Y2kk Update: It's just so degrading... the way life's so damn grating... and so goddam, fuckin' taunting... enough so that I times, I just don't care.

I know my life by all accounts is perfectly fine, but that doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it. I know that my life today is no different than it was yesterday, but that doesn't mean I can't bitch about it... Because yesterday afternoon, I got a little letter in the mail. It seemed that the professor of my electricity and magnetism course did change my mark afterall out of mercy, and apparently my new score was already updated on the university website. So thinking that a miracle had happened and that I wouldn't have to damn take that course over again next year, I eagerly logged onto the school website, only to goddam fine that my mark had changed...

... from a 47%...

... to a goddam 49%...

And there was still a fuckin' F next to my goddam name, standing for a big "Ivan F fuck you" with a lovely smile on the side... And honestly, why the hell did the professor bother to change my mark if he wasn't going to let me goddam pass? It was like he was just damn taunting me, waving before my hungry eyes a fish to feed, then striking and slapping it from my face before I ever got a damn bite... So what else could I damn do but e-mail the professor again? Because yes, I know he's bound by rules. Yes, I know he's bound by honour, and loyalty, and oaths, and blah blah blah. And I know he probably did his "best" or his "most" to change my mark enough to get me to the pass the course, and I appreciate that... but that doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it. It doesn't mean I can't bitch about it. And quite frankly put, I'm pretty fucked off right now. And why? Is there any question why?

Because I just got a letter back from that professor, and he confessed his condolences, that he tried and tried but just couldn't find the marks to let me pass... so he was hoping the 49% that he did give me would suffice for the committee to goddam pass me at least... but that's not what the fuckin' F says next to my name... and, well... What else can I do but thank him for his time? What else can I do? Beg him on my knees to lie to the committee that I earned a damn spot on the passable idiotF list? I think not... He has his standards, and I have mine. And I know the situation is now out of his hands, unless he wants to dirty his hands... and I understand why he refused to help me any further. I appreciate him trying... but honestly, why the fuckin' hell would he tempt me with a goddam 49%? Why the hell wouldn't he just leave my mark the way it was so that I wouldn't ever have gotten my goddam hopes up again? Why the hell couldn't he just leave me be when I was perfectly accepting of the fact that I was a goddam failure? I mean, honestly, who throws a fucking shoe?... Sure, I know that I'm the one to blame for my mark, not him. But that doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it. And that doesn't mean I can't bitch about it.

Because you know what? Now I officially know that if I didn't get blamed for goddam cheating by my goddam TA in the course, then I probably would've goddam passed the damn course... I agreed, under the table, with the TA, that I was willing to lose a percent or two of my mark for goddam looking at the back of the book. By his rules, I had cheated, and since he was willing only to dock a percentage point or two from my mark, it just wasn't worth it for me to bring the whole damn Fidel fiasco to the tribunal for retribution... but now I see that I put my goddam foot in my mouth. If only I could get that one mark back, I would pass the damn course, unless the 49% that the professor gave me was pity bullshit in the first place... and I know I was the one who shook hands, nodded my head, and signed away my name as the guilty party in that whole cheating fiasco. I know that I did break the rules, without knowing the goddam rules. I know this is all my fault, and really nobody else's. But that goddam doesn't mean I can't bitch about it. It goddam doesn't mean I can't be goddam depressed.

And what now?... well, I take my pitiful fight to the university committee itself. They might pass me despite that one lost percent... if they have any decency, at least... but until then? Right now, I'm preoccupied with the fact that my brother is damn pissed at himself for not "understanding" the plotline in Halo for the Xbox. I mean, I know he gets the story... he just doesn't absorb as much of it as I seem to do, and thus he gets jealous... thus, he gets compulsive... thus, he gets competitive... and he takes it out on me. Because I feel guilty. When he feels bad, I feel bad. And you know what sucks? He does this all the time, for every single game, and for every single damn movie we watch. He always strikes himself down for being the "dum" one of deh brothas, and I can't stand the fact that he does. He blows the whole situation not just out of proportion, but clear skies right out of the goddam water. And right now, he's down in the basement, brooding that I didn't care that he cares so damn much about a goddam plothole he missed. And why didn't I care? Because I always cater to him. And even though he knows that I'm goddam pissed at the letter my professor just sent me back, he still doesn't bother to cater to me. And sure, I can chalk that up to just human nature and accept it. And sure, I may love my brother for everything he is, and even for the things he does to me. But that doesn't mean I can't goddam bitch about it. And that doesn't mean I can't blow my own steam off on this website of mine.

This website was made for one purpose and one purpose only: to vent my frustrations before they vent me out of my own asshole, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean... and quite frankly, the reason my websites have been suffering lately, the reason why I still haven't updated most of my sites with anything decent for months, is because I just don't feel Mr. furious anymore. I don't feel whiny anymore, because it's all been said and done before, on this website no less... and because I always write as a routine, on Fridays, rather than on whim, when I actually have a thirst to write... But you know what? I may not have solved anything with this Y2kk Update of mine, but I do feel a hell of a lot better, if only because somebody got to listen to my problems for once...

... myself...

I guess I don't listen enough, because I talk too much... but either way, I still wish things would sort themselves out in my life. I know that my life is just grand compared to others'. I know that if none of this university bullshit crap had arrived in the mail, that I wouldn't even be upset right now... but that doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it. And that doesn't mean I can't bitch about it. And thank God I have a website for all the above... otherwise, I just might scream...

Or worse yet, I might just buy Scream, and scream that I bought a movie as bad as Scream, but that's besides the point...

