Episode 102: Dissenters will inevitably abhor

I guess I'm just a hater.

Episode 101: Slow week.

This photo has nothing to do with the blog post at hand.

Why did I post it? Probably to show off, and probably because I have no cartoon-worthy material to speak of. Slow week.

In keeping with my list theme, I'm going to go with Top 5 Stranger than Fiction 'Gogs Facts.

5) After exhaustive creeping, I enjoy perusing Canadian geography stubs and obscure medical articles.

4) I managed to completely avoid eating bananas from 1999-2009 (aside from baked goods, of course, because everyone likes banana bread). After taste testing a banana in March, I came to the conclusion that I will probably not eat another one until 2019, because I didn't enjoy it very much.

3) I was on my high school's "Reach for the Top" trivia team. I was particularly adept regarding French, 20th century English literature, art history, and obscure pop culture.

2) I was known to draw humourous caricatures of my co-workers on our office's publicly displayed white board. My piece de resistance was that of my boss. Somehow, I was not fired.

1) I used to tell stories about stop-sign eating aliens to other kids on the bus to school. I believe whoever got to read my EQAO creative writing thing probably died of WTF, LOL.

Please, for the sake of everyone, let there be more exciting occurrences in the next week.

Episode 100: Red, gold & green.

Cliche?

Probably.

I had this overpowering urge to do a top 10 list. I was going to do "top 10 creeping moments of 2010", but had difficulty locating 10 non-incriminating screen captures.

"But Gogs, why would you worry about incriminating evidence? Everyone knows you're the biggest creep around."

Trudat.

However, one my fundamental principles is that no one is allowed to know what I creep, lest it get creeped. So obviously that particular "top 10" was a bust.

Instead, I bring you "Speedgoggles' top 5 Halloween costumes of ALL-TIME (of all-time?)" (10 is a stretch since I didn't develop a deviant personality until age 8).



5) "The King of Cardboard Boxes". 2002



"WTF?!" you may ask. I might also ask that. I have no answers. I was a weird kid.

Tip: if you plan on trick-or-treating avoid this one... it's difficult to abuse self-serve candy stations when you can't bend at the waist.


4) disheveled drag queen. 2007.



This one confused a lot of people for different reasons. Old people didn't know what I was. Young people were unsure of my actual gender. Those in between might have wondered whether I was inadvertently mocking drag queens and the LGTB community at large (false).

At any rate, I credit my success to sock stuffing, in various locations.

3) Columbia from RHPS. 2009.



Went to the midnight showing, of course. Even got snapped for the local newspaper. NBD.

I'm not sure whether it was worth the hundreds of hours spent sequining various articles of clothing though, so this one loses points.

2) Boy George. 2008.



Solid runner-up. I was one of the few runners in Sarnia who attempted to bamboozle candy with an actual, legit costume. Also, when our team was seated by the bar in East Mario's, I got to chill with some dude dressed up as Axl Rose. Only our coach realized why this was funny. That stuff doesn't happen in real life (Axl Rose would obviously want to kick Boy George's ass).

Side-note: this was "what was up" with the Culture Club video clue that I posted earlier.

1) Speedgoggles. 2010.

photo as posted in "This is... legitimate Speedgoggles"

Some people said this one was weak, since it wasn't even a costume. I disagree; how many people can say that they spent the better part of 8 months on their costume?

Exactly.

Episode 99: Logical fallacy

Role reversal?

Episode 98: This is... legitimate Speedgoggles.

As a rule, I generally prefer Merlot.

Episode 97: Cannons, ends & screws.

Non-denominational holiday time is upon us. This can only mean one thing: this loose cannon is at a loose end, and the screws are beginning to loosen.

What that really means is that I'm back to my old ways and days.

What that really means is that the internet, she is no longer safe.

I have nothing to give you tonight because I spent the better part of today perusing TnF threads from the years 2006 and 2007 (as Speedgoggles, I do not feel the need to justify such behaviour) so I guess I'll post the only two holiday songs I like.





Funny story: once I was forced to listen to a Sharon, Lois & Bram Christmas CD. I had a temper tantrum after 20 minutes. I was 15 at the time.

Episode 96: The Blog-ification of Alfred P.

