i never thought i’d say this but......

I can’t look at chocolate right now.

My friends treated me to a nice lunch today complete with 3 huge slices of cake complete with sparklers. Woah man, that cake was huuuuge! One slice was double the height of your regular puny slice, layered alternately with chocolate cake and chocolate cream, then smothered magnificently with Oreo bits, chocolate chips or marshmallows. We barely got through half of it before feeling a little overchocked, too rich too sweet.


My chocolate tolerance level is as high as Elton John is gay. Which means very, very, very. Chocolate qualifies as one of my major food groups and can be eaten at any time of the day, on any occasion or lack thereof, in any mood or state of mind. It is a natural aphrodisiac, face-lifter and anti-depressant rolled into one - a viagrabotoxprozac miracle. If there’s no chocolate in heaven, I’m not going. Better have a chocolate waterfall à la Willy Wonka as well.

But this chocolate was just too sweet and in the end, we went with arteries and synapses so clogged with chocolate that nausea set in. What a beautiful way to remember my 22nd birthday: The day I got sick from chocolate. And I got a beautiful box of chocolates for a present as well.

22. *sigh* There’s no escaping being a responsible, mature, sensible adult now. 21 is the year of transition, or otherwise affectionately known as the year of denial. 21 is the year with the ‘perks’, the right to watch R rated movies and to vote (uh-huh). 22 is just adding another line of chalk to the wall of your cell, no more niceties until you’re 65. You’re just another face, another number, another slave, work work work and contribute to society!

Let’s have another year of denial shall we? And maybe a few more after that. I don’t feel like a responsible, mature, sensible adult yet.

dumbass douchebaggery

I have no Internet because my $#% roommate cancelled it WITHOUT telling me.

'Oh because we (him and his dimwit girlfriend) are going to Asia so we don't want to pay and not use it for 3 months' Meanwhile, I'm in this damn city for another month with no Internet.

He could have asked them to cancel it only a month later, or leave me to settle the cancellation and I would have gladly paid for that month alone. Not that I need to, since my lease clearly says that internet is included in the rent.

So well, I'll be posting sporadically and possible with heavy backdating. In the meantime, here are some amusing links I've been meaning to post.

Pablo Francisco - One man, one desiYUR!

Judson Laipply - The evolution of crazy dance moves that somehow we thought were cool haha.

the politically correct little red riding hood

__________________________

Disclaimer: Although I DO enjoy being called a genius, this little gem is sadly not my doing - It's the brainchild of a writer called James Finn Garner from his book 'Politically Correct Bedtime Stories' which has been spawned at least one variant, from both of which this little splicing came to be. But you can continue calling me a genius if you like, I don't mind.

___________________________

There once was a young person named Little Red Riding Hood who lived on the edge of a large forest full of endangered owls and rare plants that would probably provide a cure for cancer if only someone took the time to study them.

Red Riding Hood lived with a nurture giver whom she sometimes referred to as "Mother," although she didn't mean to imply by this term that she would have thought less of that person if a close biological link did not in fact exist. Nor did she intend to denigrate the equal value of nontraditional households, and she was sorry if this was the impression conveyed.

One day her mother asked her to take a basket of organically grown fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house.

"But mother, aren't you oppressing me by ordering me to do this?"

Red Riding Hood's mother pointed out that it was impossible for women to oppress each other, since all women were equally oppressed until all women were free.

"But mother, then shouldn't you have my brother carry the basket, since he's an oppressor, and should learn what it's like to be oppressed?"

Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her brother was attending a special rally for animal rights, and besides, this wasn't stereotypical women's work, but an empowering deed that would help engender a feeling of community.

"But won't I be oppressing Grandma, by implying that she's sick and hence unable to independently further her own selfhood?"

But Red Riding Hood's mother explained that her grandmother wasn't actually sick or incapacitated or mentally handicapped in any way, although that was not to imply that any of these conditions were inferior to what some people called "health." Thus Red Riding Hood felt that she could get behind the idea of delivering the basket to her grandmother, and so she set off.

Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place, but Red Riding Hood knew that this was an irrational fear based on cultural paradigms instilled by a patriarchal society that regarded the natural world as an exploitable resource, and hence believed that natural predators were in fact intolerable competitors. Other people avoided the woods for fear of thieves and deviants, but Red Riding Hood felt that in a truly classless society all marginalized peoples would be able to "come out" of the woods and be accepted as valid lifestyle role models.

