The Quabblenaut

Today's Quabble: Hair

2010-06-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

Pronunciation: Hay-er
Descriptors: Frustrating as balls. End of story.

Definition: Those weird stingy bits that grow out of your scalp. And yours arms, and legs and... Nevermind.

--

I don't know what the hell this picture is of, but when I Google searched hair, this came up. and it terrified me. This is what Hell looks like.

For the past... I dunno, 6 or 7 years, I have been in a constant battle with me hair. I can never get it to look the way I want it. I've never been able to get a haircut that looks the way I told the hairdresser to make it look. In fact, maybe that's what this child is raging against. Look at that hair.

Except for once. Just once, my hair was perfect. Zoë dug up this picture from the bowels of her Inbox. It was marvelous. You could practically see the majesty radiating off of it.

Readers, you had better be appreciative of this. I must have spent a half hour making this HTML do what I wanted it to. It's still not perfect, but it'll do.

I've hidden the picture so your anticipation and curiosity may grow, and not have the surprise spoiled before I've psyched you up enough for it. Here it comes...

Are you ready for this?

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Holy balls, Greg. I'm practically blinded by the majesty of that incredible doo."

And you know what? You're right. It is incredible

Later days.

Today's Quabble: Bands Changing Their Sound

2010-05-17T17:09:00.000-07:00

What the balls is this?

Pronunciation: Baands hoo- Screw it.
Decriptors: Major balls. Usually.

Definition: When a band drasically changes the sound of their music between albums. You know what I mean.

---

Holy hell I haven't updated this in a while. I'm very sorry to all who do take the time to read this, especially you, Zoë.

Here's what's bugging me today. I am well aware that bands need to change and evolve over time, or else they stagnate. I'm all for trying new things. But how does it make you feel when a band you love changes so much that they strip out everything about them that you loved?

That's how I'm feeling right now about this new Against Me! album. The single, I Was A Teenage Anarchist, is indeed a catchy song. But where is the rough guitar work? The throaty, bloody sounding vocals? That gritty live sound? How do you go from We Laugh At Danger (And Break All The Rules) to this?

I don't want to say they sold out, because that isn't quite fair. But they have moved toward a much "pop"ier sound. And it saddens me. I liked Against Me! because they were different. They were something I hadn't heard before. With gaining that soft polished sound, they lost what I feel was an integral part of their sound. This is like Anti-Flag all over again.

This being said, there are a great deal of bands who change their sound and have it work out really well. While I may not have thought so at the time, the great departure that was Blink-182's last album truly is some great music. As lame a band as they may be, New Found Glory's switch from pop punk with nasally vocals to a softer, slower brand of music on Coming Home (not to mention Pundik learning how to sing) resulted in a solid album. And despite what some may say (you know who you are) I thought the jazzy feel to Atreyu's Lead Sails, Paper Anchor was really cool.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's entirely possible to change your sound without it turning into garbage, and I don't think Against Me! was successful.

Later days.

- - -

2010-03-22T20:47:00.000-07:00

Take care of those you care about. Do whatever it is you can to make sure they're okay when they need it. Nothing is more important than those you love. Nothing.

That's something I've learned over the past year or so. And I'm damn glad I did.

Today's Quabble: Black Dynamite

2010-03-08T19:09:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Blahk Dy-No-Mite... Dy-No-Mite, Dy-No-Mite!
Descriptors: There are no words suitable to describe this masterpiece of cinema.

---

I am sorry for my leave of absence. Life has been rather busy as of late.

However, I come back stronger than ever. Friends, I bring you what could possible be the greatest film ever produced. This is something that transcends art. This is the human soul in motion picture form.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Greg, this looks like a cheesy, stupid movie." And you know what I say to that?

Shut your dirty ****ing mouth this very instant.

You watch this trailer, and tell me this doesn't bring a tear to your eye.

(click on the video to bring up the YouTube page if the video is too small)

Now you see what I mean.

This creation touched me on levels I never thought I could be touched. The character development of Black Dynamite and friends, such as Cream Corn, was stunning. It was like I had known them all my life. The plot, the pacing, it was perfect. Black Dynamite's kung-fu skills are like watching a crane soar through the air.

