Damn you Party Poker!!!!!

So 2 or 3 months ago I cashed out all my money from Party Poker because I was on a bit of a losing streak. What a happy few months it has been. I've been so productive and happy. My carpal tunnel syndrome has cleared up. In the evening, instead of hunching over a laptop, I go running or tend to my pigeons. But then Party Poker gave me a $75 bonus of free money in my account this weekend. All I had to do was play 750 raked hands. Well I did it. Now I am hooked again and I have my last set of quals in like 3 weeks. Party Poker is ruining my life.

This is toooootal BS!!!!

Mr.+Apple took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Takes easily and quickly to anything which provide..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

Thanks to cjsimo for the link to this personality test which is totally flawed and gave me BS results. There's no way I'm "exacting in my emotional demands" and all that other stuff! I am hopping mad about this! The correct results would have been as follows:

Mr. Apple's Existing Situation

Pretty awesome. This guy has things under control and looks good all the time.

Mr. Apple's Stress Sources

Goths and hippies...but mostly the babes.

Mr. Apple's Restrained Characteristics

Exceptionally awesome and cool and also handsome. He has big muscles and is pretty bad ass all around. His head is of average size.

Mr. Apple's Desired Objective

To maintain current awesomeness levels on the three main axes of awesomeness: aggregate bad-assery, dazzling charm with the ladies, and median-normalized good-lookiness.

Mr. Apple's Actual Problem

People are so jealous of him because he is sooooo cool.

Ladies man

Oh wow - I just got back from a hot date tonight with a babe who answered my OKCupid personal internet add. She was a pretty cute 44 year old mother of 3. She was short (4'10") and thick (maybe 290lbs?), with nice eyes and false teeth...exactly my type, except she had a tobacco-chewing habit which was a bit gross. I used a fake picture of Gram Parsons in my add but I was pretty sure she didn't notice. My schtick in that add was that I was an artist, so I wore some black tights and a big smock and a beret with some green ballet slippers (from my Robin Hood outfit that I wear when practicing archery) and I splattered some wood stain and paint on my smock and told her I'd been painting before I met her and didn't have a chance to change. I think she bought it. Anyway, I brought her to the student center to watch TV. I would have invited her to my apartment, but we don't get cable and also I felt it would be classier to take a girl out on the town for a first date. Things started off pretty well - I bought some gummy bears and sodas and was, of course, a perfect gentleman, remembering to procur an extra cup so she had somewhere to spit her tobacco. During commercials I would look at her and hold up my hands in "L" shapes (like I was framing her in a portrait) and say things like "I must paint you" or "this light accentuates the sadness and soulfulness of your eyes" and other such stuff that women really like. I tried a few times to grab her in an intimate fashion but she stopped me and one time punched me really hard in the arm (I have a serious, serious bruise that I need to get checked out tomorrow). Anyway, at the end of the night I was desperate to sample her womanly charms (so to speak) and tried this performance art thing to impress her where I ripped off my smock and used the tobacco juice from her cup to paint her portrait, in an abstract impressionist style, on my bare chest. She seemed to like it, but the campus police caught me contorting and screaming and dousing myself with tobacco in the TV lounge and kicked me out of the building so it sort of ended up backfiring. She left after the arrest. Anyway, I need to go shower because the tobacco actually starts to sting after a while, but damn it I think there was really a connection there. I'm babysitting for her this Saturday night and I think I may get lucky when she gets back from dinner with her platonic friend Lance on Sunday morning. Wish me luck!

Just checking in briefly to say:

1. I'm friggin' busy as heck
2. I'm sorry for making fun of goths a while back. I really am. I didn't know you were going to start killing people. I apologize from the bottom of my cowardly heart and it will never happen again.
3. My rate of marriage proposal reception from ex-Soviet dictatorships has decreased markedly since my posts turned serious over the past 1 or 2 weeks, but I saw something funny at the grocery store recently, so hopefully I can reverse the trend tonight.....ladies keep those marriage proposals coming. I'll never marry, but it feels good to get 'em.

The Problem with Blogs is that..........

.....no one cares about your crappy life. The dreary minutiae of your day-to-day existence are completely uninteresting to everyone except you. Your opinions and ideas are of no consequence to anyone but yourself. But there's a lot to be said for defiance.

