Out & About.

If you're looking for me. You won't find me here today. But fear not! You can still find me, if you're willing to do some extra mouse clicks.

First, I'm guest posting over at Thank, Q where I ponder the possibility that I may not be as hopeless as I sometimes suspect. I know, crazy. But why not? My friend, Q, has to nurse his wife, The Mrs, back to health so he asked me to step in, which I gladly accepted. As a bonus, I drew stick-zombies in this one. Just so you know.

Just CLICK HERE to check it out...

Finally, I do some more pondering. This time over at Studio 30 Plus, the online community with writers in mind. I've been a card-carrying, certified (and maybe certifiable) member of this site ever since I began blogging with no regrets. It's a great place to get tips, advice and writing prompts to help you hone your writing skills. In my post there, I try to understand the the minds of these things called "writers".

So please, CLICK HERE to continue...

I know! So many choices, right? But to help you, I've listed them in in the order I think will be the best picks to start with:

1. All!
2. All!!!
3. ALL!!!

There. Hope that helps. Now go on. Posts are a-waitin'. Have fun. Nothing more to see here. Carry on.

Turning Japanese.

I've always had a fascination with Japan. If you've been here long enough, you probably already knew that. I've declared it here more than enough times and it's safe to say more than half the stuff I write about these days on Sprocket Ink has something to do with Japanese weirdness. That fascination seems to have only been growing over the years and now I'm starting to think my lifetime of excessive exposure is starting to chance me and I'm becoming more Japanese than Trinidadian.

First off, there's Japanese anime. I love it. I love it hard! This is actually where it all started for me. I've been into it for a really long time and I'm not talking about since it became mainstream popular here in the western world. I've been watching anime ever since I was about 5. I blame my father for this. Back when he had the video rental business, he fed me a constant supply of Japanese cartoons, mostly because it was what kept me quiet and not torturing Younger Sister# 1.

I was an... um... active child.

At least, while in front of the TV, I wasn't left up to my own devices. Trust me, that was bad.

Probably still is...

Arising out of all the Japanese anime was JPop. In a post I did a while back I declared (with much shame) that I had something of an addiction to the Japanese musical art form known for being performed by really high-pitched Japanese women in school uniforms and Japanese men with a tendency to wear too much eye-shadow.

DON'T JUDGE ME!!!

Anyway, I've been a fan of it for a long, loooong time and that hasn't changed. In fact, it's fair to say that my JPop obsession has also gotten worse over the years (don't ask me how many of these songs I actually keep on my mp3 and listen to on a regular basis. Just... don't...)

Like I said, I wasn't proud of this and I secretly feared someone finding my collection one day and outing me. At least I wasn't proud.

That all changed when the world was taken over by the KPop smash hit (the Korean version to JPop), Gangnam Style. Everyone's listening to it. It's on all the radio stations. Even here in T&T!

True story: Twice I've heard more than radio DJ's say something like, "I don't know what this song's about, but here's the hit Gangnam Style".

Now Asian pop music is going to be the next big thing. Soon it'll be all the rage with the kids and I won't have to be ashamed anymore. (Shut up! It'll happen!) Just you wait and see. Then I'll no longer be a freak. I'll be a trendsetter!

Another warning sign is that people just seem to sense it. It's like they can see anime-geek emanating from me like a glowing aura (or maybe I should change my ringtone). More than once over the years I've had people I barely know have asked me if I'd ever been or will go to one of the locally held anime conventions they hold every year (if I did I was expected to dress up in cosplay and provide photographic evidence). The answer has always been no, but only because I'm desperately trying to hold on to the last shred of decency and self-respect I have. But I want. I really, really want to.

How bad could the  whole cosplay thing be..?

Um... Okay, forget the cosplay.
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But here's what really worries me... I'm thinking of learning Japanese, people! Seriously! Don't let the writing fool you. I have a hard enough time with English. Now I want to learn a whole new language. By the way, by "thinking" I mean I've already found a school that teaches it, found out how much they charge and on what days they teach the course.