While I could spend hours telling you every great line of this film, I must refrain. You must experience the greatness for yourself.

If I could only watch one movie for the rest of my life, it would be Black Dynamite. He's a 21st century hero, something we should all aspire to be. I wish I could tell you more. I really, really do.

Before I ruin more of this movie, I shall silence myself. But I will leave you with what might be the greatest piece of music accompanying the greatest film ever filmed.



Seriously, though. This movie is ****ing hilarious. Watch it.

Later Days.

Today's Quabble: Relationships

2010-02-08T21:23:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Ree-lay-shun-ships
Decriptors: Far too many to even begin to name.

Definition: Sorry guys, can't help you here. The definition of a relationship is so broad, and differs between so many people that I'd never be satisfied with anything I said here.

---

Relationships are an odd thing. An intangible link between two people of varying strengths and degrees. Of course, there are all kinds of relationships, but I'm speaking of the love variety.

They can be terrifying. They can be frustrating. They can be abusive. They can be sad. They can be unexpected. They can be doomed to die.

But most importantly, they can be ****ing wonderful.

I know more than a few people, myself included, who have been brought to tears over relationship matters. And it makes you ask "Why? Why am I putting myself through this?" For some relationships, there is no good answer, and that's when they end. For others, the answer is simple. Love.

I always sort of figured I would end up alone. I never saw myself finding anyone I was truly compatible with. Then I met Zoë. And while we've been through more **** over the past couple years than any two people deserve to go through, I don't regret a second of it. That girl makes me happier than anything else on this rock we call Earth.

I can't imagine possibly being closer to another human being. Being with her is like being with myself. I'm not embarrassed by anything around her. She's seen me at my worst, and I hers. Snuggling up beside her at night brings a comfort so profound, I could have never imagined it. And her laugh is the most wonderful sound I could ever imagine.

To all those skeptical about relationships and love, I say you just haven't met the right person yet. At the risk of sounding preachy, you don't know happiness until you wake up at 4 AM and have the one lying beside you roll over, whisper the love you, and snuggle up to you to go back to sleep.

I wouldn't be half the person I am today without Zoë. Being with her has helped me grow into a person I'm proud of being, a person I would not have been able to become had she not been there to support me all these years. A person who has no problem taking 6 hours to show up at 3:30 in the morning to see the girl I love when she needs me, and being happy to do it just to see her.

Nothing worth having comes easy. It's true with relationships, too. They're not always easy, but if you have the right person, they are most definitely worth having.

Zoë, you are the love of my life.

Later Days.

P.S. Saps FTW.

*Picture is of the gorgeous Zoë Doyle, taken by yours truly*

Today's Quabble: The Three Sip Philosophy

2010-01-24T21:00:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: The Thr-- Forget it.
Descriptors: Possibly the greatest discovery since that thing they discovered last week with the thing and the stuff.

Definition: A scientific theory proposed by Zoë Doyle. The idea that, unless in a sitaution of dire thirstiness, three sips of any drink will be enough to satisfy you
--
Some background information: Whenever Zoë and I go out to restaurants, and would order any sort of drink, by the end of the meal my drink would be gone, and Zoë's would have only a little bit gone. About three sips worth, funny enough.

Zoë is an extreme case of the three sip philosophy. For her, three sips and she's had enough to drink for the entire meal. For most of us, it's about three sips at a time. Next time you take a drink, count. You'll probably be surprised.

Much like the drink being pictured, after a couple sips, I really didn't want it anymore. I don't even like Ginger Ale that much! I know this! Yet I poured myself a glass of it anyways. Three si[ philosophy, yo.

That being said, the three sip philosophy applies to more than just drinks. Have you ever bought a bunch of candy, thinking "Oh hell yes I'm gonna down these things up like they're crack pills and I'm Amy Winehouse." only to have a few, and then not want them anymore? Three sip philosophy.

