my friends have moved to other cities, it's slightly challenging to get anyone together for any reason at all. Plus, as we get older, responsibilities and other lives start taking over.

The day at work was fairly uneventful. Having recently started my job, I barely have any contact with people outside of my department, except for someone I used to work with a loooooong time ago, I didn't even bother telling anyone that it was birthday. Outside of work is a different story.

As mentioned in previous blogs, at my Capoeira studio, we have a tradition called the birthday roda, where each student has to play against everyone else, with the added challenge, as they have the mandate to attempt to take you down. Given the fact that I've been studying Capoeira for over three years (I am going to test for my next belt in September), the other students have an understanding of my abilities and are going to be a lot less likely to hold back (and I don't even consider myself that good, especially compared to some of the other students). As a consequence, I hit the ground several times, I have been kicked in the head and took a hard kick to the ribs. It now hurts to laugh, cough and sneeze, even three days after the initial injury.

It's no wonder why fellow birthday girl Elaine ("Canela") opted out of birthday rodas two years in a row. But, because of that, I made a point of informing EVERYONE at the studio of the fact that her birthday was the same as mine, and that she missed the last two birthday rodas. I admire her spirit - despite her unwillingness, she actually played a lot longer than I did, considering the much larger class. However, I haven't seen her at class since. Hmm...

Karaoke night followed, in which I had my other crew, apart from my regular Print Futures/Karaoke peeps show up. Apart from pressuring my friends into singing (why should I have all the fun making an ass out of myself in front of a bunch of total strangers?), I was up on stage a few times, most notably taking a crack at Five For Fighting's "It's Not Easy" (you can sort of make out some of the lyrics in the photo) and Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places."

And then there was dancing at Chicago's afterwards. I don't remember much from that...

I should be moved into my new digs by next week. I've been doing lots of painting in the meantime. I used to have a job as a house painter (mostly exteriors), and I gotta say, it's not so much the paint that I mind doing as the preparation work. Paint will peel off of improprerly prepared surfaces like sunburnt flesh. Disgusting analogy, yes, but I realized this as I was applying TSP (trisodium phosphate, a cleaning agent) to the door frames, on which the previous occupants used water-based latex paint over oil-based paint.

This compounded with all the other number of DIY housing mess-ups reveals a bunch of stuff that we didn't see when we first bought the place and the furniture was still in place. So far, all the flooring has been torn out and is being replaced, which is a very slow process. They should be fixing up the walls for painting soon...I've only done the fixture painting so far (ie: behind stove, toilet, and refrigerator).

Before/after pics of the digs to come.

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SO LONG, STINKTOWN!

After years of living in the small city of Surrey, I've finally moved to New Westminster, which isn't a huge step up, but it's a step up nonetheless. Sort of a necessity (partly because Mom sold her place, but mostly because I'm sick of crossing the Port Mann bridge during rush hour), but also a benefit, as it will cut anywhere from 30-40 minutes off of a public transit ride to Vancouver, especially when you consider that if you miss the bus at Surrey Central Skytrain station, you will be waiting anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour for the next bus.

Surrey isn't actually as bad as everyone is saying, although a few of the stereotypes hold true. There are a significant number of trailer parks, Surrey Central Skytrain station is NOT a fun place to hang out at night (unless you're looking to pick fights with random strangers or score some crystal meth), and if you leave your car for long enough, it WILL be broken into. That, and apart from hanging out at the mall and waiting for the Cloverdale Rodeo, there isn't much to do out in Surrey. But on the other hand, I only met one girl who fit the "Surrey Girl" stereotype (okay, three). That, and if you keep your wits about you, you'll probably be able to make it through Surrey without witnessing a fist fight, a stabbing, and an arrest, all in the same night.

Regardless, I'm glad to be out, although I will miss the relatively clean stink-free air (unless you drive through Cloverdale) and the nearby parks, of which there are many. Additionally, I will admit that New Westminster isn't that much greater either.

I you leave with my ode to Surrey.

"Surrey Trailer Trash Girls"
Copyright and Trademark Vince, 2006.
(sung to the tune of "California Girls" by The Beach Boys)

The girls from Kits beach are so pretty
With hard bodies tanned and toned
And Richmond girls from China, you know there are no finer,
You know you'll never be alone

Educated ladies from UBC
With their intellectual fare
And the Burnaby girls with the way they talk
They all have lots of charm to spare...

I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
I wish they all could be trailer trash Surrey Girls

What I want is a girl who's had two kids
Before the age of sweet sixteen
A kinda girl who knows that she just can't say no
To a hit of meth and smoke some green

I've been all around the lower mainland and I've seen all kinda girls
But it would feel good to just get back to my hood
Back to the most skanky girls in the world...