Y2kk Update: Well, I thought I might as well get this over with, considering I really have nothing better to do... so I might as well admit that I did my annual thing with my dad this morning, and went to the Dragon Boat races over at a little berg known as Centre Island... My father and I have been doing this for the past, well... for my past, entire life, I think. And really, I only still go for just two reasons: first, to make sure my dad never gets disappointed in me, as he seems so damn letdown every single year I opt to stay home with the fishes... and secondly, simply because I can't help but gawk at all the Chinese girls in the shortest of shorts and skirts there... provided that they have an innocent looking face of Will and grace, of course... and they don't have some gang related Chinese boyfriend holding their arm, but I digress... And the end result?

Well, my dad didn't yell at me or anything, so that's always a good sign... and as for womanizing, all I did was end up thinking about what the girl I talk too much could've been doing this week... because you see, she sort of did send me a letter back the other day... or actually, she sent me a letter the very hour or something that I wrote my last download update... hell, for all I know, she was writing it exactly when I wrote last week that she still hadn't written me back, and how's that for timing?... but the thing was, she really sounded like she didn't give a damn about me in her e-mail. I mean, maybe it was just me or something, but I couldn't help but feel disappointed and quite a bit neglected when I found out that not only did she "forget" to e-mail me back a month ago, but that she also devoted an entire page of her one-page e-mail to talking about herself and how happy she is, and about just a line or two to mentioning anything about me... I mean, hell, it was almost like reading my own Y2kk Updates, except one written by her, entirely about her... so, um... actually, not much difference there I guess either, I guess...

I wrote her an e-mail back the other night, and the thing was, while I obviously didn't announce to her my undying love or some crap like that, I did tell her the honest to God truth, that I wish I could be happy for her, but I just couldn't muster the goodness in my heart to do so... I'd like to think that if she's happy, then I'd be happy, but that's only an idealized dream of love, and not the selfish reality... She mentioned "how romantic" and "oh la la" it was when it came to her current summer endeavours... she's been having a chu-chu-choose you blast, all without me, since obviously I was never exactly the darling of her peach of an eye... I was always the Robert Jr. downer, and I guess it just kind of hurts to finally realize that she is not the type of girl who wants a downer in her mists... Instead, she chooses to flaunt with guys, and travel around to cities, and teach little children... all stuff that at times I wish I could do, if only I wasn't who I am... Because though I love children, I just loathe the education system so damn much that I could never teach them with a straight face. I just hate the concept that seeing the world makes you a more experienced man, so obviously I don't bother to get out of the house much... and as for flaunting and flirting with guys?... um... I don't think I'll pick that hobby up anytime soon... except with the new Ontario, Canada legislation out about gay marriages, I guess there's no better time than the present... I think... but that's besides the point...

Anyhew, short story short, she made me feel short. She made me feel slighted... and I don't think that was her intention. But does it really matter in the end?... She's not even a close friend anymore. Just like all the rest, she's become just another faceless acquaintance that says hi out of guilt and ritual routine... which was the furthest damn thing I ever wanted... I mean, if only there was some sort of thing I could do with her, like take her to the damn Dragon Boat races for all I care, maybe she wouldn't ignore me every damn day of the month?...

... yeah... it's called a date... it's called coffee... but knowing all the above never made me open my damn mouth when she actually still saw me as someone close. And that was before she sent me that letter of hers, about her, detailing how she spends her life now with some Bizarro IvanF in the teaching field, and of how damn hot this summer's been for her... oh la la... but I digress...

ATI: Well, there's another rumour going around, this time about the upcoming RV380 or some crap like that. I mean, there's so many of these damn RV things going around these days (or two of them, at least...) that I'm losing track of them all already... But anyhew, in case you care, go ahead and wish upon a star, and thank X-bit labs at: http://www.xbitlabs.com/news/video/display/20030616162537.html .

Y2kk Update: What a boring life I weave. What a bleak and dreary life I lead... a life I lead like lead... because quite frankly, I really don't have anything to report... or at least, I really have no news that can fill up an entire Y2kk Update or whatever kind of crap. I mean, sure there are little timbits left in my life... The girl I talk too much about? I sent her another e-mail, as I said I would on my msn site. And of course, she hasn't responded to it yet... and, well... I can assume that maybe she just doesn't check her e-mails anymore, or that every letter that she sends me back simply gets lost in the mail thanks to the porno mob, but really... I may hope to dream, but the fact of the matter is, she's probably just doing to me what she does to every single other guy that has pissed her off. And quite frankly, I'm pretty sure that I pissed her off... but with a woman, you can never be so sure of things, now can you? Not the way that they play us, at least...

But that's old news, and out with the old, and out with the new, I like to say... but to make sure this Y2kk Update isn't a complete waste of my time and hard drive space, I thought you few readers out there just might want to know... or at least, might want to be warned... that I am now eligible to drive my ass around in a car and screw every single one of you in the bumper sticker... Meaning what? Meaning I had my infamous driver's test today, and in a way, I was freaking out. I mean, yesterday, I had practiced parking the entire damn day and I still couldn't back into a parking spot without almost hitting another car. Hell, I could barely even forward park without landing on one of the lines like a mine, believe it or not. And after month after month of repeatedly facing near Shakespearean death scene scenarios, where my blind spot (aka my entire line of vision) seems to blur the distinction between real and fantasy fatality, I was nervous as hell when the instructor wouldn't even let me say goodbye to my father before I was forced against my own Accord, by my own legs, to step into my own car... the car of death, with the stench of Seinfeld, even when I'm not driving it, as many Y2kk readers would know by now... and hell, when the tester stepped into the car? My hands were all jiggly, and definitely not jiggy wit it. I mean, I was terrified at the start when she asked me to turn on the lights. Before she specified that she had to check the turn signals and the brake lights only, I was frantically searching up and down my dashboard for some indication of how to turn on the friggin' headlights... and my God, if she asked to turn on the windshield wipers? My ass would've been cooked by that Helga... because it's the little things in life you treasure, and apparently it's the little lights in life that I never learn... Now, don't get me wrong. My examiner was a nice gal in the end. But truth be told, she did have a blond butch kind of look to her that screamed out that she could crush me beneath her feet or between her legs at any moment that she felt like squeezing... but that's besides the point...

