I object!

It's 10:03pm right now, as I sit tentively behind my desk, typing away on my ever beautiful Razer Arctosa. Among other things, I'm coveting various cheap gaming mice, and regularly putting ice on my swollen eyes.

But, alas, it IS 10:03pm, which for the typical student is rather late. I mean, considering you're meant to get 10 hours of sleep a day to grow, be healthy and well, function properly, now would be a pretty good time to rest up right? I mean, it's not like we have the luxury of sleeping in late since we have school tommorow, and it's not like we have the luxury, of not even GOING to school tommorow. TCH, what a dream right.

Oh wait. What's that? I've that luxury? You mean, I don't have to sleep early, or even, GO TO SCHOOL? REALLY? NO FRIDAYS? THAT'S AMAZING.

At this point, pretty much any uni student who's reading this will go, 'I've 4 day weekends, I get to spend my first year constantly drunk, and I don't start school til like, next month.' Well, I'm sorry, but the fact is, you are a tool and your opinion does not count.

Look, I think I actually had a  point when I started this blog, but, a few movies on my red lining harddrives later, and I think I've kind of lost hte plot a bit. Judging by the title I'm going to assume it's something remotely related to law, and since, there's only one thing, I currently dislike about law, let's go with that.

Now, to clarify, I liked law, BEFORE it got cool. That gives me, undisputed rights ownership over it, and therefore no one else, unless I deem them to be worthy, should even consider, thinking about possibly, on some chance, applying for law, even as their, 19th backup.

With the relatively low score that law requires, (90-95), the, five hundred and thirty three thousand bonus points, that is offered to pretty much, every single student, except me of course, the additional three hundred bagillion points that students on family cards get, in addition to their youth allowance, which again, outstrips what my parents give me by 300%, next to pharmacy, law's the next best thing.

People want it for the kudos. The same reason why an Asian would do pharmacy - because they THINK it will lead to success, they THINK it will earn them respect, and they THINK, ardent for some desperate glory, that it will make them happy.

Where does that leave people like me, who've been arguing since the moment they popped out of their mum's vagina, (no mum, the umbilical cord SHOULD be cut, and my twin SHOULD be killed off)? Well, it leaves me swamped with masses of people who will constantly ask for my help.

Honestly though, I don't mind. I think everyone should strive for their goals no matter others say. I also think, watching failures fail again is absolutely hilarious.

These people won't be my competition. They'll be working for me - if I give them the job.

Keyboard Review for Anne.

This blog is my keyboard review for my homie Anne. Unless you get turned on by computer parts, like moi, then I suggest you just ignore this slab of text.

As I type, I am using a Razer Arctosa, the cheapest gaming keyboard that you'll probably find on the market. Among other things, it's highlights are that, it is the cheapest gaming keyboard you'll find on the market, and also it radiates a very sheen sense of style, which looks pretty awesome on your mahogany desk. It features macro-programmeable keys, anti-ghosting around the wsad keys, and touch-light keys that are like your typical laptops, only, full sized, and they won't fall off.

Pros:

As I said in the introduction, it is a stylish keyboard. It looks good, feels great, and is amazing to type with. For gamers, the anti-ghosting on the wsad keys is an absolute bonus, so you won't have to put up with the annoying beeping noises as you, strafe diagonally, crouch, throw a grenade and switch guns at the same time.

The wrist wrest that comes with the keyboard means you can type for hours with a slouchy posture and not suffer RSI. The light touching keys means that this keyboard is ideal for touchtyping, and since its fullsized, you'll rarely find yourself pressing the wrong keys because your hands are just too fucking big for those stupid ass mini-laptops. Sorry, personal issues there.

The keyboard features a nice little multimedia corner which lets you play/pause movies without having to use your mouse, and the keys are matte not sleek plastic like the outer case, so you won't leave fingermarks left and right.

The macro keys are useful for mmo's, or for photoshop, powerpoint, word, particularly since, if you use them write, they can eliminate the unnecesary need to spend minutes searching for the right tool.

There is also a nifty stand built in at the back of the keyboard. It raises it on a slight angle, making typing and gaming alot easier, and gives you a good look at the keyboard you just bought.