I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
I wish they all could be trailer trash Surrey Girls

(instrumental bridge)

I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
(girls, girls, yeah I dig the...)
I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
(girls, girls, yeah I dig the...)
I wish they all could be girls from Surrey
(girls, girls, yeah I dig the...)

(fade out)

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Postcards from Puerto Vallarta: Your Mileage May Vary


Four-and-a-half-hour flight and she still couldn't solve it.


Where the f*** is my luggage?!


Acrobatics on the beach


Nightclubbing at Christie.


Punchbuggy white!


GET TO DA CHOPPA!


One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, FLOOR.


Touchdown in Vancouver. It was raining. No surprise.

After 8 days and 7 nights in Puerto Vallarta, I have the most awesome tan and a liver with the consistency of paté, and I'm pretty frickin' broke right now. Pretty much my first vacation in several years, it gave the opportunity to just cut loose and enjoy myself. As much as I miss the especially warm weather and all the friends I made while I was there, it's really good to be back home.

Among the trip highlights:

-Going to Puerto Vallarta and having my luggage go off to Manzanillo, forcing me to wear the same clothes for three days straight (I have the most understanding travel companion in the world...either that, or she has a really deficient sense of smell)
-The clubs and the perpetual drunken haze
-Walks on the beach
-The Canopy Tour, in which we visited the jungle set of the Schwarzenegger film Predator.

Some of the stuff I coulda done without:

-Having my luggage delayed for two nights
-That horrible hangover on the first night we were there
-Completely arbitrary pricing of souvenirs from the downtown market merchants, which seems to be based on the tourist's understanding of Spanish
-That nasty insect bite I received on my back (which STILL hasn't cleared)

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Postcards from Peurto Vallarta, Luggage in Manzanillo

As I write this, I am stationed at the business centre at the Holiday Inn in Peurto Vallarta, Mexico, with a really dodgy internet connection. Attempts to upload files and graphics have yielded error messages and this is costing me 35 pesos for half an hour of service, which will be up in about ten minutes.

As the title implies, I have gone two days without changes of underwear as my luggage went to Manzanila while I touched down in Peurto Vallarta. Given the number of extra trips my baggage took, it was inevitable that stuff decided to sprout legs and walk away. As a conesquence, my underwear and sock supply has been reduced by 50%, which included a pack of boxer briefs that were purchased specifically for this trip (that, and they were getting a little worn out anyway). Who the hell steals underwear (unfortunately, the question mark key doesn't seem to work on this keyboard).

Stinky clothes notwithstanding, I have been enjoying myself, but photos and pictures of the trip are pending my arrival in Vancouver this Sunday. Given the dodginess of the connection (and the fact that the keyboard is configured for Spanish use), I'm unable to upload photos.

Weather is beautiful, wish you were here.
Vince

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"With the new tri-bladed razor system, you take one stroke, it takes three!"

Through the magic of Hollywood, I am able to become a person who is 200 pounds and 6' tall. No, I didn't put on a fat suit and I wasn't put on the Hollywood training program. I was what's referred to as a photo double. This is done when an actor with a speaking role has no lines or closeups, but their character's presence is somehow required. To save costs, a photo double is used to stand in for the actor, as they are typically paid significantly less than an actor.

Being that the character in question ("Jose") was blown to smithereens in the previous scene (and hence, would not have anymore speaking lines), I was called in to stand in for him. Upon closer inspection of the actor' s photo, the resemblance is difficult to see. For starters, the actor in question is Hispanic, while I am Asian. Plus, I have significantly more facial hair (which was promptly trimmed to match...sort of). And on top of that, the guy outweighs me by about fifty pounds.

This was all done for the locally shot action flick, Rogue, starring Jet Li and Jason Statham. Given the fact that my face is not shown in close up, no one will probably notice anyway. As it is, my head is halfway sticking into a hole in the wall. But, I can think of worse ways to make $20/hour.

I still remember the last time I played a bloodied corpse. I was helping out an indie filmmaker with his short film, Waterfalls, in which I was playing Dead Asian Gangster #5 (listed in the credits as "Betrayed #5"). Not having time to shower, I just went on public transit as is. I had the whole row of seats all to myself. I probably shoulda gone into the nearest drug store and asked for a single bandage.

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I call it the Rubik's Cube for masochists.

Between job applications, one-off gigs, and freelance writing/design assignments, I have a stupid amount of free time, which allows me to pursue other interests.

