Every Organist is a Ballerina in Awaiting...

Get ready for a super heavy dosage of my ramblings this week. If the previous posts made no sense, this one is sure to leave you befuzzled. That is to say that this week's post is literally nothing but the ramblings that come up in my mind on the spot. Enjoy(?)

My friend, to whom I shall refer to as "piano guy" from now on, works on the weekends as a church organist. He once told me that he has a special pair of shoes that he dons whilst playing the organ. A special  kind of pair of shoes, which supposedly let you anchor your feet while moving between the sea of pedals present on an organ.

"Indeed, good sir! But does that not mean that every organist would make quite the most delightful ballerina?" I questioned most earnestly. "No." he replied, hyphen, under score, hyphen. "It most indeed does not, Alex". Why ever not should this be so? In mine own sight, it doth appear quite queer that a noble young gentleman engaged in the fine act of pushing air through large metal pipes should not be able to prance like a sugar plum fairy.

One should be able to, even after piano guy showed me his awkward heel-toe technique for shifting positions. Looks a bit like when one of my friends tried to teach me how to c-walk (which shall never be spoken of again...). HeeltoeheeltoeheeltoeheeltoeheeltoeDOTHESNAKE. That dance project was most uncomforting. And I wasted a good bottle of leather polish...

Back on topic (is there a real topic?), I think that not only should organists be able to go out and buy ballerina shoes, all musicians should. I'd love to do pirouettes all over a stage with a trombone while belting out a dirty gliss. And Paul shall join in said act of gayous prancing, and together we shall be known as the sexypants(s)! pants'? What was the plural add-on for words ending in "s"?

It does not matter. Humuhumunukunukuapua'a. Forgetting Sarah Marshall was pretty nice. I rather enjoyed it, with the gratuitous dirty references throughout. Kristen Bell isn't that bad either. What was the name of the chick that Peter ends up with in the end? I forget, but she sorta looks like whatsherface from The Office. Jim's girlfriend that Pam got all jealous about.

My god, I was so depressed when Michael left The Office. D: It's like taking away Phoebe from Friends. Or Barney from HIMYM.

Simple knave, do seek insight into the grand imaginarium that is my mind! Seek it! The inner workings of this state of art shall provide the teachings that will fuel the emerging generation of youth, shall my sayings be belted into the air for millennia! I think I'm reacting oddly to a can of soda I drank, I normally don't eat much junk food at all. Hope the sugar crash comes soon because I'm quite dozy. The elevated sense of happiness I'm in does not seem that natural.

That was an unfiltered view into what happens when I get bored. Or tired. Or excited. I think I have an on and off switch for this kind of stuff, because normally the only thing on my mind is logistics and Robert Downey Jr. as black Robert Downey Jr. Nah, just kidding, I think about dirty stuff, ladies. ;)

"So thus ends the most unproductive post ever seen on RRRAI."

The Lego Bus Seat Proposal

So before the holiday break I remarked that quite a few buses were skipping stops while only half full. This immensely annoyed me, because it was clearly visible that there was more than enough space in the back of the bus, yet most people would just loiter in the front. "That is really inefficient" I would say. But you know what isn't inefficient? Really Really Really Awesome Ideas.

I'll warn you now that this may scare some people at the thought of it.

We've all recalled to the good old days when we used to all play with Lego. The big ass bucket would be absolutely horrendous to try to sort through every time you got it out. That's sort of like how we're being laid out right now, with all the pieces of different shapes and sizes getting crammed into every little corner we can find.

Now you may say "but Alex, you can't compare people to Lego! We don't even have the notches to fit together!"! Now if you go into that, technically we do have pieces that go together in that fashion, but this blog has already seen its fair share of dirty jokes. Well, what if I make the necessary notches? Here's the bit you won't like.

Upon boarding these new buses, one will not go on and find a seat. Why? Because I removed all the seats!

No, you aren't doomed to a terrible fate of having to stand either. I'm going to shove all of you into tiny little dark boxes that fit together like Lego.

Now, that wasn't a very good way of putting it, was it? They aren't tiny necessarily, but rather just space efficient. You're going to be given just enough space to wiggle around and then a bit. By dark I mean that you're not really going to be doing much for the duration of this ride, so think of it as an express hibernation pod in a way. Play some Coldplay while you're in there to kill time or just fall asleep (which you probably will do anyways because you're listening to Coldplay).

Now, Lego is the major selling point on this idea (but the other two bits sound quite lovely, do they not)? These pieces will lock in to the chassis of the bus so that they're secured for the ride. This will make space efficiency very high despite the fact that it's a giant can of meat bodies hurtling down the highway that could be decimated by one wrong turn. Don't be surprised to get off the bus one day and notice you're missing a liver either.

Support for fat people should mandate that other specialty buses be chartered with extra large compartments, just so that they don't feel segregated in any way, shape, or form. The disabled shouldn't be a problem since they're just lying down anyways.

