splash and dash

The lack of internet has done nothing to inspire my lack of writing.

I'm in Romania right now, doing a francophone summer programme. It's really flattering to know that people think I'm French from the way I speak. Nice to know that 6 years of school and 2 years in France has some reward.

Right now, I'm trying to pick up some Romanian on the go while trying to corrupt my nice Romanian roommate with Singlish. She does a pretty good 'Wah piang eh!' I have got to take a video of her saying it.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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."

a price to pay for the road less traveled by?

It's finally over. 3 long years of hard work and sweat... (who am I kidding... only ONE year of hard work and sweat *hehehe*) and I'm more than halfway through my programme. It's over!! Now let me rejoice in the sweet bubble called denial and not think of the steady pace at which I'm edging towards working life.

But as the curtain falls on my undergrad years, I see my friends preparing for their convocation, the culmination of their 3 years of Tim Horton's coffee (or any other drug of choice) at 2 am, furious 20-page paper seasons, honing their ability to survive four days with less than 8 hours of sleep in total and somehow still manage to come up with something coherent about the artful use of rhetoric to obscure a lack of content. In a month's time, they'll be in their graduation garb, waiting for a piece of paper that they exhausted themselves for.

And their family will be on hand to partake in their joy.
The vicarious celebration of an opportunity that wasn't.
The emotional realisation that children do grow up.
The anxious attempt to capture that shaking-hands-with-the-dean moment.

Then I realize I'm not going to have that.

In a country where the education system is built on the principle of education for all, where the very low tuition costs are paid for by taxpayers, education is valued in a different way. A year in a public university in France costs around 350 Euros, of which 180 or so is for socialized health insurance. Our exams are graded on a scale of 20 and 10-12 is a satisfactory grade. I cannot see a McGill student being happy with a C- and there is virtually no way of getting an A in France (or 17/20 - unless of course I'm taking that damn mandatory english course teehee). I still think 85% for an A is friggin' ridiculous.

If you fail a year, you redo it, simple as that. If you're not happy with your course 2 years into the programme, start afresh. If you prefer a technical diploma, just go for it. While I understand that this is probably one of the reasons why I know at least a couple of 30+ year olds still in school after so many years. What I do admire about this mindset though is that there's so much less hemming and hawwing, fewer what if this what if that. Because education is cheap, it is flexible, there is room to navigate and explore till you find your niche (Not that I can exploit this anyway). There is no background talk of wasting your time and wasting your life. So at the end of 3 years, it's not so much an achievement or a milestone as a turning of a page, there is no need for fanfare.

I hope it doesn't disappoint you, Pa and Ma, that there will be no fancy pictures for a yearbook, no formal ceremony, no mortarboard to toss in the air.

A price to pay for the road less traveled by?
It's no price, it's just a circumstance that will make all the difference.

should be doing work but blogging about F1 instead

I haven't been blogging much lately cos I've been saddled by TONS of work (although i know some people who definitely have more than me). I don't have that list of x assignments, y projects and z essays lah... I can only 'boast' 2 essays, 1 term paper and 1 oral presentation only but nevertheless, I can attest to the fact that McGill is no joke. If it is, I don't get it.

Anyway, i just HAD to blog when i saw this on the BBC. Singapore is preparing a bid to host a Formula 1 race! YESSssssss! Just what I've been saying for ages. It's good for tourism, no need to set $1000 entry for Singaporeans and just plain ol' heaven for racing fans like me!

Spanish city Valencia, Greece, Russia and South Africa have also declared their interest in hosting a race. Mexico had also made plans to return to the F1 calendar while an Indian Grand Prix and a second race in the United States had been suggested.

Without knowing any of the actual details regarding race track location and track design for example, I think Singapore will face tough competition in this bid. The FIA has always been eager to decentralizing the Grand Prix, especially since Formula 1 has always been very eurocentric. In the 2000 season, 11 of 17 races were in Europe. The 18 races of the ongoing 2006 season are slightly more dispersed: 4 in Asia/Australia, 3 in the Americas, 2 in the Middle East and 9 in Europe.

