Friday, December 31, 2010

2010 - The Year We Made Contact

It's December 31st!  That means it's time to look back on the last 12  7 months and reflect.  That's right, this is a New Year's post.

To the best of my knowledge, such a thing has never been done before

2010 was the best year of my life.  I faced trials, tribulations, learned what the word "tribulation" meant, and came out on top.  I went on some spectacular adventures, which I promise will eventually make their way onto this blog!

Spoiler Alert: there's nudity.  Say goodbye to the PG-13!


What I learned:

What other people think of me is none of my business.  (credit to my mom)

The best way to cheer yourself up is to cheer someone else up.  (credit to Mark Twain)

Hard work is more important than talent.  (credit to Not That Kind of Girl)

There is no reason, ever, to postpone your dreams.  Make time for what matters.  Let go of what doesn't.


Finally, for those of you who took the time to dig their way through the archives, you know that this started as a practice blog.  My goal was to write 30 posts in 30 days, and I didn't tell anybody about it.  

But unbeknownst to me, Google Buzz decided to tell the world what I was doing.  I had no idea, but it was broadcasting my most private thoughts  sage observations  insane ramblings to the world! 

You guys are the reason I do this.  And chicks.  But mostly it's you guys.

The fact that you started reading my blog, unsolicited, really touches me.  Knowing that you're out there listening really feeds my vanity  soul, and encourages me to keep writing.  Sometimes forcefully (looking at you E3).

With that said, a few shout-outs are in order:

Erin:
Awarded the Gold Star of Excellence for being a great editor, an even better friend, and the boot to my neck.  Seriously, pie would not be here if it weren't for her.

Heads up for an E3 guest post in 2011!

Jasmine:
Awarded a lock of my hair (+2 to vitality) for being the first person to find my blog entirely on her own.  She is either my greatest fan or most dangerous stalker.  Either way, much love!

My Mom:
Awarded the Badge of Awesome for reading Billy Goats Gruff like, a thousand times, and always encouraging me to write.  And clean my room.  But hey, you can't win em all.

Jenn M:
Awarded the Participation Trophy for reading my entire archive in one go.  Heart.

LiLu:
Awarded a free link to her ridiculously awesome blog for being my most famous follower!  Keep raising the bar LiLu.

Also, if I eat you do I gain your powers?


Thank you to everyone who made this blog what it is.  You guys are the best.  For reals.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Southwest - Part 14

August 28th - Viva Las Vegas!

Barley able to move, I dragged myself into the car and we headed for Sin City.  I'll spare you the details of the drive, save that it was very well documented.

We arrived in Las Vegas that night.  Well, whatever passes for "night" in Vegas.

OMG, we made it you guys. We had stumbled out of the desert and into the (un)holy land.

After spending the last week in a bad post-apocalyptic movie  camping in Utah, we decided to splurge.  Cruising down the strip in our lonely Prius (seriously guys, where are the rest of the hybrids?!) we settled on the gaudiest hotel we could find: Luxor.


See that pyramid?  I lived in there.

Walking into the casino, a couple things grab your attention.  For starters, Criss Angel appears to be the main attraction, as there are giant posters of him everywhere.  All of which show him shirtless.  To be honest, I am skeptical of any performer who's main credentials are his abs. 

You can tell his career is booming, as he shares the stage with several other luminaries, most notably Carrot Top.  I'm pretty sure Luxor is where careers go to die.

Also, you can smoke indoors.  In fact, it appears there are very few things you can't do in Vegas.  Want to shoot an AK-47?  Ask the concierge.  Sex a panda?  One phone call.  Yeah, he knows a guy.

There is a strip club INSIDE the casino.

It seems the only rule in Vegas is that food must come in buffet form.

Monday, December 27, 2010

The Southwest - Part 13

August 27th - On the Road

Today we said goodbye to our Moab campsite, Arches National Park and the black widow which had taken up residence in our latrine (I named her Bertha).  

The plan was a straight drive to the Grand Canyon, stopping only for gas, water and Subway.  Oh my youthful optimism.  My father, avid photographer and ADHD poster child that he is, decided we needed to stop at every bend in the road to take pictures.  The resulting photo album reads like Google Streetview.

Packed into our claustrophobic Prius again, I began to appreciate why Kerouac took so many drugs. 

As the sun set, we finally reached the Grand Canyon.  Wow, they weren't kidding you guys.  This thing is HUGE.

I photographed this squirrel for perspective.  Okay it was because he's adorable.

The Grand Canyon is so deep and so touristy that you can throw a rock into it, get an espresso and be back in time to watch it land.  Also, it was carved by the Colorado River - which means it's a death trap.

