Y2kk Update: I finally went to vote yesterday afternoon for the first time in my entire own history, at least... It was the Ontario 2003 election yesterday, in case you ain't an Ontarian. And suffice to say, the whole "woman empowering - hear me roar" thing about voting and that kind of crap?... didn't exactly happen with me... I waltzed into the same Croatian Church that I attended my next door neighbour's funeral at. And right there in front of me were two people who asked for my voting paper or whatever you call that pink slip crap... One of the two was a real jakked of a blacked bruiser, who's arms spoke volumes, by being so pure in volume, that he certainly takes no guff from nobody except The Rock... he looked like he belonged more as some bouncer at the latest Ben Affleck Moonraper bash or some crap like that, and yet here he was, the taming of the screwed, acting as my liaison to this whole, damn, voting process thingy... And next to him was his boss... the boss of the big, black, booty daddy gorilla... was none other than what seemed like a timid, 80 year old lady who could barely stand on her own two feet... I mean, for Croatian Christ's sakes, she was wearing a bib that read "official election official" or some crap like that!... and yet here she was, controlling the whole Oakvillian Machiavillian voting process? Wasupwidat?... twas hard to believe at first... until the black guy screwed up the location of my name on the enumeration list. And God, you should've seen it... it was hilarious... how damn scared the bouncer guy got when he first saw the look of firery, sabertooth anger in that old granny's eyes... and, well... he fixed his mistake with every bit of haste and no hint of any hestitation, even though there was literally nobody behind me to get in line... he then forged for me a glaring smile and directed me to my John Phone booth, where I continued to watch him with my eyes like a hawk as his evil witch of a supervisor relentlessly refused to recall her own...

But oh well, AOL, I guess you had to be there... Short story short, how did I vote for my first ever vote, whatever the hell that question's supposed to mean?... well, the thing is... I wanted to vote Liberal, which I guess can be best compared to America's Democratic Party or something like that. But the thing is, my dad's been complaining about just how much of an alien kitten-eater the leader of the Ontario Liberal party has been for, ooh... say... about the past two months or so... if not the past two years... So I was in quite a tough jam, let's say. On one hand, I had my principles to uphold. I mean, it's not like I liked any of the Liberal's campaign promises, nor did I expect them to fulfill a single promise they made. I mean, since when have campaign promises ever come true? Except for blowing up Iraq, but I digress... the thing is, I didn't necessarily want the PC party (best compared to the Republicans of America, I guess) to stay in power, considering I hated their leader even more than I hated the Liberal kitten-eater from Mars... But by the time I went to the polling stations myself, I had devised the most clever of ruses of roses and Rhinestones... the most recent surveys showed that there was not a single damn chance in hell that the Liberals could lose this election. So fully knowing that whoever or whatever I voted for wouldn't exactly count for anything, I chose the low moral road instead, and tossed my dad a bone (does that sound good?...) by voting PC, just for the hell's bells of it... Of course, naturally, the Liberals absolutely decimated the PC party in the Ontario ridings this year. No doot aboot it... but my dad is at least proud that his immediate family voted for the only "real" party in Canada... so I guess I won on both accounts... I guess I got the best of both worlds... and it tastes fruity...

Which is definitely what surprised me today... my luck, I mean - not the fruit... In case you didn't notice, I didn't exactly update this download site of mine last weekend... wait, who am I kidding? Who actually visits this site to notice? But I digress... The reason being that I didn't update, was that I had a mid-term the Monday after... well, okay, so that wasn't the real reason why I didn't write any sort of noname crap... Truth be told, yokel's honour, it was because my brother brought home some new video games for me to play balls with my balls with. And it was also because it was his birthday... and my dad's birthday... and my grandma's birthday... all in one single weekend. So I really didn't get much studying done, or much writing done for that anti-matter whatsoever... Which is definitely why I was so damn freaked out on Monday, when I tried to study the whole damn day for my Probability Theory mid-term, with "tried" being the key word... short story short, I sure as hell have one short attention span, and an even shorter memory span, let alone a wing span... Because by the time the mid-term finally rolled around, accompanied by millions and millions of my own rollings of the eyes, I had gotten maybe what? Two, three hours of studying done tops? And when I went into the mid-term, I was shocked as hell... we had only fifty minutes to finish the whole damn mid-term... and goddammit, at six pages long? The damn exam, in mathematical terms at least, was sure as hellfire goddam long... and the sad thing was, after skipping the first two questions of this three question mid-term, I then spent what I thought was just ten minutes hopefully getting the last question right... only to look back at my watch to find that... ummm...

There were ten minutes left in the exam... oops...

Short story short, I didn't bother checking over the only damn question on the mid-term that I had actually done period, let alone done right... So really, I just rushed through the first two questions as quickly as possible, not understanding a damn thing about those disjoint, conditional pdfs and cdfs or whatever sort of crap I was supposedly writing about... and honestly, by the time the final buzzer sounded, I still hadn't even gotten anywhere on either damn question. So what did I do?... I made shit up, that's what I did! Because I have a rule here in university... when in doubt, put either zero or one as your answer. It's simply amazing how many times mathematical professors try to make their questions crafty, by making you feel so damn dumb when the final answer is so damn simple... and, well... In this case, because the course was Probability, in which you never really get a probability of 1 or 0, there really couldn't be any viable answers of zero and one. But I did my best guesses anyhew, citing answers of 10 and 0.222 and 0.72222 or some crap like that for each respective question, out of the top of my head... And honestly, I'm speaking the truth here! I literally pulled answers out of the shit of my ass! While pretending that I was articulate and intelligent, of course... And I literally left half of the goddam exam blank, although I pretended like I was simply so damn smart that I could skip the two dozen steps needed to solve each question... which is why I was sure as hell just as shocked as shit today... when I was told that our Probability mid-term marks were already up on the net... My friend checked his... he barely passed, and he's normally an honour (80%+) student... the class average had been bumped to 60% from the original 50%, but that sure as hell wouldn't help me I figured, considering I consider myself lucky when I pull 20% on crappy mid-terms these days... and, umm... I then checked my mark... and... ummm...

Ummm... I laughed out loud... because this was a joke, right?...

The internet said... my mark...

...

... WTF?

...

... was a 90%?!?!?...

... and, umm.... I laughed... a laugh of dismal desperation... because I knew that all the above simply could not be true... How on earth could I possibly pull a 90% out of ass on one of the hardest goddam math tests we engineers have ever goddam faced, when I didn't even show any work, let alone get any answers right?... because unless the damn TAs were drunk when they marked this thing, I wasn't supposed to get any marks for just goddam guessing at answers and grasping for straws... And the thing is, as much as I so dearly wish that this mark could truly be mine, I know in my heart that it's not... Because it happened in first year too. I saw on the internet that I got an 80% or something on a mid-term back then, only for it to be replaced by a 40% or something thanks to a typo error or some crap like that... and I fear the same thing happened here, because how in the blue hell could I ever pull a 90% on a mid-term that I knew absolutely nothing for? Unless the TA meant to punch a zero and then a nine into his goddam computer screen... and yet... it's been a whole day now... and my mark on the internet still hasn't changed... I mean, I can cross my heart and hope to die that my mark never does change. But I sure as hell ain't going to keep my hopes up until I see that goddam exam paper myself next week... so keep your fingers crossed... that I'll be able to keep the best of both worlds... or the best of both blunders in this case...

And last but not least comes you know what... the bitch... My bitch, who made me her bitch. The girl I always talk about, even though I no longer talk about her in the same gracious, gratuitous light that I once did... The thing is, she's been friendly like hell to me over the past week... that bitch... I figured she would eventually do this - completely ignore our history together, if only because she's a sex slave to being goddam social... But over the past two weeks, I've grown to appreciate her again somewhat. I no longer try to avoid her... and hell, sometimes I'm even relieved when both of us say a simple hello... but things will never be the same between us again, now will they? And ironically, that's all I ever really wanted after all that 'ship shit happened to us last year...

The thing is, I can't help but still question her motives. Was it me, or did she suddenly become real chummy with me all over again when it came to do-or-die time for our first computer programming assignment?... I skipped every damn class to make sure I finished in three days (not that I would've gone to class anyhew, mind you...) what some of my friends couldn't finish in goddam three weeks... So once the girl I always talk about learned from me that essentially, I was already done the project, that's when she conveniently let loose with the waterworks... that's conveniently when she let loose her own personal wetworks, by pretending to get all wet, by spreading open her own spreadsheats, and making me drip in anticipation that maybe, just maybe... there's hope in the haven of lucious heaven for me afterall... In other words, she whipped me like a goddam government mule covered in whipped cream thanks to her smile. Hell, it took me five goddam hours just to write an one page Readme file for my programming assignment the very last day, and why? Half because I was being a lazy ass, looking up video game info on the net... and half because as I promised, I stayed by the girl I talk too much about's side, helping her out as her goddam Java program established problem after problem... after goddam, apathetic problem... because she apparently can't get anything to work without a guy checking her insides... or... well, she at least can never get started on programs. After I give her a few pointers about pointers, and after I give myself hope that I can finally point my thing with a point, she actually kicks into intelligible gear and probably even outdoes me in coding... but don't tell her I said that...

The thing is, she's still friendly to me, now that the assignment's over. But either because she no longer visits the computer lab looking for work 24/7 now, or because she has no need to talk to me anymore... either way, the end result of all the help I gave her, was the same result as it was last year... I'm now back to being all alone... not that I can blame myself for falling for her beguiling guise for the umpteenth time... and not that I can blame her for doing what she does, whatever she does, rather than seek me out anymore as she did just last week... So I really don't know what she feels about me, and it's not like I'd ever ask again, considering the last time I asked didn't exactly respond as planned... I still can't forget all that's happened between us, and what she said to me over the past six months... but sometimes, just sometimes... she can whip me hard on enough with her lovely laugh (although she only seems to laugh at my jokes when I'm helping her... ain't that convenient?...) to actually fog me up and almost forgive her for mere moments, when my Big Ben gets its biggest at times...