How un-europeanized Bernie Ecclestone will want his F1 kingdom to be, I don't know. But Europe has had a long affair with Formula 1, a long torid affair peppered with triumphs and deaths and raised the population on tyre scraps and fuel vapours. Europe is sure to remain a staple of F1 racing. I would count Valencia out of the race, since Catalunya has been the favoured track for the past 15 years i think, and even so, Jerez would be the hopeful runner-up as it's one of the most popular test tracks around. Greece and Russia, while European, are not Western European, and so stand a chance as the exotic bastard brothers. South Africa may be a strong contender as the only hopeful candidate of the African continent. Mexico and India, I don't really have an opinion as of right now and for USA, I think they prefer their NASCAR and Champ Car Racing to F1, so if FIA adds a second US race, it's purely for the sake of trying to break into the American market.

**to be updated when this #$%@ viro exam is out of the way... prions prions. i love prions. maybe if i keep repeating that, i'll believe it.*

my roomie's girlfriend is a regular genius: episode 2

They Say Good Things Come in Threes

Ever wondered what happens when you leave two eggs in an uncovered pot on the stove for 45 mins by which time all the water evaporates and the eggs burst open?

Wonder no more.


And just when you think it takes real skill to screw up hard-boiled eggs? She does it TWICE - in the same day. And did I mention she did it a third time a week or so later?

I feel SO normal!

swearing to uphold

On Wednesday, March 1st, 2006, in Annapolis at a hearing on the proposed Constitutional Amendment to prohibit gay marriage, Jamie Raskin, professor of law at AU, was requested to testify.

At the end of his testimony, Republican Senator Nancy Jacobs said: "Mr. Raskin, my Bible says marriage is only between a man and a woman. What do you have to say about that?"

Raskin replied: "Senator, when you took your oath of office, you placed your hand on the Bible and swore to uphold the Constitution. You did not place your hand on the Constitution and swear to uphold the Bible."

The room erupted into applause.

(via Pharyngula)

bite-sized portions of instant goodness

Somewhere on St. Denis is Suite 88 Chocolatier.

The chocolates sit in glass display cases, each single piece on a single square white plate. Two chocolate-coated cherries sit in the next case, along with a handful of chocolate-coated cranberries and three delicate chocolate-coated tuiles. It’s all very minimalist: White walls, white plates, beautiful chocolate. It’s so chic that calling it chocolate makes it sound plain and boorish, it’s definitely more chocolat than chocolate.

I love being adventurous with chocolat with new exotic flavours, especially after my trip to Paris and Bruges last spring. There’s a lovely shop, on île St-Louis along the Seine called Cacao et Chocolat, where I was introduced to strange new flavours like cayenne pepper, cardamom and Venezuelan Tonka bean. (What the hell is a tonka bean?? Don't know but I ate it all the same) In Bruges, the locals showed us the path to chocolat mecca, a place called Chocolate Line where I was rewarded with lemongrass and Wasabi flavours. Yeah, Wasabi, mmmm!

So anyway, i was oohing and aahing at the scrumptious sight to behold and resisting the urge to eat the shop from the inside out, when the salesgirl mentioned that a jalapeño flavour was available. And then I knew it: The bar of dark chocolate with jalapeño (jalapeño!) peppers – it just had to be mine.

This kind of chocolat you put whole in your mouth and let the flavour creep in gently and subtly. The dark chocolate itself was quite exquisite, just bitter enough to make for a good dark chocolate, yet sweet enough to draw out the spiciness of the jalapeños. Halfway as you’re savouring the chocolate, the jalapeños kick in, slowly at first then hard and fast progressively until finally all you have in your mouth is this spicy prickly aftertaste. It’s this aftertaste however, that kind of ruined the experience. It felt like a fake chili aftertaste, kind of like how you can tell when powdered chocolate is used in hot chocolates instead of chocolate syrup.

But the highlight of this chocolat expérience were the shooters. You bite the tip off and knock back the shot of liquor inside, before feasting on the lovely outer shell, letting it melt in your mouth while swirling it lightly with the liquor. Bite-sized portions of instant goodness! Mmmmm dee-lee-cious! I had a Soho lychee liquor one, which blended perfectly with the chocolate without either overpowering the other, making it smooth, fruity and chocolate-y all at the same time. It went down so well, it felt completely guiltfree! I’ll definitely be heading back to Suite 88 for more shooters, Absolut vodka, sake and Kahlua at least. I only wish they had more flavours, like Bailey’s, Manzana, Cointreau or champagne.

Here's a picture: It's amazing what Photoshop can do! And of course, I'm trying to be arty farty. Lindt chocolate shavings lying around!

now THIS is sudoku~

Sudoku is so hot now it has its own World Sudoku Championships.
Follow the link, scroll down and try your hand at their sample puzzles! It will blow. your. mind!!