On her way to Grandma's house, Red Riding Hood passed a woodchopper, and wandered off the path, in order to examine some flowers. She was startled to find herself standing before a Wolf, who asked her what was in her basket. Red Riding Hood's teacher had warned her never to talk to strangers, but she was confident in taking control of her own budding sexuality, and chose to dialogue with the Wolf.

She replied, "I am taking my Grandmother some healthful snacks in a gesture of solidarity."

The Wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone."

Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop an alternative and yet entirely valid world view. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would prefer to be on my way."

Red Riding Hood returned to the main path, and proceeded towards her Grandmother's house. But because his status outside society had freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the Wolf knew of a quicker route to Grandma's house.

He burst into the house and ate Grandma, a course of action affirmative of his nature as a predator. Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist gender role notions, he put on Grandma's nightclothes, crawled under the bedclothes, and awaited developments.

Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, "Grandma, I have brought you some cruelty-free snacks to salute you in your role of wise and nurturing matriarch."

The Wolf said softly, "Come closer, child, so that I might see you."

Red Riding Hood said, "Goddess! Grandma, what big eyes you have!"

"You forget that I am optically challenged."

"And Grandma, what an enormous, what a fine nose you have."

"Naturally, I could have had it fixed to help my acting career, but I didn't give in to such societal pressures, my child."

"And Grandma, what very big, sharp teeth you have!"

The Wolf could not take any more of these speciesist slurs, and, in a reaction appropriate for his accustomed milieu, he leaped out of bed, grabbed Little Red Riding Hood, and opened his jaws so wide that she could see her poor Grandmother cowering in his belly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Red Riding Hood bravely shouted. "You must request my permission before proceeding to a new level of intimacy!"

The Wolf was so startled by this statement that he loosened his grasp on her. At the same time, the woodchopper burst into the cottage, brandishing an axe.

"Hands off!" cried the woodchopper.

"And what do you think you're doing?" cried Little Red Riding Hood. "Bursting in here like a Neanderthal, trusting your weapon to do your thinking for you! Sexist! Speciesist! How dare you assume that womyn and wolves can't solve their own problems without a man's help! If I let you help me now, I would be expressing a lack of confidence in my own abilities, which would lead to poor self-esteem and lower achievement scores on college entrance exams. "

When she heard Red Riding Hood's impassioned speech, Grandma jumped out of the wolf's mouth, seized the woodchopperperson's ax, and cut his head off. After this ordeal, Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and the wolf felt a certain commonality of purpose. They decided to set up an alternative household based on mutual respect and cooperation, and they lived together in the woods happily ever after.

mcgill admin - f%^king things up one at a time

Hypothesis: McGill Admin is f$%king messed up.

Evidence: Accounts of all kinds of stupidity, stupidity never before known!

#1:
McGill Admin evicted the Muslim Students' Association from their allocated prayer space. McGill's main assertion is that it is a secular institution and that they have no obligations to provide space for any religious purpose. The students started praying outdoors in the summer months and even out in the snow as winter approached, prompting them to launch a complaint with the Quebec Human Rights Commission. Almost one year into the brouhaha for a multi-faith space, one common area for people with any religious obligation, the Provost maintains that McGill has no 'legal obligation' to do so.

OMFG, it's not like they're asking you to build a mosque on campus for them. What is a secular institution? Is it one devoid of all religion? NO, it is not. It is about not having a religious basis of operations, about not allowing religion to dictate administrative affairs, not favoring the adherents of one religion over another. While it is true that other major religions have their own off-campus prayer space, Islam is the only faith that requires its believers to pray at 5 specific times of the day, a few at which they are likely to be on campus. Legal obligation my ass, be a human for once.

#2:
18th January was break-your-neck day, when Montreal experienced freezing rains and EVERYthing was iced over. Considering how slopy this city and the university is, inch-thick slab of ice on the pavements and roads meant that even if you did not slip and break your neck by yourself, a car could very easily skid and crash into you. No joke. And of course, McGill did NOT cancel classes.

Not a single word for the Admin, no email no announcements no diddlysquat. Professors and students alike risked their lives going to school that day. As a university, I seriously advise against dead professors and students. It's just not a good idea.

#3:
I don't know how McGill Admin schedules exam finals, but they can't be putting very much brainjuice into it. Explain to me how it makes sense to schedule a 85% final on a Wednesday when the last lecture was on Monday, the very Monday 2 days before the final. I won't even be surprised if there were finals scheduled for the day after the last class. Explain to me how that makes sense.