She truly has a talent when it comes to controlling and really goddam confusing men... she should be an official election polling official or some crap like that then... Hell, she'd be a shoe in for a bouncer in the next Ontario election, I'm sure, if only the hourglass didn't follow the laws and grazings of stupid, white, kitten-eating men...

God, Michael Moore is such a money-laundering idiot... looking at his own title, it's no wonder why he put himself on the cover of his own goddam book... but, ummm... that's besides the point...

ATI: I guess not much news happened in the video card world as of late... The big Half Life 2 fiasco did happen, but if I'm going to comment on that, it'll be on either my Tweakui site or my Noname site, not here... But I did see one thing interesting at Rage3d, which if you haven't noticed by now, is pretty much my only source for ATI related news in this day and age... It appears the X-bit labs has an editorial and an interview or something up about ATI's struggle to get from 0.13 micron technology to new 0.11 micron technology... although I'm sure it won't be as uplifting of a read as say, the rise to fame of Muhammed Ali, I'm sure that there's more than enough to keep an ATI fan interested at: http://www.xbitlabs.com/news/video/display/20030929004713.html .

Y2kk Update: Well, that was worthless... you see, normally I just stay home and skip school because I'm a lazy ass whore who just doesn't want to get up in the morning. And although I had a good excuse to not to go to school on Thursday, considering I had a throat as sore as hell, I honestly really would've just skipped the entire day anyhew, even if I wasn't sick, if only because the day's schedule was just cock chock cockles full of stupid tutorial sessions that I would never, ever bother to attend... But yesterday was a different matter. Although I was now coughing as hell as part of my system recovery period (and dislocating my right shoulder with every damn sneeze of a breeze...), since my sore throat and my sore ass were finally gone, I should've gotten off my ass and gone to school, right?...

The thing was, we were supposed to have a hurricane over here. Well, not really a hurricane... a "tropical storm" or whatever kind of crap you want to call it... It was supposed to rain for forty hours and forty minutes or some crap like that, and when I was just about to depart for school on Friday, exactly the moment that I was about to step out of the door, I heard literally a two minute crackle of thunder in the background... and considering I'm just as much of a pansy ass as I am a lazy ass, I decided to retract my leg and pry it away from the door as quickly as I could, for a nice, easy breezy, cover girl of a welcomed day in my haven of a home yet again, amidst all the mist and rain... The problem was though... now I feel like an idiot... because the thunder and racket and clanks I heard in the morning were possibly the only damn noises the damn storm stirred the entire damn day... I mean, it rained for what in my area? Two hours, tops? The wind was bad, but not nearly as bad as all the blizzards I routinely go to school through without a thought of hesitation. And considering most of the day was nothing more than cloudy with a light breeze?... well, I started feeling really guilty for making my parents feel guilty... they were the ones who recommended I shouldn't go out in the rain while I was still sick. And while that's true, oh it's true, the problem is... there was no rain... there is no spoon... and goddammit, I wanted to see lightning! I've recently heard lightning is sexy as hell to women... too bad I'm not a woman... relatively speaking, of course...

Which leads me to the topic of discussion of literally every single week, it seems... I mean, you know the drill... that the girl I talk too much about drilled yet another bore through my cerebroless of a head... The thing was, it certainly caught me off guard this week... how damn nice like Nice she was on Tuesday or Wednesday or whatever day that frenchie finally made eye contact with me for the first time in months... You see, I walked right up to her in the computer lab, smiled as I gazed and shuddered hello, and was about to run away in an Ivan the terrible reign of terror, when she actually started talking to me, as if we were buddy buddy crap all over again... She started joking about the friends we have, and about the computer assignment we have. And after I left, what do I know? But five minutes later, she actually caught up with me to talk some more. And it was great really. A great shift and lapse in reality, at least... about how much she smiled around me, for once in a blue moon. How hardily rather than hardly she laughed around me, when I admitted that I didn't know the names of most of the university friends that I've had for "only" two years... it was refreshing, to say the least... how refreshed and fresh she seemed to be that good morn... She was delightful. She was pleasant. She was fancy, and dainty, and fanciful... She was finally friendly to me, and maybe even a teenie beenie bit of sexy as well, reeling me in, without making me reel or keel, except to kneel and bow and gesture... but, um...

...

... ???

WTF?!?...

...

... that fucking bitch...

... and okay, so maybe I'm stretching the hate here a little bit... I mean, from an outside perspective, everything should be just fine and jim dandy between the two of us now, right? She was nice, I was nice, and the world is perfect, if not round, right?... The thing is, I can't help questioning her motives. I mean, I soon realized that she only started being pleasant to me, because I was the one who said hello and smiled to her in the first place... just like when she was mad with me last year, whenever I saw her on the train, she would just put on a happy face anyhew, even though she later admitted that she had promised herself to never speak with me again... And that was the only reason I reckoned, why she was being so polite and seemingly open to me for the first half of our conversation... but that doesn't really explain why she came back to me five minutes later, now does it?... or hmmm, now does it?... which is, um, redundant, but nevermind... Because the thing was, when she finally shot back to me like a vodka shot of a boomerang, the first thing she started talking about was programming. At first, I just figured that since she always has school on her mind, and since I like programming, that it was just her way of starting up another friendly conversation... and then I realized something... then I remember something... first of all, she admitted to me last year that she hates talking about school, and only talks about it when someone else brings it up (which I know she was lying about, but I digress)... and I didn't bring anything up about school technically or even pyrotechnically, so... And second, come to think of it... now that I think of it... she would've probably fucking failed second year algorithm programming if it wasn't for me! She failed our first year Java programming course, and she probably would've failed our second one if it wasn't for yours goddam truly. And I just couldn't help running the scenario in my mind, of what if... of if only... that, well... I doubt she's the type to consciously ever smile and sleep her way to getting what she wants and needs. But honestly, I can't help wondering whether she was being friendly to me the other day because she's a good girl, or because she knows she'll need my weak at the knees help for computer programming this year, starting yesterday, actually... which, um, oops... come to think of it now, I sort of didn't show up for our rendez-vous actually... not like I made any promises to her. Not like I knelt down enough to marry her, but still...

Yes, I know. I'm her whipping boy. I just wish I were her whipping, whipped-creamed boy toy as well... the thing is, I entirely understand that perhaps she doesn't hate me, that she isn't purposely and hatefully avoiding me. I mean, back in my past, there were so many damn instances where I would hurt someone else, and possibly even make them cry, without even knowing that I did anything wrong. And when I would finally figure out the truth, the truth about my Charlie exploits and exploitations, like I did in Grade 7 with my not-so-infamous story of the poem with the cross?... then I cry... then I weep, and sob... because I don't want to hurt someone. I've never really tried to intentionally hurt someone... except now, perhaps... until now, perhaps... I'm trying to distance myself from her, if only so that I don't open myself up to attacks and my own goddam stupidity all damn over again... So I don't know. I honestly don't know, whether she's killing me softly on purpose, or if it's simply in her oblique nature. But either way, does it really matter in the end?... I was her friend. And she left me in the desert to hang and dry. Regardless of whether it was all done on purpose or not, the end result is the same. I got hurt. And I don't want to hurt anymore. So I'm trying my best to not care... except caring about not caring for her, is making me care about her even more... I really am an idiot, now aren't I? Things just never go my way, because alas, even the hourglass is forced to follow the laws of unruly and grubby men...

... in one last timbit of news, at least I did put yesterday to some good use... by ditching one girl, I latched onto another lady from my past... I finally found at least one of my obsession's websites, and truth be told, her little nitpick, condescending writing style kind of reminds me of my own, although I simply don't understand how she can have perfect grammar and perfect goddam spelling every single damn time she writes... I won't comment on anything else, except that her updates sure as hell aren't as long as mine (not that I'm comparing and compensating, of course...), until the next hurricane at least... but still, I'm just telling her... if she'll ever read this update of mine... that truth be told, here's hoping with my fingers, legs, pitches and forks and needles crossed... that lightning shall strike twice, because it truly is sexy as hell...

ATI: Well, my computer has been going through some tough times, thanks to some variant of the MsBlast virus that's killing my svchost file to death, and me along with it... Before I knew what was hitting me, I thought it was just a routine destructive cycle of my computer, so I formatted everything, the details of which I'll write on my Tweakui site... but what's relevant here, is that I downloaded and finally tried the new Catalyst 3.7 drivers. And they're alright... I do seem some improvements with my 7500 PCI, but obviously not much... but anyhew, this might be relevant when Half Life 2 comes out, because there's some quotes over at BonusWeb from John Carmack, admitting that nVidia FX boards have fallen way behind ATI ones for both Half Life 2 and Doom 3, especially in visuals. Go ahead and bask in the ATI love for now... in a matter of years, everyone will hate the company for having a monopoly. But for now, bask at: http://english.bonusweb.cz/interviews/carmackgfx.html .

ATI: Anandtech has a nice comparison up between the Radeon 9600 and the nVidia GeForce FX Go5650 or whatever it's called... or actually, I can't say the comparison is nice, considering I haven't read. But all things considered, notably the Half-Life 2 seemingly Quack fiasco with GeForce cards, this comparison might be relevant at: http://www.anandtech.com/mobile/showdoc.html?i=1866&p=1 .