Today I did the following:
1. woke up
2. ate waffles and a banana and tea
3. showered
4. brushed my teeth
5. Q-tipped my ears
6. dressed
7. walked to the office
8. stopped for a coffee on the way
9. met with advisor
10. checked email
11. ate lunch (teriyaki chicken with brown rice)
12. went to another meeting
13. went to a 3rd meeting about some revisions to a paper
14. did a bit of work
15. went to lab "Tea hour" at 4pm
16. met with advisor again
17. walked home
18. went for a run
19. listened to the Canadiens game on the internet
20. wrote this post

Inner monologue

"That presentation isn't going to prepare itself, you know."
"I know."
"So why are you writing another pointless post on your pointless blog?"
"I guess I'm procrastinating."
"You are a tremendous disappointment and a worthless individual."
"Hey, come on now....no need to get personal."
"Get back to work!"
"I will soon. But first I need to dance, dance, dance."

Blogger's Block

I really have nothing to say today. I am in the office preparing for a presentation I have to give in group meeting tomorrow. It's raining and pretty cold. The Sens play tonight (I will listen on the internet). I am still sexy.

(.........)

Damn it you leeches! Every post you want more and more and more and you suck a little bit of life out of me with every word I'm forced to type! Oh cruel, ironic world....I am ensnared in a deep, dark bloggy trap of my own making.

I will now turn on my ipod and list the first 5 random songs that come up so you can see how awesome my taste in music is:
1. The Goalie is Drunk - The Zambonis
2. Complete Control - The Clash
3. The Last Time - Gnarls Barkley
4. Support our Troops Oh! - Devendra Banhart
5. The Funeral - Band of Horses

Damn. I only like 2 of those songs.

That was somehow very unsatisfying. Go Oilers.

A dreadful thought

Bear with me here......

A chemical reaction just requires that two molecules collide in the right orientation and with enough energy...and the motion of particles in space is completely described by the laws of physics.

You and I are just giant walking, talking vessels in which chemical reactions occur. All the processes in the cells that make up our bodies come down to a bunch of chemical reactions.

Even the stuff that goes on in our brains is just a bunch of chemical reactions and can be described by those same fundamental laws of physics. For example, the ability to form long term memories depends on a specific chemical process called transcription, and if one of the molecules required in the control of this process gets messed up, you end up mentally retarded.

No one would deny that our long term memories affect the decisions we make in life. In fact, there is no reason to believe that any decision we make doesn't depend on some physical/chemical process in our brains.

Since the universe is just a giant collection of matter that operates according to the laws of nature, and since we are just bags of molecules in the universe, and since our thought processes and decisions likely depend only on how the molecules in our brain behave, then free will is probably just an illusion.

So you don't really make the decisions you think you make. They were made for you billions of years ago and the fact that you are reading this crappy blog right now was pre-ordained at the time of the Big Bang and basically just came down to the specific way in which all those particles of matter have bumped into each other since the dawn of time.

I realize this is not exactly original, and I don't know if it's actually true....but thinking about it sure makes me want to go to church or something.

Life is not easy for those of us with large heads

Big heads make the following things difficult:
1. swimming - my head is a giant iron anchor tethered to my shoulders, requiring that I dog paddle at 3 times the normal rate to stay afloat
2. finding hats/helmets that fit
3. walking - when your center of gravity is located up at chin level, then even a gentle breeze or the slightest sideways tilt can send you flying ass over tea kettle.
4. push-ups - I can only do 3 or 4

Big heads make the following things easy:
1. head butts - don't mess with me chum
2. that's all

If you have a large head I suggest growing big hair and wearing ball caps all the time. Big hair makes people think it isn't a huge head that's occupying so much room on top of your neck, just a lot of hair. Beards serve the same purpose. Hats are good to conceal cranial girth. I've attached a self-portrait so you can see my method in action.

I Have Returned

Well, I flew back into town early this afternoon. I hope you didn't miss me too much. I am tired and run down because during my religious retreat I stayed out too late most nights, and drank a bit too much, and never exercised except for one softball game and one bowling game (which don't really count). I don't know about you, but when I don't sleep, drink too much, and don't exercise, I end up in a bad mood. You might think I am grouchy because the Leafs ended up not making the playoffs (despite all your prayers and postcards) but in fact I realize now that I dislike hockey - it is strictly a child's game and not for older people like me. Also, I am actually a Sens fan because Ottawa is my home town.

