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| Thursday, December 27th, 2007 | | 3:48 pm |
 What an epic Christmas. Seeing the biofamily was pretty sweet. I hadn't seen my little brother in months and half figured that he'd slipped back into the icy grips of furnishing his fifth level 70 in World of Warcraft. Everything was remarkably civil, though at one point I had to make good on the agreement whereby if pop starts acting up, I would explain to the rich uncle at the dinner table that my life plans now involve dropping out of neurosci to sell smack in the streets of Rio. So -after- that everything was nice and civil. My little bro takes best in show for most incredibly appropriate gift of the year with a collapsible authentic TMNT Donatello bo staff. This thing is a brick, much heavier than any of the other staves I've worked with and doesn't feel like I can break it. Between the utility, unbreakability, portability and style, it fulfills every one of my criteria for a perfect gift. Luckily, the frame and family photo (Hilariously wrapped by, of all people, Dia's Mom) went over swimmingly, and took second place by virtue of making Mom cry. Visceral reactions for the win, and the sheer MC Escher value of the frame actually being in the photo increases the quirkiness hyperbolically. So, I figured the biofamily house to be a bit of a secure zone to hide out in. Yesterday while I'm there, Mom comes over and says "Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Someone from the army called for you a few days ago. I figured it was an old buddy of yours so I told him that you didn't have a phone and that he should drop by your place!" at that point I figured I was pretty dead and that my whole skydiving budget for the next year was shot. I ended up just going home, trying to think of a solid 'plan b', and ultimately just falling asleep playing Devil Kings. So they came around today and, as it turns out, it had nothing to do with the old gear. They don't even really care that I've still got it. Without saying too much, the skydiving resources are intact and stand to grow by quite a bit in the new year ~_^ At this point, I'm thinking it might have been a good thing that Dylan dropped from the Euro Trip, because I'd feel like a pretty big jerk if we were still going and I had to welch out so close to the departure date. So for now I'll be staying around Canada, I have to start training even harder than before, so if anyone else wants to start doing some serious weight, hand to hand, or weapons training (Especially if anyone wants to work short blades, I've been doing staves and blunt stuff for so long I'm getting out of practice with edged weapons and TAC), I need all the help I can get. Also, running: I absolutely hate running in the winter, but should probably start and get used to it. Anyone want to hit the track or the streets or something? This is freakin amazing. Merry Christmas everyone. Current Mood:  indescribable | | Sunday, December 23rd, 2007 | | 3:54 am |
 There are days when having no phone brings with it a cool sense of security. Times like these I wonder if I'm actually completely out of step with humanity in that I take a feeling of warm security in the fact that I've no permanent address to speak of. Am I nuts for equating anonymity with safety? You be the judge. So, with increasing frequency I have friends and workmates reporting calls from the army asking for whereabouts information. Luckily for me, most people just don't know what to tell them. Of course, I'm picturing the scene to involve being stopped by a bunch of soldiers and leading to an epic chase, sprinting and leaping from rooftop to rooftop amid gunfire before diving off the skyway and swimming to safety, although ten to one it's not that dramatic. In all likelihood I'm just finally being charged for 'borrowing' all that gear a few years ago. Either way, I'm not finished with that stuff yet (aside from the stuff that's gone missing over the years), so for now I'll keep being the guy who can get stuff done and then disappear. Anyway, if anyone else gets a call, tell 'em that I've split to Guam and that they'll never catch me. Love, your pal, Benrage. Current Mood:  anxious | | Monday, November 5th, 2007 | | 1:49 am |