The point is, I had to parallel park twice, and even though I almost failed my first parallel park (which was behind a car, and I apparently parked too close to its rear), I still sighed a sense of relief in the end because quite frankly, parallel parking is the only damn type of parking I can do. So to sum the crap up: she first made me parallel park behind a car, then she made me parallel park uphill in front of another car, and then, well... basically, that was it. I was allowed to finish it all off with a forward parking job (which I barely got between the damn lines), and voila, what do you know?... I don't know how I did it. I don't know why God allowed it. And I know nothing good can ever come from this, but... It's safe to say, that the roads are no longer safe. Because I, IvanF, am now officially allowed to drive. I have graduated from the North American, male bonding ritual of getting a license. And now officially, if only I could grow some chest hair, some muscles, and maybe take a sip of beer, I can finally consider myself a man... if only...

And, well... I'm a driver on paper at least, so to speak... because apparently, I ain't getting any semblance of insurance until October at the very least. But besides, the more important fact is that I absolutely, crudely, love to loathe driving with the most passionate of passion rosas. I mean, my sister once told me long ago that driving is different than being a passenger. While in the backseat, my mind wanders to even thinking of crap like the Backstreet Boys. I can't concentrate, and I essentially fall asleep with my eyes open before I know it... but my sister told me long ago that being behind the wheel would be different... but, alas... the poor lass...

... she was wrong...

I drift off in the middle of traffic. I start imagining 128 Super Marios bouncing on car hoods before I wipe my ass and wise up to the fact that I just ran a red light. And hell, the only way I can park in video games is from a third person perspective outside of the car. There's a reason why I have no coordination in first person shooters, and being behind the wheel of a car sort of reminds me of why I've always hated every single racing game that you can crash, burn, and die in... because they're a little too realistic for my tastes, or a little too close to my reality at least, if you know what I mean...

Short story short, rest assured and breath icy easy for now, you won't see me on the roads anytime soon. But while I may willingly keep my distance from any vehicle that I'm liable to drive, considering I am a grave liability, it is nevertheless a relief for me at least, that I didn't fail yet another thing this year... although it kind of stung when Ms. Helga over there made it sound like I almost failed (I apparently cut corners and stop too late at stop signs, and I almost hit a car on the war of the way back to the office, but that's besides the point...)... but, still, nonetheless... In a year where everything has seemed to go wrong, at least I now know that I did one thing right, even if it was supposedly easy. And God, am I glad that I'll never have to do any of it again... until my next road test, that is... because it all sounds like so much goddam fun, doesn't it?...

... and heh... just wait until I drive to a road near you... If you thought my writing was bad, wait 'till you get a load of this...

ATI: Who would've thunk that a site called The Inquirer could post the latest ATI rumours on the net? Well, anyhew, I don't know what they have to report this week, but I do know they talk about the upcoming R420 for the PCI Express bus at: http://www.theinquirer.net/?article=10001 .

ATI: Not much ATI news this week, now that the nVidia cheating fiasco fanfare has died done. But for those of you who exist and care, there's some Radeion 9800 Pro reviews out there. The first being at VR-Zone:  http://www.vr-zone.com/reviews/FIC/A98P/ . The second being at 3dGameMan or something at: http://www.3dgameman.com/vr/fic/fic_radeon_9800_128mb/video_review.html .

Y2kk Update: Just great... just, woohoo great... so sue me... Because for the umpteenth time this week alone, my brother is mad at me... again... exactly as I write this. And unfortunately for me, he's pissed off for the same damn reason that he was yelling in my ear for just last month... You see, my brother has become obsessed with buying only premium gas at gas stations these days. He heard from his friends that the older a car gets, the higher the octane the engine requires. And the thing is, a month ago, I never really questioned whether his friends were right or not. I simply stated that premium gas is so damn expensive and therefore wasteful of all the gas money my brother gets from my parents... and honestly, after what I told you Y2kk readers just the week, you'd think my brother would actually want to let the damn Taurus die on us or some crap like that. So why not just feed it the crap gas and let it roll over and die like a good dog?... and yet...

My brother went ballistic on me last month, and why? Because he was insulted that I wouldn't trust the opinion of a friend of his friend... Because you see, this whole premium gas issue all started with a friend of a friend of his who works as a mechanic at a small time shop, and of course, logic dictates that as long as you work at a shop, then you must be knowledgeable about everything, right?... but hell, I've told my brother so many damn stories about the idiots who work at video game stores, or the morons who don't know what they're talking about at computer stores, that I was shocked that he was shocked that I didn't find his story credible... And the same story unfolded this very morning, when my brother opted to go for the premium gas route again and I just had to open my big ass mouth. And the thing was, this time I openly admitted that I doubted in his friend's credibility. But the fact of the matter is, that shouldn't matter. Because hell's bells, I doubt in literally everyone's bloody opinions. It's both in my nature and in my engineering curriculum, to not trust a damn thing I hear unless I see a credible source or a scientific study to back it up. Because I mean, honestly, it all stems from experience. Every time I was young and I heard something from a friend, I would rant about his discovery all around school to all my other friends (not that I had friends, mind you), only to find one month later that I was telling something that was goddam completely wrong... I have embarrassing memories of believing urban legends about technology, and I'll be damned if I fall into that trap again. So yes, I did doubt in his friend's opinion, that our seven year old Taurus needs premium gas of all things, even though the instruction manual recommends the lowest octane. So what else could I do but do what I do best, and look up the truth on a bunch of incredibly non-credible websites on the net?... and what did I find?...

