Wednesday, March 11, 2009
the day the boys sold themselves out
if you havent noticed, there are now advertisements on the blog. AdSense is an application that allows average joes the ability to make money just for the amount of traffic they pull through their website. So now, just by viewing our website we profit from you. And if you were ever so inclined as to the prices of a very, very nice bed and breakfast in Cologne, or a hostel in Munich and should happen to click on the link, we make even more money. So far we've made just enough money to buy Lehman Brothers, Inc. Our goals are set high for this first of many internet money-making schemes: one cheap hungarian lunch for the four of us. apart from the shame that comes from selling yourself out to a corporate giant like google comes the ensuing rush of opportunity from connections made on the internet. Guess how much money the creator of the Pink Ribbon application on Facebook made. A million dollars and counting. In a week. Look it up. Atleast we're not profiting (I wouldn't call it profiting yet, we need your help!!!) off of charities. Just our own philosophical and experiential ramblings. And the love of friends and family. So if you love us and want us to be fed, please just check out the price of a hotel in Milan (wait... this is kind of creepy. Its only mentioned places we've actually stayed. Consider this. We stayed in a hostel in Munich, a budget hotel in Milan and a nicer, but no more expensive hotel in Cologne. What is being advertised??? How do they know??? what if i recommend buying the totally awesome, totally cool rechargeable Phillips hair trimmer i bought to buzz my hair off into a new euro style? The internet may be bigger and more connected than I thought. lets wait and see)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Total Quality Management
I am here today to ruffle a few theoretical feathers if I may. I am going to propose something so shocking that the good folks down at craigslist wouldn't let me post it in the rants and raves section for fear of e-riots, e-embargos, and e-bricks-through-e-windows.
"Life is simple."
There!! I said it, somebody had to say it... so when I go for my mid-morning walks through the park, I hear the birds asking - "with 4 guys living in a flat, how on earth do you keep it neat and tidy, it must look like the Maginot Line after it filled with squatters when the French decided to pretend they never built it." - cute fuzzy bird in tree
After a sly smile and another lap around the park, I had my answer - TQM.
Total Quality Management in its fundamental form is a revolutionary way of thinking for the new era of managers, to bring conscious thought and awareness to the quality of ALL processes within a system. Accountability - ie instead of making a factory that produces canned tuna fish by setting up the assembly line with the right pieces and hoping the delicious, mercury-tinted wonder fish comes out perfect every time, it is taking conscious thought for every process to ensure this result. Make sure the cans are perfect, the light saline solution is perfectly balanced, the fish were perfectly massacred and hung, the timing of each station, the quality, the look, the feel, the taste, the smell... you get the idea - when you make sure that every last input to meet an end is perfect... the chances of having a perfect product is greatly increased - simple!!
So where am I going with this???
Approximately 17 days 23 hours and 14 minutes ago we implemented project TQM in an effort to keep our flat visiting-mums-friendly.
Lets discuss the results together. Although the evidence against certain indivuals is overwhelming, for training and ego purposes we have kept the names of the accused in our minds and not on the internet.
"Life is simple."
There!! I said it, somebody had to say it... so when I go for my mid-morning walks through the park, I hear the birds asking - "with 4 guys living in a flat, how on earth do you keep it neat and tidy, it must look like the Maginot Line after it filled with squatters when the French decided to pretend they never built it." - cute fuzzy bird in tree
After a sly smile and another lap around the park, I had my answer - TQM.
Total Quality Management in its fundamental form is a revolutionary way of thinking for the new era of managers, to bring conscious thought and awareness to the quality of ALL processes within a system. Accountability - ie instead of making a factory that produces canned tuna fish by setting up the assembly line with the right pieces and hoping the delicious, mercury-tinted wonder fish comes out perfect every time, it is taking conscious thought for every process to ensure this result. Make sure the cans are perfect, the light saline solution is perfectly balanced, the fish were perfectly massacred and hung, the timing of each station, the quality, the look, the feel, the taste, the smell... you get the idea - when you make sure that every last input to meet an end is perfect... the chances of having a perfect product is greatly increased - simple!!