Cons:

You cannot see the letters on any of the keys. If you're like me, and night time is your element, don't expect to find the ever elusive ; key, or ] key at night without having to turn on a highbeam torch - or worse, your room light. For an experience typer however, or gamer, surprisingly, it won't be a noticeable burden. It does however affect the keyboard's overall appearance, and leaves it almost lacking in your eyes.

For intense gaming however, the low visibility keys can get irritating. For example, the 7 key activates my 1337 Guardian's crazy standing on Rohan. However, I want to press 6, which is my stun. Since the top number keys aren't typically used except for certain circumstances, more often than not I get mixed up, and press 7 by accident, leaving my Guardian immobile and while some 'pro' ranger smacks me at a distance.

If you sweat as much as me, sometimes the wrist guard gets a bit, sticky. However, that could just as easily be only applicable to me, considering I go through one shirt per hour when I play tennis.

One thing that annoyed me were the drivers. They are not included on the disk. Instead, you have to download them, and while this is fine to most broadband users, since it's only a few megabytes, if you're capped, and especially with BigPond, GG to you. Fortunately, the keyboard works fine without the additional drivers.

Conclusion:

Get the silver edition.

It looks sick. And as a bonus, you'll be able to see the keys if you ever need to. Not like the letters are invisible on the black version, just it'd make late night gaming with the light off a hassle unless you know your keyboard like the back of your hand. Hey, where'd that mole come from.

For $46, this is the cheapest gaming keyboard you'll find, and considering that the 'good' ibm or microsoft keyboards, for standard typing are around the $30~ mark anyway, forking out that extra $15 for something that looks this good is well worth it.

My other piece of advice would be, to definitely not get the Razer Lycosa. It costs an extra $50 for light up keys, and while the nice blue contrasting with black looks trendy, it is a useless feature, and in fact, the only feature that the Arctosa doesn't offer that the Lycosa does.

Why I gym.

Some people are born rich, some beautiful, others lucky. I was born neither. Instead, I was a wrinkly black lump, with penis that could have passed off as a vagina. Compared to most however, a vagi-penis is still better than AIDS.

So why do I punish myself, 3 times a week, at 9am in the morning. I've never cared about my looks, otherwise I'd wear nice clothes. I doubt people would flock to a buff me than they do now, and I'm starting to hate tennis so much that I want to quit. So if not, for aesthetic purposes, or sporting, why?

Because I want to succeed in life to avoid failing like my parents did, and the only way I can see that happening, is by becoming the toughest 17 year old in the world. I'm taking a page out of Kafka Tamura's book, which is a great read apart from the weird mother-sister incest shit.

Today something happened at the gym. While I don't gym alone, my gym partner unfortunately, does not have the gigantic arms required to be my spot partner, so I was in the weights room by myself. I was on the bench press, 20kg per side. Periodically, I'd failed on the 4th or 5th set for the past two weeks. I expected then, that I'd be able to finish all five sets and add some additional weight - clearly I was wrong.

On the 3rd rep of the 3rd set, the bar went down, and never came back up. It wasn't the first time I'd failed, and normally I just hook the bar into the lowest clips and wiggle my way out. Today however I just didn't have the strength. Instead, the bar just laid on my chest, with me struggling to push it back up. I was getting owned. No two ways about it, and it was starting to get dangerous since I was running out of energy to keep the bar from sliding down to my neck. In the end, I called for help, and pretty much the entire gym came along to help me. The guy who lifted the bar up did so with one hand, and again, with one hand, he placed it back on the top rack.

It was fucking embarassing. I wanted to go home and sit in my corner and eat ice cream - no really, I felt that shit. But then I looked around me and realised something. None of the guys there, were born buff - and if they had been, then their mothers had died a tragic, horrific and bloody death. I turned my head to the end of the gym and saw this stick figure struggling to push 10kg per side on the incline press - something I can do one handed. I realised then, that things could be worse, I could be that guy, a twig, wearing daggy clothes, and with very little hope of ever finding a girlfriend. Wait, that description sounds familiar.

No, I punish myself 3 times a week because I set myself a goal, and unless I see no progress, I'm one determined son of a bitch. Unlike those who were just naturally born with bulging biceps and stunning good looks, God gave me the most ultimate skill of all - maths. So if ever, your life is endangered, and maths is the only thing that can save you, give me a call.

And so, you see why I need to work on every other aspect that God didn't give me.