Feeling reeeeeeeally hungry? Passing by a McDonald's, or a Subway, and you stop in and buy the most amount of food you possibly can with whatever money you happen to have on you? Thinking to yourself "Holy damn, I am gonna gobble this **** up faster than Lindsay Lohan gobbles up ****s.", only to start feeling full a quarter way through your food? Three sip philosophy.

Feeling some urges down below, only to hire a hooker, get her back to your room, jump on top, and instantly regret your decision? You guessed it. Three sip philosophy.

I definitely overeat due to this ***** of a concept. Here's a typical snacktime for Greg. I have written it from an inner perspective, so keep in mind none... Or, very little of this is said out loud.

Holy damn I am hungry. Oh ****, I'm gonna make like 16 pizza pops. Okay, not 16. 4 should be enough. Why do they come in these stupid packages of three? ****, microwaves take an assload of time to cook anything. Finally done! Oh god, this pizza pocket is so good. It's like someone took the best day of my life and put it in my mouth. Oh god, I have three left. I am so damn excited. The second one is just as good as the first, holy ****. Man, my stomach feels so much better now... Aw ****. I have two more to eat. Piss is a handbag.

And there you have it. I hope to god I'm not the only one this happens to, or I'm going to feel like an idiot after this.

Moral of the story: Make one ****ing pizza pop.

Two at most.

Later days.

Today's Quabble: The 'Deeeeeee'

2010-01-12T19:42:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Deeeeeeee
Descriptors: Deeeeeeee

Definition: What started as a joke, and has now become a sound meaning happiness, affection, and comfort.

--

(Just to clarify, this picture has absolutely nothing to do with this post, other than the fact that I typed "deeeeeeeeee" into Google Images, and this is what popped up.)

Now that I have you all thoroughly confused, here's the lowdown. Okay, I don't actually remember how it happened. Here's how I think it happened:

Greg: Hey, you're cute or some other flattering compliment. Zoë: Deeeeeeeee.

After this, I laughed profusely, as it is quite a funny sounding... sound.

Here's what it sounds like, for all those who can't picture it. Performed by yours truly.

Listen to that a few times. Hilarious, right? I know.

(Sorry for the garbage quality. My headset broke a few days back, so I'm having to get by on the built in mic.)

I feel as though "The Deeeee" should be adopted worldwide as a universal sign of friendship, happiness, and love. It could lead to a happier world, a connection never before shared between people, and a unified humanity.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little too optimistic here. Maybe. But it would still he hilarious to see more people saying it.

Think about it. Next time someone gives you a snuggle, let a little "deeeee" slip out. I guarantee you will like it.

Later Days.

Today's Quabble: Niagara Falls

2010-01-10T18:03:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Neye-ahg-ah-rah Fahls
Descriptors: Aw-inspiring, beautiful, gorgeous etc...

Definition: One hell of a mighty waterfall. I believe approximately one metric ****ton of water flows over this thing every quarter second.

--

So, my beautiful girlfriend Zoë and I took a trip to Niagara Falls this weekend, and it was awesome. We stayed in the Glengate Hotel, which, while not very fancy, was quite nice and we got an awesome price.

We got in Friday night, and stayed in the hotel for the evening. We had one hell of a time trying to order food from a Jamaican lady with a limited menu on the phone, but eventually we got our jerk chicken with rice, and it was delicious.

Saturday was when the fun started. We wandered around Niagara for probably 6 or 7 hours, and it was cold as balls. We wandered, Zoë took some pictures, and I took some pictures of Zoë taking pictures.

This is a picture of Zoë taking a picture.
I took it.

We grabbed breakfast/lunch/brunch at a really cool little diner, and got some awesome crepes with fruit that were monstrously delicious. Unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures. For your sake, maybe it's fortunate. This is gonna be one picture-heavy Quabble.

After more wandering, we got to the falls. I only have one thing to say:

Yo America, I'm really happy for you, Imma let you finish, but Canada has one of the best waterfalls of all time!

Sorry, I had to.

But seriously. Canadian Falls > American Falls. Here is pictorial evidence. My thumbs are law.

Oh hell yes, look at those thumbs.
You just can't help but believe everything the tell you.