Religious Pilgrimage

Tonight I did my taxes. I'm due for a monster refund and I'm open for suggestions on how to spend it. If my calculations are correct, I've got $243 coming my way in 6-8 weeks. That is about 70 lunches at the food truck or one mammoth methamphetamine binge. I'm leaning toward the lunches right now but could probably be convinced either way.

Anyway, I just wanted to pop in to let my "millions and millions of readers worldwide"™ know that I will be leaving tomorrow on a religious pilgrimage until Tuesday morning and I may not be updating as much as I'd like. But don't worry, I will pop in from time to time to make sure there are no emergencies.

I'd better pack, but before I go I'd just like to mention that I know you are all hoping that the Leafs make the playoffs this year. Our Leafs are 5 points out of the last playoff spot with only 4 games left to play. As a good friend of mine might say in this situation, "LEEEEAAAAAAFFFFFS NOOOOOOOOOO!"This being a holy time of year for several world religions I think we should all try to inject a bit of spirituality and Godliness into our lives. Try saying a little prayer each night before you go to bed to ask the Lord to give big Mats the strength for more dominant 6-point games and for the rest of the boys in blue to turn in some beauty performances down the stretch. If you are an atheist, then maybe just send a thoughtful postcard or note to the team to let them know you're thinking of them.

Yours,
Mr. Apple

Poetry

Not many of you know that in my spare time I write very beautiful poetry. Today I had an actual encounter that inspired me and I've decided to share my composition with you:

Ode to the guy I saw today walking around in bare feet at school

Even in the summer season,
there can't be a compelling reason
to walk about unshod like that.
When I saw your feet I almost shat,
they're dirty, gross, and on inspection
I've diagnosed fungal infection.
And I say, dear man, it might be nice
to rid yourself of those head lice.
Yet, first the shoes! Not to be mean,
But you may lose both feet to the gangrene.

Ask Mr. Apple......

Hello, and welcome once again to the most popular feature here at Apples Over America, "Ask Mr. Apple". For those of you who are new to AOA, this is where you, my "millions and millions of readers worldwide", get to interact with me (or one of my interns posing as me) via a set of carefully screened questions and even more carefully scripted responses.

Folks, this is really the most rewarding part of being a world-famous blogger, because this is where I can reach out and truly make a difference in the lives of some of you rudderless souls tossed about on life's rough waters. If I can help even one person...well then this blog and all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into it will have been totally, totally worthwhile. So without further ado - let's change some lives:

Dear Mr. Apple,
I am a 28 year-old gothic cyber-punk and subculturist. This past Wednesday I was at Manray's Goth/Industrial party dressed to the frickin' nines and looking completely evil and fabulous. I'd just downed my 3rd Long Island Iced Tea and was getting pretty loaded - so much so that I was already busting out my patented "vampire-wing come-hither pirouette" every time a cute chick passed by. This is a great move I invented in 1998 and basically involves spinning on your heel while swirling your cape, followed up by a very dark and evil baring of the fangs/sexy pointing in the direction of your target. Anyway, as I was saying, no sooner had I finished my 3rd drink when the DJ started playing The Cure's "Lullaby" which is my favourite song in the whole world and so of course I was out on the dance-floor post-haste. I'd had my eye on this one girl all night. You know the type: 450lbs. in a cinched-up corset and black tights with her ears stretched out to about a 0-gauge plug, several piercings, tons of makeup, and with those weird red things braided into dyed black hair. As soon as Robert Smith got to that part in the song about "the spider-man having you for dinner tonight" I made my move. It went well at first, and even better as the night wore on, but then at the end of the evening when I was prying her ass through the door and out into a cab to get her back to my place, she mentioned that she had a boyfriend! She said it was no big deal because she was "polyamorous" and her boyfriend would be cool with it as long as he could come along and participate. Next thing I know, this little guy in a dracula costume jumps into the cab with us, we're back at my place, and then I guess the Manhattans I was guzzling really hit me hard because I don't remember anything after that. Mr. Apple, I really liked that girl, and I know being goth is all about being an individual and accepting of others etc.., but I'm not sure I'm cut out for polyamory. I just can't share my big, beautiful goth-goddess with that little vampire. What should I do?