Excuse my poor drawing skills. The compartments will open at the tip of the left side of the radical compartment, and the space there is for your personal effects. Climb up, lie down, and stop complaining. There's other dudes stacked on top, below, and to your left and right and they aren't bitching.

Notice the shape of each compartment. You can guess what I think about most of the day. 

SimulView Assvertisements

Man is not a perfect being. He may not always remember where he left the TV remote. He may not always remember that he left Chinese takeout leftovers in the fridge for the past two weeks. And of course, he may not always stay true in going about in his daily activities. Yes, that's right, I'm talking about when we check out other people's asses.

You know you've done it. We've all done it. Somehow it grabs our attention wherever you go, drawing your eyes to it no matter how you try to avoid looking at it. It's a major distraction, and you know you can't afford to be lost in it, but you do anyways. The form, the subtlety, the abstractness of the lady behind. It's a beautiful thing.

And then you realize that you're in public and that you should stop staring. Yes, as much fun as it is to describe how much fun it is to stare at asses, we should get back to the idea. Whatever it was...

...uhhh... something about advertising... right. You ever seen one of those SimulView TVs from Sony? It uses 3D tech to filter out images through a pair of 3D glasses so that two people can see different images on a single display simultaneously.

Here we go again with a joint idea. Along the lines of edible potato LCD monitors and 3D
Ass Adverts. A super duper organic LCD monitor mimic cotton (because science is never a limit to awesome ideas) will replace all tight fitting female clothing and will become a standard in fashion. While other females wouldn't see anything on their clothing, the nanomachines (that are being snuck into your soy milk) within the optic nerves of the male will layer on an advert on the more delicate lady parts that they see every day, with their clothing being the projectors. It'll be as if it's popping out in your face (in more ways than one)!

Super duper not-spying-on-you Google Cloud technology will tailor ads specific to your needs and the context, though I'm a bit afraid that the ads will only pop of a certain subject... but that's their fault for provoking it. Some of them might not even mind.

Now the next time you're caught staring, rather than getting the death glare or a slap across the face, you can say:

"Hey, I was just checking out...the...new Tim Hortons ad..."

And of course some women could pay to create the illusion that they're more well endowed than they really are, adding to the list of things that gentlemen such as myself must watch out for. Among them are transvestites and 40 year old men with Bieber Fever.

I just watched the series finale of Being Erica (my posts get written quite far in advance). I normally don't  watch it, but dayum. Erin Karpluk. Dat be fine. But that definitely had nothing to do with the creation of this post.

Alex's Patented Who-The-F***-Was-That? Icebreakers

When was the last time you were walking down the street, minding your own business, when a screaming naked man comes running down the opposite direction, flailing his arms and screaming about pastries? The first thing you'd probably do is stop, stare at the person closest to you, and go "Who the F*** Was That?". It could be your best friend, it could be a stranger, it could even be that cute-girl-with-a-locker-down-the-hall-from-yours-with-the-plaid-skirt-and-straight-cut-bangs-that-hang-out-ever-so-slightly-so-that-it-looks-like... you get the point. So if it's the latter, (change the girl to a dude if you're into that) and you're as timid as a penguin in an ice floe full of leopard seals, just as I am, this is for you.

For the simple fee of $24.99 for each public appearance, I'll don my birthday suit and grease my body up so that I may leap before your beau's eyes like a gazelle. A streaking gazelle. She'll (or he'll) be so shocked that any small talk you make with her/him will seem normal. If you can hear over the surrounding shouts of surprise of everyone else clamouring about the buttered-up-dude-running-around-the-park-with-a-potted-plant-covering-his-crotch, you could talk about how random the buttered-up-dude-running-around-the-park-with-a-potted-plant-covering-his-crotch was. Advise to leave the area when he comes up to you and starts doing the can-can in front of the other, and take the opportunity to try to invite them to the coffee shop. Or Timmys down the street. Or your place.

For an additional charge, I'll show up in a private space and scare the s*** out of the other. You can than proceed to beat the shit out of me in an attempt to save the other's innocence, making you look like the hero.

After I have enough customers to build up a decent fan base with rave reviews, I'll start advertising to the general public. Appearances in public places, like at the Statue of Liberty, the Taj Mahal, and in the medicine cabinet in your personal washroom. Soon everyone around the world will know of me. I'll make viral videos on youtube of me streaking through Harvard University, through a minefield in Iraq, and underwater on a glass-bottom-boat tour. With movie magic (AKA Adobe After Effects), i'll have been there at scenic places such as Tianmen Square during the "peaceful" protests, Warsaw during the invasion from Germany, and Obama's inauguration. The propoganda will rise and set the world into chaos. Where will the naked man show up next? There are so many ideas and mediums to be explored. Soon everyone will have seen the slippery Chinese man with the petunia crotch.

This post wasn't about streaking, it was about building enterprises. Of streakers.