I don't know if you can trust my sources or not. One was the FTC. One was the Globe and Mail newspaper. A couple were from automobile based fan sites. And half a dozen were from e-pinions of all places... but they all agreed on one thing: higher octane gas is not better than lower octane gas. It doesn't offer better performance. It doesn't offer better mileage. And it doesn't offer a cleaner engine on the whole. Instead, it is only meant for cars that specifically mention in their manual that they need high octane gas to run. Because contrary to even my beliefs, higher priced gas actually reduces performance on most cars, even sports cars. The higher octane number simply shows how damn long it takes for the gasoline to burn. The rating has nothing to do with performance or cleanliness. But rather, for most cars, having gas that takes a long time to burn would actually damage your engine when you try to start the damn thing... But my brother's friends were half right in a sense. Older cars do require higher octane gas in order to start smoother... but only if the engine is pinging or knocking or making bad jokes or whatever the hell kind of car crap. Premium gas is used when the fuel system is clogged or something, when the gas flow is blocked to the point where slower burning gas is required to squeeze through or some crap like that... And the fact of the matter is, I don't hear anything wrong with the Taurus engine. Age really has nothing to do with premium gas, but rather with what kind of damn condition the car is in. And bloody hell, we just got a tune-up! We just got the pump and injections systems cleaned! And at least according to multiple sources on the internet, premium gas would just clog the whole system back up again! It's only supposed to be used when the engine is noticeably clogged, and even if it is, most sites still recommended to just get your engine cleaned for a hundred or so bucks... So in conclusion, my brother's friends did tell the truth. Older engines do require premium gas, but only if they're damaged. And only if they're dirty. Which of course means that my brother was completely wrong when he filled the car with premium gas today... and hell, he said that even if older cars don't need premium gas, he likes the better performance from it anyways. And, well... that's what I was afraid of telling him about... about the placebo effect, I mean... I mean, his friends were half right, but I was really afraid to tell my brother that he was more than half wrong...

So I decided to print out all the sources I found and simply set them on his desk, so he could read them at any time he liked. I didn't want to prove him wrong... I really wanted his friends to be right, simply so I would have more of a reason to say I'm sorry... but in the end, I guess it didn't matter. When I showed my brother the print-outs, he simply scoffed them off and sort of gave me that evil eye look, that he was offended that I even bothered to look the car crap up. Because honestly, looking up sources was proof to him that I didn't trust his friends... But the thing was, the sources were right there in front of him, and he was still refusing to read them! Doesn't that say something about my brother?... I mean, before I looked up my sources, my brother was screaming at me to just admit that I think his friends are stupid, and although there is some truth to that, it wasn't the truth he was looking for... You see, my parents have looked down on his high school friends since the dawn of high school. Even my brother's university friends gawked and stared at his older ones when they came for a dorm visit. But me? I never took exception to his friends. What my brother just doesn't get is...

I think everyone is stupid. Myself included.

Of course I would only trust sources. Whenever I trust word of mouth or rule of thumb, I get screwed in the end for looking like a bloody idiot. I don't care how smart you are, whether you're a scientist, a lawyer, or a damn mechanic. I need a tangible source. I need something that's confirmed, or at least reviewed by more than one person. That's the engineer in me talking, and in a way, that confirms that I chose the right university path to apply to... But my brother only seems to care that I don't trust in his friend's opinion right away. He only seems to care that...

... um...

...

Oh.

...

Damn.

...

Oops.

My brother just apologized to me... um... then I apologized to him back... and, um... apparently, he read the reports while I was writing this... and, um... although he still refuses to believe that premium gas doesn't improve performance, he understands that while his friend was right about the older engine thing, it doesn't apply to the Ford Taurus... Heck, he's even highlighting areas of the print-outs now to discuss with his friends... and, um... hmm... now I feel embarassed at what I wrote above... kind of ironic, actually... and since I'm no longer mad cow or mad at him or myself, then, um...

Well, I guess I have nothing left to write... go figure... Oh well, back to Buffy and Star Trek reruns for me...

ATI: Not much happened in the video card world this week, but just in case you're bored, Xbit Labs has a little feature on the future of ATI's manufacturing plans. Not sure what they say, but there's something about relying on add-in-boards over at: http://www.xbitlabs.com/news/video/display/20030605070910.html .

nVidia: I just want to take the time here to gloat that nVidia has cheated yet again on the 3dMark tests. By renaming the 3dMark03.exe to 3dMurk03.exe or even IvanFsucks.exe, performance drops yet again, Quack style... I just thought that was worth a smile...

