Categories
It Happened to Me

Visitors

Since my landlord lives in London, England and my apartment is in a

house in downtown Accordion

City,

he’s paying me nicely to place classified ads and show the place to

potential renters. I enjoy schmoozing, the apartment is quite nice and

the applicants have largely been trios of very charming young women,

so

it’s no great hardship.

Thus far, the visitors are all responding to a posting I made in the

Toronto edition of

Craigslist, in which I point to this blog and specifically

the

entry with a lot of photos of the house.

A number of them have gone on to read other parts of the blog, as at

least half the visitors have congratulated me on my engagement. One

even enjoyed the Worst Date Ever

series of stories!

The best line to come from a potential renter thus far came from a

young woman, who took a peek inside my closet, saw its contents and

exclaimed “Look at you, Mister

Clothes!“

Categories
Toronto (a.k.a. Accordion City)

A Landlord You Might Want to Avoid

Here’s a poster that’s been making the rounds in a neighbourhood just a

little bit northeast of downtown. It’s subtly but bum-clenchingly

creepy:

Photo: Strange poster found in Toronto.

I wonder if the person who posted this poster is Indecent Proposal sleazy or Single White Female nutty.

(By the bye, did you know that Single White Female 2 — a made-for-TV movie — is in post-production? As FARK.com would put it, “Hollywood is out of ideas.”)

Categories
Uncategorized

Balut!

[via I Got Two Shoes] Hey, a Filipino delicacy plays a role in Fear Factor!

I don’t normally eat the stuff — I only do it to freak out non-Filipinos. But other dishes like bopis (shredded fried pig lung) and dinuguan (pig blood stew)? Tasty, and will earn the respect of anyone into Klingons!

Categories
In the News

"The Girls from Ipanema are Not Impressed"

Even though I am retiring from dating at the top of my game, I still

find articles on the topic fascinating. So does Richard over at Just a

Gwai Lo, who found a New York Times article titled The Girls from Impanema are Not Impressed.

In the article, three young women who’ve come to New York from Brazil

talk about their dating experiences with American men, and precious

little of them are good. The key excerpt:

Forget getting a job, learning English, finding an apartment. The

true challenge for the young, single and foreign-born who arrive in New

York is cracking the code of the dating scene.

For Brazilian

women, who come from a place where public displays of affection are a

way of life and men rarely lack for amorous gusto, the task is

particularly confounding. Ask Brazilian women what they think about

American men, and most respond precisely the same way: with gales of

laughter. Then they tell disturbingly similar tales of men who fear

making advances lest they be accused of date rape and who coldly

calculate how many days they need to wait between meeting a woman and

asking her to dinner.

There’s a bit of a culture clash here. Brazil — like my

native country, the Philippines — is a

Latin culture. I’ve never been to Brazil, but I’ve gone clubbing in the

Philippines, and if you’re a guy, you have to dance and you have to

approach the ladies directly. On the other hand, the U.S. and Canada

are WASP cultures, and as the

joke goes…

Q: What do WASPs say after sex?

A: “Thank you much. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

An aside: my former housemate Paul is currently in Prague and observes in a recent entry on his site:

I first noticed on the tram, girls sitting on guys laps,

and I thought maybe they didnt want to take up two seats. But then I

saw it on otherwise completely empty park benches. And people nuzzling

each other while waiting for the subway, kissing in the street; boys

with arms around girls shoulders. None of the

we-musnt-show-affection-in-public of north america. So cool.

Another source of the problem: universities and colleges.  The university dating scene

circa the early 1990s — remember, this wasn’t much long after the late

1980s explosion of “political correctness” and Marc Lepine’s evil rampage in Montreal — was a social minefield. At Crazy Go Nuts University,

“Every man is a potential rapist” was a popular phrase used at womyn’s

(note the spellyng) empowerment gatherings and most

socio-politico-complexo-migraino discourse had been pretty much reduced

to people saying “We’re white, we’re straight, we’re sorry!” Still, we were dating paradise next to Antioch College, who passed a student code of conduct that required explicit consent for each sexual act. It’s every policy studies professor’s wet dream — they effectively turned sex into a series of negotiation meetings!

Along with the good things that university feminism teaches is at least one very bad thing:

that “gender is solely a social construct”, or more simply: a man is just a woman

with a penis and an attitude problem.

I am donning my flame-proof accordion as I write this. Let me be

clear that I am not advocating date rape or any form on non-consensual

sex nor am I advocating viewing women solely as sex objects. I am also

not advocating everything in the Brazilian Man Repertoire, asthe women in the interview did say that:

American men have other good qualities – their faithfulness, for

example. Brazilian women often say that Brazilian men are safados

shameless – and love to chase the fairer sex. Americans actually mean

what they say (at least more often than Brazilians do). And they are

sweet.

What I am advocating is understanding that men and women are different,

and as my gay and lesbians friends would say, “we’re born that way.”

Anyone who doesn’t believe me should watch toddlers, who haven’t had

enough time for much social conditioning, play.

Simply put: more Astrid Gilberto! Less Cathy!