I'm not kidding.  Everywhere you go, there are signs warning the "young and invincible" that any deviation from the main path will result in certain and protracted death.  I guess the BLM shoots to kill. 

August 28th - Challenge Accepted

OMG!  Today's post is a two-fer!  

On a completely unrelated note, it has come to my attention that people outside of Ontario don't call cases of beer "two-fours".  Then what do you call the May Two-Four long weekend?  Victoria Day?!  So you don't drink a whole case of -- FIREWORKS?!  Get out of my sight.

Okay we're back.  So we set out early the next morning to tempt fate again  tackle the canyon.  Before we began our descent, we encountered the Big Scary Sign.  It read:

1) Do not hike down to the river and back in one day.  How about half a day?

2) Do not hike between 10 am and 4 pm.  You're not my mom.

3) Take breaks every 30 minutes.  If you're a wuss.

4) Bring plenty of water.  Dude, water is HEAVY.

5) Eat plenty of snacks.  If I have to eat another Cliff bar, people will DIE.

Pausing only to take in the beautiful vistas, and dodging (with minimal success) the minefield of mule poop, I took off for the basin. 

Well I made it to down to the cursèd Colorado River and had a victory pee.  Just kidding, I hadn't peed in days.  

Unfortunately, the ease of the descent and the cool morning shade belied the perilous return trip.
Lumbering back UP the switchbacks, in the full heat of the sun, I learned a very valuable lesson.  There is a profound difference between miles hiked horizontally, and miles hiked vertically.

The canyon, which hours earlier had seemed so beautiful, now began to look something like this:











Those damn mules had made it look so easy.

Monday, December 13, 2010

The Internet is See-Through

If you're like me, you probably have a Facebook account.  In fact, everyone from your Ugandan sponsor child to your grandmother's cat is on Facebook.

For years I tried to resist its siren song, but like you, I was seduced by the promise of hundreds of friends, including everyone I ever went to high school with.  Which, by the way, means I am totally one of the cool kids now.  I even friended my mom. 

Facebook allows us to piece together a rough time line of events from the weekend, usually while frantically un-tagging ourselves from unflattering photographs.  Without it, whole generations of digital pigs would go unfed, fields of corn would be left to fallow, and wise guys everywhere would go un-whacked.  Astute insights like "my feet are cold" would be limited to those in our immediate vicinity.

Despite all this, there are those who think that sharing our personal information with thousands of our closest "friends" may not be a good idea.  Uh, don't you know that public is the new "social norm"?  Mark Zuckerberg said so.  And if I understood the movie The Social Network correctly, Mark's a stand-up guy.

So under the guise of journalistic integrity, I decided to interview one of these privacy advocates to find out just what he's smoking and if he can get me some.

We met up at a local pub, and got to talking.  While he evidently left his tinfoil hat at home, I knew his geek credentials were impeccable when he described Wikileaks as "chaotic good".  I had found the right guy, my very own Deep Throat.  If you don't know what that is, for the love of God don't Google it. 

DT, as he shall henceforth be known, told me that "the Internet is see-through".  Not comprehending in the least, I smiled and nodded, doodling in my notebook and taking a long drag of my beer.

Clearly not fooled, he explained what he meant.  We all have this impression that the Internet is some formless void, that our shared information is just lost in the ether.  That the websites we visit exist in some alternate dimension, nearly entirely separate from the physical world.

But data, all data, exists somewhere.  It is stored in countless computers and server farms, each of which has a physical location in the real world.  Our data, once shared, rarely every disappears. 

For example, being a member of the digital generation -- not to be confused with the Digimon generation of my little brother -- I have been surfing the web for over a decade.  That means there is potentially over a decade of data out there on my browser history (delete, DELETE!), the books I order, the games I play, the ads I click.

Our romanticized notion of the Internet as this formless anarchy has real implications.  Many of us, myself included, are not particularly judicious with the data we share, filling out myspace profiles (I'm dating myself here), publicly sharing our e-mail addresses on forums, gambling on online poker sites -- it's not gambling if you're good at it!

According to DT, it's not necessarily Big Brother that you should be concerned about.  The real danger comes from all the little brothers out there; the kind that are always spying on you when your friends are over, and that like to raid your piggy bank so they can buy more Digimon cards. 

He told me about the concept of "phishing", which apparently isn't about following the band Phish on tour but is actually a form of data mining.  Companies use information from your online activities to create targeted advertising.  As you can imagine, there are real financial incentives to knowing what you like.  Don't believe me?  Check out Google Dashboard.

Now, this in itself is not necessarily a bad thing.  Despite being an unmarried male, I can probably quote numerous tampon commercials word for word, which might be a good gimmick at parties but is ultimately just a good case for targeted advertising.  As DT points out, he is in the market for a car.  He wants to see car commercials. 