So where am I going with this???
Approximately 17 days 23 hours and 14 minutes ago we implemented project TQM in an effort to keep our flat visiting-mums-friendly.
Lets discuss the results together. Although the evidence against certain indivuals is overwhelming, for training and ego purposes we have kept the names of the accused in our minds and not on the internet.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The lamest things i can think of
saturday morning. 10am. splitting headache from a night of hard drinking. the damage done: 2 bottles of red, 4 pints of beer, a broken chair, a litre of yop busted open and oozing out on to the floor the sticky peach compound speckled with bits of brown 100% recycled toilet paper the irony of a cleanup procedure gone awry, two Russians, two Americans, two Hungarians and four Canadians, a threesome of upset Gypsies on the tram (Excuse me Gypsy, Would you like to sit down? - spoken in true Borat fashion) and one doner kebab.
soothing my battered brain cells with a large helping of water, Tylenol, a bowl of Breakfast of Champions, and an entire thin crust pizza over an Israeli film of Rock's collection while side stepping the the dry crusty yop on the floor allowed me to successfully get to the mall, purchase some sandals and arrive home without a headache.
the sandals I needed for a spa party, cleverly named Sparty. every month at the oldest Turkish bath on the planet, about a thousand young adults gather to get wasted, dress only in their bathing suits, and dance to disco balls, laser shows, and tribal beats. the evening was marked by me getting punched. A girl told me her name was Pregita and she said it means pregnant and made a large, round arm motion that would indicate pregnancy. so i brilliantly asked "are you pregnant?" before i realized what i in fact had just asked i found her fist had made its way sharply into my stomach, her friends' eyes were cast furiously on mine, and then felt at once both a crushing sense of embarrassment and a deep desire to laugh that can only come from being punched in a pool during a laser show by a girl named Pregita. Needless to say the comment jolted her emotions in such a way that she followed me around the rest of the night. girls are weird i guess. I think she stole my right sandal.
soothing my battered brain cells with a large helping of water, Tylenol, a bowl of Breakfast of Champions, and an entire thin crust pizza over an Israeli film of Rock's collection while side stepping the the dry crusty yop on the floor allowed me to successfully get to the mall, purchase some sandals and arrive home without a headache.
the sandals I needed for a spa party, cleverly named Sparty. every month at the oldest Turkish bath on the planet, about a thousand young adults gather to get wasted, dress only in their bathing suits, and dance to disco balls, laser shows, and tribal beats. the evening was marked by me getting punched. A girl told me her name was Pregita and she said it means pregnant and made a large, round arm motion that would indicate pregnancy. so i brilliantly asked "are you pregnant?" before i realized what i in fact had just asked i found her fist had made its way sharply into my stomach, her friends' eyes were cast furiously on mine, and then felt at once both a crushing sense of embarrassment and a deep desire to laugh that can only come from being punched in a pool during a laser show by a girl named Pregita. Needless to say the comment jolted her emotions in such a way that she followed me around the rest of the night. girls are weird i guess. I think she stole my right sandal.
Would you like to waltz?
Yesterday morning I made my breakfast and sat down to watch a movie I've had for a while, but had yet to see. I started playing it and Mike joined in after watching only the first scene. Waltz with Bashir is an Israeli movie by Ari Folman depicting the Israeli-Lebanese war, mainly the Sabra and Shatila massacre that occurred in 1982.The movie won a Golden Globe for best foreign film, and rightfully so. It's animated, but quite differently than the average animated film - you'll have to watch it to understand. From a Lebanese point of view, the film was neutral enough, though the Israelis were portrayed in a slightly better light than should be.