I had a Rubik's Cube when I was a wee lad, but with my attention span being the way it was, my idea of solving it involved re-arranging the stickers. By extention, given the shortness of my attention span at the time, only on rare occasions would I be able to arrange the stickers in the proper colour configuration.

While the Rubik's Cube was long-lost to moving and transitions from childhood to adolescence (either that, or I just left it somewhere and forgot where I put it), I eventually discovered something called a Square-1, a variation on the Rubik's Cube. While it is constructed in three layers (similar to the Rubik's Cube), the vertical layer is offset at an angle. As a result, the configuration will not always be in a cube shape. With my attention span still shredded (and then attending film school, which left me no spare time whatsoever), my idea of solving it didn't involve rearranging the stickers (it would be pointless, given the variable shape of the puzzle), but entering the data into a computer program, after which it would give instructions on how to solve it.

A few years later, I rekindled my interest in cube puzzles and then purchased a whole whack of them from Mefferts.com and Rubiks.com. Many of them sat on the shelf and collected dust until the past few weeks, where I downloaded all of the necessary guides from the internet and actually learned how to solve them.

The Pyraminx (manufactured by Mefferts) is one of the first 3D puzzles made. As it only has four sides (hence, "Pyraminx"), This can be solved in about 12 or so moves. I remember bringing it to an interpersonal communications class on the last day of classes, as our assignment was to do an oral presentation on interpersonal communications and to bring along a metaphor. I solved the Pyraminx in under 10 seconds, while I held up a Rubik's Cube, unable to solve it. My rationale for the metaphor was that solving a puzzle such as the Pyramix will often leave one side happy ("solved") while the other side dissatisfied ("unsolved"). But, with proper technique and practice, one can maintain balance between sides and have a positive outcome.

In the class held the hour before, one of my classmates mixed up the Rubik's Cube, thinking I knew how to solve it. I didn't at the time. Another classmate mused, "You mixed up his metaphor!"

The Rubik's Cube is the one everyone knows and loves (or hates). The solving record is under 15 seconds. It took me about a week to memorize all of the steps one needs to solve it (start with top edges, then corners, then middle edges, then bottom corners, then edges) and it takes me around 2 minutes to solve it.

The Megaminx is particularly challenging, considering that it has 12 sides. As the version I got had stickers that were already falling off, I elected to custom paint it instead, which eliminates the ability to re-arrange the stickers. Unfortunately, given the panels, if the faces aren't perfectly aligned when turning, pieces tend to pop off. I can't solve the puzzle without it falling apart in my hands, so it stays on the shelf.

The Professor's Cube (pictured) is considered a harder variant, although it's not so much as more difficult as it simply takes more time to solve. Since it has 5 layers (as opposed to Rubik's 3 layers), it requires many more steps. However, once one figures it out, you do not actually need to memorize specific steps to arrange the pieces (at least in the earlier steps). The current official record is under 2 minutes. It takes me about half an hour. Because the version I have utilizes permanently glued-on plastic tiles, one does not have the option of re-arranging the stickers. What makes this puzzle harder is the mechanics. Two versions are manufactured, one by Mefferts/East Sheen and the other by Rubik's. The Rubik's version is notoriously fragile (they actually sell replacement parts on their website), while the Mefferts/East Sheen version uses a superior mechanism, which is more durable, but tends to jam up.

Apparently, Rubik's is in the process of designing and manufacturing a 6-layered cube. Given the fact that it would be 6 layers by 6 layers by 6 layers, I suppose that would quite figuratively make it the Rubik's Cube from hell.

I seriously need a girlfriend.

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Under most normal circumstances, I would probably welcome a shorter working day, but considering that I don't have anything better to do otherwise (and I really need the time to get my stuff done), I'd prefer to have the time.

And then some dullard decided to phone in a bomb threat.

While doing a one-off gig for UBC Applied Research and Evaluation Services, I was working away at my latest ***** **** ******** (censored by order of Non-Disclosure Agreement) when I was called into the meeting area for an emergency meeting.

"We're all getting a raise, right?" I quip.

Not exactly.

As we gather around, we quickly learn that somebody phoned in a bomb threat. Given the very convenient timing of this event, this is something that UBC deals with on a regular basis, especially during final exams (they did the same thing in the movie Road Trip). The RCMP is confident that this is merely a hoax, but no one really can afford to take a chance on this one, especially if it turns out to be real.

I remember the last bomb threat on campus. This was about the spring of 2001, when I was an extra on the set of Stark Raving Mad. As parts of the film were shot at the Chan Center Building for the Performing Arts at UBC, when they called in the bomb threat, everyone had to evacuate the building. That was a good thing because they actually paid us for the time we spent waiting for them to clear the building.