Yours,
a weirdo

Dear weirdo,

Polyamory is a fantastic development in modern relationships and is something I hear about more and more every day around Cambridge. It's so wonderful to see all these people throwing off the shackles of society and biology and carrying on meaningful, fulfilling relationships with multiple, non-jealous and consensual partners. Why limit yourself to one person? We all have so much to give! So let's all spread our love around and share it with each other like herpes. Yep...let's just all wallow together in the mud and filth and slime and pretend it's frankincense and rose-water and that instead of smelling like sewage we're all clean and smell as sweet as the perfume inserts of a Vogue magazine.

Yours,
Mr. Apple

Dear Mr. Apple,

OMG, I'm really sure! Do you ever think you are too judgemental LOL?!? Goths are people too, and you're just making fun of us for no reason. There's nothing wrong with being poly, LMAO!!! Just because you are too much of a conformist to open your mind to other realities, don't blame us. Wake up and smell the coffee, I am poly and my 3 lovers are not jealous and we all love each other's specialness. Goths rule! You're just jealous because no goth would ever give you the time of day, let alone engage in a mutually-satisfying, consenual, and non-monogomous sexual relationship with you. KThanx, bye.

Yours,
A guy who didn't get his ass kicked enough in high school

Dear guy who didn't get his ass kicked enough in high school,

You'll often find that in this blog when I make fun of a specific group of people, I am in fact making fun of myself or certain characteristics that I, myself, have been known to exhibit. For example, I've made fun of poker players, people who wear socks with sandals, hippies, nerds, and brutal mullets. Even the lowly juggler is, in fact, a very deep metaphor I use to explore the many facets of my own disfunctional psyche. However, this time, none of that applies. I think goths are ridiculous and I think people who are "poly" should be exiled to Baffin Island. Also, I hate hate hate people who use "KThanx", "OMG", and "LMAO". I think you should all be shipped to Northern Alaska and nuked in a missile test. Just kidding, lol.

Yours,
Mr. Apple

Dear Mr. Apple,

I love you. Why haven't you returned my calls? Ever since I graduated from Harvard and moved away from Cambridge, I've felt this distance growing between us and it scares me. I can't lose you. Call me!

Love,

Natalie Portman


Dear Natalie Portman,

It was fun while it lasted kiddo, but I'm a ramblin' man.

Yours, Mr. Apple

Well, that's it for another edition of Ask Mr. Apple. I wasn't kidding about the poly goths who use "kthanx" etc.., I say nuke 'em. Please send your hate mail to the email address at the bottom of the page.

logistical issues

Many of my "millions and millions of readers worldwide"™ have written me wondering about some recent changes around AOA, so I thought I'd elaborate a bit on some of them:

1. You'll notice that our slogan has been changed from "I AM HOPING THIS BLOG WILL BE A PRODUCTIVE VENUE FOR MEETING SINGLE WOMEN" to "IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DON'T PLAY BASEBALL". It's time to face facts: the babe-magnet effect I was hoping for never materialized. This is a shame because if I can't score online, well then there's very little hope for me in real life where my stare is creepy and my panting and heavy breathing all too audible. But that's ok - it's time for a shift in focus. I may be a lonely shut-in with only my cats and pigeons to keep me company, but I'll be damned if I'll be a lonely shut-in that also gets shit heaped on him by snarky bloggers from Portugal. So if something in your life is crappy and you are about to send me an email or a comment taking said crappiness out on me, please pause for a few seconds, look up at the AOA banner, and ask yourself honestly, "Is it his fault I don't play baseball?" The answer will invariably be no, so save us both some time and leave me to my pigeons.

2. Speaking of sending me messages.....I hope no one has been trying to send me email via the link at the bottom of the page, because the truth is that I never check that email address and now it has expired. So, if you sent me an email and I didn't answer it....tough shit! It's not my fault you don't play baseball.