If you're looking for some insight into the conflict, or simply a good movie, I recommend you check this one out.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Second Life
In my E-Commerce lecture today we learned about Web 2.0. This is like the internet where everyone can contribute to what everyone else is doing. Its basically things like comments on YouTube, customer's book reviews (not actual critics), blogs, and online games. Have you heard about Second Life? Essentially, people create their virtual alter ego and play "life" on the internet with other people's virtual alter egos. You can be a smokin' hot babe, a judge, a rockstar or even a cat (which is apparently a really popular one). I was completely taken back by this. Why would you want to spend time online talking to virtual animals that are really people who want to be animals? Then I learned that Barack Obama campaigned in it on billboards. Billboards? Are their other advertisements? Wait a second... People actually make money. They host club meetings at their virtual houses and charge admission. Who brings the snacks? Then I learned that some people own property and sell it or rent it out. What??? Who controls this? Are their laws? Regulations? Can you commit murder and get away with it? What if its accidental? What if you're a giraffe driving a virtual bus you just bought from a virtual bus dealership and you're on your way to your giraffe club meeting after you went to Diets of Large Mammals class at giraffe university and you run over a virtual cat named Sam-Sam and kill him? Can you take his money? Do you go to a really tall, thin prison cell? I'm trying to understand what need this fills in people's brains. Books are imaginative but maybe restrictive (some would obviously argue differently), Choose-your-own-adventure books offer greater liberation but less interesting characters, the people you meet everyday are nice but not that interesting, certainly not as interesting as talking to cats and pornstars and landlords on the internet, but maybe thats just it. Maybe a lot of people want to be something they're not. If everyone in the world was something different, but knew it, then who's going to call you out and make fun of you for it? They would just call you out for being something totally ridiculous and then the whole world would come crashing down. I'm going to stick to becoming something I want to be (not sure if thats a cat, pornstar, or landlord) and if it doesn't pan out, I'd watch out for bus-driving giraffes if I were you.
Oh, a cool video we watched today. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gmP4nk0EOE.
I would avoid thinking about ourselves as machines though. We're more like the breeze that creates ripples in a global flag.
Oh, a cool video we watched today. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gmP4nk0EOE.
I would avoid thinking about ourselves as machines though. We're more like the breeze that creates ripples in a global flag.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Milan
Hello all,
After a week long hiatus from blogging its time to resume the exciting story of my Budapest experiences.
Milan is a large city. It has wonderful people. In Hotel Greco you can enjoy prepackaged Melba toast, cookies, chocolate filled croissants, honey, nutella, apricot jam, butter and all the espresso shots you can consume included free in the price of the room. As awful as it sounds, I loved getting up for breakfast. They would open the doors and let the morning air in. Mixed with the smell of espresso and episodes of The Fresh Prince of Belair dubbed over in Italian is a surpisingly stimulating experience. You also get to hang out with the coolest ugly dog on the planet, Diablo, a smug pug. I would recommend the Greco to anyone who is budget conscious. For a one-star joint we got four individual beds (a real plus, though the cot's mattress I think was just a big pillow case filled with beach towels) our own bathroom, and a door out to a courtyard.
I read The Miracle at St. Anna in the courtyard. It is set in the hills of Tuscany, which is close enough (though its still about 4 hours away by train) to make reading the book much more real. I loved the book because of how it tied in various elements of history to various characters from multiple cultures in its brash-poetic style. His explanation of why old Italians in small villages don't like to talk about the war makes the war seem horrible and brutal and fragile all at the same time. I could only put it down in between designer stores and gelato.
I'm too big to fit into European clothes. I bought a sweater in Munich two weekends ago. XXXL. No joke. Armani doesn't make clothes this big and if he did the shoulders would still be tight, the waist far to big and the arms about 3 inches too short. I stuck to purchasing a belt and a pair of sunglasses, a cheap Milan zip-up (XXL, very tight, very euro) and scarf for the soccer game. I wanted to buy some hand-crafted Italian leather shoes, but I'd need a pair of scissors instead of a shoe horn to fit into them.
This carnival thing Europe does is a lot of fun. I bought some confetti from a bag because everyone but the Canadians were covered in this confetti stuff. I opened it and threw it on the guys but they didn't think it was so amusing and spent the rest of the day shaking it off themselves. In retrospect, it was maybe a silly purchase (2 euro) because two seconds away were these big vents you find in the ground that pump air out from some sort of underground ventilation system and kids were throwing handful after handful of the recycled paper into the air covering everyone.