ATI: Seems Xbit Labs have some pictures up from the demos running new ATI cards with the new PCI Express interface. Now, if these new cards could only work at a slower speed in regular PCI slots, I'd be happy. But since I don't know the answer to that one, and seriously doubt that backwards compatibility will work properly, I am not happy. But you can be happy at the future of AGP or whatever at: http://www.xbitlabs.com/articles/editorial/display/idf-fall2003-2.html .

Y2kk Update: So I embarrassed myself again this week... What else is new, right?... the thing is, I normally just screw myself in the ass when it comes to people I know and normally trust... this week however, I put my foot in my mouth to a stranger, and somehow, that just doesn't sit right and white and tight with me, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean...

The thing was, last year when I was trying to sell my textbook to somebody I had met through a friend of a friend, he stood me up for something like two days in a row when we were supposed to meet for the sale. I was more benevolently patient back then, though... or at least, more of an English patient, nevertheless... So I never lost my cool. I never lost my soul. I just kept on smiling, and just kept on Dory swimming, no matter how damn long I had to wait for this guy... but the real problem came after I had sold him the book. Not only was I pissed off that I let him walk and trumpet and crumpet all over my damn schedule, but I was also damn pissed that I sold my damn book for damn, dirt cheap, and the buyer never once cared that I did. He never damn appreciated the damn favour I was goddam trying to give him, even though he was a damn stranger... Hell, I could've goddam sold my books to the damn university textbook store and still gotten a higher price, but I didn't, and why? Because I was trying to be Mr. Nice Guy, like I always try to be... only to feel royally screwed in the ass in the end when I realized for the umpteenth time, that nice guys finish last... and that Mr. Nice Guy finished last in the movie rankings, even though it was damn good movie, but that's besides the point...

So when I agreed to sell my Circuit Theory book from last year (which was in such mint condition that it looked like I had never even touched the book... which I probably didn't, considering my final marks...) to a friend of a friend yet again this year, and when I had sent him an e-mail notice almost a whole day early to meet me at such and such place and such and such time?... only to find that, after waiting there for fifty goddam minutes, the buyer never did show up for the book... and considering I was trying to be a Mr. Nice Guy all over again? Considering the book I had bought for $130+, I was willing to sell to him for a mere $50 because simply put, I was trying to be nice?... well, I was sick and tired and done with being kind, gentle, and a gentile. I immediately went to the computer labs after that, and wrote him what I consider to be a rather scathing e-mail... scolding him for leaving me out to dry, all thanks to his forgetfulness with friends or some crap like that. And I explicitly warned him that unless he provides proof that my e-mail didn't get through to his account or some crap like that in time, that the price of the book I was selling just went goddam up with inflation... Because it's not like I was really pissed or anything... it's just that, I was sick and tired of being walked all over as if I were on all damn fours, waiting to be spanked...

But you see... well, I guess when you're angry, you really don't see things straight, now do you?... because the next day, I finally got an e-mail back from this guy... apologizing that he didn't show up, but, um... he also had a good reason... I was stupid enough the day before to wait all by lonesome for him, even before he sent me back a confirmation letter that it was alright to meet him at that place and that time... and the thing was... ummm... he never sent me a confirmation letter, because unlike me, he doesn't check his e-mail every single damn minute of the hour... Hell, he claimed to me that he never once saw my e-mail until it was far too late to ever meet, and even though I'll never know if he's telling the truth of not, the fact of the matter is...

God, I'm an idiot...

I had sent him a thousand words of pain and torment and bitterness, only to find that I was too damn myopic and too damn egotistically near-sighted to ever once realize that maybe, just maybe, he didn't know that we were supposed to meet... that maybe, just maybe, some people don't check their e-mails every single damn day... and that maybe, just maybe, it would've helped to call his cell-phone number, but hopefully that was besides the point... So what else could I do? The following day, I sold him the textbook for our originally agreed upon price, and I made my little apology... I said I was sorry for making such rash, presumptuous judgments... I chalked it all up to the fact that I've had a bad week, family and school wise and all... and although I do admit that it stung me both when my brother left for university, and when I got an e-mail back from the goddam exam committee, that my petition to pass the damn course I failed last year was goddam "denied" (heh... they even sent the e-mail twice to me to make an exclamation mark on their point...)... the thing was, when I said I was having problems this week?... in a way, I lied... and in a way, I didn't...

I didn't care about my brother leaving much, as sad as that is to say, and I didn't care about my damn failed course nearly as much as I should've... the only reason that my temper was so damn short this week, was because of her... yes, her... Like I revealed and reviled last week, it turns out that she's in my class, literally front row and centre, for every single damn class of the term, and possibly for the entire damn school year. And the thing is, she's goddam being all nice and sweet and sugary to me, as if nothing goddam happened in the past six months or bloody hell like that... Just the other day, she slapped on a smile and slapped me on the wrist, playfully begging me to wake up earlier in the day just so I could walk with her from Union Station to school every damn morning. Just the other day, she waved her little arms and hands and hair at me, and cheerfully and gleefully asked how I was doing that good morn... and you see?... my point exactly...

That bitch.

I know that if you just take two and two and Take Two Interactive together, then you can safely assume that she's just being nice, that she's just being herself, and that she really has nothing against me... but the thing is, she only acts this way when a third party is involved in our goddam conversations. She only wanted me to join her little morning soriees, because one of my other goddam friends at the time was asking that we all form a walking group... She's only nice to me, when there's a witness there to video record any damn catfight that may ensue between the both of us (she'd win, of course...)... the thing is, she's acting exactly the same day way as she did last year, after that fateful day when something just had to go wrong... The way she acts, is so damn reviling and conniving that it really pains me to ever smile in her direction anymore... The thing is, she acts so damn friendly and so damn blissfully whenever somebody else is around, simply because that's the way she is - she's damn social. When any other guy is around, she acts like the most perfect of girls... except when she's around me and just me, that is... and when that happens? She ignores me. Or she just doesn't care about me. It's like I'm not there. It's like we were never friends in the first place... and part of me wishes that I wouldn't hold this against her, and that part of me, simply put, is goddam hope... and my goddam libido, in simpleton terms... because I just can't stand being cruel to her, as she is cruella to me. I just can't stand ignoring her, as she ignores me. When a third party is around, I act all nice and jim dandy to her as well, as she does exactly to me. Sure, I can argue like a six or dix year old, that she started it all... but still... that doesn't change the fact that it's all so damn fake that it's enough to make me puke. And I know nothing will ever get resolved with her if I simply don't speak my mind... but the thing is... I did speak my mind. Both when we were alone last term, and throughout every single damn e-mail that I sent to her in the summer. And how did she respond back? She said she doesn't trust me. She said she doesn't feel comfortable around me. She even said that I sounded arrogant, or that I think I know everything there is to know... and although I know she speaks the truth, I just wish her damn actions would show it. Like I said, whenever a third party is around, she acts if she never said any of the things she ever said... and when we're simply alone?... well, she simply doesn't say anything anymore... and no matter how much I want to talk to her, no matter how much I want to rekindle the flame that we once had, I know in that superego of a head of mine, that as soon as I try to open up to her, she'll simply walk out the door yet again and leave me sobbing in her bitter dust...

That's why my temper was so damn short this week, but I didn't tell that to the guy I was selling my books to, which is understandable, yes?... but it's also deceitful... and it's also dishonest... and I don't like that. I don't like how this fraudulent love of my life of mine is making me as damn dishonest as she's ever been to me... but what choice do I have? I can either block the pain, 'cause here comes the pain, or open up to her yet again, only to be gutted in the stomach once more, with feeling?... not like she ain't doing that to me already though, with all her little pity, pretty, pussy prose of being kitty nice to me and everything... I know I'm being a hypocrite, ignoring her when she ignores me. But like I said, my heart just doesn't have a choice in these matters. My heart just doesn't have enough faith in the, um... heart... I mean, payback's a bitch. and she's definitely paying me back in full like the bitch she is... and what else can I do, considering I'm still her bitch?... but be a bitch myself?... until my own, goddam conscience kitty quips and rips me to shreds before she ever gets the job done herself, at least...

Y2kk Update: Well... I was planning on having one of my patented, extravagantly long Y2kk Updates this week. I mean, annually at least, I used to always write, right about here, my top five or so memories from the past, fiscal IvanFian year or some crap like that... but by dawn of yesterday morning, it finally dawned on me... that goddammit, I don't think I have any decent memories to actually damn report. I mean, there was the bliss of annoying Nicole deBoer in a Torontonian theatre, but I'm not even sure if that should count, considering it happened over a year ago from today. And besides that? There was the Vancouver trip, which I surely can't put on my favourites list, considering I didn't even leave a Target store in Seattle with my target of dirt cheap video games... And besides that? What else happened? Just a bunch of crap that I wish never was or were or werewolf, if that makes any sort of Engalish sense... So truth be told, quite frankly, I've decided to skip my tried, tested, trendy, but not very true way of recounting all the voluptuous memories I've had over the past year for you non-existant readers... but rest assured, as soon as I can actually put a number to how many memories have royally stunk over the past year, I'll be writing my worst of IvanF 2002-2003 report on my MSN site, if only because I never have anything to write about over there anymore...