Y2kk Update: Well, I'll be damned... It's not every day that fate gives you a hundred dollar deal, but for once, I finally got a buck of a break... I strolled into the local Best Buy this afternoon, and since my home printers have been down for God knows how long by now, I couldn't resist the reset of checking out the laser printer section of the store. The thing was, they had that crappy Samsung ML-1430 model on show, the one that my sister bought the other week for about $300CAN... now, I've never been a big fan of Samsung. I'm now terrified that the company will become the next terrorist Sony to disgrace God's green earth... but still... um... the thing was, my sister bought this laser printer about a half-life month ago, and she hasn't had anything but good thoughts to say about the thing. And the thing was... um... The price of the printer now read $229... And after scouting out three or four other stores for comparison shopping, and after seeing that every other place in the city still had the Samsung labeled as $300... and considering even the Best Buy flyer that came out just yesterday still labeled the laser printer as being $299? How could I possibly not resist a gift foot wrapped in my horseshit mouth, or however that saying is supposed to go?... (well, don't blame me - it's not like I'd know the saying, considering nothing decent ever happens to happen for me... I am IvanF almighty then indeed...)...

So after pleading with my parents to get me a new printer, if only to not repeat the fiasco of the computer virus that I seem to cause every damn time I tried to print with the printers at university (I mean, I printed 20 pages one time... and after the computer refused to print for reasons unknown, it then flashed a naked screen for me that said I had just used up 200 pages of my 1000 page quota... and it sort of did that to me a couple more times in the year for no apparent reason whatsoever, unless someone decided to play a tempered Seabass trick on me, but I digress...)... So after my parents forked over the money, I strolled my ass down to the checking lane counter, swiped my mother's lovely credit card, took my receipt in one hand, and dropped the box and my jaw when the check-out lady placed a $50 rebate in the other hand... because, um... What?!... There were no signs in the damn store that a rebate for the printer was going on. Nobody in the damn store that I had asked for help from even remotely mentioned a $50 rebate. And the thing was... What?!... Yes, I know the printer still costed a lump of a roast of money, but honestly... I wasn't expecting to be handed $50 back to me for no apparent reason whatsoever (which I prompted handed to my dear mother, of course), so I couldn't help but actually think that I was getting a bloody deal for once in my life... a bloody jubilation of a hundred buck break, to put it mildly... I mean, since when did the world actually do me favours without me knowing about it 8 track miles ahead?... and considering nothing decent ever happens in my life, I was sure that maybe the printer didn't actually work or something, or that we'd find it was missing a toner when we finally get it home... but the problem was... There were no problems. There was no goddam problems with the purchase at all. The printer goddam worked... it goddam worked wizardry wonders...

... too bad it seems to be the only thing damn working in the house at this point...

I wish I could say the same about the car... I wished the car worked, I mean, even though I absolutely have a Ferrari passione loathing for driving... but still... If you read my download update last week, you'd know that my sister borrowed the Ford Taurus car from my brother and I last weekend. We weren't happy with the decision though, considering my sister was placing her job interview on a higher print queue priority list than even my brother's summer mid-term... But in the end, I guess everything worked out for the best... for my brother and I at least, and not for anyone else in my family who had to pray and pay in cash... Because the thing was, my sister returned the car to us Monday morning, and considering she would never give back the car to us without her life being threatened or whatever kind of crap, both my brother and I knew something was definitely amiss... And when my sister finally plowed her way back into our driveway?... the funny thing was, when my brother tried the car?... heh... the power steering didn't work anymore... and the windows? According to the power switches, they didn't exist... And the overhead lights? They refused to turn on and off according to our will, but rather decided to be little light bulbs that blink at random, if only to provide a tall toy of a story... And the radio? It truly was demonically possessed, or at least possessed by my sister, randomly playing tracks from the 17th century or some crap like that... or even worse, from the 70s... But none of this scared off my sister of course. The only real reason why she brought back the damn Taurus, was that the ABM breaks kept locking up for no apparent reason whatsoever when she was driving on the highway... And her entire dashboard would flood her with the car equivalent of SPAM or some crap like that, as it would tell her that all the doors were open, or that the key wasn't in the ignition, or that her seatbelt wasn't on and that she was going to die, all at the same time when she obviously knew none of this was true... So it was official. After years of bad driving, my sister had finally dented and dentisted and damaged that goddam heroin of a lemon of a car of ours for good. I mean, it seems that every time she drives the damn thing, she tears a transformer, or freaks out a fuselage, or goddam cracks the carburetor... She's as cursed with the car as I am with computers. It's quite fitting, really... except for those of us who had to pay...

Luckily, I wasn't one of them. There was obviously a problem with the Ford computer or the car's electrical systems, so my sister opted to rather rent a car for her job interview, and heaped the entire costs of the car repair on my hapless, little family... Unfortunately, the road to repairs was not as idealic as we all hoped it would be... Because first of all, the first problem manifested itself in the form of my father. He's always trying to be the big shot when it comes to mechanical engineering crap, considering he's always hoping to someday equal his mechanical engineer of a baby brother in that aspect. And as soon as he noticed that the gas tank was almost empty in the Taurus at the time?... he instantly declared like the best of dick dictators, that all the problems had been caused by the car not having enough gas. He then instinctively drove the powerless car to the gas station, filled the tank to the brim, found that no more problems had arisen, and called it a night... or at least, he would've called it a night, if I hadn't started a night long debate with him, that a dry fuel tank doesn't lead to ABM brakes trying to goddam kill you on the highway... My dad took one side of the argument: that when gas is low, the car will try to kill you, to prevent you from killing yourself when the car stops on a dime from a lack of gas... And of course, I tried to argue otherwise, that except for the alternator, the gas system should have nothing to do with the electrical systems, and that it's ludicrous to think engineers like myself would design a car that a) would not splutter or slow down rather than stopping outright when gas is low, and b) try to kill you just to protect itself from us pulling a Kramer and seeing just long the damn car can chug... But alas, eventually I had no choice but to butt and agree with my dad's opinion, that a hack of a lack of gas caused the fuel lines to clog up somehow, causing the car to go Frankenstein berserk against its hordes of whores of owners. Because I mean, it was the only way he would agree to take the car into the shop. He would only pay for the repairs if he knew he was right, so what choice did I have?... what right did I have?...

