Regrets.

Do you have any regrets?
Moments in your life that you wish you could have back, for whatever reason, to maybe do or say something different?
Do you wonder what could have been?
I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but do you ever stop and think where you would be had you made that one small choice, or not made that choice?
Do you think it would be better?

There's a reason you can't go back. Shit like this would drive you mad.

Later.

Game Show Retardo.

I know I've bitched about TV before, but you have to hear me out.

I don't normally watch game shows, and there is a reason for that. I think that 73 percent of the people who go on game shows are complete fucking morons. If you exclude those who go on Jeopardy, ( the only intelligent game show in my opinion) the number skyrockets to 99.9 percent.

All the others are just greedy fucking train wreaks. You're not watching to hope the contestant does well, you're watching to see them crash and burn. And most of them do, in a spectacular fashion. Because the average game show contestant should not be allowed to drive to the studio unescorted, never mind appearing on national TV with any sense of dignity intact.

And what's with looking to the audience, your friends, God, hoping for some sign on how to compete better? If the audience knew what to do, they'd be the fuckers up on stage, and since they aren't up there, and have absolutely no stake in the outcome of your contest, why would you ask them for help? I get so pissed when I see this happen.

And that's the big battle at my house. To see if we are going to actually watch this shit. I can't even stand being in the room to watch these greedy bastards act like ignorant schmucks for a chance to win a car or some money. And when they do win something, they'll throw it away to win a little bit more. Who wants to watch that?

I'll admit I'm painting with pretty broad strokes here, and some of these shows are slightly more tolerable than others. Any of them are better than reality TV, but not by much. Like I said earlier, I don't see the fascination.

Later.

El Pedazo De La Mierda.

You know who pisses me off?

Carlos Santana.

No, I'm not racist, and I don't hold any grudges against the Latino community. I just fail to see the appeal of the guy. Most of the songs that get radio airplay are the ones that he has collaborated with other, more mainstream artists. 97 percent of those songs were written by the collaborating artist. Since he didn't write them, and he doesn't sing, that just makes him the Guitar Player. For this the guy sells 25 million albums?

The fact is, if you didn't tell me it was Santana, I wouldn't know. I would just figure that Rob Thomas or Michelle Branch or Aerosmith put out a new single. Yeah, maybe the song has a bit of an extended guitar solo, but I grew up in the 80's; all the songs had extended guitar solos.

My point is that I fail to see what he brings to the occasion. He can be replaced by any studio guitarist on the track and it would not make a lick of a difference. ( Like how I used "lick" & "track"? I'm a musical linguistic genius!) Is it because he's Latino? I don't think so, but there has to be something about the guy, something I'm missing out on. Does he have all his fingers? Or does he play with his feet? There's got to be some freak-show quality or something.

Someone please explain it to me.

Later.

P.S. (The Title means "Piece of Crap" in Spanish. Clever, eh?)

White Out.

Falling softly from the sky,
It covers the ground in a blanket of shimmering white.
Tree limbs bend gently from it's weight,
With crystalline flakes dancing on their tips.
The clouds hang low,
The ocean looks like slate, not moving.
Grey and white are in stark contrast,
Yet they meet with hushed tones.
A quiet has fallen over the land,
Lulled under the spell of drifting translucent magic.
Breath hangs frosty in the air,
Cheeks flush with winter's chill.
At this special time,
Only one thought comes forth....

I Fucking Hate Snow.

Later.

Helter Skelter.

It just drives me nuts to come back from days off sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, I like my job, but when you are used to having things organized a certain way...

I come into work today and find that my section, my area, my world if you will, just looks bombed. Looks like the shelves were filled by an epileptic chimp mid-seizure. Some areas weren't even touched while I was off. Now I understand that what is a priority to me is not always a priority to everyone else, but Jeez.. at least try to make it look good.