Oh, and there's one more reason why the Canadian Falls are ten billion times more ass-kicking. I don't know if anyone saw it in the first picture, but Niagara Falls definitely thrust it's mighty fist in the air to celebrate my arrival. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Greg, you're a ****ing nutjob." And to that, I respond with this ever so slightly edited photo pointing out the Godhand.

See? I told you. My presence was celebrated by one of the world's greatest natural wonders. Makes you feel special that you know me, doesn't it?

Oh yeah, we also went on the Skywheel. Basically, it was a monstrous ferris wheel that you could see the entire city and falls from the top of. Tres romantique. Protip: If you're trying to impress a girl, take her there and kiss her at the top. It worked for me. And by that, I mean I felt very loved and mushtacular when I got kissed at the top. I'm a sap. I know.

After that, we headed back to the hotel and had another quiet evening watching television and having a few drinks. It was nice, after walking around for so long.

We headed out pretty early the next morning, after the lamest continental breakfast I have ever had. The muffins were stale, and the croissants were hard enough to break windows. We eventually just broke into their cupboards and opened up cartons and bags of more fresh foodstuffs. Seriously. I tapped a muffin, and it clicked.

We headed over to the bus terminal, dealt with one douche of a cashier, and hopped on a bus back to Toronto. And there ended our Niagara adventure.

I'll end this post here, though I doubt anyone is even still reading at this point. If you are, kudos to you. Thanks for caring.

And thanks for an amazing weekend, Zoë. We have to do it again soon. I love you.

Later days.

P.S. I am the Lord of the Unicorns

Today's Quabble: University of Waterloo

2010-01-04T11:19:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: You-ni-ver-sit-ee of... **** it.
Descriptors: Rage inducing, monotonous, unfriendly, etc...

Definition: My university. I don't know what else to say.

---

I go to the University of Waterloo, as you may or may not know. To the left here is the new ****show they tried to pass of as the new marketing logo. Looks like my 15 year old sister made it in Paint. 8 ****ing years ago.

Did I mention they paid 80k for it? Yes, you read that right. 80k. This is just the beginning of my frustration.

So, I failed a class last semester. Organic Chemistry. Fine. I figured I'd take it over the summer, do some class shuffling, and voila, like it never happened. Unfortunately, things almost never work out as simply as that.

Due to me failing this course, I was removed from 2 courses I was enrolled in this semester. This wouldn't be an issue if I could actually find some courses to replace them with. I go onto the school site, find a couple classes I think work, and go to enroll in them. Oh wait. They won't let me. I have to get the instructor's permission. Ridiculous, but whatever. So I start firing off emails left and right to professors asking for permission.

Turns out, they won't let me into any classes until after the semester starts. Wonderful.

I really wanted to get into the class I failed this semester, but I found out it was full, so I sent this email to the professor:

Dear Professor Forsey,



I was wondering if there was an possibility of enrolling in the online

CHEM 266 for the winter term. I took CHEM 266 this Fall term, and failed,

my final mark being 45. I was hoping to be able to retake the class this

semester, while much of the course was still fresh in my mind, as opposed

to having to wait until the spring semester.



Thanks for your time.



- Greg Malone

I figure this is a pretty decent email, and even if I can't get into the class, maybe he'll give me some advice as to what to do. Wanna see the email I get in response?

Hi

I am sorry but the class is full.

Dr. Forsey

I'm sorry, but that is ****shit. I'm paying this guy's salary, and I get an eleven word response. And that's including his name.

Hopefully I get this shit figured out at some point. If I end up working at McDonalds in a couple weeks, you now know why.

Later Days.

Today's Quabble: Night Impressions

2009-12-27T17:53:00.001-08:00

Pronunciation: Neye-t im-presh-uns
Descriptors: Strange, mysterious, unusual, etc...

Definition: The strange marks you will often find on your skin after a long sleep, seemingly from sheets or other things being pressed against your skin for too long.

--

So, right off, I'd like to apologize for the long absence. School's a *****, and demanded all my attention. Now that exams are over and the ridiculous amount of family visits has subsided, I have returned.