Startling new evidence on film this Halloween proves once and for all that Jesus Christ was fucking Metal.  So Halloween struck me somewhat half prepared this year. True enough that all of October had been considered an all out "OctoBeardFest" among the crew around here, so even with little other preparation I was well equipped enough of a mane of scruff to construct a wicked saviour costume from some heisted bed linens. Thanks to the cesspit that is Oakville and its midteens with more money than good sense, we managed to scavenge enough lumber for a crucifixion out of the remains of the latest drunk driver's high speed congress with a fence across from Sheridan. The party scene was stellar enough to warrant some 3 days of loose merriment before we even got to the 31st. It came to the point when a bud told me that she needed more blood supplies, and I couldn't figure out what she needed them for, being that the zombiewalk had already passed and the slew of events was near over. Oh, right. "Civilian" Halloween. On the night itself we ended up going out on a Trick or Treat mission for the Sick Kids hospital. This year's haul was surprisingly official, what with the addition of identification patches and formal letters of intent from the charity, but wasn't without moral quandary that still boggles my moral compass now. See, I was traveling around in a group totaling five, three of whom I had never met, and two being engineers. So we got a hot tip that a few blocks away, there was a girl that someone knew who had a whole lot of candy and naturally decided that the kids could put it to better use (Replacing their current afflictions with type two Diabetes, for instance). So we head over and start to negotiate the separation of this girl's candy and its bowl. She turns out to be a nice enough girl, and banter ensues. So then one of the eng guys pushes a little too far and things get heated. She tosses me the candy to hold while the fight goes on and I stash a generous cut, for the children, mind you. Now, when everyone else saw me doing this, they dived in like a pack of well meaning vultures, so now we've completely cleaned her out. Meanwhile, eng guy doesn't seem to understand the concept of 'friendly physical contest', and the meeting ends with this girl storming off into the house never to be seen again. So as we're walking off I realize that we've just succeeded in *Mugging* this random girl of her huge bowl of high quality sweetstuff, which we then turned over to benevolent, albeit perhaps misguided, charity. In the scandal free sector, Johnny has managed to get "The NorthWest Passage" running through my auditory loop for the last three days, leaving me obsessed with finding a faster route to McMaster whenever I'm on wheels. A little exploring, some minor frame damage and a near miss with a train on a narrow rail bridge later, I've managed to cut my riding time to school by almost 30%. I figure every little bit helps. Current Mood:  amused | | Wednesday, October 24th, 2007 | | 12:47 am |
So I'm hacked up to the point where a more cautious man might opt for some stitches, but even post mortem I rock harder before breakfast than most of you do in a given calendar year.  As seen in figure a. I took to the streets on Sunday along with some 1200 other bloody, shambling miscreants to wander the city and terrorize the living in the Toronto Zombiewalk. Along with greater numbers this year's group of zombies was significantly ballsier than last. Cars were swarmed and rocked almost onto their sides, bystanding children were soundly frightened, and some dude's dog was carried off by the undead mob. The whole show will be banned within the next few years, but goddamn it's going to be a sweet party until then. My dead and blackened heart was overflowing with zombie pride at the number of hunters we saw at this year's walk. Last year the naysayers counted me as a dick who was just out to ruin the Zombies' fun when I suggested putting together a team of Hunters. This year they were out in black leather clad droves. So to the combat ready girls from last year, it looks like we weren't eaten in vain. Others are standing up to fight the good fight in our stead. So now I'm faced with the ridiculous post-fiasco injury count. We went hard this year, so for authentic costuming we just took old, otherwise perfectly good tuxedos and knifed the living crap out of them with a jagged multitool sawblade. Now, to get the angles of attack right, we were doing it while actually wearing the tuxs. As reason stands, the most realistic looking cuts were made when we'd just tear into the fabric and hack through everything. Anyway, as far as costuming went the results speak for themselves, and it wasn't until I was showering afterwards that I realized some of the gashes had gone straight through my clothes and into my skin. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't just some, but rather all of the wounds that ended up deeper than expected. Moments like these make me question why I bother with nociception in the first place. Seriously, once I'm on, my blood must be one of the more potent pheromonal and analgesic agents known to humanity. "My gift, my curse" and all that creed of incubi nonsense. Current Mood: amused | | Wednesday, October 17th, 2007 | | 5:20 am |