The Duomo is the third largest church in the world and it was stunning. Actually breathtaking. The scoops of bacio, pistachio, nougat and biscuit gelato in my mouth dribbled down my chin. Fortunately these nice Senegalese guys came up to Trevor and I to offer us free bracelets. I finished my gelato, wiped my face and after initially saying "No thanks," they said "Oh come on, its free. It's our gift to you." After another "No thanks, its nice of you to offer," he smiled wide and asked "Where you from? You have a girlfriend? Babies?" and before I knew it I had two bracelets around my wrist to which he said "Can you spare some money for Africa?" At this point I know I don't want the bracelet, I don't want to donate to some undisclosed charity in Africa, but its already on my wrist, the guy was really friendly and whats a few euro cents, right? "Oh come on, man! Five euro." I want to tell him that beggars can't be choosers, that you can't offer "free" things, then ask for a donation to something, then demand five euros for some shitty bracelet. "That's all I've got," I lied and handed him one euro twenty. I still had a few euros in my pocket and he knew it, he could probably hear it in my pocket, but fuck it, I wanted more gelato. From the four of us, two guys made about five euros collectively in about 4 minutes. It pays to be insistent.
If the outside of the Duomo is breathtaking, inside you can't breathe. It's damp and dingy and dark and cold and somehow a room the size of the inside of the third biggest church in the world manages to choke you, engulf you, squeeze something inside you so that when you leave the huge metal doors you feel instantly like the weight of 700 years of prayer and marble are lifted away forever and you never want to go inside again. Instead, pay five euro to walk up to the roof to get a view of Milan and the incredible detail of the spires.
I really liked Milan and am eager to go back. A combination of the ritz and glamour of the fashion streets (with the Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Bentleys and Aston Martins) with wood-fired pizza, gelato, carnival, weather warm enough to wear a t-shirt, discount stores and open markets made it a really enjoyable trip.
After a week long hiatus from blogging its time to resume the exciting story of my Budapest experiences.
Milan is a large city. It has wonderful people. In Hotel Greco you can enjoy prepackaged Melba toast, cookies, chocolate filled croissants, honey, nutella, apricot jam, butter and all the espresso shots you can consume included free in the price of the room. As awful as it sounds, I loved getting up for breakfast. They would open the doors and let the morning air in. Mixed with the smell of espresso and episodes of The Fresh Prince of Belair dubbed over in Italian is a surpisingly stimulating experience. You also get to hang out with the coolest ugly dog on the planet, Diablo, a smug pug. I would recommend the Greco to anyone who is budget conscious. For a one-star joint we got four individual beds (a real plus, though the cot's mattress I think was just a big pillow case filled with beach towels) our own bathroom, and a door out to a courtyard.
I read The Miracle at St. Anna in the courtyard. It is set in the hills of Tuscany, which is close enough (though its still about 4 hours away by train) to make reading the book much more real. I loved the book because of how it tied in various elements of history to various characters from multiple cultures in its brash-poetic style. His explanation of why old Italians in small villages don't like to talk about the war makes the war seem horrible and brutal and fragile all at the same time. I could only put it down in between designer stores and gelato.
I'm too big to fit into European clothes. I bought a sweater in Munich two weekends ago. XXXL. No joke. Armani doesn't make clothes this big and if he did the shoulders would still be tight, the waist far to big and the arms about 3 inches too short. I stuck to purchasing a belt and a pair of sunglasses, a cheap Milan zip-up (XXL, very tight, very euro) and scarf for the soccer game. I wanted to buy some hand-crafted Italian leather shoes, but I'd need a pair of scissors instead of a shoe horn to fit into them.