I think I need an intervention.

What's worse, is that my wife isn't really helping. By that I mean she's being supportive. I know, right? What's wrong with her?! The other day I told her about this program being run by the Japanese embassy where locals can go to Japan to work, teaching English on one year, renewable contracts. It was just harmless conversation, mind you. I had just overheard someone talking about it in the barber shop. But to my surprise I hear...

Mrs. C: So are you going to sign up? I'm so ready to start over somewhere new it isn't funny.

I never expected her to actually suggest I sign up.

Bad! Bad Mrs. C!

You guys should have a talk with her. You're supposed to be my enablers. She's really treading on your territory, when you think about it..

Of course, I'm not going to. At least, not now. I want to finish school before I even consider any major move like that. That gives me about three years to kick a thirty-year obsession. It could happen. Right?

But... now I'm actually considering it. If-if I do eventually go there, you there'll be no hope for me, right? I might as well just start abandoning chairs and learn to use those hole-in-the-floor squat toilets now. On the bright side, I bet I could totally rock a hakama.

What? It's airy.
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I'm scared...

Vinny Unplugged... AGAIN!

In case you've noticed my absence, my internet at home's down for the last few days. Yeah, I know. AGAIN! This will explain why I haven't been checking out your posts or posting on Sprocket Ink either.

I'm using the school's ultra slow wi-fi connection right now, which is like pulling teeth just to get pages to open.

Don't worry. I'll be back as soon as it's working at home again.

Like You're Supposed To.

Just so you know, the following is complete fiction. I know. Not normally my thing, I know, but I thought I'd expand my horizons a bit, so to speak. I know there are probably a lot of things wrong with it, but go easy I'm new.

********

Mark stood in front the mirror, turning from left, to right, to left again. This was the first time he ever worn a tuxedo and he was having a hard time coming to terms with the look.

"Is this how it's supposed to look?" He thought to himself, "It feels tight. Maybe I should have gone with the black instead of the grey."

"Dude! Relax!" Chris noticed Mark's anxious look from across the room. "It looks fine. You actually look like a grown-up for a change."

Mark didn't bother to turn around. Instead, he scowled at Chris' reflection in the mirror.

Chris grinned when he saw his remark got him the reaction he wanted. Mark couldn't help but notice how much more comfortable Chris seemed in his own tux, even though he had never worn one either. But why not? Chris was just the best man after all.

"Shouldn't you be bringing the car around? It's almost time."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going," Chris turned and reached for the door. He placed his hand on the knob and paused, "You're doing the right thing. You know? Lara's a great girl."

This time Mark did turn around, "What's that about?"

"I know I give you a hard time, but I want you to know I'm happy for you, man."

"You're not going to start crying now, are you? Because so help me if you try to hug me..."

"Ha! You wish!"

"No... I really don't... Thanks."

"Whatever!" Chris opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

"If you're so sure I'm doing the right thing maybe you should think about tying the knot."

"Yeah right! Not when there are still so many flavors out there to sample. And rest assured, I plan to get ample amounts of sampling in tonight thanks to you. I hear weddings make women horny."

Again, Chris smiled and closed the door.

"You're welcome!" Mark called out to the closed door. Chris didn't respond.

"You're doing the right thing."

Mark thought about what Chris had said. In all the years they had been friends, how many times had Chris told him something like that? More than he could count. Normally, when he said it, it was with a hint of annoyance in his voice. It wasn't like he was some goody-two-shoes. He'd made his share of mistakes, but he always tried to be responsible.

He was the responsible one. That much everyone knew. Getting them into trouble was Chris' role. He was the 'fun' one. It only made sense Mark would be the first one to give up the carefree, bachelor lifestyle and settle down with a wife. It was what everyone expected.

Sure enough, here he was. Getting married today. It was all going as planned. But whose plan was it? His? Lara's?