... uggh... I should've taken my chances with the car... Because my dad was actually foolish enough to bring the car into Canadian Tire, a place that may sell good tires, but consists of pretty much the dumbest Canucks you can find on the face of the planet when it comes to auto mechanics... But nay, scratch and scotch tape all the above out. My dad's real stupidity came when he just kept nodding his head to everything the head repair guy was spouting to him about what to check... And when the bill came in later that day? The thing was... we just wanted the damn electrical systems checked... or at least, I wanted the electrical systems checked. But my dad's endless conquest, to prove his theories right, led to everything BUT the electrical systems being checked. And the grand total in the end?... a goddam $1500... just to check everything except what I wanted to fix... Of course, we tried to stop the repair people from going ahead with every single damn upgrade or whatever hell crap they were trying to implement. In the end, we cut our losses and cut the costs to $700, but still... the computer systems were checked and were apparently in check, but everything else they looked at in the car was so damn trivial that it wasn't funny. They found no real problems with the windows, and yet they charged us $100 just to see if the switch went up and down? Give me a break... But alas, my father was content with the repairs nonetheless, and why? Because they had told him exactly what he wanted to hear. After seven long years in Tibet of driving the car, the gas tank had indeed become dirty harry and dull enough to be a warranted as a hazard and definitely needed cleaning... and my dad used this as gasoline on the flame, to clinically prove to us rebellious children of his, that he was right and right all along... And since I didn't want to argue with his seven hundred bucks busted and wasted, what else could I do but simply nod my head in agreement and cite my oh so exciteful, "yes, father"?...

So my brother and I took the car back home, and after driving around the city for a while, we noticed something... the car was working perfectly fine... it was in perfect working order... There were no anomalies, no gremlins, and no paranoid delusional ghosts or whatever that my sister was ranting and raving about. So I did start becoming afraid... afraid that my father was right all along... and that's when... right on cue... as if it knew exactly what I was thinking...

The car died. The very next day.

Or rather, the power steering shut off... and it didn't just shut off. Oh no, it just had to shut off with true flair, by refusing to make up its mind on whether to be a good gremlin or not... My brother in the end was able to adjust to the steering wheel being ten times harder to pull than it was before, but what really sucked for him (and for me, considering I was in the car too) was that every time he did a damn turn, the power steering would turn on and off a dozen times fold at pure random intervals... In the end, it was really pathetic to see, but I had no choice but to keep peddling and paddling up and down on the damn window knobs, just to see when the damn electricity in the car was out, and when the damn electrical chose to magical come back for a wonderful Disney visit... For the most part, the windows now refused to budge, as if they had some goddam police badge or some crap like that. The headlights were now making headlines, by deciding to map out their own morse code. And although the ABM brakes never tried to suicide us like it had our sister, the car certainly didn't provide for us a joyous ride home that evening, considering the drivers behind us had no clue why our brake lights were getting mixed up with the traffic lights on the long road ahead... It truly was a road to perdition. The only problem was, the car was perdition.

So we took the ol' 96 Taurus back to the Canadian Tire shop right away and demanded our damn Canadian Tire money back... and you know what the funny thing was? Too bad I wasn't there to see it, but my brother woved for me a wickedly wonderful tale... how the Canadian Tire people who had "fixed" our car just a day before, were poking and prodding and pricking away at our car with sticks and stones, looking as goddam stoned and stone aged as a goddam set of monkeys typing away at a million goddam typewriters... And their end verdict? That they had absolutely no fucking clue what the hell was wrong with the car... they simply backed away from it slowly, gave us a hundred bucks back when they noticed that the windows were now going up and down like a possessed elevator whenever it pleased, and then ran away from the sight of the site to never come back... It must've truly been a sight to behold, but it certainly didn't fix our situation... it certainly didn't fix our car... but still... we had gotten a hundred bucks back, but just a hundred. We had lost six hundred, all for nothing, but one hundred bucks is still something... a hundred bucks is still a steal... and although we still lied in the shadow of the car of the damned, rest assured, cynics be damned, it's not every day that fate gives you a hundred dollar deal, because for once, just for once, we had finally gotten a buck of a break...

And a broken car to boot, that could barely boot, but I digress... but if you're looking for some closure, for some antidote to this little, pointless anecdote of mine? Well, my mother then called some small shop mechanic guy that we used to get our car fixed at in the good ol' days, and right away, the guy claimed that he had seen the same problem with Found on Road Dead Tauruses a million times fold... Over the phone, he instantly told us that it had nothing to do with the gas systems, but rather with a fluid pump that partially controlled the electrical systems or some crap like that... and for three hundred bucks, we could get our damn car working in pristine, polished, Pine Sol order again... And after my dad blushed and vomited to no end, fully knowing that he had been proven wrong, he sighed and signed the car up and winced with his left, sinistre eye at me that I shall never speak of this again...

And truth be told, short story short, the car works fine now... until the next time my sister drives it and drives it to insanity, but that's besides the point... because it all sounds like so much goddam fun, doesn't it?... though we shall never speak of this again...