And if they're gonna schedule an exam, explain to me how they can allocate only enough room for half the class? They missed out half the alphabet of last names and this is supposed to be one of the top universities in Canada! Ok they know their ABCs i'll give them that, but only up till L. 15 mins before the exam and nowhere to go. Invigilators' job seems to consist of chatting and telling bewildered students to go search for the Admin to settle their own problem. Right. Brilliant job guys.

#4:
The Sexual Assault Centre of McGill Students' Society has been evicted from its confidential night office. AGAIN. It is a volunteer student-run operation that provides free service and counselling to sexual assault victims. It has entertained several hundred calls within the last academic year to listen and comfort after business hours, without need for identification or waiting lines. The Faculty Advisor for SACOMSS is the Head of McGill's Psychiatry department, lending credence to its professionalism despite its voluntary nature.

Sad as it is, sexual assault happens and it can happen even on campus and in the residences. Without sliding into any generalizations, women tend to be the victims of sexual assault. (Face it, if a woman walked around in a trenchcoat flashing guys on campus, the guys would gawk. Except for saggy lumpy crinkly... ok I'll stop there.) Already victimized once by the assailant and now a second time by McGill Admin by their unwillingness to allow proper space for support service? The students who run it can death threats for goodness sake! Overcrowding schmovercrowding. Evicting a key student welfare society like SACOMSS to 'make more space' is bullshit considering they only need '70 square feet, a desk, two phone jacks, a filing cabinet – in a different building from the day office' and only at night. It doesn't take much to take a day-only office for night use. How about the childcare centre? How about the Accomodations office?

#5:
It's been 5 months since we've registered for Winter courses, 2 weeks since we've ended Winter Term and 3 weeks to convocation for some. Most people are preparing to up and go, their family is flying in for the occasion aaaand a friend has been told he's 2 credits short for graduation. His family is flying in real soon and the for sale sign is already on his apartment. This after the advisor told him he needed only 4 credits in the last term to complete his undergraduate studies. He signed up for 6 and apparently he needed 8. Now we know that McGill Admin don't know their ABCs, now we also know they can't count. 'This ain't shit hittin' any old regular fan, this is explosive diarrhea hittin' the industrial fan.'

Conclusion: McGill Admin IS f$%king messed up. Boy am I glad to be getting out from this shithole.

hi i'm here for the crabs on a leash?

I heard about the Quebec Snow Crab not too long ago. It's a species indigenous to the Canadian Atlantic provinces, supposed to be really sweet and succulent... but crab season is very short, in fact, almost over!! Living by my firm principle that no crab season can end before I get my hands on- or teeth in- one, I headed out to Jean Talon market with a bunch of friends on Friday. My mind was saturated with crabcrabcrabcrabcrab that when we arrived, I almost walked right past a chocolate truffle stand.

Me no walk past no chocolate.

A jolly bald guy missing a few teeth welcomed us with little swabs of truffles from a pot. That’s right, truffle in a pot, how often do you see that?! To solve the problem of melting truffles in the summer sun he said. ALL the chocolate is hand-made, or more precisely, home-made by his wife who gets ‘pregnant’ with each recipe and carries it to perfection. The name of their chocolate is ‘Les Amourgandises’, a wonderful play on the words amour (love) and gourmandise (greediness) that of course, are the basic concepts that governs the relationship of any sane normal person with chocolate.

________________________

Truffles with porto:
Fairly normal pairing, but the first time I’ve had it. And it was gooooood. The sweetness of the port wine really brings out the semisweetness of the chocolate.

Truffles with rum and papaya juice:
While rum is very commonly incorporated in chocolate, but papaya juice?? Curious as it may seem at first, the subtle papaya lends a touch of fruitiness that makes the truffle a bit more memorable than a normal rum one.


Truffles with Grand Marnier and Lennoxville pimentos:
As we were told to expect, it hits you in 3 waves – the semisweet chocolate, the sweet Grand Marnier then the mildly spicy pimentos which lingers on your tongue. As with many spicy chocolates, I expected the flat powdery aftertaste of chili powder but there was none. The spiciness was full-bodied thanks to that row of pimentos (given fresh by a friend from Lennoxville who grows it) strung up, air-dried and ground for that authentic taste.

Caramel:
Ok, normally I hate caramel. Hate as in bleargh yeeerg arrrgh hate. It’s too damn sweet and is topped on my instant diabetes list only by the baklava floundering in syrup that I had in Turkey once. But this home-made caramel! It was thick yet not too sweet, ... But I still wouldn’t eat a whole bunch of it.