Now, today I'd like to talk to you about these "night impressions", resulting from objects being pressed against your skin for too long. At least, that's what I used to believe. Until yesterday morning.

It seemed the same as every other morning-- Or afternoon, I suppose (I slept in a little). I arose from my bed, and began to make my way to the shower. As I passed by the bathroom mirror, I saw what appeared to be a mark on my left shoulder. I thought nothing of it. But as the information my eyes had taken in began to seep into my brain, I did a double-take.

Look at my shoulder! Look!

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Greg, that's just one of those 'night impressions', or whatever other retarded word you made up to describe them."

Bull****.

That is a ****ing bear claw. Do you know what that means?

IT MEANS I FIGHT BEARS IN MY ****ING SLEEP.

You can clearly see the marks from the bear's finger-things and claws! Hell, why am I assuming it was only one? It was probably six bears.

Readers, consider yourself lucky. You may know a bear-wrestler. That is not something everyone can claim.

However, with this newfound knowledge comes troubling thoughts. I must ensure my slaughter of the ursine community remains controlled, as with my power, I could potentially wipe out entire species of bear. Another question is raised... Where have I been placing all the bear-bodies? Do I also dig holes in my sleep, or is there a gruesome, ever growing pile of large furry lumps somewhere out there? Must I someone restrain myself at night?

Another theory has been brought forth by a respected member of the scientific community, AKA Zoë. It has been proposed that perhaps, not only do I fight bears in my sleep, but I also become one? This idea is backed up by my bedhead look, facial hair, and gruff demeanor. The idea that I perhaps become one of these soulless killing machines by night terrifies me, and will perhaps prevent me from ever sleeping again.

I will keep you updated as more facts come to light.

Please be on the look-out for strange men covered in blood and fur and/or bears roaming the streets at night.

Until then... Later days.

Today's Quabble: Pita Pit

2009-11-26T13:25:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Pee-tah Piht
Descriptors: Delicious, heavenly, concentrated amazing shoved inside a bread pocket, etc...

Definition:
Probably the single greatest fast food restaurant to grace the planet with its presence. The pitas made there bring joy to the world, cure cancer, and have the amazing power to make feel full and satisfied, no matter how large your appetite.

--

Oh, you noticed! I did indeed change up the format a little. I think this works a little better. Give me opinions, though. I would much appreciate it.

I seriously love the Pita Pit. It's my favourite "fast food" restaurant. I use that term sparingly, as it's not much like a greasy burger joint. I've been to two pita pit locations, and both seem identical. If you go late at night, the only people in the place are the guys that work there, who listen to cool music and make awesome pitas. It's a wonderful experience.

Now, before you go and start thinking I'm being paid off by them to manipulate you into eating there by using my incredible way with words and bending you with my influence, here's the deal. I have a beef I wish to rant about.

Recently, a Pita Pit opened in the Student Life Center (the SLC). I thought this would be wonderful. It is bittersweet, at best.

Yes, they make pitas. They make good pitas. In fact, they're delicious. However, because it's just a counter in the middle of a busy cafeteria, not to mention it closes at 9:00, it's just not the same. There's no atmosphere. And atmosphere is important.

Now, I know what you're all thinking. "But Greg, you said the food is good, so what's the problem?" I told you. Atmosphere.

Consider this: I strip away the Earth's atmosphere. Now, while you're gasping for the air that's no longer there, your whole body is swelling due to the vacuum of space, and your skin is being burned by the ridiculous amounts of UV radiation now hitting the surface of the planet, you'll say "You were right! Atmosphere is important!" Except you won't. Because you need air to talk.

Do you see the joy in those men's faces? That's the joy from working at a kickass restaurant. The ladies who work at the Pita Pit in the SLC lack this joy. In fact, they lack any joy. I chock this up to the lack of cool music.

I want my pitas complete with dudes with spacers and metal music. I don't care how gay that makes me sound. It's all about the atmosphere.

Later days.

P.S. I love you, Zoë.