There's no point in freaking out, 'cause then you just look like a spaz. And no one likes a spaz. (Trust me, I work with a couple of them, and they are not well liked.) Plus, that's not my style.
I made it known that I wasn't impressed, and that should cover that. I did have to bust my nuts to get it organized again, so now it's all neat and arranged the way I like it. Like I said earlier, at work, I get shit done.

Later.

Duality.

It's strange how we can be two different people sometimes.
At work, believe it or not, I tend to be a doer, I get shit done.
I'm also a talker, and I'm fairly quick with the joke and the comeback.
I've always been this way, ask any of the people who do or have worked with me.
(Don't ask them anything else though. There are loads of evil rumors about me.)

But at home?

It seems sometimes that procrastination is my middle name.
I'll put off doing stuff, even when I know I should get off my lazy ass and take care of what needs to be done. ( I haven't even done my taxes yet. Don't tell Steven Harper.)
It's not like I let shit spiral out of control, I just tend to let slide some of the jobs that don't thrill me. But then I'll let it sit for only so long, and then cram all of it into one day off, and get it all done then.
You may find this hard to understand, but I'm also a lot quieter at home. A bit more subdued. Most people don't see this, because when there are people over, I revert to entertainment mode and go right into my spiel.
Mostly I like to read,(when possible,) and I do occasionally have deep and contemplative thoughts. (Really, I do.)

Is everyone like this? I think we all must be to some extent, but who knows? Don't tell me I'm alone in this, I know there are a bunch of crazy fuckers out there, maybe even some of them read this blog. (Except the really crazy ones, they just hang in the ghetto and scream at people who aren't there.)

So whether or not you see the vibrant go-getter or the slacker in his Pj's just depends if I'm at work or not. (Unless it's casual day. Then I'm a go-getter in Pajama's)

Later.

Musical Montage

Late at night my mind does wander,
Oftentimes I start to ponder,
Does it make me quite obscene,
To listen to Winger's Seventeen?

When should I really cease and desist,
Those raunchy tunes I can't resist.
There's still a twinkle in my eye,
When I hear Warrant's Cherry Pie.

These lyrics are completely sexual,
To not listen is ineffectual.
You have to know it's so much fun,
When I hear Slipped Her The Big One.

And lo, they shaped my 80's libido,
Sank my morals like a Rock torpedo.
For who can resist the siren's call
Of Faster Pussycat's Bathroom Wall?

You had to be there to understand,
The wide appeal of the glam.
And in my car you'd hear me sing,
White Lion's She's Got Everything.

Am I too old to still rock out,
To old to shake and twist and shout.
Will it be creepy when I'm eighty,
And listen to Poison's Talk Dirty To Me?

These are the thoughts I often have
As I get older, I am not glad.
And although I do not listen religously,
They're on my player, in Em-pee-three.


Later.

Literary Comfort.

You know, I love to read.
I think that's why I like this blog so much, as it allows me to release my inner writer, and while there is no Great Canadian Novel forthcoming from yours truly, it's a start.
But reading has always been one of my passions. ( I'll let you figure out what the others are..) I normally read one or two books at a time, sometimes three if I can cram another good one in there. I like to vary the style of what I read somewhat, so here are the last few books I have read. Most of these are "comfort books" meaning I've read them before, and usually do read them one or two times every six or seven months.

1. The Bachman Books - By Stephen King, writing as Richard Bachman. Of the four books here, there is only one I don't like. It's called Roadwork, and I just can't get into it at all. However, the other ones are simply phenomenal. There's Rage, which is basically about a school shooting , but written from a more psychological point of view. Next is The Running Man. If they had made this movie instead of the piece of crap that Arnold stared in, it would have been a huge success, instead of just pathetic. And then there is my favorite, The Long Walk. I just can't get enough of this story. If I did have millions, and could make a movie, this would be it.
2. The Princess Bride. - Yeah, that's right. The Fucking Princess Bride. You got a problem with that? Shut up and read it. It's a great book. I like the movie as well, and the book just makes the story better. Great reading material, excellent pacing and satirical observations.
3. Dune. - 'Cause I'm a geek. Get over it. This is an excellent book. Herbert creates his own geopolitical universe and fills it with intrigue and allegories. A genetic messiah is nothing to laugh at. Hollywood shit all over this book, but see Bish for the straight scoop.
4. Vampire$ - Another great book that Hollywood shit on. It's a mindless read, but I love the pacing and the characters. You'd have to read it to understand, and even then you probably won't.