ATI: Just saw over at Rage3d that John Carmack has put his two cents into the whole nVidia cheating thing over at Slashdot. Now, since most of the internet world sees Carmack as a graphical god, I'm sure his comments will bring along some weight with the net at: http://slashdot.org/comments.pl?sid=65617&cid=6051216 .

ATI: Driver Heaven has an interview up with Terry Makedon from ATI. I'm not sure what they talked about, but interviews are always fun to skim and misinterpret for internet rumours at: http://www.driverheaven.net/#article_2896 .

Y2kk Update: This should be a short update, providing that you few readers out there keep your fingers crossed, and considering literally nothing has happened to me in the past week or so... My only real complaint is that my damn mark hasn't changed online one damn bit or byte for that stupid-ass, goddam Electricity course of mine. But whether or not I pass the course is really not what I'm concerned about right now. I'm going to move onto third year anyhew, so I guess that's all I could ask for... besides passing.. and besides being the top of my class...

I just think it sucks though that my damn professor hasn't e-mailed me back. Whether he'd be the harbinger or good or bad news, I don't really care... And yes, I know it would've helped to keel him over with guilt if I had simply arranged a meeting with him and looked him eye to eye, but still... I wrote him a bunch of e-mail messages. Good girl enough for me... The last one was not returned, and I was afraid to ask him yet again whether my mark had improved or not, because I was afraid of sounding like one of those annoying, redundant, repugnant kids in the backseat of a car whining, "are we there yet? Are we there yet?"... besides, considering there's still a blatant, goddam F beside my name on my online transcript, that probably means that I won't be passing the course, now will I?... but oh well, AOL, I've been lashed and alas... next year in Jerusalem I always say, whatever that's supposed to mean...

Besides that, my life's been a bore of a chore, and I guess last night was a perfect example of that... First, the day started out with the usual family bickering about who gets the crown jewels or the prized car or whatever kind of crap... what I mean is, my sister needed the car for an interview with some marketing thing on Tuesday. The problem being, she lives in a different city now, and it wasn't very nice of her to demand the car back when my brother has a summer school mid-term tomorrow night... But of course, although things were never settled between the two, my brother caved in as all brothers do to their sisters, and before we knew what bloody hit us, we were sitting in her damn apartment, waiting for her to arrive so we could donate to her the damn car... The thing was, when she finally did arrive, she brought with her a friend from her university days, and of course I didn't have a problem with that... a direct download problem, at least... I think...

But I did start having problems with that little twitch on my cheek, and Cherokee cheek in tongue, when the girls started blabbing their mouths off about gossip this and boyfriends that... it made my ears keel, if you know what I mean... It was psychological torture at its best, not only because I was forced to listen to girl talk for a bloody half hour, but because it pained me how my sister was wearing a short shirt and was showing off her legs up close to me the whole damn time... But still, there was one other reason why I was a bit perplexed and perturbed... first of all, it kind of hurt when I realized that if I can't take this kind of "social" talk, then how the hell am I ever going to survive being with a girlfriend?... unless I get a girlfriend who acts exactly like a male, meaning she grunts to communicate rather than gab about the Gap, but I digress... I guess men always go through the motions like this, of wondering how to tell to survive the opposite sex, but at least my sister's boyfriend is "social" enough to do so. At least he was able to partake at times in the gossip... While I? What the hell could I do? Obviously not with my sister's friends, but what about my own?... I mean, I just couldn't help but wonder to myself how damn boring I would be, just sitting there like a jumpman of a lump in front of the TV, if I ever had a girlfriend who cares nothing about my trivial pursuits in life... I've never met a girl who actually gave a damn about what I liked to talk about (although I thought at times the girl I talk too much did, but she was just faking it... as all women please...), and although we all "know" that a couple doesn't need to share similar habits and hobbits to be a decently romantic couple, I just have to ask myself... How the hell could anyone survive living with me, without realizing what a bore of a chore I am to babysit? Any guy would view themselves as lucky if they ever get a girlfriend... but I'd consider it a miracle if I ever do...

And as for women themselves?... I'll get into that in a second... because, well... my family and I were invited by my sister's boyfriend's parents out to dinner, and of course I was on my best behaviour... although from my standpoint, my best behaviour is my worst behaviour, as I just can't help but act like a stingent, rigid ass whenever I'm under agent fire to be nice and polite. The thing is, I want to be able to relax in situations like yesterday's, when I had to talk in front of people that I don't know, and act like I was comfortable around them at the same time... trust is damn hard to earn with me, because trust is when I can act like a jackass and the person still likes me in the end... few people ever have that kind of tolerance, and few people ever get to see that side of me, considering I'm always trying to be polite around perfect strangers... Every single damn time I sit with anyone I don't know, the stupid social morays my parents inflicted on my mind go into full metal jacket gear, and the nervousness that I get in the damn pits of my stomach just won't let me be who I want to be... And so I act all polite and everything, except though, the last time I tried doing so, my sister noted that I looked traumatized from the Sushi experience or some crap like that... And this time around? I couldn't tell anyone that the food was making me sick to my stomach, so I just tried every dish I could and pretended like I could actually stomach it. And of course I said thank you for the full course meal... of course I tried to look like I enjoyed the day. But truth be told, I hate getting into positions where I have to lie, and I do still lie, otherwise I'd never be able to forgive myself. But the thing is, as stupid as this sounds, to tell the truth about the food would have been lying as well, because the food wasn't really what was making the day bitter for me. In the end, it's always about me... it's always about damn IvanFian angst... because in the end, the only thing to fear is the fear within myself.