This carnival thing Europe does is a lot of fun. I bought some confetti from a bag because everyone but the Canadians were covered in this confetti stuff. I opened it and threw it on the guys but they didn't think it was so amusing and spent the rest of the day shaking it off themselves. In retrospect, it was maybe a silly purchase (2 euro) because two seconds away were these big vents you find in the ground that pump air out from some sort of underground ventilation system and kids were throwing handful after handful of the recycled paper into the air covering everyone.
The Duomo is the third largest church in the world and it was stunning. Actually breathtaking. The scoops of bacio, pistachio, nougat and biscuit gelato in my mouth dribbled down my chin. Fortunately these nice Senegalese guys came up to Trevor and I to offer us free bracelets. I finished my gelato, wiped my face and after initially saying "No thanks," they said "Oh come on, its free. It's our gift to you." After another "No thanks, its nice of you to offer," he smiled wide and asked "Where you from? You have a girlfriend? Babies?" and before I knew it I had two bracelets around my wrist to which he said "Can you spare some money for Africa?" At this point I know I don't want the bracelet, I don't want to donate to some undisclosed charity in Africa, but its already on my wrist, the guy was really friendly and whats a few euro cents, right? "Oh come on, man! Five euro." I want to tell him that beggars can't be choosers, that you can't offer "free" things, then ask for a donation to something, then demand five euros for some shitty bracelet. "That's all I've got," I lied and handed him one euro twenty. I still had a few euros in my pocket and he knew it, he could probably hear it in my pocket, but fuck it, I wanted more gelato. From the four of us, two guys made about five euros collectively in about 4 minutes. It pays to be insistent.
If the outside of the Duomo is breathtaking, inside you can't breathe. It's damp and dingy and dark and cold and somehow a room the size of the inside of the third biggest church in the world manages to choke you, engulf you, squeeze something inside you so that when you leave the huge metal doors you feel instantly like the weight of 700 years of prayer and marble are lifted away forever and you never want to go inside again. Instead, pay five euro to walk up to the roof to get a view of Milan and the incredible detail of the spires.
I really liked Milan and am eager to go back. A combination of the ritz and glamour of the fashion streets (with the Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Bentleys and Aston Martins) with wood-fired pizza, gelato, carnival, weather warm enough to wear a t-shirt, discount stores and open markets made it a really enjoyable trip.
Went to Italy, need a job.
Tickets to AC-Milan game: 35 euros
D&G party shirt: 65 euros
Extra baggage fee on WIZZAIR: 40 euros
Armani shades, handmade shoes, AC-milan gear, more handmade shoes: too many fackin euros
Rocking all this gear to a "hip" Milan club: priceless ONLY if you're into dudes (more sausages there than I saw in Bavaria). Suffice it to say, the Canadian contingent considered the cost of this night to be 35 euro, WITHOUT buying any drinks in the club AND we WALKED 7km to get home. Taxi's charge you 10 bucks just to sit down in Milan vs. 5 bucks for the whole journey in Budapest.
So we're back from Milan. It was nice to be able to spend more than 4 hours exploring a city. All of us felt like we got to know the city really well, and we needed to considering how for into the suburbs our hotel was. We used the metro to explore the entire city as various bazaars and fashion outlets lured us to all corners of Milan.
Some highlights
- Gelato was delicious and consumed daily, often twice.
- It was festival in Milan. Everybody was in full costume, throwing confetti until it covered the street.
- We all played our part to support the struggle in Africa
- Watching AC Milan blow a 2-nil lead. Great effort by old man Beckham. Ronaldihno and Kaka were sorely missed.
- Trevor replaces shoe with hole in it after weeks of ridicule. I never thought 4 dudes could have so much fun shopping
If you want to hear more about anything I posted about, or see pictures of it, please ask a question in the comments section. I'm doing this blog for you guys, so it will only improve with your input and contributions.
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Tristan wins latest poll, makes it two in a row
Congratulations to Tristan for winning the "who slept the most on the Cologne trip" poll. There seems to be no stopping him. First the gourmet chef of the flat, and now the most skilled sleeper. Proof below.
Tristan sleeping in class.
Tristan sleeping in class.
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