Lara had already made her intentions clear. Even before he proposed.

"I want to start having children after the first year. We should space them at least two years apart. I read that's a good way to go," she told him one night as they were lying in bed and fantasizing about what the future would be like.

During these talks, they made plans on how they would move from their modest, one-bedroom apartment in the city to a nice, two-storey, three-bedroom house in one of those gated communities in the east. They agreed on ditching the coupe for an SUV and on how many and what type of dogs they'd get when they bought their house. They both loved dogs, but pets weren't allowed in their current apartment.

This all sounded great to Mark at the time and he knew a lot of the decisions they made then was based on suggestions he made. Lara never pushed him into any of those plans. So why did he feel like he was being pushed now?

"Marriage is a big responsibility. But it's the choice every responsible adult should make," his father told him once. His parents were the epitome of 'traditional'. Dad worked, Mom stayed home and raised him. They've been together for more than thirty years and they still seemed so happy with the life they chose.

But did they choose it? Or did they just follow the same path their parents followed? And their grandparents?

Suddenly, Mark didn't feel like the life he was living was actually his own. Sure there were differences. Both he and Lara worked. She wasn't down with the whole barefoot and pregnant at home deal and this suited Mark just fine. Still, despite subtle differences, was he just following in the footsteps of those who went before him? Were these plans, this future, what he wanted, or was he just doing what was expected?

Then there was what Chris said. Sure he loved Lara, he didn't doubt that, but was she 'the one'? There were so many other women out there, how could he know there wasn't someone better out there? No! Now he was just being stupid. He loved Lara. He knew she was the one. But marriage? Now?

What about Europe? Mark suddenly remembered he always said he would travel across Europe when he was younger. Would that fit into this future he was about to step into?

He'd been playing it safe all his life. Never giving into wild impulses. Well, at least nothing major anyway. What if this was it? The end to any chance of adventure in his life. He was now going to be boxed into a pre-planned, two dogs, three kids, house in the suburbs life with no escape. Just like he was supposed to-

Mark was suddenly jolted back to reality by the sound of a car's horn downstairs. Through the window he saw his best friend sitting in the driver's seat of the old blue coupe he planned to sell one day.

"Yeah! Coming!" He waved at Chris from the second floor window of his and Lara's apartment. He checked his tie one last time in the mirror before he joined Chris downstairs to head off to the church.

Bu-Butts About It.

CLICK HERE
(But be warned! A lot of pictures of butts in this one)
(GOSH, DARNIT! Sprocket's gone now. Sorry)

I'm Not Sure Where This Is Going, But I'm Pretty Sure It's Nowhere.

Sometimes I write an entire post in my head before I sit down at the computer. Sometimes I start out with just the idea of what I want to write about and start writing, seeing where that leads me. But then I asked myself, what would happen if I just sat down and just began to write? Start with no topic, no plan and no direction, and just write and see what happens.

I'll admit I'm cautious, but I'm not the "must have everything organised and planned out" type either. On the contrary, all I've even needed to get something done was a general direction and enough fare to pay for the ride. I don't need to have it all mapped out, but I still feel comfortable with having a general direction. This is the complete opposite to Mrs. C's personality. While she is the type to lunge headfirst and full speed into something, she needs a plan, even if it's after taking that first step. She needs to know how she's getting there, what route she'll take, what would be the best time to move to avoid traffic, if she should wear comfortable shoes and so on and so on. Yes, she's that neurotic anal (I wish) thorough.

But I digress... Where was I going with this? Oh yeah! Nowhere... Or somewhere... But I guess that's the point.

Wait, there's a point?

Anybody ever use Zemanta? It's this software that analyzes your posts as you type and helps you with pictures and related links and whatnot. It normally works pretty well but right now one of the things it's showing me is a picture of a man named Georg Lunge (I had to Google who he was). For those who didn't know (like myself) he's a German chemist who lived in the late 1800's to the early 1900's and he has nothing to do with anything I'm writing.