But anywho, the RCMP supposedly searched the buildings and found nothing, and then downgraded the threat, but we still vacated the offices at 3:30. That cost me an hour worth of productivity. I'm wondering if someone's done a study on how much money is lost to hoax bomb threats annually just because one student felt that he or she needed more time to study for a final exam.

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In memoriam:
Victor Pui-Kay Yim,
July 5th 1937-April 16th 2004

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For the past week and a bit, my laser printer has told me that it's running out of colour toner, namely yellow, cyan, and magenta. The main reason why I decided to get a colour laser printer was due to the fact that inkjet printers tend to burn through cartridges much faster, and are by extention more expensive to maintain.

This is referred to as the "razor and blades" business model, in which a relatively inexpensive peripheral requires the purchase of consumable products. In this case, the printer cost is negligable until you factor in the consumable ink. As well, clauses within the warranty indicate that using ink and toner "not recommended by the manufacturer" will void the warranty.

Which brings us back to the story. According to the diagnostic tools bundled with the printer, I am down to less than 1% toner in the colour cartridges, which means that i only have 8 pages left, based on a 12.5% page coverage. After a few quick phone calls and searching the 'net, I determine that replacement cartridges will cost around the nighbourhood of $99.99 USD + conversion if ordered directly from HP, while they don't seem to be available from outlets such as London Drugs.

So, I call up the local toner refiller shop and they'd be willing to refill preexisting cartridges for $99/throw. Noting that I still have "8 pages left," I decide to burn off as much toner as possible by printing up numerous copies of my Major Studio Production cover. About 30 or 40 pages later, I still have "8 pages left."

I really don't know who I'm supposed to believe at this point. Given the number of shenanigans that computer printer companies have been known to play with consumers, this doesn't really surprise me at all. My printer is equipped with 2000-sheet capacity colour cartridges, of which, it has only printed about 700-some odd pages. Even after 30-40 pages on the "8 pages left" status, there is no deterioration in image quality.

Methinks I still have several months to go before it actually starts running out of toner. Considering that I haven't been doing tons of colour printing and it's been running for less than a year, there's really no reason for this at all.

And then I discovered a company that sells compatible catridges (4000-sheet capacity) at $89/throw, shipping included. And they're local too. I'm going with them when my printer toner goes for real.

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With school officially over and done with, having handed in my final assignment on Friday, I am summarily tossed out into the cold and scary world of job seeking and student loan repayment. But at least I still have access to the Print Futures work room.

Speaking of which, hey, all three colour cartridges of toner are on their way to emptiness on my printer.

All things considered, though, life is good, although I'm too busy fighting the crack-addicted den mother of all colds to notice. I've been coughing up all sorts of crap slimy and salty, like I haven't been able to get over a cold that I caught in February. So, either it's the same cold, or I've caught three different cold viruses and wasn't immune to any of them.

So, I'm quasi-employed at this moment -- freelance writing assignments still need to be handed in (more than likely for Monday, I'm-a-thinking), although I know I have more coming up (one local filmmaker wants me to cover his next film in August). I still have to go through Craigslist and Jeff Gaulin to see what's out there (I'm in the process of de-stressing right now...that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it).

However, I did my first small payment for my work just last Saturday. As part of my program graduation, my peers and colleagues all present their portfolios to prospective employers. As everyone has an individual table, they have little giveaways like business cards and resumes. Not to be outdone, I self-published about a hundred comic books, all printed on double-sided 8.5x11" paper, folded in half, and stapled. Being that it only cost printer toner and paper, I decided to try my hand at selling these to local comic book shops. I made one sale to RX Comics on Main and Broadway and I currently have two copies on consignment at The ComicShop on W. 4th in Vancouver.

So, my next step is self-promotion. There are more shops in town that I need to approach, plus there is an upcoming comic book convention in June which I would like to attend as a guest. Additionally, there is a show on CiTR radio called InkStuds, which is about comic books.

Right now, I'm upgrading my skill set by teaching myself Adobe Illustrator CS2, having continued to milk my student status by purchasing a piece of software that normally retails for $1200 for just over $300. Yes, I purchased Adobe Creative Suite 2, which gives me access to Photoshop, Illustrator, InDesign, and Acrobat. Sure, I could find the fell-off-the-back-of-a-truck version and use that money to buy more important things like paper and toner, but this way I know I support the hard-working folks at Adobe who need the money to support their caffeine addictions.

Now it's back to work for me.

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