In my New Years resolution I mentioned that I'd be Prufrock no more. For the poetry noobs, Prufrock is a fictional character in T.S. Eliot's the Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock. Prufrock's biggest flaw is his 'prufrockian paralysis' or the inability to act - which in turn renders him an old, 90 year old virgin.

I don't want to be a 90 year old virgin.

I've let a lot of things slip by, alot of opportunities go amiss, all because I didn't have the balls to do something - and I'm only 17. That's why I gym. Because if I want to succeed, I'm gonna have to be the toughest fucking 17 year old in the world, and a 12 pack, some bulging biceps, and a chest hard enough to stop bullets, sure as hell ain't gonna hurt.

My family the techno-retards.

My dad's solution to every single computer problem in the world - is to reformat the computer. If the computer doesn't boot up in 0.000000001 seconds as he expects, he demands me reformat it. If AVG detects a single trojan, out of say, 10 hundred billion files, he demands for me to reformat it. If he can't get the spacing just right on his word document - oh yeah, I have to reformat.

The problem with my dad, is that he THINKS he's the most techno-savvy man in the world. When I installed an extra fan in his computer, he used a screw driver to see whether it was sucking air in or out. This wouldn't be a problem, if he hadn't gone caveman and used the screw driver as a prodding tool instead of unscrewing the fan (while the computer was on), thus breaking off one of the plastic fan fins, which he then blamed on me for buying, 'cheapass' 'chinamade' crap.

When I told him his computer was dusty, he got out a bucket of water and a sponge. I had to tie him to the wooden pillars in my house just to stop him.

Like me however, he loves to argue. Everything I do or say, when it comes to the computer, is wrong. Also, any computer I build him - is slow. And it's always due to, 'a lack of reformatting.'

I had an argument with him the other day about his computer's performance. He said it was slow, I suggested buying a dedicated graphics card so the integrated one wouldn't strain the motherboard. He said that he didn't need to watch any movies because he had his 25 year old VCR. I expained it would make the computer run faster. He said he didn't play any games. I said it was only $15. At this point, he went into his Asian lecture about ungrateful kids and how he survived his teen years eating bamboo shoots.

My sister is worse. Since she's a Nguyen, I expected her to be helping me build computers. Unfortunately, the attention span of a 5 year old is just enough so that she can try to eat my keyboard. She's also learnt how to use the computer. When I first heard about this I was proud - now she could help me calculate the statistical probability of me scoring Rachel Mcadams. She was not however, interested in 3rd degree permutations and confidence intervals, but in some gay abc site where she watches Yo Gabba Gabba, the freakshow, constantly.

She also has this nasty habit of turning off the power when she's done. This wouldn't be a problem, in fact, it's great she's learning how to conserve energy, but when the computer's power plug is connected to the same power board as the modem - Martin get's pissed. Nothing like watching your internet get disconnected when your 97% through a download, only to realise you didn't download a proper download manager to let you resume after reconnecting. Fantastic. 1.7 g/b down the hole.

Now like with everything else in life, my mum completely fails with computers. Her approach is more subtle than my dad's, yelling at me to reformat, and less elegant as my sister's, feeding toys into the dvd drive, no, she just turns off the screen and walks away. If there is ever a problem, be it, virus, trojan, hard disk corruption, self-destruct sequences or the end of the world, she'll just turn off the screen, leave the computer on and walk away.

I once turned on the computer to see over 3000 files infected, because back in those days, you had to manually heal viruses with AVG. When I confronted her, she just said that it looked normal. Yes, a flashing screen, in red, with a giant picture of some hideous creature, followed by the words, VIRUS DETECTED in big bold, is entirely normal. Then again, this comes from the woman who is adamant that our house was robbed, for a single baby photo of my sister. Right....

There's so many things that I'd like to do to ensure the safety of my computers. The first would be to buy another generator because my dad has the habit of turning off the electricity without telling me to renovate. Another would be to extend the ethernet cable 25 metres to my room, and hook up my own router so it can never be turned off. Or I could simply just, kill my family. In all honesty, the last one requires the least effort. All I'd need to do is give up my scholarship. But I won't since they're my family.

Instead, I'll just put up with having to restart downloads at 97% every day. I'll just have to put up with getting capped because my dad streams D Gray Man on my ps3, and my sister gets dumber and dumber watching a skinny black man in an orange suit on Yo Gabba Gabba. I'll just have to put up with constant viruses on my family computer, and having to reformat it. Why? Because with awesomeness comes great responsibility - and I'm as awesome as they get.

