And.. AdrianFungOnThe.Net -- we're back. The webmaster Amos doesn't think it can fly. That's okay, though, because he never actually reads anything I write on here anyway. I thought it was a good way to remember the address, and a better way to deliver it verbally: Of course it's me and of course I'm on the net. The server that's hosting the new site left a message on my cell phone the other day, telling me the order went through. He said, "Hello, this is a message for Adrian and I'm calling to verify your account. Your website has been registered successfully under the domain name Adrian.. um.. fuh-Fung.. (slight pause).. oine.. (long pause) T-H-E dot .. net?"
As you can see, my faith in the domain name is easily defended.
So I have a paper to write and I realize that writing a paper is nothing like writing on your website. There are picky criteria like complete sentences. And having to have a point. Then there's the whole writing about the Roman Empire thing. It's really not in my repertoire of Things That I Do.
Anyway, I was taken to a very fancy restaurant the other day and I visited the restroom. I don't understand fancy restrooms. I understand the fancy restaurant. I can see their raison d'etre when comparing the difference of delicious and beautifully prepared food to, say, a frozen burrito. But, when relieving myself, I can do nothing different, whether it's the good old American Standard's or a softly lit, gold-gilded black porcelain bowl against a backdrop of lush trees and Wagner.
Once, I went to a restaurant in Montreal and, unless I am grievously wrong, I was supposed to pee on the wall. There was a flow of water streaming gently down the side of the marble wall -- like a waterfall -- with a thin sluice at the bottom which led to a drain. I guess I understand how peeing on a wall might be trendy and avant-garde at a first-class restaurant, but I can also see how this exact same kind of thing wouldn't work at a Denny's.
When I went to China, a "four-star" restaurant also had this: everyone just lined up to pee onto a wall of cracked jade-green ceramic tiles. The trough at the bottom sloped down towards the drain, and it kind of sucks to be the guy nearest to the hole. You see the collective mish-mash of colours, are genuinely surprised by the unhealthy ochre hue, and you want to turn to the guys upstream, chiding them to drink more fluids. Anyway, seeing that the "four-star" hotels we stayed at meant, essentially, that the toilets flushed, I wasn't so sure whether peeing on the wall was borne out of attempts to be a trendy cool, or because the establishment simply didn't see the value in springing for urinals.
The latest phenomenon in urinals is probably the Mongolian Grill in Toronto. They put ice chips in there and I have no idea why. They put ice there instead of those, you know, white things that smell funny. (I just Googled "what is the white thing by the drain at the urinal" to no avail.) I just don't understand what good it does, whether it's for sanitary reasons, and what is so good and/or sanitary about having my pee chilled before it goes down the drain? Are those white-circular-blocks-that-smell-funny expensive or something?
Maybe Mongolians, who lived in cold climates, are only inspired to eliminate urine at the sight of snow. But I have yet to meet a Mongol. I just don't know any. Concerned, I once went through my school and asked whether anyone knew any Mongols. No one did. How come? Are they fictional?
I guess another advantage blogging has over assigned papers is that you can spend the whole time writing at length about peeing in urinals, not realize it, and somehow it's still okay.
To the faithful: Don't look for adrianfung.com in the near future. "Near", meaning several years. We couldn't buy it back and a hideous advertisement company has bought the name. Apparently, several not-so-faithful adrianfung.com readers continue to hit the address, which makes it a valuable URL to have. They're offering adrianfung.com to anyone who wants it bad enough for a mininum of $200 US. Idiots. I'm the only person who'd want it -- but not that bad.
To the wise: Don't think you can let your domain name run its course on a server and then buy it through a server with a better deal. If your domain name had a reasonable amount of traffic, it'll get picked up by these pirates.
Keep your eyes peeled, though. For some reason, the site has fallen off the radar of Google searches. I'm thinking of a new domain name now and a new server who won't crash (so that search engines recognize the site). Suggestions?
I'm not sure how this happened, but I've decided to do my Bachelor's. I figured I might as well since I'm here anyway and they're paying for it. And I'm not regretting it just yet. It's kind of cool. I never thought I would ever say "I'm late for my Metaphysics class" and actually be serious.
In the course of attending all my undergrad classes, though, I've realized that a) I'm really old, and b) I'm so not cool.
I used to think I was cool. In high school, I would sit in the back of class and not pay attention. Recently, though, I found myself sitting in the front of class and trying to answer all the questions. This is not because I'm smarter. It's just because I'm like six years older than everyone in my class and I've watched a ton of National Geographic specials.
It's like the time my teacher asked where the blue whale migrates, and my hand instinctively shot up. I'm just lucky because my step-dad was flipping through channels one afternoon the summer before and he rested on the Discovery channel for like, half a minute. In that time, I remember them saying that blue whales travel to cooler waters in the summer, feeding around the Artic and Antartic. (I also remember that they mate in warmer waters during winter -- I think around the tropics -- but that wasn't one of the questions.)
So you see, the chances of my teacher asking specific types of questions that almost seem tailored to the tiny scope of trivial information I've somehow retained is absolutely astounding. And because it's so much like winning the lottery, I raise my hand enthusiastically and splutter out the correct answer.
Contrast this with the others, who show their teenaged cool through their hebetudinous laissez-faire, and I'm that textbook enthusiastic nerd you always hated. The suck-up with buck teeth. The teacher's pet with the apple. The brown-noser with no Kleenex.
I also take notes on my laptop. I do this because I type faster than I write. To date, I'm the only one who brings their computer to class, which I think, somehow, isn't scoring me points with the Cool Committee. Sitting at the edge of my seat sometimes I get self-conscious and look around at people's heads resting on desks and drawing pictures of Wu-Tang logos on their binders. I'm thinking, "Man, what's with these guys? Don't they want to learn?? This is so fun and exciting!"
Anyway, today, in Philosophy, my teacher brings in a video cassette and plays an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. My favourite. It's just a well-written show, okay? So he asks, "Who here has watched Star Trek: TNG?" And my hand shoots up. I can almost feel people's eyes rolling in the row behind me. My teacher and I are both astounded that no one has watched Star Trek.
"It's a great show!" my teacher says. "Why don't you guys like it?"
A guy in the back of the class said, "Because it's totally not cool?"
You know that type of brandished attitude? Where there's an upwards inflection because they're so cool? And they say things in questions? Not like what I'm doing now, because these are actually questions? You actually have to say it like it's a statement, but deliver it as a question. I've come to gather that sounding like you're not quite sure when your sentence has ended makes you cool.
Anyway, so we're watching this episode and it's all about this robot race called The Borg -- a hideous group that assimilates and destroys all other civilizations -- and how this one Borg, separated from the rest, becomes more and more like a human with human traits as he spends time with the loving Star Trek crew. In the end, though, when given the choice to stay or not, he decides that he must leave the ship against his wishes for the sake of the Enterprise, because The Borg will come looking for him and kill everyone on the ship if he doesn't.
Let's just say that my brief synopsis does no justice to the timing, pacing, and writing involved. So you wouldn't understand that it was really touching, and I seriously almost cried.
Okay. Forget I said that. The point of this story is that I'm not cool and I think I've illustrated my point better than I've ever illustrated anything.
Wu-Tang logos aside.
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