3. I added some links in the sidebar to other people's blogs. Some of them I discovered on my own, some are friends, some I discovered because of comments people left here. Check them out - they are on average 12% as good as my blog meaning they are better than 99% of the crappy blogs out there....and let's face it, none of us have anything better to do.

4. I am tired.

5. I am drinking the rest of the bourbon my dad left me from his visit this past weekend. Thanks dad.

Why I am so great

I am no psychologist, but I have dated more than one girl who studied psychology (and also my sister did a lot of psychology courses in university) so I feel eminently qualified to leap head first into the following discussion on cognitive dissonance. From what I understand, cognitive dissonance is when you learn something that doesn't quite mesh with what you think you already know to be true. So you've got these conflicting ideas clanking around your skull, and then you have to kind of adjust your worldview to accommodate and make sense of the conflict.....anyway, I think I'm experiencing a textbook case of cognitive dissonance.

You see, for as long as I can remember, deep in my bones and in every fibre of my being I've known it to be true that I am so great. Not just great, but soooo great. I am not one of those people who think they're so great. I know I'm so great. The only problem is that with each passing year, more and more empirical evidence accumulates suggesting exactly the opposite. Every day I'm surrounded by people who are smarter, faster, stronger, nicer, and better looking than I am. I'm not particularly creative, artistic, athletic, well-liked, or even respected....so how do I square this with the fact that everyone should listen to me and do what I tell them to do? Why, at work, do even pimply-faced undergraduates condescend to me when I should be bossing them around? Why do women in Boston laugh at me or recoil in disgust when they should be throwing themselves at me? My achievements, natural ability, and day-to-day experiences are all completely at odds with what I know to be my own inherent awesomeness. Can you appreciate my dilemma?

But I think I've finally solved the problem. Just now I realized exactly what it is that makes me so damn special. On my blog I have a kick-ass photo of a friggin' GREAT WHITE SHARK EATING A SEAL!

It sure is great to be Mr. Apple. bedtime.

Not Band of Horses......

I was going to link to more Band of Horses stuff....but even I'm getting sick of them. Instead here's a link to a link to some songs from the new Fiery Furnaces record.

I like the Fiery Furnaces

It's a Beautiful Day

Today it is bright and sunny and 16 degrees Celsius. I have a paper to review, research to do, a presentation to prepare, and family in town. In short, it's a great day to be Mr. Apple - so let's get back on track. This kid is probably going to grow up to be a juggler:

This is a blogtatorship

Hello to all anonymous posters! By now you've probably noticed that I've turned on Comment Moderation. Yes - I rule this blog with an iron fist and I shall tolerate no dissension. But oh, wow - you really outdid yourselves with some of the stuff you tried to post. Thanks so much - it was really very classy and witty material, and especially brave of you to send it anonymously. Anyway, this will be the last post regarding this madness; I hope to get back to making fun of jugglers in short order.

But before we all move on, I need to ask - anonymous posters, why do you hate me so much? Is it because I am so fabulous? Are you projecting lingering bitterness from your past onto me? Are you jealous of my carefree life-of-leisure, or my "millions and millions of readers worldwide"™? I only have the vaguest of notions about who you are, so it's anyone's guess. But in looking over your nasty posts and reading-between-the-lines, I'm reminded of the immortal words of the greatest baseball player in the history of the game, Mr. Barry Bonds:

"It's not my fault you don't play baseball."

Anonymous posters are ruining my blog

At 4:30am this morning a great, wise, and anonymous internet sage typed, "You'd probably be suprised how far a polite apology can go sometimes." Thank you, anonymous wise-one, for your advice. Rest assured I have filed it where I put all the anonymous advice I receive online.

Somehow a completely innocuous and affectionate comment I made about a kid I really like has turned into a gigantic mess with a bunch of Victorian attack dogs ripping me a new one on my own blog. Let's get this straight: this blog is for me to pick on other people, not for you to come and pick on me by saying I am insensitive or stupid or that I have a big ego. Say that shit over coffee or on your own blog, if you must. The venom in some of these posts is really kind of crazy. Ca-ha-ha-razy. Take your vendettas and baggage somewhere else. We here at Apples Over America will never let this, our flagship publication, be hijacked by the invading hun.

Yours,
Sir Winston K. Apple