Today's Quabble: Thor

2009-11-22T19:49:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Th-oar
Alt. Pron.: Pyur-aw-sum, gawd-ly, etc...

Definition: A mighty Norse god, son of Odin, brother of Loki. Wielded the legendary Mjöllnir, his war hammer. Badass all around.

--

In the picture, we see the Marvel Comics hero Thor, based off the god I previously described. This picture was scanned from a postcard my badass girlfriend bought me, because she gets me kickass presents. You're jealous, I know.

Oh, did I mention that she's also a complete babe?

However, the the Thor I have just told you about is not the Thor I have truly intended to waste your time describing. Oh, no my friends. The Thor I shall tell you of is far more mighty, far more powerful, and far more -- tiny.

You see, the Thor I really wanted to write about is my hamster. Dwarf hamster to be specific.

I got Thor about a month and a half ago. Fraser and I got lost on the way to Staples, and ended up in the parking lot of a Petcetra. We decided to pop inside and take a look around. We walked past the fish. Fish are boring. We walked past the birds. Birds aren't very friendly. Then we came across all the little critters: mice, rats, guinea pigs and (you guessed it) hamsters. Specifically of the dwarf variety.

After very little deliberation, Fraser and I had each purchased a dwarf hamster, and were on our way home. It took me a day or two to come up with the name, and even then, I was unsure. Until I had him running around on the carpet, and I saw him run up to a spider, jump on it, and then devour the thing. I knew then I had chosen well.

Other badass things Thor has done:
- bitten me hard enough to make my hand bleed
- climb across the ceiling of his cage from the inside
- punch Felix (Fraser's hamster) in the face
- become monstrously fat
- slay a dragon

I might have made one of those up, but I'll leave it up to you to figure out which one.

I was saddened to find out that dwarf hamsters only live a couple years. That being said, however, Thor's passing will be marked with a grand spectacle. The little guy is getting a motha****in' funeral pyre.

Fitting, don't you agree?

Later days.

P.S. For all those curious as to what the little guy looks like:

Photocred goes to the talented and gorgeous Zoë Doyle.

Today's Quabble: Disappointment

2009-11-19T17:18:00.001-08:00

Pronunciation: Dys-ah-poynt-ment
Alt. Pron: Hart-brayk, krush-ing dee-feet, etc...

Definition:
When everything you have ever believed to be good in the world lets you down.

Let me give you some back story. Today, my roommate Fraser and I walked to the corner store to get some milk to make pancakes for dinner. (The house is a little empty of food right now.) I decided to treat myself, and buy a coconut cream pie for dessert.

Now, I know what you're all thinking. "Great thinking, Greg!" I know, right? WRONG.

I bring my dessert home, and leave it out to thaw for the required 30 minutes. I'm getting really excited at this point. What a long 30 minutes. Time just seems stop moving. I swear I could have read the entire San Francisco Library during this half hour, Flash style.

Finally, the pie is ready to eat. My tastebuds are tingling. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking. (Okay, they always do that, but that's besides the point.) I carefully rip open the box, pull out my pie, and... The hell?

It may be a little difficult to see in the top picture, so I edited it a little. Fraser stole a piece of pie before I could take a picture. In the second photo, the red area shows Fraser's slice. That was the only piece missing from when I took it out of the box.

See anything wrong? Yeah, neither do I. OH WAIT. HALF MY ****ING PIE IS MISSING.

What kind of world do we live in that when a man buys a pie, he can no longer expect a whole pie? He gets half a pie. 2/3s of a pie, maybe?

"Hey honey, on your way home from work, could you pick up a pie?"
"Of course, sweetie. Maybe we'll even get 3/4s of pie this time!"

Now, I should clarify. It was not like someone had sliced half the pie off. It was like someone had taken the whole thing, and squished it together. Except there was absolutely no damage to the box... I detect a conspiracy.

I cannot bring myself to write anymore. I am being overwhelmed by a wave of emotion. Emotion known as disappointment. My excitement crushed, my anticipation wasted. I must go sob myself to sleep.

Later days.