Anyhew, for the IvanFian malpracticed, maligned, and malinformed, my first day of third year university started yesterday. And the problem was, considering I'm partly a superstitious guy, I'm not really sure if it means something that my day went so damn crappily down the goddam toilet, after first crapping in my very pants... I mean, first I got a headache from actually waking up before the damn Sun ever does. But that's a given - I won't be seeing the Sun in the morning for a long time now... such is the price of Pryce, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean... And when I got to school? Well, I finally started meeting and giving little handshakes to all my old friends, especially the odd ones out who don't actually keep contact with me in the summer (although it's not really their fault). And of course, nothing went wrong there... until I saw her - and I mean her - at least... I mean, if it was still last year, I would've been overjoyed to simply see her in literally every single damn class of mine that I have this year... but the thing is... It's not last year. It's the new IvanFian year. And the thing is, after all the graceful contempt and attempts to gut my pride that she showed me over the summer?... and after all that I've done and all that I've failed to do with her over the past year or so?... I don't know... I just don't know... I mean, even though I think I sounded friendly to the girl I always used to talk about, I just know that after our dismally meaningless summer-after greetings?... I could barely look towards her eyes without at least wincing away. It was like I was looking at an ex-girlfriend or something, or a damn reflection of my myself in the morrow mirror, without the benefit of ever knowing what it's like to have a damn girlfriend... and hell yes, I wanted to say stuff to her. But I knew that either I'd make things worse, or that I'd simply be unable to muster anything out of mouth until I told her the truth of how I feel... that I'm hurt... and that she feels like a rash of a bitch to me... but hopefully, that's besides the point...

The rest of the day passed by ever so damn slowly as I had to lethargically bypass every class after excruciatingly long and boring class... But by the time the final bell tolled twice (not like there is a bell in university), and I could finally get my ass out of the damn university?... The thing was, I had spent pretty much my entire lunch hour of the day, waiting in line by the damn Registrar's office to get my student GO train pass signed by that bitch behind the counter. You know who I'm talking about... The thing was, the line wouldn't damn budge. For almost a damn hour, I think the only moving I ever did was step back as the group in front of me just kept swelling and smoltering up to more and more goddam n-space... But eventually, a woman from the Registar's office came out, and kindly offered to help me since obviously something was going wrong with the line-up (since the bitch up front was being a slow ass bitch, I'm sure of it...). And since I've always liked this woman, at least in comparison to the lead bitch giving head at the head of the line, I genuinely said thank you and all that sort of crap when she signed my student train papers, and thus, I was on my merry way...

Or at least, I thought I was. Because right before I was about to make a mad dash to Union Station to get my papers stamped and framed, some of my friends who had switched to Electrical Engineering (while I'm in Computer, meaning we might not be able to see each other very often this year) managed to find me and cut me off before I reached the damn Pillars of Hercules exits of U of T... and the thing was, I told my friends all about my "legitimate" excuse... that I was pretty sure (but not 100% sure) that the student train offices close at 4pm, and that it was already three... But they wouldn't hear anything about it. Of course not, since it's not their moolah on their line... But considering I was surrounded by so many friends, my will power wilted like a flower in my grapes of wrath grasp, and what choice did I have?... Goddammit, they made me pick up a damn Cricket bat!... goddammit, what they couldn't do in two years, even when I had oodles of Chinese noodles of free time, they managed to do on the damn first day of school, when I actually goddam in a hurray!... And the thing was, considering how damn slow the whole group was in setting up anything but their cellphones, over twenty damn minutes had passed before I was ever able to get a "baller" to pitch for one of those damn Cricket balls... and I missed!... I missed so damn horrible actually, even for a ball that seemed to be moving more slowly than any baseball I've ever seen in my life... I was half hoping that the damn thing would hit me, if only because I'd then have an excuse to turn tail from the tale and run. But because nothing happened, except the public release of my much vaunted inability to hit anything in the air or ground or reality, I was forced into trying again... after another ten minutes had passed, thank you very much... and guess what? I goddam missed again! I mean, sure in golf, I've literally missed hitting the ball in front of a tee about a dozen times in a row, even after my lessons, but I've never embarrassed my skillz so damn badly in front of a crowd!... well, unless you count all the times I royally sucked in basketball... and football... and soccer... and volleyball... and hockey... and bordenball (yes, even bordenball...)... and oh yeah - especially when my golf club went further than my ball in front of the damn grubby, guru camera, but that's besides the point...

It was then and there, after my second embarrassment for the day, that another engineering friend came along, and asked if I had anything to do for the rest of the day. I told him about the GO train pass thing, and you know bloody roar what?... he almost started screaming at me, for being so half assed stupid! Because goddammit, at least according to all his friends who had already left, the damn offices at the train station do close at goddam four o'clock! And goddammit, I just gave a cold watchful stare at my other friends, the ones who had forced me into embarrassing myself in Cricket, as they realized the truth... that oops... me c'est late for the partey... and I just scooted off, like a moped of two scoops of raisins, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean... Literally. I just ran across the U of T Elysian fields of mud, all the way to the subway station, where I paid and used a goddam subway token that I wouldn't have had to use if I had just left the school at goddam three... And when I finally did arrive at Union Station? Guess the hell what?... I had completely forgotten that it was now damn rush hour. And I had completely forgotten that on the first day of university, there sure as hell are a lot of students waiting in line to get their damn signatures checked... And yet still, I stood still ever vigilant. I simply waited in line for what seemed like almost an hour (and by the way... the office didn't close at four that day... they made an exception for that one day alone, thank you very much...), only to find at the light at the end of the tunnel, that goddammit... as soon as the damn bitches behind that counter saw the wonderfully blissful signature that the woman at my Registrar's office had given me, what the hell did they do?...

They goddam stamped damn, cold war red lined "CANCELLED"s all over my goddam sheet, and figuratively all over my damn, swelling hell of Jack's raging bile of pride... because the thing was, they needed a signature that was "on file". And unfortunately for me, that meant I needed the damn signature from that evil Helga bitch behind the counter and the unmoving, unyielding, unforgiving line of pain... and that me getting a signature from the only woman who actually seemed nice at the damn office was all in valiant vain... So that was it. I just stomped, stormed, and storm troopered away after the most sarcastic of "thank yous", simply because nothing good had come from this bloody hell day. I still had my damn hangover of a headache from waking up before the goddam cock crowed high noon, I was still damn morbidly depressed that there was no way in hell I could ever avoid the girl I wish I could still always talk about... and now I also knew that I would soon be goddam fifteen to twenty dollars in debt, all thanks to a damn Cricket game that costed me my subway tokens, and all thanks to a goddam signature that would cost me up to three goddam train tickets that I never would've had to use, if only the bitch had given me her signature a week ago when I went to get my schedule fixed...

So, as you can vagrantly, fragrantly, and vaguely see, I wasn't really expecting much from the second day of school after the first... but suffice to say, I'd like to say at least, because it is a bit of a half truth... that for once, just for once, I had a bit of fun at school today... and thank God it wasn't from Cricket, which I'll now do my absolute truth best at to avoid with the most extreme of twenty foot long poles on goddam Cricket sticks... The thing was, right straight in the morning, the Registar had little to no line-up, considering it wasn't even supposed to be opened yet. So it didn't take long for me to get that signature from the head bitch up front, especially considering at least in the morning, she seemed more friendly than the usually hell fire spawn she normally seems to be... And right in the morning? The first two classes I had that day both dealt with computer hardware, I think... and although it's possible that these two courses are both setting me up for one hell of a double whammy mid-term embarrassment, as I wrathfully felt last year from my goddam failed programming exam, right now I'm honestly real excited about Digital Electronics 2 and Computer Organization, if only because they deal with the concepts that I've always loved with computers... about SRAM, CPU caches, floating point adders, Assembly Language, and even all that virtual memory sort of crap. It's all there for the taking, and as long as I stay ever virgil, I think I just might be able to have a little fun this year...

Although that might be a contradiction... I may stay a virgin without a shadow of a doubt, but how can I ever stay virgil if I literally skip all my damn classes?... the thing is, the fun today at least, was that I wasn't alone in my abuse of universal university freedom. None of my friends bothered to attend the final classes for the day, so why the hell should I? Instead, we just roamed the Freshman Frosh streets, as psychotic Korean Christian groups tried groping and loping us into signing with their singing groups... Eventually, we came to a stand for the Pakistani Student Federation, which naturally, my international friends signed up for in less than a heartbeat. The thing was, the stand was also selling some sort of Pakistani food there for a dollar or two, and the thing was... Just because I was there, my friends couldn't resist from patronizing me with their Pakistani pastries, and they ended up buying me a couple of whatever those things were that I eventually ate... but not before I made a deal with the Iron Chef devil with them. Not before I made a pact with the man I used to always make pacts with... The thing was, I promised to stomach down both of whatever the hell they were serving me, in exchange (and excuse) for my friend to simply eat a couple of the Curry Fish Balls I saw being sold down the street. And since he didn't really think of what the hell I just said, he simply agreed to the terms without any sort of hesitation, and I had my first Pakistani snack of a snake ever (since the meal we had gone to last Spring was actually Indian food, I think...). And the thing was, except for the goddam oily crust, the thing tasted kind of good... if only because it tasted a lot like similar Chinese food, actually...

... which brings me to the Fish Balls (which are essentially mashed reject fish parts that's rolled into a squiggly ball and cooked... mmm.... sort of like bologna is for Western meat, actually... without the pleasing backstory to the food, at least... )... I mean, he promised to eat the damn things, didn't he? It's not like I hid what the food was from him, like I'd do if we ever went to dim sum... but alas, religion circumvents (or circumsises?) every promise made in kind kin and kinder surprise friendship I suppose... Because the damn thing was, he goddam weaseled out of his promise!... He swore that he'd eat the fish balls if I upheld my end of the bargain, and I did. Now it was his turn to grind and shine with the meatworks... and what did he do? He wimped out! And not because he openly admitted that the fish balls looked disgusting or something... but because right as I was about to pay for his food, he just welped out, in a last desperate whimper for help, that the food might be koshered or not koshered or whichever way it's supposed to go... meaning, he conveniently didn't know whether the fish in the balls was allowed to be eaten in his Islamic religion, and goddammit, couldn't he have told me this before I had to suck down two of his pious pastries in a pact?...