NYE

I've decided to do this while I'm still awake, a recount of my New Years before I forget everything tommorow morning.

8 am, the alarm goes off. Precisely 3 seconds later Tammy calls me to make sure I'm awake. I make an omelette, hardass it out of the house using my cycler's calves, and still rock up to the gym late. Fucking scenic bus tour.

At the gym, I'm in pain. Midway through my second set, my left peck gives. That's right, my boobs hurt. I ditched the bench press and moved onto deadlifts - my right forearm gave in. Then my left one. Then my knee started hurting, and my balls dropped. Ok the last one's not true.

I tried on some hideous jeans in DJ's and made weird noises while doing so. One more thing I'll be doing for the rest of the year.

I come home and sleep, for a long time. Dreamed I was sleeping - even my imagination is getting slack.

Levelled up once on Perfect World - decided staring at a female ass, even if its fake 3d and slightly jiggly, is a New Year's well spent.

Simpsons and Malcolm in the middle later, I boarded my private jet and set off to Chi's house. Did not arrive til 3 weeks later. Kidding. It was 5 weeks plus the ferry ride.

First one to arrive at Chi's house, he answered the door topless. Definitely scarred for life - why are his nipples so black? Chi put on a top, the one with rips and shit, and wore nothing underneathe. His nipples were still visible.

Had no Phone reception - wasn't surprised.

We sat there playing FF12 for a while. His overpowered characters dominated everything, twas hilarious.

My boys Durian and Fooo rocked up next. Early drinking. Confirmed that Chi's neighbours were cool with a party - then realised Chi has no neighbours.

Party didn't start til 9:30, most were dead by 10. Sigh, drinking alone.

Ordered Pizza. Took me 15 minutes to finally input Paralowie, apparently it doesn't exist. Post code was 8937857438478563478632876218074385743081. I put down the name, 'Stud Muffin,' with the special message, 'Big Package for Stud Muffin.' Dominos called us up to confirm the order for a Stud Muffin, Chi had to reply saying to just deliver the big package. We got four free cokes.

Random Aunty came to Chi's house, we were not alone. Quote Chi, 'She's from Vietnam, wtf is she gonna do in my house.' Touche my friend, touche.

Durian threw up, God knows where. I threw a giant ice cube at the back fence - missed and it hit the roof instead. There was always ice on your roof Chi.

We put in Disney movies at 10:30. Chi wasn't kidding when he says he's got Disney movies, there's like, thousands of them. I spent most of this period watching the girls/Foo drag race in Chi's miniature bikes and tricycles. I won.

Went back to watching Bambi - His mum died. It was funny. Apparently Yoshi's a girl, lays eggs, makes sense. That pink that stretches out is NOT actually a penis - devo.

Drinking, alone, again. Watching people pass out on the grass. We hit New Years - or what we thought was New Years and wished Alain a Happy Birthday. I made out with like, 50 hot chicks including Hwang Mi Hee and Leah Dizon.

Ok I lied.

Not much happened afterwards. We sang to Barbie Girl for a while.

Amy called - sang for her for a bit, then hung up. Epic.

Dad picked me up, and I told him about Stud Muffin. He lol'd. Got home at 1:30, its 2am now.

SO, my NY resolutions. I didn't make any real ones last year, so instead, I'll make some new ones for this year.

1. Grow some feelings.

2. Be Prufrock no longer.

3. Benchpress 150% of my body weight.

4. Get ultra light so no.3 is really easy.

5. Reject a hot girl - just to know what it feels like to be on the fun side of rejection.

6. Stalk Rachel McAdams. It worked for fucking Cullen.

7. Get a TER over 99.

8. Get the car my dad promised me if I achieve no. 7

9. Fight someone - preferably much smaller than me.

10. Hit the unattainable 10 packet mark when eating Mi Goreng.

11. Sleep more.

12. Send more complaint letters to various companies for no reason calling them Fascists.

14. Learn how to count.

So, let's hope I get as far as no.17, and hope that I can achieve no. 14 sometime soon. Happy New Year, have a good one kids, stay safe, eat fruit, and if you run over someone, drop their body off at Paralowie, no one'll check.

3 texts saying Happy New Year. That's 3 more than last year!

Une autre année, seulement. Not like I care anyway.