From my own experience, the moment my Facebook status changed to "single", I was inundated with ads for dating web sites and Russian mail order brides.  Yes, apparently I am that demographic.  Thanks guys, way to salt the wound.

The problem is with what DT calls "spear phishing".  This is when online entities use your information to target you directly for malicious purposes.  If someone has access to your Facebook account (and thus to everything from your interests and hobbies to the contents of your breakfast) it is potentially very easy to steal your identity.

No longer just the domain of Nigerian princes, hackers can use information about you to convince you to open suspicious e-mails.  You like soccer?  Check out this awesome World Cup video, you just need to download this plug-in first...

I don't know if it was the beer or not, but this guy was starting to make sense.  I mean, I like soccer!  The stakes were much higher than I'd realized.

So how can we protect ourselves?  DT's answer was not encouraging:

"Ultimately, it all comes down to motivation.  If someone is really motivated to get you, there's not a lot you can do."

Awesome.

DT did leave me with a glimmer of hope though.  He said it may be impossible to use the web without making one's self vulnerable, but you can certainly limit your risk.

It's all about limiting your "Attack Surface Area".  That is, not offering more information than is necessary to use your online services.  If you absolutely have to have a Facebook account, limit who can see your profile and consider using a pseudonym.  Also, be more judicious about who you "friend" online.  Maybe don't add that girl you knew from elementary school.

As DT points out, "you got along without her since the sixth grade.  I think you'll be fine."

Friday, December 10, 2010

The Southwest - Part 12

So now that  the booze has run out   the semester is finished, it's time to return to our regularly scheduled programming.

I'm back at my local coffee shop and it feels good (I found my old butt groove).  Unfortunately, writing in public means I no longer get to type away in my underpants.  Or as I call them, my "brainstorming briefs".  Alas, Bridgehead has a strict pants policy (I asked).  Stop smothering my creativity!

Misunderstood artistic expression aside,  I now proudly present the triumphant return of The Southwest!


August 27th - Back on the Colorado: this time it's personal

For those of you who remember the Duckie Incident you know that the Colorado River and I have a history.  By that I mean it wants to kill me.  Probably because I kept peeing in it.

Still alive against all odds, we decided the best thing to do was tempt fate again by going whitewater rafting in a place called Westwater Canyon.

You may know it better as the River Styx
THIS is Westwater Canyon:

















Now most people opt for the raft where the guide paddles for you (pictured above).  As should already be evident by now, we are not most people.  Most people, as it turns out, are sane.

We opted for the DIY approach: a bunch of untrained tourists wielding plastic paddles that I'm almost certain said Fisher Price on them somewhere.  I was scared to check.

There were eight people to a boat.  At first.  And guess what?  We were randomly teamed up with the French guysWho by now were clearly spying on us.

So we plunged into the Colorado with reckless abandon.  I don't remember much else after that, although my vocabulary of French swear words has now vastly expanded.

Afterwards, the survivors all cracked open some Coors (Regular Coors guys!  It's real!) while we floated back to Moab. 

Along the way we passed some Canada Geese.  In August.  As our guide informed us, apparently these guys have figured out that it's actually always warm there and that that whole migration thing is for suckers. 

Which I guess means they're just geese now.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

The G-Spot

This is a little piece I wrote about the G-Spot, which is a place in Carleton where they make free Vegan food.  I know what you're thinking:

You had me at "free".

Notice: If you just arrived here from Google because you searched "G-Spot" prepare to be disappointed.

If, however, you're like me and after half a decade of higher education you are now about 90% Ramen noodle, then read on!



The G-Spot

I know many of you are still reeling from the news that the Double Down is no longer available in Canada.  Be strong.  We’re going to get through this together.

Well I have some good news.  According to this random guy I met there’s a place on campus where they have delicious, non-Aramark food.  And they are just giving it away.

The conversation went down like this:

“You don’t know about the G-Spot?”

“Well I never had any complaints...”

“Free food man.  Vegan.”

“So there’s no meat.”

“Nope.”

“You mean like a McRib?”

“No.  I mean like a cabbage.”

“CAB-IDGE.  Got it.”

“And there are cookies.”

So naturally, I followed him.  What?  He promised me cookies!  Seriously if you have cookies I will totally jump right in the van you don’t even KNOW.

My mom would be so proud. 

What I expected:
You know how every Halloween there was that house on your street that gave away peanuts?  I mean, actual peanuts.  Not in Snickers bar form. 

What I got:
A suspiciously tasty vegan stuffing and a cookie that was so good I might be going to hell now.  

And the best part: it's pay what you can.

Clearly these guys do not understand capitalism.  But food they get.