That's it?! You're just going to read the first sentence in my bio and leave it at that? I hope my name comes up in a pop-quiz or something someday.
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From this I can only deduce that I've gone so far off the reservation with this post that I've confused the program. I can only imagine what I'm doing to everyone else.

Wow! Those are a lot more words than I expected for a post that's basically about nothing. I feel like I should apologize or something for making you read all this drivel, but then again, it isn't like I'm making you sit through this. It isn't like I'm secretly lurking in a shadowy corner, pointing a gun and expecting a three-page report (double-spaced, use serif typeface, citations where necessary) on a) your impression of this post and how it may or may not contribute adversely to climate change and the global economy, or b) how the work of Georg Lunge helped shape the face of modern chemistry (he's your problem now). No, it's nothing like that.

It's due by Thursday.

Hey! That reminds of a cartoon I saw on Facebook once:

Wait! No... that's not it...

Oh, I remember. It 's this one:

Nobody said anything about a coherent story. Did they?

So, yeah, I think it's safe to say that I've tested the limits of this exercise (and your patience) as much as I can for now. If you stuck with this all the way to the end you deserve a standing ovation.

Here you go.

Unfortunately, the answer is still no, you can't get those last few minutes of your life back. If you were expecting me to come to some kind of point, the only one you'll get is me pointing out that I warned you in the title.

No refunds!

Me Vs. Nature: Part III - The Bugman Cometh.

Remember a while back when I mentioned a little bug problem we've been having from time to time? Well, since then we haven't really been having as much of a problem. Only some minor incursions. I take full credit for this since I've been making healthy use of our bug spray and doing some preemptive spraying every other night.

However, the next door neighbors have apparently not been so lucky, and voiced their concerns to the landlady. Plus, they have two small children so they understandably don't want cockroaches running around. The landlady, in turn, called in a pest control guy, who came over to do an inspection last week. Is it just me, or do people in general feel the overwhelming urge to make sure their homes are spotless when they know someone's coming by to do any kind of inspection? Especially if that inspection is to determine how welcome they're making the household pests feel.

Anyway, I digress. The exterminator visited and did his walkthrough. He asked how bad our roach problem was and a series of other routine questions. I answered and things went mostly uneventful. The only surprise was the one I sprung on them.

Me: Oh yeah. And that's where I saw the mouse.

Bug Guy: Mouse?
Landlady: Mouse?

Did I mention the mice? Yeah. Coincidentally, we started seeing them just a few days before Bug Guy's visit. It seems that not only did the construction going on next door bring us roaches, now mice are coming across looking for greener pastures. Outstanding! Bug Guy agreed that was the most likely scenario. He added that to his notes and left soon after that.

Two weeks later (today in fact) he was back. He sprayed what I could only assume some kind invisible roach repellent while I took the opportunity to showcase my social ineptitude by making awkward attempts at small-talk. Is it still considered proper exterminator/repair guy etiquette to follow them around as they do whatever it is they came to do and pretend you find it interesting, while making sure they don't steal anything? We don't get visitors often.

Anyhoo, after that he brought in a box of these little 'mouse motels' (that's what I'm calling them because I don't know what they're really called) and set them up in the different rooms where the vermin were sighted.

With that he said was done with the inside of the house and, as he was leaving, he told me we were not to move the mouse motels UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. He made a point of saying it twice.

Then, about two seconds after he left, I accidentally kicked one. Only a little. It barely even moved. Honest!

The final phase of the process involved him going under the house (the cockroach base of operations) to deliver a massive payload of insecticide. What he didn't mention is that when he did this, hordes of panicked cockroaches would be fleeing for safety. In fact, they'd be so freaked out, they'd most likely totally ignore the repellent he just put down and come scampering inside. I guess I probably could have figured out that last part myself.