_________________________

A little stomach growling drew us to a sausage and ribs stand, but no ordinary pork sausages here but made from game. Buffalo on a stick anyone? Wild boar? They tasted, how do I say this without incurring ridicule, ........ meaty, really very... meaty, the way beef tastes more meaty than say chicken. It just feels fuller and bloodier somehow, too bad it was a tad too salty.

I also managed to sample la tire d’érable, even though it was likely leftovers since sugaring season in this area is over. La tire d’érable is basically maple syrup tapped from a maple tree that is heated and thickens on cooling to form a more viscous gel served in a plain mini-cone. It reminded me a lot of the malt sugar candy (麦芽糖 ) that we get at the pasar malam.

Finally, I went to get my crab. I had actually gone to the live crab stand a bit earlier, just to recce the prices for a bit and so I asked the guy how long the crabs would keep off ice if I still intended to walk around the market for a bit. He said laughingly,

‘You want to walk around some, you take the leash and walk the crabs with you!’

Then he added that they closed only at 8pm and not to worry, there is always a supply of freshly boiled crabs. So when I came back to the stand about an hour later, I promptly quipped,

‘Hi I’m here for the crabs on a leash?’

With a laugh, he bagged two halves for me and charges me C$11. One crab. C$11. Wah piang, it’d better be tastier than my 3 for S$10 mud crabs.

I just steamed the crab for a bit and made a little sauce with whatever I had in the fridge, kind of a mishmash replacement remoulade. To accompany it, we seared some button mushrooms, pan-fried potato cubes with herbs and tossed a green salad. The result? Ta-daaaaaa!


Verdict:
The crab smelt very fishy, but don’t let the nose judge what the mouth is supposed to. The meat is very sweet and the shell is soft enough such that the long leg segments can be opened up without fuss. You just bite along the long edge and use your fork as you would a letter-opener and flip it right open like a book. It tasted really good on its own and really needed no dipping sauce, though I did enjoy it with the dip a lot. The flesh is much more fragile than the mud crabs or Sri Lankan crabs, not as firm for sure and its sweetness and long legs remind me a lot of the spider crabs I had when I was in Hokkaido. (Apparently, another name for snow crab is spider crab so I guess they're one and the same.) Snow crab season is ending in a week or two at most. What I would really like to do now is to get a live crab and boil it myself to see if it still has that fishy smell, and also to see if I can get any of the roe which is usually heavenly, especially in chili crabs… mmmm.

Can’t wait to go home and have crabs. Chili crab, black pepper crab, white pepper crab, crab bee hoon…. Mmm… And that’s only the crab part of my To Eat When I Go Home list…

imola, sunday 1 may 1994

No one could have predicted just how nightmarishly unforgettable the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix would become.

Friday practice ended with Rubens Barrichello in hospital after a heavy crash going into Rivazza. Saturday qualifying saw Roland Ratzenberger suffer a front wing failure and crashed into a concrete wall off Villeneuve corner where he died instantly. The mood on race day, as I imagine it must have been, was sombre. The unyielding desire to outpace bugged by a very suppressed yet palpable vulnerability.

The red lights go out aaaaand they're off! Wheels digging into the tarmac for traction, engines spitting out as many horses as they can, the chassis piercing through the humid Italian air! A 2-car incident hurls debris into the spectators and out comes the Safety Car. For the next 4 laps, there is no overtaking as the cars slow down and close up the gap, weaving left and right to keep their tyres warm. The rolling restart. Triple world champion Ayrton Senna leads the pack, chased by a very young Michael Schumacher.

The Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari was very fluid and exhilarating fast, characterized then by the intense flat-out 6th gear stretch from the start-finish to the infamous Tamburello Curve, a good full 10 seconds at 300km/h. It was at Tamburello where Senna's FW16 Williams went off and straight into a concrete wall.


Today, Tamburello has been forcibly slowed down with a chicane. But even as the cars puttputtputt by in 2nd gear, the wall that claimed Senna still stands, an unofficial memorial of its victim. Perhaps prophetically, Michael Schumacher won that race and would go on to clinch his first (of seven) world title with Benetton. Poor Ratzenberger though, he will always be known as 'The one that died before Senna'.

Ayrton Senna died on Sunday, 1 May 1994.
He was 34 years old, and already 3 times world champion.
The Brazilian demi-god. Gone to the great racing track in the sky.

Ayrton Senna (1960-1994)
"Racing, competing, it's in my blood. It's part of me, it's part of my life;
I have been doing it all my life and it stands out above everything else."