So I skipped town for a few weeks. It's this new precedent of flying across the country to catch up with people, surprise old buds, and follow obscure electronica performers from venue to venue, and all part of this new 'long range vagrancy' thing I've been working on in recent years. By the looks of it, the aftermath seems to be alright even despite missing some class (All for a good cause, I assure you). The studies are winding down, and I should be finished this neuro degree by early December if I play my cards right and ace some exams. Turns out the old Fiasco Catalyst power isn't limited to Ontario, and weird stuff kept happening even when I was out in Calgary. So I'm out training in one of the nearby parks later on in the evening when some guy walks by and starts watching. I don't think too much if it beyond toning things down a little and remembering why I usually train in the middle of the night. After a while he comes over and identifies me as "Private Cioci". My first thought runs along the lines of "Aww crap... the army's finally caught up to me and now they want their gear back". After that it was more of a stunned "But how?", followed by a vague hope that Tracy had -actually- taken her bottle of diethyl ether back, and that I wasn't still carrying the vial of anesthetic that I had unwittingly brought past airport security on the flight in. He said he remembered when I left the first time and that the higher ups were all surprised because the training seemed to be going so perfectly until the moment I resigned (By that point I was course senior and had totally revamped their PT regimen out of spite for one of my Master Corporals). He asked me if I was still keeping up with training and I showed him some of the new flips and wall runs I had been working on. After a few minutes the guy looks at his watch, says he has to run, and tells me that I should make sure to keep up with the training. Didn't ask about all the missing equipment, so I was pretty relieved. Now, aside from the "Pte. Cioci" part everything was pretty normal, but that was just weird. I figure he must have just been one of the guys I was on course with all those years ago who was just passing by. Or something. Anyway, I'm back in Ontario now. Who's still around? Current Mood: impressed | | Saturday, June 24th, 2006 | | 1:39 am |
| | Friday, March 17th, 2006 | | 4:07 am |
"You know what my absolute favorite thing to do on one of these trampolines is? You get a couple sprinklers and set them up underneath, then you take a bottle of dish soap and pour it all over the mesh, in like two minutes there's suds everywhere. You put towels on top of the springs so that the girls don't die, and then just let them have at it." Why have I never done this?! A special salute goes out to Emma for this idea (Amongst other things) Current Mood: amused | | Tuesday, February 21st, 2006 | | 12:17 am |
So, "Reading" week has kicked off and chillery is maximal. I just returned home tonight to find the house totally empty of roommates. You all know what that means: Rockout. --- In a town in the east...  As the flaming priest stepped into the firing line, On the business end of a beam of despair God, he took his own life During the coming of the... Current Mood: (Black Shuck) | | Wednesday, February 15th, 2006 | | 6:08 pm |
So, With the passing of another 14th, We wish a beautiful Bleak Tuesday to you and yours.  Current Mood: amused | | Sunday, February 5th, 2006 | | 2:05 am |
So, Who called it? 6th Cranial Nerve for the win! Current Mood: amused | | Thursday, February 2nd, 2006 | | 2:20 am |
So, At this point I would like to go on record claiming that there are several levels of inebriation between "Aerosmith" and "Ripped on Tequila", albeit not many. 'Right said Fred' is one of said levels. 'Special' happy birthday wishes to the drunk and irritating women of the Phoenix, and may this never be spoken of again. Cheers Current Mood: amused | | Friday, January 27th, 2006 | | 3:08 pm |
So, this weekend I'm effectively living at the shelter. Work starts in about an hour and runs til midnight. Then I've got a couple hours off until my next shift starts. The timing is just so short that it doesn't make much sense to go home, so I figure I'll just stay over. I'm (quite literally) living as a well-payed homeless guy for the next 28 hours. I'll bring my camera to better document the decent into madness. Who wants to do something after 9:00 on saturday? (The big question is "why did I volunteer for this?") Current Mood: amused | | Saturday, January 21st, 2006 | | 3:09 am |