Clique sur le lien et essaie les exemples du championnat sudoku.. C'est un truc de dingue~

preemptive culling

No, I’m not talking about sick birds.

Some time ago, Merck and GlaxoSmithKline each announced positive results for a vaccine that will help protect women against the human papillomavirus (HPV). HPV, a DNA virus with over a hundred strains, is more commonly sexually transmitted than one would imagine. In fact, more than 50% of all women will become infected with HPV during their lifetime, but for the most part, these are restricted to benign warts or pass undetected. There are two oncogenic strains however, which are irrefutably responsible for cervical cancer, the second most common form of cancer in women worldwide and kills about 270,000 women a year. Both vaccines are reported to prevent 90% of new infections and ALL persistent infections.

Having a vaccine is a good thing right? Not according to some religious lobby groups.

Their problem with HPV is that it is sexually transmitted, so to prevent infection, vaccination has to be carried out before a girl becomes sexually active.

Giving the HPV vaccine to young women could be potentially harmful, because they may see it as a licence to engage in premarital sex."
- Bridget Maher, Family Research Council, a Christian lobby group

Since it protects against a sexually transmitted virus at a young age, some conservatives actually think that young lusty females will be encouraged to be indulged in as much pre-marital sex as they want, because ‘Hey! I’m vaccinated!’. What these conservatives advocate is abstinence from sexual activity as the cure for all evils. This is of course, true – in theory. I’m sure these conservatives are thinking to themselves ‘My children are so virtuous, they don’t need vaccination.’.

The truth of the matter is that people are having sex, and we cannot stop them from having sex. Just as was the case for condoms, IUDs, birth control pills and abortion, these measures will surely make it less worrisome to engage in sexual activity and people may find reason to engage in sexual activity but not any more than if such measures weren’t available. An epidemiologist put it nicely: Instead of seeing the HPV vaccine as a green light for sex, why not think of it as a red light for cancer?

What moral precepts allow us to think that the risk of death is a price worth paying to encourage abstinence as the only approach to sex?"
- David Baltimore, Nobel Laureate

Do all these holier-than-thou conservatives feel that it's fair to subject all women to the restraints of their religious beliefs? My cervix is mine to protect, you piece of crap.

My theory:
The US is anticipating more casualties in Iraq and possibly Iran, Palestine, North Korea and any other country that Bush is told he shouldn’t like. The American total male-to-female ratio is already at 0.97 male per female and surely they don’t want to face the problem of too many females.

Solution? Cull the oversexed godless females!

international women's day (aka blog against sexism day)

I would like to think that women today are finally considered free and equal adults. But some people go out of their way to prove me wrong.

South Dakota has banned abortion, effectively ensuring that a bunch of men can control what a woman does with her ova. Several other states are trying to follow suit to build their backward, testosterone-run country. Undoubtedly the work of lobbyists from South Dakotan coathanger corporations.

Human Rights Watch reports that rape victims in Mexico are denied access to legal abortions and subjected to routine humiliation and insult. Of course, that's because women are just asking to be raped, yeah of course.

Even when European women do better in school than men, they will get lower pay and fewer top jobs. Screw school. My A won't beat your C because I have eggs and I might have children, so I'll take my maternity leave, triple the workload of my colleagues and lower productivity.

The UN has actually posted a world classification table of the number of women in parliament. Top on the list? Rwanda. Singapore is at #66 while USA is at #69 and France is at #84. In fact, a grand total of 13 African nations and 6 Middle Eastern countries rank ahead of the US - land of the free! The 6 female heads of state of our time belong to Ireland, Latvia, Finland, Philippines, Liberia and Chile. That's cos we're emotional and thus incapable of rational decision-making. After all, we don't want an actual thinking, feeling person in charge of a nation do we??

When can we live in a world where the mere possession of testicles and a penis cannot justify such disparity?

allez l’OM... on craint dégun~!!

Living in a soccer town is a-mazin'! PSG-OM matches are super high risk. On match days, you do NOT want to be driving a car with Parisian plates or wearing PSG purple and red. Unless you’re itching to get insulted/assaulted/your car wrecked, of course.