The thing is, my sister's boyfriend's brother brought along his girlfriend to the dinner, and the thing was, she was naturally the first thing that caught my attention... but after putting aside the fact that I was coveting another man's woman, I took a direct look at her face and noticed that she just wasn't beautiful to me... well, she had a beautiful body, but the face just didn't do it for me... And as I looked around the restaurant room, I noticed exactly the same damn thing from all four corners. There were a ton of girls with the most perfect of starved bodies, and there were a delightful number of Chinese in the restaurant with the most seductive of hair styles... but as soon as I ever got a good look at a woman's face? It all melted away, as even in the movies, and everyday on the streets, no women ever does it for me when I see who they really are... or at least, the way their eyes would look at me... I'm Shallow Hal in that sense. So few damn women are ever good enough for me in that retrospect, and I wish I was more open...

But there always have been exceptions... naturally, I was upset yesterday when I started thinking back to the year that's just past, with the girl I talk too much about... every year, I always have regrets, and every year I always have regrets about doing nothing about my regrets... And I did remember last night the smiles she used to gift me on her face... and even though I admit I couldn't really stand her personality at first, I don't think I ever once thought her face wasn't gorgeous... If I did and I have it in writing, then I'll stand corrected. But as far as my piddly wink wink brain can remember, her eyes never were cold to me... they were alive... they told me a story... And somehow, even when I didn't like her, I still knew from the way she looked at me, and just from the way she sparkled (literally... I was never a fan of the sparkles she sprinkles on her eyebrows, but they sort of grew on me after a while...), that one day she would sparkle a flame in me... and it sucks knowing that it already goddam happened, when all I want is to be a friend...

... what you leave behind... an endgame, when all good things must come to an end...

But I can't help feeling what I feel... I feel remorse... I feel fatigue... and I feel failure... and that's what ruined my night for me yesterday. That I'm always depressed, and depressed about bloody being depressed... depressed when I realized that so few women on earth look attractive to me in the end... and depressed when I started listening in on other people's conversations, and noticed that even if I ever got together with the girl I always talk about, what then? What would I say? What would I do?... I know it's not something you can plan out, but honestly... unless you've been reading my websites for the past three years or whatever, then you would have no idea just how boring I really can be... and if that doesn't turn off a lovely, lucky, ladybug of a snuggly lady, like a face does to me, then I don't know what will...

Which is probably why I didn't arrange a meeting with my professor... I mean, he's a man, not a woman, but still... I'd hate to be the one to bore him to death and scare him to Jebus with my smile, until he takes it upon himself the chore and the duty, of disgracing me back to the bloody third grade... although next year in elementary school could be fun...

nVidia: I really could care less about this whole nVidia cheating thing in 3dMark, but since the 3d News sites are so starved for tabloid controversies, why the hell not make it into the SARS headlines of the online kingdom?... We all know by now that little optimizations in the latest nVidia drivers allowed for a 24% performance increase in 3dMark03. I never did care about that program though, considering I'm a console gamer, and I really could care less about theoretical stats over the actual games I get to play... But still, all's fair in love and war. I remember nVidia pulling similar tricks with trilinear and anistropic filtering back when it was putting S3 out of business. I also remember them copying PowerVR's Tile Based Rendering, and Matrox's DualHead, although both were completely legal developments... And I also remember ATI's infamous "Quack" fiasco, where Quake3 FPS speeds were apparently far more important than playing the game itself, but I digress...

I collect PCI cards just for the sake of collecting. And others?... People seem to buy cards not to play games, but simply so they can boast about their potential... well, except for my cousin, who still is happy with Counterstrike on his GeForce 1, but since he used to brag about his card, I shall digress... either way, if you actually care about this publicity stunt, Beyond3d has some good tabloid articles about it all at: http://www.beyond3d.com/ .

ATI: Well, I hate reviews of drivers, but I might as well post a link to Firingsquad's Catalyst 3.4 driver report, just in case you're bored, at: http://firingsquad.gamers.com/hardware/catalyst_3.4/default.asp . There's also one at: http://www.technologyvault.co.uk/news/Stories/2003/05/15/10530419721.shtml .

PowerVR: Oh my frickin' God... maybe I should play my Dreamcast some more, because as soon as I dusted off the old Kyro card in the system, news finally broke out on the internet... that golly gee, I saw over at Pvr-Net that a PowerVR Series 5 card is on the way and will be on shelves by the end of the year... Of course, the card will probably suck in the end, like the Matox Parhelia barely made a scratch in nVidia's and ATI's plans. But still, if only for my own nostalgic sakes, I've got to get this card at: http://www.electronicstimes.com/story/OEG20021003S0016 . Some in-depth discussions of this is also at: http://www.beyond3d.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=5984&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0 .

nVidia: X-bit Labs has a whole article up about nVidia and its cheating driver with 3dMark03 or whatever... I think I've heard enough about this situation to call it a year, but in case you're still entertained, follow the link to: http://www.technologyvault.co.uk/news/Stories/2003/05/15/10530419721.shtml .

nVidia: Just saw over at Savagenews that some new Detonator drivers have been leaked on the net or something. The unofficial version 44.10 is waiting to be quack its way through 3dMark at: http://www.station-drivers.com/page/nvidia%20drv.htm#detonator .

nVidia: Saw over at Savagenews that some new nForce/2 drivers are out. Don't know what version 2.42 does, but go ahead and download the XP version at: ftp://download1.nvidia.com/Windows/nForce/2.42/nForce_WinXP_2.42_international_WHQL.exe . There's no ME/9x version that I know of, but the Windows2000 version is at: ftp://download1.nvidia.com/Windows/nForce/2.42/nForce_Win2k_2.42_international_WHQL.exe .