So, 03:10. And... Time! Time "Leaving" Kingdom Nightclub: 01:10 Arrival Home (Plus booting up computer, fixing snack, and getting fuzzy Dino slippers): 03:09 Mapquest cites the distance from the club to McMaster Hospital as approximately 14.72 Km via the highway. My route was a little more scenic, having followed Fairview until it turns into Plains, crosses the big bridge, and then eventually merges into York blvd. I'm not sure quite what is going on, but that run was definitely not as hard as I remember it being. I was almost hoping that the Damien/Mouse car would catch up to me by the time I was passing the cemetaries, but I've been home for quite some time now, and odds are they still haven't left. The Kingdom was actually pretty interesting despite (And quite possibly thanks to) it's brevity. In essence, it was most of the good parts mashed together before a semi-climactic (and hopfully, permanent) end. So I managed to meet up with Jeff and Holly, and birthday wishes extended (Birthday shoutout #1) Met up with Chanti and chilled for a bit. Momentarily met up with Mouse. Timing was perfect, and a pit was forming, so I dived straight in. There I am, loving ever second... Big smile, trying to sing harmonies to the screamcore that's coming out of the speakers and being tossed around like a musclebound pinball with silly hair. So out of nowhere, some guy comes flying at me with fists swinging. I duck and weave out of the first volley and start backing up. A bouncer comes up behind me and slings and arm around my neck and starts pulling my backwards. I figure everything is alright, the guy thought a fight was breaking out, so they're covering both guys... we're cool. So as I'm moving with bouncerguy, this original puncher comes flying in again, only this time I'm being held in place by the bouncer. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I got clipped by one of his swings. 3 were deflected, but the fourth one got through. I almost got it, and it didn't quite hit hard enough to leave a mark, but I know it connected (Which is all that really matters). So at this point, I'm trying to warn the bouncer that the dude is right behind him. I'm starting to wonder why they're taking so long to restrain him. Eventually I realize... The other dude -is- a bouncer. So now I'm pretty confused as to what's going on. Although I must admit, these guys definitely are thorough; 2 guys, punches, chokehold and a standing straightarm barre (Ura Kote Gyaku for all the Gen's out there. Loopfick, I'm looking at you) all at full force. Pretty serious stuff for dealing with a guy who isn't resisting. The piece de resistance that even surprised me was when we got to the door. As I'm going through, still not struggling, with both of them hanging on, the original punching guy (who now has my arm) twists harder, winds up, and tries to smash it elbow first into the corner of the doorframe. Now, I'm not usually one to judge someone's job performance, but that's a little excessive. ( Ben goes on to muse thanks to his teachers, whom he is convinced saved his arm )So Chanti comes running out to help and stuff, and they tell her that I punched someone (which sounds kinda silly now that I think about it, because most of you guys know that I don't even make closed fists when I'm actually fighting) and that she can easily be thrown out as well. She offered to meet up with me a little later, and to put me up for the night, but waiting around for another 2 hours didn't seem like much fun (sorry Chanti) So I figured I'd race the other Hamilton people home on foot. Looks like I won. Even so, that's a pretty pathetic half-marathon time... I'll work on it. All in all, it was a pretty interesting night. I didn't seem nearly enough of most of the people I went to see (I didn't even see Chelsea at all), but the run was some awesome training. I figure that I don't often feel the urge to go out and run to the next city over, so why not? Besides, it's been almost a year since I've been able to claim that "I've been thrown out of classier places than this!" Community Advisor Interview trials are tomorrow. You can bet I'll be there sporting my Dinosaur slippers, some wicked five o'clock shadow and a "Hello, my name is: Surly" sticker on my chest. Current Mood:  sore | | Saturday, January 14th, 2006 | | 1:22 am |