Today's Quabble: BIOL 208

2009-11-09T20:32:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Beye-Ol-Too-Oh-Ate
Alt. Pron.: Buhl-shit, yoos-less, etc...

Definition: The most painful class I have ever had to take. Seriously. It's horrible.

--

I don't think even I comprehend the depth of the hate I hold for this class. It is beyond frustrating. Imagine pouring lemon juice in your eyes, while a baby screams in your ears and someone else poops in your mouth. That is what I would rather be doing than going to Analytical Methods in Molecular Biology.

As you can see to the left, these are the type of pictures I have taken to drawing in this class to retain my sanity.

While I often try to do the crossword while listening to Dr. Simon Chuong, his voice is both very distracting, and impossible to focus on. It's like that high pitched humming in your ears when all else is quiet. It drives you insane, but you can't actually listen to it.

Often times, I feel like sticking a pencil through my ear drums would bring sweet relief.

I think what bothers me most is that I know I will never use anything I am learning in this class ever again. Ever. I am stressing and wasting hours of my time studying for information I will never need to know again a month from now.

I think they should make a class about cupcakes. That is information I will need for the rest of my life.

Later days.

Today's Quabble: Zoë

2009-11-07T19:40:00.000-08:00

Pronunciation: Zoh-wee
Alternate Pron.: bahd-aSS, gore-jus, wun-der-FUL, etc...

Definition: The single-most incredible person to have ever walked the planet, beating out other contenders such as Mr. T, Dr. Tran, and the guy who invented Gushers.

--

For all those reading who don't know who Zoë is, she and I have been together for roughly 2 years, 4 months, and 12 days. She is my best friend. She is my soulmate. She is the only person I will ever love. She is the one I will be spending the rest of my life with.

I met Zoë on January 27th, 2006. Perhaps "met" is the wrong term. "Encountered" perhaps would work better. I stumbled across her profile on a site called DarkStarlings, and thought she was gorgeous. I felt a little daring, and so I decided to comment on one of her pictures, telling her that I thought she was pretty. I would consider this the single luckiest day of my life.

What started as a discussion about video games, specifically Star Wars games, turned into the reason I get out of bed each morning. We first met face to face on June 27th, 2007, and our romance "officially" began, though it had been in the works for months previous.

We've had more than our fair share of ups and downs, specifically downs. We had some nasty fights, distance constantly pulling us apart, and a few major screw-ups on my side of things. But somehow, we managed to pull through.

I could write 30 or 40 pages about what Zoë is and isn't, but I'll limit it to this: Zoë is everything I could ever want in a person, and more. She makes me want to be better than I am. She makes me see beauty in the world I never saw before. To put it simply; Zoë makes me happy.

Zoë is a brilliant artist. I have two posterboards full of things she has drawn or painted me on my wall so that I can show it off to everyone who looks through my ground level window. I hope that I'll have many more of these as the years go by. Don't even get me started about how great a writer she is.

Recently, Zoë and I had a fight. A big one. About a year ago, she asked something of me, and I was too scared to do it, and I hurt her more than she ever deserved to be hurt. But we worked through it. Zoë, if you're reading this (which I know you are), I hope you know now that you are the most important thing in my life. Nothing else comes before you.

I'm sure you're getting anxious to read this, Zoë, so I'll tie this up, for your sake.

Zoë, I love you. I love you more than anything. I am hopelessly, impossibly and completely in love with you. I always will be. You're the piece of me that was missing, and now that I have you, I'll never let go.

I love you.

Later days.

Photo taken by Zoë Doyle.

Today's Quabble: Quabble

2009-10-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

Pronunciation: kwa-bul

Definition: A specific made-up word, referring to a specific object, person, idea, quote, act, or other item (usually falling inside of the catagory or "noun"), which happens to pique the interest of a specific Greg on any specific day, which he will then choose to waste your time by writing about.

--

My name is Greg. I'm choosing to write this blog for two reasons; One, to entertain myself, perhaps by forcing myself to notice something interesting every day, and Two, to perhaps entertain you.

My intention is to update this every day. Whether this intention holds... We'll have to wait and see.

Later days.