This time, Paris had not sold the promised number of tickets to Marseille supporters and furthermore, seated them just beneath the PSG supporters. Outnumbered and vulnerable, the club chairman had refused to send first team regulars to Paris and discouraged supporters from attending the match, fearing that someone would be killed. Riiiight... So instead they sent a side of first team benchwarmers and amateur team (= 5th division) players, because we can’t get the first team regulars killed but hey it’s ok to send sacrificial lambs? Maybe they’ll do the Puss in boots ‘hey look at me I’m so cute and unthreatening’ routine and get away with it?

In any case, this jumble of non-regular first team and 5th div players held the regulars of PSG to a nil-nil DRAW. How about that?!! Even captained by the great Pauleta, PSG fell flat on their faces in front of a bunch of 'minots'!

As you can imagine, Marseille went wild!! The celebrations must have been crazy!! I can see people jumping into le vieux port, flares, horns, smokes, the works! People stormed the train station to welcome their unlikely heroes back, with you guessed it, more flares, horns and smokes!

Aw man, I want to be back to celebrate with them again! J'suis avec vous!!

Moral of the story: Better a small marseillais than a useless parisian.

one flu over the cuckoo's nest

To be added to the list: Niger and Switzerland.

the only thing i do more than cough is pee

I've coughed and sneezed my way through a midterm and 2 papers this week. Imagine trying to write an essay while coughing your lungs out. It's like coughing your brains out. I couldn't string two sentences together without coughing them apart, much less actually formulate a proper thesis on smallpox vaccination or Isaiah Berlin's two concepts of liberty.

So far I've ingested:
4 doses of paracetemol (panadol, efferalgan, doliprane)
20 strepsils
3 mint sweets swiped from the microbiology department
12 tbsp of sea coconut brand cough syrup
8+ bowls of home-brewed herbal chicken soup
6 cups of tea
6 cups of lemon honey water
countless cups of warm water
only noodle soups for the past 4 days already

Ain't that an impressive blend of Western medicine and Chinese old wives' tales?? It certainly explains the title of this post.

my roomie’s girlfriend is a regular genius: episode 1

The One with the Grilled Potatoes

So there’s this bad burnt smell first thing in the morning. My roomie’s girl is trying to cook to impress her man again and she’s ‘grilling potatoes’ to put into soup.

What’s the best way to grill potatoes in your standard modern kitchen?
Oven maybe? Toaster? Dehhhhhh, wrong answer. Something waaaaay better than that.

Well, somehow she figured that normal people grill potatoes by putting them face down directly on the hot plate. No kidding. She cut the potatoes in two and put them face down on the heating element just like that! But of course! So now the hot plate is blackened, the apartment stinks and the potatoes are carcinogenic on one side.

And she puts the potatoes into the soup anyway.

New and improved potato soup! Now with cancer!

a

happy Darwin Day~

February 12 is one of those days where geeks congregate to celebrate their geek holidays. Happy Darwin Day everyone!

Yup, Charles Darwin is 197 years old.
A lot of people think that he was the first to put forward the idea of evolution, or that he was a godless atheist who thought we descended from monkeys and not Adam and Eve. He was neither, but he was the first to propose natural selection as a causal mechanism for evolution. Although he lacked the carbon dating and the genetic tools so readily available today, evidence in favour of evolution has been piling up steadily and still coming at. Today, the scientific community at large validates evolution as a scientific fact.

Yet today, this scientific fact is being challenged as a mere theory by a handful of smartass scientists backed by small groups of ignorant conservative wackeroos who think that they know shit. This is mainly taking place in the USA (where else?) where about 45% of the population believes that God created humans in our present form. That’s 133 million people! Let’s hope scientists find a gene for ignorance, so that we can say ‘oh no they can’t help but be deluded them poor things’. This Creationism/Intelligent Design movement is pissing the heck out of me. It is nothing but religion thinly sheathed as a science-wannabe, no way can this be called a science, no way.

Anyway, I will definitely be posting more about this issue in little bite-sized pieces: The arguments ID proponents have put forward to oppose evolution, why ID cannot be a science, some of the entirely disturbing ways in which Americans are trying to force the Bible as the only science textbook and the recent Kitzmiller vs. Dover Area School District trial. (I like to think of it as the Evo vs. Wacko case.)

In commemoration of Darwin Day, I attended a talk by Dr. Brian Alters, an expert in science education here in McGill who in fact testified in abovementioned case. He was dressed in a burgundy jacket (how special!) and a tie with the Evolution of Man motif (how apt!). *haha* There, I just had to write that down.

Happy Birthday old Charlie boy.
Abraham Lincoln was born on the same day, but February 12 is Darwin Day.
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