And that's it so far.

I put The Princess Bride on there, even though I'm reading it right now, but I'm almost done. I'm going to have to go back to some of the suggestions that were left for me and start to check those out. Right now I also like to check out blogs, but most people I know don't update very often, so what can I do? But these books are a great example of what I read for comfort, to relax and escape. And that's what reading is about, isn't it?

Later.

Folic Migration

You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone.

Or going, as my case may be.

You see, twice today it was pointed out to me that I'm "getting a bit thin on top." I'm not sure I like that connotation, as I'm getting fatter everywhere, but thin where I don't want to be.
Alas, as I creep into my old age, I thought that other things would leave me first. I assumed libido and sense of humor would leave me long before my hair did. Yet I'm incredibly funny, and randy as a goat. Go figure.

It's not that it's a large area. It's not. It's only viewable from above, or above and behind. But I know it's there, and like I said, two people commented on it today. Normally it would not bother me, but for some reason hair was on my mind today. (I have mentioned I do daydream at times.) There's nothing I can do about it, and it doesn't really bother me all that much, so don't think I'll bust out the spray-on hair, or the Burt Reynolds custom rug. That's just a little too shallow, even for me.

I'll have to accept it, but that doesn't mean I'll have to like it.

Later.

Fiscal Solvency.

What would you do if you had a shitload of money?

Lets all assume that we would first be good Samaritans and take care of our families, but what would you do if you found yourself able to afford to do practically anything you wished to do?

I know The Sidekick would pay his cousins phone bill, others would go to Paris, some would check out art in museums around the world, and Bish.... well, I'm not sure what Bish would do. Maybe buy half of Google, and really show those bastards how it's done.

Me? Yeah, I'd travel. I would go to all those places I've always wanted to go to, like Europe, Australia, shit like that. I'd like to have a binge week in Vegas, and then I'd like to hunt the deadliest prey of all.....Man. ( I kid, really.)
I like to think that I'll do all those things, but I'd probably turn out to be like a Howard Hughes clone, with Kleenex boxes on my feet, and obsessing about the cleanliness of my genitalia. ( Honestly, there's no such thing as too clean.) And since I already obsess about my genitalia, the only difference would be now I'm rich while I do it.

So how would you spend it? What would you do? A DVD every hour? Start your own Church? Buy the New York Rangers and move them to Winnipeg?
The sky's the limit.

Later.

Verbal Dancing

I love conversation.

The give and take, the back and forth, it's all good to me.
An intelligent conversation is a great thing, as I've said before, but if you really want to get the juices flowing, there's only one way to go.

The Double Entendre.

And not that ham-fisted shit that passes for sexy talk nowadays. I'm talking about a sly turn of a phrase, a careful wording, meanings hidden in plain sight. The type of stuff you can say right out in public, but in the right light, have a slightly different significance from what was said.

It quickens the blood, sharpens your edge, and can make the dullest day seem alive with adventure. Never is simple conversation such fun.

Try it sometime, but be careful.
There's a fine line between what can be said and what should be said.
And like any dance, the correct partner makes all the difference.

Later.

Cerebral Masturbation.

Do you daydream?
What do you think about?

I think every-ones mind wanders from time to time, but people do have specific daytime (or anytime) flights of fancy. I sometimes wander off into events from my past, oftentimes focusing on specific moments or conversations. (Depends what music is playing, as I've said before, music is tied to memory.) Other times I think about the road less traveled, running my thoughts along those "what if" lines.
Other times it's like playing a guessing game with yourself. What would happen if I said this or did this right now? How would people react? Would it be funny? Would I laugh?