The thing was, at least I got to rib on my friend for a long time after that for his so-called "legitimate" excuse, especially considering my own legitimate excuse meant nothing but bollocks the day before... And the thing was, at least my friends and I got to talk a lot today in the musical backdrop of marching residences all screaming at each other at the top of their lungs... and after that, at least I was able to get down to Union Station, and didn't even have to wait in a line-up for my stupid GO train ticket since it wasn't rush hour... and after that?... well... I ran and half rammed into the girl I always talk about, and we spent the train ride home together, but that's a story for another day, when hopefully and gleefully, I won't have to turn away in silent disgust every time she turns to me... and, well... the thing was, nothing really special happened today. But like I always say, it's the little things in life you treasure. And as a superstitious man, I'm hoping that today was an omen to come... that at least, just at least, if there's no hope for my university studies... then at least there's some hope for me yet...

... except in Cricket... and golf... and hockey... and yadda yadda yadda... but that's besides the point...

ATI: Well, it's all over the internet already, and written about on almost every website. But I'll give credit to Rage3d on this one, for announcing the release of the new Catalyst 3.7 drivers for the Radeon 7000 to 9000 series... and since that includes me in the lower echelon of the list, I might be a bit more invested in these drivers than I have in any drivers for the past several years, so let's see what's new... Pixel Shading in DX9 is now improved, not that I have DX9 yet... games like Dungeon Siege now run much faster at higher resolutions with AA in effect and everything, reportedly... and it seems that they've fixed some bugs in games like Quake III, Jedi Knight, and Counterstrike, I guess... I don't know what else is new. I might upgrade my drivers too if I can ever get my hands on both Halo and Half Life 2 for the PC at: http://www.ati.com/support/driver.html .

ATI: Since I'm sure anyone who actually cares about ATI cards anymore has already gotten the new Catalyst driver release, might as well report and rehash here that AMD in Sight or some cited site like that, has done a comparison between all the Catalyst drivers as of late. Go ahead and see if updating actually does something these days at: http://www.amd-insight.de/tests/grafik/cat_treiber_vergleich_eng/ .

ATI: Turns out that Accelenation has had an interview with some guys over at ATI. Don't know what they say, but I think they do mention something about the next Catalyst release at: http://www.accelenation.com/?ac.id.200.1 .

Matrox: Well, I haven't written any Matrox news for the past few months, even though some out there has existed... Anyhew, saw over at Matroxusers that some new drivers came out for all the G series cards. Go get version 5.91.008 at: http://www.matrox.com/mga/support/drivers/files/2kxp_591008.cfm .

Y2kk Update: Not much happened to me this week, although as always, I've ended the week embarrassed about something... The thing was, my brother and I finally finished the job for my parents this week, the one that had me bawling my eyes out last time we tried to survive... The thing was, this job was worth about $2000 to professional contractors if my parents didn't rely on my brother and I... which should've meant that we were saving our parents private money and Ryans, right?... well, that's the problem...

It's not that I asked for any money. It's just that my parents are putting $500 in my bank account anyways, just because I was there... just because they want to be fair... And it's not like I'll use the money. As far as I'm concerned, it's still my parents money, and knowing my mother, she'll just put it into one of those Canadian Savings Bonds that she always has just so much fun with every October or November of every year... But still, the thing was, the guilt trip triad is still going on in my mind. Because I don't know how such a coincidence happened, but on the very day that I was going to work for my parents, I was sort of given a lecture from two different university students, a stern middle finger - that they pay for their tuition all by themselves and I don't. That they're hard working, and I'm not... One of them was one of my brother's friends, so that lecture was Idirect indirect... but the other came from a friend over ICQ, when I mentioned to him that I just got home from working for my parents...

The thing is, whether or not the both of them can actually pay for their whole university schooling by themselves is not really the question, although I wish it were... At least at my university, I'm pretty sure that my friend can't afford all his books, transportation, food, and complete tuition all by himself, unless his job pays a hell of a lot of money, but that's not really the point, now is it?... The point is, I've been hearing since the middle of high school, as soon as friends could get jobs just for the bragging rights, that I was living a spoiled life... It's not like these friends of mine don't have parents with money or anything. It's just that, either because their parents refuse to pay for all their schooling, or because they simply want to feel socially equal by being a consumer spending force, a lot of the people I know and once knew just seem to always use the excuse that they're better than I am, simply because they're earning themselves some money... hell, my sister has been giving me lectures on that ever since she started making dough back when I was in elementary school, so it's nothing new... and yet, after all my years and empty prayers of enduring slur after slur for my pure sloth lazy-assness, I still haven't become immune to all the comments... I never become immune to anything. I'm always Mr. Goddam Sensitive.

The thing is, what I'm ashamed about, is that I kind of tried to defend myself against my friend that night. I claimed that if my parents had professionally contracted for all the jobs that I have done for them in the past four months, then they would've wasted more than four thousand dollars... I knew that four thousand wasn't enough to redeem myself, considering that's not even enough to pay for my tuition costs, if I had actually earned that money. And I sort of forgot to leave out the little fact that it's my brother who does most of the work around the family workplace, not me... And I know it's not the same - any child can get a job at their parent's place, so you simply don't have the bragging rights that you get from getting a "real" job in the outside world... but really, none of this is really the point, now is it?... I'm just embarrassed that I tried to defend myself at all, that's all... I'm ashamed that I felt ashamed for having parents who worked so damn hard throughout their lives, just to give me a life as comfortable as a life can be... I was ashamed that I have my books, and my food, and my transportation, and my tuition all paid for, without a single dime coming out of my pockets (well, except for the food... and the transportation...). And the thing is, like I said, I know that a lot of the people who brag about working can't pay for all the above themselves either... they get loans, or they get some money from their parents, and blah blah blah... And yet none of that ever consoles me. It just never makes me feel equal.

I guess I'm just still feeling the aftereffects of not finding a job this summer... I went looking for one for the first time in my life this May, and turned out with nothing because I simply started too late, in an aging business that's been dying out since the dotcom crash... And I guess I'm just still bitter. I went to my university the other day and got my schedule redone, just to fit back in that goddam electricity course that I failed last year. So not only did I leave the premise pissed off that I had now officially signed up for a course that I should've goddam passed, not only was I ashamed that I had just costed my parents another $700 of their money for that one damn course... but I was also pissed that that goddam woman in the administration registrar's office did it to me goddam again! I went up to her for my goddam GO train student ticket... and then was forced to talk to da hand yet again for the second year in a row, simply because once again, the money that my parents paid to the bank wasn't showing up on her goddam computer screens just yet... I didn't bother with the fax crap that I did last year, so I just left... I left without anything to show with it, except a long face and my fingering finger up my ass... I left bitter, not just because of that goddam bitch, but because I realized... that I don't even bother to pay attention to the money that my parents pay to university. I just assume it's going to be there... and in a sense, that is spoiled of me...

I never liked the fact that society hates people who are "spoiled", although the definition of spoiled is always subjective... Being socially inept, I've never liked the social moral hierarchy that we've made for ourselves thanks to both greed and jealousy... because I've always been spoiled in the fullest sense, unless you modify the definition and dimensions of the word to accommodate little ol' useless me... but it's just that... still... I just don't get why or how I could've been insulted for this, for me being me, twice in a single day, the very day that I was trying to save my parents money, only to find that they would eventually force me to take it... Like I said, I'm not going to use the money. But somehow, just knowing that it's there?... it just doesn't feel right... and knowing that I have a problem with the money just being there?... well now... that just doesn't feel right either... and I only have myself to blame for both... of course, blaming society would be a lot more fun, but that just wouldn't be me, now would it?...

Y2kk Update: Well, yesterday sucked. Simply put, it really, really, ridiculously sucked ass royally, to the point where Royal York Inn residents were sleeping in the hallways (thanks to their electronic key cards, thank you)... in case you very few readers out there have already forgotten, or just never cared, I live in the little Ontario suburb known as Oakville. And considering I live in Ontario, which pretty much got screwed out of its pants yesterday?... well... let's just say I still have my trusty sidekick of a flashlight next to my bed, and I'm not afraid to use it...

A hell of a lot of things sucked about yesterday, starting with the fact that the movie I last watched before the lights out, was goddam Van Wilder... ugghh.... and I had nothing afterwards to rinse that goddam taste out of my mouth... Because in case you've been living under a rock or simply haven't gotten the power yet to hear the news (or read this update, mind you...), pretty much all of Northeastern America and Ontario was hit by a damn power failure - from Ottawa to Sudbury to Windsor in Canada, and from Detroit to Cleveland to Boston to New Jersey or some sort of crap down south... I prefer to call it Blackout Knockout TKO 2003, but I'm hoping some American tabloid like CNN will eventually think of some name that's better than mine... and of course, it just had to be - my friend in North Carolina wasn't hit by whatever crap Men in Black device or whatever sort of crap that caused this blackout of all blackouts... I mean, it's not like I lived through the 1965 and 1977 New York ones, so being in the dark from 4 pm to 10 am this morning wasn't exactly my cup of earl gray herbal tea, if you know what I mean... However, I now do have a newfound appreciation for the news though. After listening to a radio for pretty much the entire length of the day, I've learned that you can actually be remotely entertained by just sitting on a porch, collapsing into exhaustion from heat as you listen to idiots rambling on and on over the crystal box, about who's to blame for this whole mess of the press... I mean, the blame game is just going great right now, isn't it? Ontario's blaming New York, for some lightning bolt or some kind of Niagara crap like that. New York is blaming Ontario, because it seems a lot of power was drawn to our province at exactly 4:11 pm yesterday afternoon... I think Michigan is blaming Ohio for some sort of nuclear power facility problem. And vice versa, I think Ohio is naming some weird smokestack, shit-blunt happenings in Detroit for the cause of these whole damn nine yards... and, well... at least, I think New Jersey and Washington DC have remained silent at least, and I have no idea what Massachusetts is doing right now. I do know though, that Quebec is laughing their francophone asses at us right now, for actually considering this to be a bad blackout compared to their two weeks of winter, Warcraft frozen throne hell a few years back... not that any of us ever cared about that, mind you...