In the end I had to spend the next hour and a half dealing with them (about eight of the little buggers in total). I was practically typing this post with my left hand while holding a can of bug spray with my right.

At least I finally learned I could multitask.

Something Old, Something New.

Another Tuesday, another post up at Sprocket Ink just ready and waiting for you. This one's...

What?

Why, yes, I did get a new haircut. Thanks for noticing. Anyway, about my post on Sprocket. It's...

No, I haven't lost weight...

Oh! I know what it is that's distracting you. The little makeover I gave my blog. Yeah, I know, I shouldn't suddenly change things without giving you a heads-up first. My bad.

Those of you who have been here long enough may remember this is the original background I had when I first started my blog. So, yeah, I just basically went back to the old thing.

But the header's new! Sorta. Sure the old one was nice.

But I made the new one for my new Facebook page and I fell in love with it. I think the fact that Lacy and the gang all look so confused even though this is where they basically "work" sums things up here nicely.

You can go here to like that Facebook page I mentioned, by the way.

But I digress. As I was saying, my post on Sprocket today was born from a conversation I had with Mrs. C about zombies. Actually, it's about her theory that zombies may be a real threat as part of someone's evil scheme. Based on what been happening, I'm inclined to believe her.

Sadly, Sprocket's gone now so... um... nevermind.

Bye.

To The Survivors.

This is a message to any survivors who may still be out there. If you're reading this then know that this may be my last communication before I myself succumb to the terrible outbreak currently ravaging our planet.

When it all began, I, like so many others, doubted the seriousness of this threat. When I first read reports on international media of the initial outbreak originating in East Asia, I could not fully anticipate what was to come. We were fools. All of us! Sure, one could argue that it was too early to know just how severe this outbreak would be, but in the end, we're all to blame. We all buried our heads in the sand and ignored the potential threat this viral infection posed.

By the time we realized it was spreading it was already too late. As country after country fell victim to this threat, I watched as people slowly succumbed. People I knew... My friends... The United States was hit hard by the outbreak, but still many refused to acknowledge the threat. One intrepid television personality even sought to interview the man who was confirmed as "patient zero", but she only served to spread the infection even faster.

I watched on in horror as the events unfolded and prayed that we here in T&T would be spared. Surely, being so far away from the other infected areas would save us. But this was a wasted wish. Trinidad and Tobago has also fallen victim the the outbreak now ravaging the rest of the world.

The signs that the outbreak had reach our shores were hard to ignore. One by one, friends, relatives and acquaintances all started showing symptoms, passing the infection on to each other almost as quickly as they caught it themselves. It was then I realized my greatest fear had come to be. T&T had now become the latest victim of the dreaded...

GANGNAM STYLE!

How could it have spread so far? No! I was foolish to believe we could remain unaffected. Even before I saw the first signs of infection among the local population, I knew I, myself, had already started showing signs of infection. From what I've been able to ascertain so far, it spreads quickly via the online social media. That had to be my point of contact with the infection.

Foolishly I thought I could keep it contained, but it wasn't long after I became infected that I began to see my wife showing symptoms as well. Though I seemed to be a bit more tolerant to it, her system is not as resistant, I fear and she spiraled into full blown Gangnamonia in a matter of days, as evident but her sudden and uncontrolled outbursts of, "Oppa Gangnam Style!" at random instances. As for me, even as I write this the song's uptempo beat pulses on an endless loop in my brain.

It's too late for me. It's too late for all of us here. I know that now. Soon this viral outbreak will consume the entire country and there seems to be no way of stopping it. If you're reading this, there may still be hope for you. You can still save yourselves. If you want to be spared the terrible fate that has befallen us avoid social networking and media sites at all costs! And most importantly, you must not, under any circumstances, watch the following video (which I conveniently placed right beneath my warning message to you). If you do, then all hope is lost.

Our world, our future is now in your hands. Goodbye.

Good luck.

Girls' Day Out - Part 2

Lacy and Diane continue their day out together to patch things up between them...