So, it would seem that I, Benjamin Michael Javier Juventude Rage, have a confession to make tonight to 1 Kendra Scarlett and 1 Cori Umetsu. Tonight, after almost three years of heavy use, I broke Kendra's staff... with my face. I'm still not quite sure how it happened, as Cori had selected this rod as an indestructible specimen, a veritable OmegaShaft, hewn from the finest material that Mother Nature is capable of throwing at us. The staff was perfectly straight, precisely balanced, beautifully stained and engraved with the initials "KS". It was an exemplary rod by all accounts and was showing no signs of wear and tear until it met its match against the raw destructive power of my left cheekbone. Had there not been a witness there to vouch, I probably wouldn't even believe that it happened. Looking at it from a purely scientific perspective, the nearest we can tell is that as the staff made contact with my cheekbone, each individual particle figured "Oh hell no!" at the molecular level, and fled in every direction. Until a more plausible theory presents itself, we're stuck with this one (Known as the theory of "Guts, Guts and Might"). And so, offering my condolences and apologies to all involved (most notably the girls mentioned above), I'd like to think that it isn't really gone. Far from it, it handles like a spear now and has a definite sharp end. ( May what it lacks in reach be made up for in speed;
In pace requiesca. )At this point, I'm left wondering if perhaps I should move to a heavier rod... And why it didn't even leave a mark. Now that I think about it, this raises all kinds of questions. Well, looks like I won't be sleeping for the next little while. Current Mood: Apologetic | | Thursday, January 12th, 2006 | | 2:39 am |
So, albeit I haven't been making many open posts these days, but tonight's festivities deserve a mention. The climbing was phenomenal, having added a whole new element to closing distance on the wall via suicide leap. Let the recklessness continue. To deal with the inherent cognitive dissonance on the subject, I'm opening my mind to the possibility that ice cream and alcohol just -might- be exactly the sustenance that the body requires after a round of intense lifting. At this point, I'm rather indifferent, as it turned out to be the best karaoke night, bar none. Woe to anyone who missed it. Some would argue that following "Master of Puppets" with a duet of "I've Had the Time of My Life" without rest is, in a word, excessive. Frankly, at this point I would tell them to stuff it (Assuming I was able to speak). Cheers go out to the climbing crew, the drinking crew, the JD crew, and to Sarah and Allison for the sweet duet partner action. Current Mood: amused | | Tuesday, December 27th, 2005 | | 8:35 am |
So... Anyone else come inches away from accidentally murdering a homeless guy last night? ...Anyone? Guys? | | Wednesday, November 2nd, 2005 | | 2:38 am |
So, I just found a mouse in my bedroom. When I started towards it, the little thing ran across my floor and disappeared into a pile of clothes. I'm not so much worried of what it will do, as much as I'm afraid I'll step on it at some point. For now, I think I'm going to be sleeping in Mi's room tonight. Current Mood:  contemplative | | Thursday, October 27th, 2005 | | 1:56 am |
So everything seems to be well in the computer world. Formatting has become relatively routine, and the little computer isn't showing any signs of further problems. We're hitting up the McMaster arcade en masse tomorrow at 5:00 for some good DDR lovin. Anyone who can get here is welcome to join. From there, my night is then open from whenever we stop until noon on friday if anyone wants to join me. Current options involve climbing, swimming, training or assorted couchsports (Depending on who shows up). But for now, the order of the night is catching up on the sleep debt that has been accumulating over the last couple days. Current Mood: calm | | Wednesday, October 26th, 2005 | | 5:54 pm |
So I'm in the process of sending all useful stuff over to Nikki before the final format. I found an old MSN account with virtually no contacts, so everyone else on my list should be pretty safe. In addition, we've got a phone now. So if anyone is looking to get in touch, 905-522-9561 will get you there. Current Mood:  blank | | 3:28 am |
So Tracy accidentally virus bombed my computer. It was one of those mass sending MSN viri that hit me right in the sense of vanity with a midconversation "Hey, is this really you?" followed by a link. So, having been defeated by my own hubris, I'm sending this out as an advanced warning to everyone on my contact list. I immediately turned off my wireless card as soon as I was told about the virus and disabled my MSN. I'll be turning it back on for a short period of time tomorrow while I send off my more important files to my housemates before formatting the beast. So, for everyone's online security, I'd ask that everyone reading this would block me until thursday morning. |
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