Well, at least this widespread blackout panic thing has taught me a couple things. First of all, men who show-off by thinking that they're cops by taking over traffic lights, are absolutely without a shadow of a doubt, some of the most goddam annoying pricks I've ever seen before... but goddammit, they're also helpful, more or less... And second, I've learned that I've got nothing going in my life outside of the electronic world... I've got this website, which I couldn't update like I wanted to last night. I couldn't touch my Xbox, out of fear that it would explode from some MSBlast virus or some crap like that. And I couldn't even watch the damn TV, to check CNN or any sort of crap about the stupid 911 calls going around that I've been hearing over the radio (who the hell actually calls 911 when their damn apartments heat up to room temperature?... hell, my parents have always refused to turn on the air conditioning, so as far as I was concerned, yesterday was just a regular, cool day...)... I mean, it's not that I don't have a life. It's just that, my life is really damn boring without any sort of goddam electricity... in other words, my life sucks. But it's a life - my life - nonetheless.

But there was one decent thing that happened last night... For pretty much all day, my brother and I just sat on our lawnchairs outside, with our asses being grasses, with me reading video game instruction manuals, and with my brother barbequing dinner for us since the stoves and microwaves were down. And if only I had some sort of tobacco to chew, and a pick-up truck ready in the back to pick up my cousin, I would've sworn that I was becoming a huckleberry hick... which is not entirely a bad thing for an Ontarian like me. I guess there are some decent things about being a hick in the middle of nowheres-ville. Because for years upon years, I've been complaining... When my family first moved to this little suburb of ours, I could see all the stars from my own backyard at night... I used to gaze and glare and gander and guess at where the hell all the constellations were up in the sky, until I realized that according to the stupid ancient Greeks, a pentagon of stars is somehow supposed to represent their most human of heroes or some illogical crap like that... I never cared for constellations, since they've always looked like nothing more than stars to me, but I still miss them, nonetheless... Because after all those damn streetlights were installed a few years back, I haven't been able to see a damn thing in the skies except damn plain planes and UFOs, neither of which any longer amuse me... But last night? Last night, I had nothing better to do than count the stars (and shine flashlights at all the girls passing by as they were flashing their friends, but that's besides the point...). And what did I find?... well, besides the fact that the Greek constellations that I told you about, really do look more like giant girl titties to me than ancient heroes?... and besides the fact that I counted about six Big Dippers and five little dippers in the damn night sky, especially after I was getting high with boredom?... besides all that?... well... that's about it. The blackness was boring. The skies were boring. Hell, even the stars were boring. And the one decent thing that happened to me?... now I remember that the novelty of stardom wears off really damn, thin red linely, so maybe now I won't bother pining and whining for the damn twinkle twinkle lights anymore?... Dare to dream, I say. One can only hope...

There was also one more decent thing that happened to me last night... In my eternal boredom, I was about to call some of my old high school friends, the ones whom I tried to keep contact with long ago, only to be reminded that they're too "busy" to ever call me back (or even check their ICQ messages, apparently)... the thing was, a couple of them actually called me back for once. Sure, I had left them messages about three months ago - I guess they're not very punctual... but out of total desperation, out of eternal damnation, and out of infinite darkness - guess what? They actually called... And truth be told, that actually made my day... or, well... maybe that's a gross exaggeration. Though at least, they did keep me awake...

And if one thing's going to keep me up this night?... it's simply to see if the damn lights stay on with all the air conditioning being used in the damn province again, and to hope that the damn power goes out for a third day in a row (so that I could avoid working for my dad for the third day in a row...). I lost power around 2 pm today and regained it by three, and since then, so far, so good I suppose... But now that I've finally written my download update? Now that I've absolutely no use for my computers anymore until somebody updates their news sites with something new?... well then, there's an oxypad of an oxymoron for you... if only I could see the stars out today... then I just might be just as bored as I am now... though I personally would prefer to keep getting high off the lights buzzing on in my own goddam room, thank you very much... but as always, I guess, that's besides the point...

ATI: ATI and Bioware have seemed to release a patch for something to improve general, overall performance... I have no idea what it's for, but go ahead and install it if you'd like at: http://nwn.bioware.com/support/patch_beta.html .

nVidia: Well, I've never been a nVidia fan... I don't know if this guy at HardOCP ever was, but he certainly sounds peeved at the company in his latest article. I haven't read it, so tell me if all bets are off in his list of nVidia grievances at: http://www.hardocp.com/article.html?art=NTAz .

Y2kk Update: My family and I were just discussing something over dinner... I mean, if we had gone to Vancouver this week, we wouldn't have been able to see the Canadian Rockies, or Kamloops, or - gasp - even Calgary... goddammit, Calgary!@!... right now, all those roads that lead to Rome are closing thanks to forest fires. I mean, while we were in Vancouver - I found it fortunate that it didn't rain on us once. It was perfect gentlemen weather the whole nine yards and ten days through... and as soon as we left, well... this was the aftermath. The province has gone ablaze. It's hell on earth, especially for all those tree huggers. And all the places that we visited... hell, they may never be the same again... considering all they were in the first place, were goddam trees...

And blah blah blah blah. Do I really care about little towns like Vernon, BC? Hardly... but I will miss the few memories I do have from there... Because you see, my Vancouver vacation is already slipping from my mind. I mean, I can't even remember much from my New York, Washington DC, or Chicago trips from years past anymore, and I only remember Florida because I nearly drowned there when I was six years old (which nobody else bloody hell remembers...), so... Short story short, I don't seem to retain vacation memory very long, as if my damn memory goes on vacation as soon as I get back... Or at least, the places I've been to are already fading, as the vagueness in my Tweakui update glaringly points out, at least to me. But vacations just aren't about places - they're about people. And rest assured, I did meet a few personalities that I won't be forgetting anytime soon... whether I like it or not...

First up is our Chinese tour guide... you see, my auntie sort of runs a travel agency or something. She got us cheap tickets to Vancouver and back thanks to the SARs crisis, and she got us a discount on our Rocky mountains tour for a week. But the thing is, she just had to work for a Chinese tour company, now didn't she? And the thing was... well... sigh... I had spent enough time around Chinese in that little berg they call Richmond. I didn't want to spend yet another week with those little, FOBby, "MacGoy" burgers of buggers breathing down my neck... But I figured, I've been on Chinese tours before. What could possibly go wrong or go worse this time around, right?... but the only thing is...

I'm Cantonese. I speak what Hong Kong speaks, or at least, I can understand the damn language at least... But the problem was... I mean... Huh?!... What the fuck?! Do they not understand the goddam words coming from my mouth?... I mean, the damn tour bus was littered with Mandarin speaking Chinese everywhere. And it was annoying enough when elders would come up to me and spout a bunch of Beijing talk that I couldn't understand one damn bit or byte. But what pissed me off the most, was that the goddam tour guide just never did learn... I mean, first of all - my condolences to him... he looked like a friggin' idiot. I know he was forced to wear that ridiculously coloured shirt that read "Super Vacation", but did he really have to wear the cap? I mean, my brother and I couldn't help but joke on the bus that our tour guide looked like a friggin' baseball coach, unemployed and left out to Canadian dry, and for all we knew, we could've been right... And I felt no qualms about making fun of this dick, when every single fuckin' day, he would walk up to me and start speaking goddam Mandarin morse code. And every single frickin' day, I would politely but verbally spit back in his face, that either he speaks English to us, or goddam Cantonese. And for the rest of the hour, he would normally oblige... But sixty goddam minutes later, he would walk his strut back up to us again, and open his fat mouth to proclaim some badly accented Mandarin crap to us, and all we could do was roll our eyes and try to get this guy to just remember who the hell we were... Maybe he's having tough times or something. Or maybe he's taken too many damn baseballs to the goddam noggin' or some crap like that. But honestly, I could tell that he was born Cantonese from his accent... So why the hell wouldn't he goddam speak the language?!

But like I said, he wasn't the only one who refused to even try to communicate with us with a language we could understand... Because there was this one guy, this one kid, who will forever stand above the rest... he was this fat kid who wore overall-like clothes all the time (or at least, he always hiked up his pants to even levels I've never heard of...). He couldn't have been more than eight or nine, and the funniest thing was, every single damn time he tried to talk (and he only spoke Mandarin), he frickin' sounded like he had goddam chocolate all smothered on his face... So how could we possibly resist? We named him "Uter", after the German exchange student from the Simpsons, because goddammit, except for the Chinese thing, the resemblance was ungodly uncanny... But there was more to this Uter than first meets the eye. Or, well... maybe not... but still. His idiot habits led to some of the best goddam laughs I've had in the longest of whiles... and some of the most painful as well...