In the meantime, until such a social revolution comes, guys may want to

start taking up the accordion and carrying it when they go out. It

requires confidence (and upper body strength) to tote one about,

teaches you the fine art of The Swagger, gives you an excuse to be more

forward and lends you the power of the Electra Complex (“Oh! My dad/grandfather used to play the accordion!”)


Want to read that article? It’s available, but hidden behind the New York Times registration wall. Failing that, the blog

agádoisesseóquatro has it transcribed in this entry.

Categories
Toronto (a.k.a. Accordion City)

The Best Way to Attract the Ladies in This Fair City…

…is to get a nickname that ends with “Guy”.

Being the Accordion Guy has worked for me, and having a “Guy” moniker has worked for others, as this Toronto Craigslist posting shows:

Dear Portuguese Chicken Guy,

I hear that you are a Jehovah’s Witness and that you attend Kingdom Hall once a week. While I don’t understand your “religion” I have to admit that I do enjoy seeing you dressed up in a suit on a weekly basis when I walk by your “church” bound for the YMCA. Your dedication to that organization must be your only flaw, because other than that you are, in a word, perfection.

The evidence of my burning passion is abundant. Sitting on the College streetcar with my hand pressed up against the glass, I gaze into your shop as I sail by silently with 40 others. I linger outside your window a little when I am on my way to some College St. attraction. I know you like to flirt and when I say that I like the sauce on the chicken to be like me, hot and sweet, I am sure you know that’s a hint. If all that evidence isn’t enough, surely you have noticed the flame in my eyes when I watch you slather breasts and thighs in the sauce of my choosing.

Categories
Geek It Happened to Me

Ch0wnz0red! (And Thanks!)

First of all, everybody who commented or sent me an email regarding my inaccessible directory problem from the previous entry: thanks for writing in!

Secondly, give yourselves all a pat on the back for knowing it was an ownership/permissions problem.

Finally, the big prize goes to Martey Dodoo (who also has a blog, titled This is Martey Dodoo) for pointing me to what I couldn’t find — the way to call up the correct dialog box for changing the ownership of a directory.

In the Unix command line world, the chown

command, which rhymes with “clone” and not

“town”, does this (it’s also where the title to this entry comes from).

Martey’s solution was the simplest thing

that could possibly work and took all of 3 or so minutes to carry out.

It took 10 seconds of mouse clicks and 3 minutes for the hard disk to

chug to

change permissions on a buttload of files.

I’ll have to document the problem and the solution on this blog to

ensure that people who get into the same predicament will be more

likely to find it when they Google for a solution.

Once again, thank you everyone for your assistance.

Special note for Martey: Please email me your snail mail address so I can send you a little “thank you” token!

Categories
Geek It Happened to Me

A Little Windows Reinstallation Tech Assistance Needed

Photo: Vanishing hard drive.

While repartitioning my home Windows XP box’s hard drive —

something I’vce done at least half a dozen times before —  I have

rendered my old “My Documents” folder inaccessible to me. If you’ve

seen this before and have a suggestion, I’d appreciate it!

Here’s what happened:

  • I used to have two partitions created using PartitionMagic  on my 160GB drive: 120 for Windows XP, 40 for Mandrake Linux.
  • I was running out of space on the Windows side, and since I do

    most things Unix-y on my Mac, I decided to reclaim the 40GB that

    Mandrake was using. I used PartitionMagic and set it up to delete the

    Mandrake partition and then append it to the Windows partition.

  • No, I didn’t make a backup. Bad move on my part. I was tired.
  • PartitionMagic did its thing, reclaiming the partition. It then

    rebooted the system, and on rebooting, the monitor displayed “L 99 99

    99 99 99 99…” in text mode and the computer stopped. Just a little

    MBR (Master Boot Record) problem; nothing I haven’t seen before and

    easy to fix.

  • With the MBR fixed, I was able to boot into Windows. The problem:

    PartitionMagic left a program that runs on boot-up that restarts the

    machine. Which boots into Windows, which then hits this program, which

    reboots the machine. Which boots into Windows, which then hits this

    program…

    I can’t find where PartitionMagic put this program.

  • I try a little trick that’s worked for me before. I reinstall

    Windows XP without erasing the partition first. I get the standard

    warning and reinstall Windows into a new directory, C:\WINXP (the

    original is in C:\WINDOWS). The main user of the old system was

    “Administrator”; the main user of the new system is “Joey deVilla”.

  • I now boot into Windows. Under C:\Documents and Settings, I see

    the old “Administrator” folder, the “My Documents” folder for my old

    system and where all my files are stored. I try to open it, I get this:

    ACCESS DENIED

    Windows reports that this folder’s file size is 0.

Looking at the hard drive capacity, I see that all my old files

are still on it — about 118GB of my hard drive is already taken up

with files. I just can’t get to them.

(I’ve done this before and have always been able to get back to my old

“My Documents” folder. Damned if I can figure out why this time is

different.)

Most of what’s in this is eaither backed up of easily replaceable. What

I really want are the past few months’ photos, which I can never

replace, although having my MP3 collection would be a bonus.

Anyone know how I can get to these files? Let me know either via email or in the comments!