There are strange things done in the Big Nickel
By harriers who toil for gold;
The northern trails have secret tales
That will make you beg for Yaktrax
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the periphery of Lake Ramsey
I blogged about Alfred P.

Now Alfred P. was a CWOSSA boi you see, where winter is soft and lame.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the 'bury, God can only explain.
His runs were miserable, but the land of nickel seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in he - res."

On December 12th he yogged his sorry ass along some snowy street.
Talk of the snow! through his balaclava's breach it stabbed like a driven cleat.
If his swim goggles he'd remove, then his lashes froze till he couldn't see;
People in cars thought it was funny, but the only one to disagree was Alfred P.

And that very night, as he donned his swim goggles and a snow suit,
And everyone else was inside, as the weather network did call for a stormy brute,
He turned to me, and "Gogs," says he, "I'll probs die on this yog;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse to dedicate me a post on your blog."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he typed, seeming done:
"It's this blighted blizzard, and it's got right hold of my Sunday long run.
Yet 'taint the pace - it's my awful dread of dwindling mileage that's a pain;
So I want to you to swear, that living or dead, about my run you'll explain.

A troll's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore it wouldn't be too convoluted;
And he started on across the campus; but God! he looked fucking stupid.
He crouched against the wind, and he raved all yog long about asshole motorists spraying him above the knee;
And before nightfall a broken soul and ice covered goggles were all that was left of Alfred P.

There wasn't a thing to blog in the land of Gogs, and so I typed, boredom-driven,
With a niggling urge to lampoon that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to my desktop, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your thesaurus and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to blog Yogi's jokes jog."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the 'net is a strange circus.
In the hours to come, though it was kinda fun, in my heart how I cursed Robert Service.
In the long, long hours, by the lone screenlight, while my suitcases, piled high,
Imposed their malcontent to this homeless blogger - O God! what a nigh'.

And every minute these familiar verses seemed to long and longer grow;
And on I went, though my ideas were spent and the material was getting low;
This blog was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

'Till I came to the periphery of Lake Ramsey, and I remembered my muse;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called "Yogenfruzz".
And I imagined it, and I laughed bit, and I looked at this frozen fool;
Then "This," said I, with a sudden cry, "happened to me in high school."

Some verses I tore from a book, and I came up with an idea for this entry;
Some words I found just lying around, in an online rhyming dictionary;
The rhymes were just flowin' and I was in the zone - such literacy you seldom see;

Then I clicked "publish post" on the editing page, and I blogged about Alfred P.

Then I went offline, for I didn't like to see my number of hits so low;
And the heavens scowled, and I howled, and the wing began to blow.
It was still icy cold in the nickel, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, because I was south of the 45th degree;
And the Superstack's smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the chat window I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the little green dot reappeared and ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but bravely said: "I'll just see what's going down.
I guess he's cracked, and it's time I see how bad;" ... then the chat window I opened wide.

And there was Yogi, all frozen and crazy, defrosting his balls;
And he had frozen fingers you could see a mile, and he said: "pLeasr tellls me who\= youi are'
It's awfpul up here, and zI greatlty fear that tomorrow's run will be equally shite -
Finally knowing your identity would likely make it kind of alright."

There are strange things done in the Big Nickel

By the harriers who toil for gold;

The northern trails have their secret tales

That would make you beg for Yaktrax;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the periphery of Lake Ramsey

I blogged about Alfred P.

Episode 95: Heredity

"I was on facebook the other day, creeping this lawyer, and then I saw your facebook status..."

-Speedgoggles Sr.

From what I know of biology (mostly limited to obscure wikipedia articles and "for-funsies" textbook reading), one of the great debates is the nature (or nurture) of certain behavioural traits.

At this time, I'm not feeling terribly academically inclined, so I'll cut straight to the chase, without trying to make a proper segue.

Things I learned yesterday, over a post-Santa Clause parade bottle of red wine:

1) My mother will read this.
2) My mother lurks on TnF.
3) My mother lurks on old TnF (or as I lovingly refer to them, "the archives")
4) My mother has read your blog (if applicable).

How did I find this out?

"So, I saw your Christmas list... do you actually want a spy camera?"

Episode 94: Like a little, creep a lot.

The creator of this site is a kindred spirit. Je dig.

Update: as if someone replied to that... probably can't even run a mile.