I mean, first of all, he kept smacking people out of the way. No matter where we goddam went to, he would shove his way through the bus' only aisle, all the way to the front to make sure he was always the first guy off the bus. And logic dictated that maybe he always needed to go the toilet or something, considering he sure as hell looked like he was retaining a lot of water... But the even stupider thing was, whenever we all lined up to get back onto the bus, where we all had prearranged seats, this damn Uter guy would start his running and huffing and shoving poutine of a routine all over again, knocking over children and the elderly, just to get back on the damn bus first... And it didn't even stop there! I can honestly say that he rammed his ass - yes, rammed his ass - into my goddam face at least three times a day. Whenever I drifted off, I tended to sort of lean my head just a bit off to side... not even off my seat, but just to the side... But the thing about Uter, is that he seems so damn proud of his fat ass, that he literally shakes and waves it around, bootylicious style. And I don't know what the hell he was trying to accomplish, but every damn twenty minutes, as if by clockwork, he would shove his way through the moving bus, and stiff his ass right in everyone's face in the process. He even wiggled his butt cheeks into someone's nose when he decided to turn around... And he even friggin' did this to me right after he took a shit in the porta potty in the goddam back! Has this Uter no respect for humanity? Has this Uter have any humanity?!... I mean honestly, who throws a shoe? Because to me, it sure as hell tastes a bit nutty...

But there was one moment that I will never forget, that still continues to bring a smile to my face every damn time I think of it...We were on an ice trawler on the Athabasca Glacier at the time. The poor gal driving up front - Meagan, was her name - was simply dying up there with the jokes and info she was trying to liven the Chinese crowd with... So in between our heartless laughs, my brother and I started talking about the receding nature of the glaciers according to global warming or some crap like that. And the thing was, that's when for once, Uter stuck his face into mine rather than his token of an ass... And what did the Uter have to say?...

"... whiss-sler..."

And, umm... Whistler. Right. Umm, yeah... we didn't get to visit that ski resort city, but I knew about it. So I kindly said back in perplexion, "yeah, Whistler... ummm... has snow and mountains too... I guess..." And the thing was, as if that was his whole damn vocabulary or some crap like that, the stupid damn Uter then retreated back to his seat, knocking down faces with his ass along the way, and never ever finished whatever the hell kind of point he was trying to make, if he ever had a point to make in the first place... and, um.... yeah... He said one word, and he couldn't even goddam say it properly! I mean, he sort of wheezed it out, as if he couldn't breathe properly in between his chocolate gasps of gulps... and yes, I know I'm being mean, for picking on a kid. But what the hell do you expect from me? I'm the no-name whiner! And I still have the goddam taste of Uter ass in my mouth. And I'm telling you - it was not a pleasant chocolate mocca taste, and definitely not an experience I want to recall...

And it wasn't just him that was a threat to my sanity and the whole of society. His parents just let Uter roam the bus as if he owned it, and didn't even think it was rude that he was shoving his ass in everyone's way (and considering Uter sat in the back of the bus, you better believe there was hell to pay whenever we were about to stop...). But his brother?... well... I'll admit, his four or five year brother was cute, and could already speak more clearly than his elder brother ever could. But the thing was... this kid was dangerous, both to others and himself. First of all, I had to help him a few times because his damn Uter brother kept making him do the dangerous stuff without goddam lending a hand. After Uter literally crawled his fat ass up a 10 ft, 50 degree incline, his brother just had to follow monkey suit and do the goddam same. And instead of even helping him up, damn Uter just sat there with his damn box of freshly bought ginseng, while his parents just stood there and talked about the meaningless trip... And since I seemed to be the only damn one who noticed this four year old kid about to fall backwards to his rocky doom, I had no choice but to go to him and help him up the damn slope since he was too stupid to give up... only to find that the damn kid now wanted to go back down the damn slope, and goddam back up again... and uggh... I can take that from a four year old kid. But when Uter asked for help, since he was obviously getting jealous?... ummm... I ran... stupid, little kid be damned, I ran...

If you read my msn site last week, you'll know that I found myself a little crush on that bus tour trip. Near the end of the tour, I started talking with her about that little kid I helped. Because I felt she wasn't exactly the type to... um... want children, right away... ummm... and I was right. She found the Uter brother to be spirited, but scary at the same time, and I was more than inclined to agree... And of course, that's when the three fold karma thing just had it set in. The stupid kid came along and started roaming the bus as the Uter once did. And the thing was, I was resting my head at the time with the aisle armrest up in the air... and since the little kid had no ass to use for motion sickness support, he had to hang onto the armrests instead... and when he went for mine?... he goddam smashed and smacked the damn armrest into my goddam teeth... and as I was screaming and writhing in pain, I got a few cute looks from the girl I had a crush on, and lucky for me, I finally had found a suitable excuse to stare and glare at Uter and his brother in blind contempt... of course, all I did in the end was pat the apologizing, stupid kid and sent him away, citing the Young Offender's Act in the process to save whatever goddam dignity I had left... but at least the girl - or at least, a girl - noticed me, considering I had just gotten beaten up by a four year old... although that happens more often than you'd think, but that's besides the point... Because full out and full through, this tour ride of the Rockies has scared and scarred the hell out of me in more ways than I possibly could've ever imagined. Now everywhere I go, I literally jump in terror at the slightest sound that even resembles the voice of Uter... which mostly came from ugly women terrorizing the airports, I shit you not... And hell, I wasn't lying when I said I could still taste his damn shit on the tip of my goddam tongue. If only the kid would just realize the irrevocable damage he has caused... then... well... ummm... Uter... he would still shove his ass in my face, I assure you of that. He has no remorse.

And, well... despite Uter's damning and omnipotent presence on the tour, I still did manage to get a few decent licks and sights in, besides his turd of an ass... Most of them were foretold already on my Tweakui site, and I'll save one for my MSN site whenever I get the chance... but before I go, I might as well describe Lake Louise by Castle Mountain. Because the thing was, I've always had dreams of white water... hot, steaming, sticky water made of semen, breast milk, and female orgasm excrements actually, to put it mildly... And as sick as that sounds to write, it does look and feel orgasmically beautiful in my dreams, as I can't help but dream that this concoction of bodily fluids would somehow make a girl horny enough to actually try to tear me apart... And the thing was, when I saw Lake Louise, I couldn't help but be disappointed. Thank God Uter was completely out of sight, but still... it just didn't seem right... White water can be found almost everywhere in the world, but this was my first encounter with it. The water was only white because of mineral deposits and not from mindless sex, I know, but still... I could still dream, now couldn't I?... but it was just water when I looked upon it with my own set of eyes, and it wasn't even sparkling water. It looked downright dirty, even though it was completely clean... and somehow in my dreams, semen infested water is completely sparkling clean, with no Uter shit, I shit you not... And I don't know what this all means. It's just that, I was hoping to live, or at least see, my dreams in full living colour. But whenever I try to, whenever I get a chance to, I always turn away disappointed, because it's the dream I love. Not the reality... of course, I can still dream of those boiling hot, volcanic white lakes around Iceland I've seen in pics whenever I get horny, but still... something just doesn't feel right anymore, and I'm not just saying this because I can still feel Uter ass lips on my goddam gums... I mean, nobody again should ever be forced to know, that his shit smells like ripe chocolate and tangerines, but I digress...

Like I said, my "Super Vacation" is already waning in my mind, but as long as this Y2kk Update lives on, I guess so does goddam Uter... which is both a good thing and evil thing, I suppose... because even though he annoyed the hell out of my guts by stuffing his into mine, I will admit, that now that it's all over, I - sniff sniff - almost miss his ass... I wish I could still beat his ass... and I know that doesn't sound good, but still... ah, oy Oyster Uter, how I'll miss you so... I will never forget you, Uter... I will never forget your evil little twerp of a brother either... I will never forget everyone's favourite, failed baseball coach... and I will never, ever forget the girl I had a crush on, whatever her name was, as we spent those two or so seconds of bliss together, just booed and bored at Lake Louise... and oh, the memories!... all the joys I've felt... my time here has ended, but what an end - and not an Uter end - it may be...

And oh, goddammit... time to wash my mouth... again... the nightmare - it never ends... thank you, British Columbia and Alberta... thank you so very much for hell...

ATI: Not much to report... I was sure that ATI announced something in which Half Life 2 would be given out free with Radeon 9800s or 9900s or some crap like that, but I guess that was just a rumour... But until I find out, there's some Radeon9800 reviews to read if you're that damn bored. Techseekers has one about the Connect3d 256MB version at: http://www.techseekers.net/modules.php?name=Reviews&rop=showcontent&id=67 . UKGamer talks about the Sapphire Atlantis version at: http://www.ukgamer.com/article.php4?id=98&page=1 . And if you're more into budget cards like me, there's a GeForceFX5200 vs Radeon9200 review over at OCAddiction: http://www.ocaddiction.com/reviews/video/fx5200vsr9200/ .

Y2kk Update: Just great... just superbe... just fan-fucking-tastic... I mean, it always happens. It always happens!...

But not this year... Goddammit, not this year!

You see, longtime Y2kk Readers will know that I've never been able to go a full "school year" without crying just once... it's a damn, crying shame, actually... Last June, I ruined what I hoped would be the first time I would finally be able to buck the trend, by crying at my brother's graduation for Christ's sakes... but this year? This school year, starting from July 2002 to June 2003?... voila! I did it! I really did it! I survived a whole twelve, goddam school months and didn't weep or tingle from anywhere but my lower eye even once!... it's just too bad that...

... sigh... too bad my record for 2003-2004 is already tarnished and trashed in the goddam gutters...

If you haven't noticed yet, I just recently got back from my vacation to Vancouver, British Columbia. Now, I already mentioned the most perky and pertinent of moments on my noname and msn sites, and I'll leave most of my remaining guff and gunter trash for my Tweakui site. Because I have a bigger concern to discuss with really nobody but my no-name self today... Because honestly, I should've known! I should've fucking known that I was just ripe for the ripping!... that I was just rich for the weeping... I mean, as soon as my family and I got back from our vacation, we found a little note, stamped from the company that holds my college funds or some crap like that. And according to them, they ain't giving me my bloody damn college money for next year... the money that my parents themselves put into the fund when I was a goddam infant... I mean, it's our fucking money! Why the hell won't they give it back?... and apparently, the answer was that my university registrar didn't indicate anywhere on their form, that I've passed second year and moved onto third... and yes, I know I failed a course. But I called the registrar soon after, confirmed that yes, I did pass second year, and realized that once again, those stupid damn bitches behind the counter screwed something else up in my life again.

But the strange thing was... I was pissed this time... Since when have I ever been pissed about school?... and the obvious answer, was that I hated being reminded that I goddam failed a course, and possibly the entire year. It's obvious that I don't relish the thought of taking that damn electricity course of mine again... But somehow, knowing all that didn't make me feel one damn ounce better. So I did my usual thing, and started singing in the shower, a thing I always used to do when I got pissed off in the past and needed a tank to think... and somehow, just singing in the shower rain gets my thoughts all flowing, no pun if there is a pun intended, and I realized something... Not once on our Vancouver trip did my parents even mention my accolades. Not once did they even winch whether they were proud of me or not. In the meantime, I had to suffer through tall tales of one of my cousins being a PhD pharmacist, another cousin being a broker or some crap like that when it comes to bartering Boxers in Las Vegas, and treks from another cousin who's moved on after graduating from some Ivy League American college or some crap like that... and I realized something. I know how vain and damn shallow this sounds, but it stings and summons in the pits of my stomach, because simply put... it's something I used to have... until, well... my parents haven't once bragged about me since I failed a damn course in first year. They 've even warned me not to tell a living soul that I have failed a course (thankfully, the internet is not living)... and they forced me to pretend like I was passed second year with barely any problems whatsoever to my godparents. And, well... I hated lying... but sometimes, I just have to take loyalty over honesty, as much as it pains me to say it...

And if you asked me, I'd think that this whole, goddam college fund fiasco is just another goddam blotch on my goddam ink blotch test when it comes to blowing up, thanks to a withdrawal in my parents' approval rating of IvanFian me... but still, as I got out of the shower yesterday morning, I really didn't think much of this whole thing. I mean, sure the pain and bread and guilt of not being boastworthy in the eyes of my parents was slowly but surely eating away at the insides of me, but I figured that now that I knew of the problem, at least I'd be able to deal with it on a conscious level... and, well...

Unfortunately for me, today was just a bit too conscious for my tastes... or anyone's tastes, providing that they're sane... Because on the way to family fun work this morning, a pointless argument began between my mother and my brother, over something as goddam insignificant as a goddam cellular phone call... My mother had promised my brother that after the vacation was over, he would get no more calls from her work on his private phone. The problem was, he got a call... and considering how grumpy my brother always is at nine in the morning, suffice to say, he wasn't very pleased... And after twenty goddam minutes of brother-mother-father-traffic jam bickering, I finally decided to break my stony silence, and simply argue that if only my mother had said, "oh, sorry... I forgot to tell you that an important call was coming", or "sorry, I still need to use your phone", then all of the past twenty minutes of yelling and crying could've been avoided (meaning, if only she was polite about it ahead of time, my brother wouldn't have taken it as an invasion of privacy or some crap like that)... or actually, I really only joined in on the argument when my dad started claiming that my brother was a piss poor businessman. Don't ask me how my dad deduced all that about my brother from a goddam argument about cellphones... I admit it. My father's logic is warped... but even still, I just had to defend my brother, even against a claim as ridiculous at that... When my father claimed my brother would fail his business school and fail in the business world if he didn't let my mother use the cellphone without being asked, I just knew that I had to get involved... I just knew that I wouldn't be content, sitting around and saying nothing...

I just wish I knew what I was getting into.

Because the thing was... ooops... I forgot... my dad hates the "sorry"... Hell, last time I asked a parent to apologize to someone, my dad ended up screaming that "if we were in China, I would kick your ass and kick you out my house!"... and yes, my father says that all the time. He says that when I buy a new video game and accidentally ignore him. Hell, he even says that when I refuse to eat a goddam Chinese tuna bun in the goddam morning... and yet somehow, it hurt me a hell of a lot this morning... actually, it hurt. Like suffocating hurt... when my dad said it with such anger in his face... because he meant it... I had forgotten that he meant it... He still dreams that he's living in his old school, childhood family, where his father and mother were never wrong, and the children were never right... No matter what he and his siblings did, according to Chinese tradition and his own warped memories, they had to apologize to the parents, and it was never the other way around. A parent apologizing to a child would have been like bastardized stoning as far as my dad is still concerned, and he swore to keep swearing swear words at me every single time I mentioned his version of the "s" word...

I just wish I remembered all that this morning before I opened up my mouth to a can of whoop ass... because I just couldn't take it. I really couldn't. My dad went on a ten minute tangent, screaming in my ear that I never show him or my mother any damn respect... he said that I treated them like foreigners. Like white devils, if you translate directly... he went on to say that I was essentially a bastard child, that I was no first born son, and no matter how much I tried to protest, he wouldn't hear of it... I mean, he didn't even care that tears were streaming down my cheeks. Hell, he didn't even notice I was crying until he goddam stopped screaming. And I tried to argue, I tried to defend... I told him the truth. I told him that all I've ever wanted was to show respect, and make my parents proud. I'm their kindest child for 364 days a year... but the one time I accidentally screw up? I'm the one who gets drill sargeanted for it?...

... and yeah... it's always one day... one damn fine day that ruins my whole damn crying shame of a record for me...

And, well... I won't go into the details of what else happened today. I worked six hours painting white stucco on the outskirts of townhouses, and I didn't take one damn break... or maybe one, but that's besides the point.... Because I was pissed. By the time the day was done, I was still pissed. And I am still pissed, even though I have no-one to blame but myself... I mean, I know the hypocrisy of the situation. I know that even though I'm a "good boy" for nearly every single damn day of the year, it doesn't make me anymore immune to the 49 lashes that come once a month to somebody's bountiful head of bounty... Because I know that everytime my parents use the excuse, "we work so hard for you every single damn day to put food on your plates, and this is the thanks we get?!", I really don't give a damn. It just seems so generic, and now I truly know that my father doesn't give a damn about my version of that excuse either... but what really hurts. What really, really, ridiculously hurts to me... what hurts like silver lining, slitting my throat and slivering my gut... is the fact that no matter how hard I tried to apologize. No matter how hard I tried to implore. No matter how many times I repeated how I love my father and mother, no matter how many times I reminded him of the respect I have, and no matter how many times I beckoned that I'm so damn regretful of the thing I said... no matter how many tears were choking down my face... the thing was... he just didn't give a damn...

But he gives a damn now... now that he's not morning grumpy without his tea... Ten hours later, he's now smiling and pretending like nothing happened... but I remember something happened. I remember my dad telling me that he'll never, ever forgive or forget this day, for when I told my parents to say they're sorry... and I remember him backing up his claim, by reminding me how he's never forgotten the last time I told him to say sorry (it was about a letter... a university letter of whoopass, thank you very much)... and what hurts even more, was that when I admitted that I was wrong, that I had made a mistake... and when I was most sincere in online streaming it from my eyes... he didn't take my apology. He wouldn't hear a damn word coming from my mouth. And I know it was all in fury... I know it was all in accident on his behalf, I guess... but that doesn't change the fact, that it happened... it doesn't change the fact, that it hurts... it hurts, knowing that after all these years of my father being so proud of his first born son, he just doesn't care anymore... whether he's proud of me or not, I may never know again. All I know, is that he is my father. And though I'm not his Sun, I am still his son... but I just can't help feeling... I just wish... even though I know it will never happen... even though I know that it can't happen...

... that he will apologize... so I guess I never do learn...

... but on the bright side of the force, at least I won't be worried about my goddam crying record for the year anymore... and at least I did twice as much work today as I would've if I was happy, no doubt... and at least, I'm still pissed off enough about this whole damn day to actually write a download update for once, even though I've been too damn lazy for the past few weeks... and I know that probably by tomorrow, I'll be so sick of feeling sick to my stomach, that I'll just forgive my dad anyhew for hurting me so much, since it's only fair that I hurt him so damn much myself... but still, that doesn't change the fact that he hurt me bad. And that doesn't change the fact that regardless of whether I'm right or wrong, I still feel hurt. And that doesn't change the fact that I'm still so sorry, for everything actually... not just for today... but for everything... for being me...

No, wait. I'm not just sorry about that. I'm sorry that I believed my dad was actually still proud of me... when I should've realized, that things just haven't been the same for the longest damn time... or at least, not in his land of the rising sun and raising a son...

ATI: Don't know if much has happened in the world of video cards lately, but I saw over at Rage3d that Gamer's Depot has a review up for the All in One Wonder Radeon 9800 Pro. Don't care what they say, but if you're the type to forgive: http://www.gamersdepot.com/hardware/video_cards/ati/9800pro_aiw/001.htm .

ATI: With Doom 3 being delayed yet again, all eyes are suddenly on Half Life 2... only to find that most lightly, it will be delayed as well soon... In the meantime, the Half Life forums have a lovely thread going on about anti-aliasing problems in the next game. I personally don't care whether FSAA8X can work at 1600x1200, but if you're up to the stuff, go ahead and read a thousand pages at: http://www.halflife2.net/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=3071 .

ATI: Last bit of news: saw over at rage3d an article about ATI's efforts when it comes to Linux drivers. Don't know what they say, but do I ever? I guess I don't know anything at: http://marc.theaimsgroup.com/?l=xfree86-devel&m=105852152431578&w=2 .