I'm not even going to discuss the naughty daydreams.
Because I don't want to tell, and you don't want to hear.

Do I have too much time on my hands? Not really. Work does keep me pretty busy, and I'm not a slacker, (No, really. I'm not.) I think I just have an overactive imagination.

What do you think about?
C'mon, you can tell me....

Later.

Square Peg, Round Hole.

Ever have a day when you feel like you are slightly out of sync with almost everyone?
It's like you are either a half second behind or two seconds ahead of just about every individual you come into contact with.
It's not a horrible day, but it's like your timing for all your conversations are off. And for someone who talks as much as I do, that's not a good thing.
I'm actually thinking of going to sleep 3 minutes earlier tonight just to try to fix the problem.
Or maybe I'll stay up 3 hours later.
Whatever it is, as long as it doesn't take a shot of penicillin to fix, I'm okay.

Later.

And After That Post...

You scored as Journalism. You are an aspiring journalist, and you should major in journalism! Like me, you are passionate about writing and expressing yourself, and you want the world to understand your beliefs through writing. Journalism 83% English 75% Theater 75% Psychology 75% Dance 67% Philosophy 67% Sociology 67% Engineering 67% Art 58% Anthropology 50% Linguistics 50% Biology 42% Mathematics 42% Chemistry 25% What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3) created with QuizFarm.com

I should never take internet quizes.

They make me look like an ass.

Later.

Asked & Answered.

I just wish the media would get off Wayne Gretzky's back.

It's been disclosed that he had nothing to do with the gambling ring or whatever, but the "journalists" still continue to dog him daily about his involvement or how he feels about it.

He's incredibly polite about it, although you can tell he's frustrated, and that means that the "reporters" can smell blood in the water.
All they want him to do is flip out and yell at them, and then they will have yet another photo or quip to put into the papers.

I don't see anyone rushing out to interview Rick Tocchet or any of the players who actually participated in this endeavor. You have to try and bleed Wayne dry, just to sell some papers, or get Johnny Six-pack to "tune in at eleven".

What happened to reporting that meant something, like uncovering injustice around the world, or showing that the most powerful nation in the west is run by a man who has trouble tying his shoes?

Fuckin' Reporters.
Piss Off.

Later.

Hearts And Thoughts.

Why is it that the things you like the best are invariably bad for you?

I use to love smoking. - Bad for you.
I love pastries and sweets. - Bad for you.
Excessive amounts of alcohol? - Bad for you.
Incredibly Active Libido? - Frowned upon.
Drinking 6 cups of coffee a day? - Bad for you.

Now once upon a time, all of these things were considered normal, or even healthy. Back in the early seventies (I've read,) a nutritious breakfast consisted of black coffee, toast, sausage, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and syrup so thick you could stand a fork in it. Top it all off with a shot of Bourbon and a smoke and you were ready to go to work for the day. While you were there you would have a three martini lunch and a tumble with the secretary, and at your yearly checkup your Doctor would proclaim you the picture of health.

What's missing from that picture nowadays?
Oh Yeah.
The fun.

Somehow, somewhere, some asshole sucked all the dirty, nasty fun out of life. Oh, you can try to recapture it, ( Believe me, I've tried) but I don't think the people of that time truly appreciated what they had.

There's no real solution to the problem, and you know what? I can't even begin to offer one.
I just figured that you would all love to know my thoughts and opinions on the subject.

After all, that's why you are here, isn't it?

Later.

Everybody's Doin' It.

-This is true love - you think this happens every day?

-If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

- I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me.

-It's not who you love, it's how.

-Did you see that shit? You call that romance?

-I can arrange that. You could use a good kiss.

Great Quotes, Great Movies. Good God, I'm glad I didn't go into books or music.

Yes, to-morrow is Valentines Day, that irrepressible holiday that is forced on us by a materialistic, consumer-driven society. Yippee.

Love is love. It has many shapes and many levels, and should not be pinned down to a single day. I know that others may differ from my opinion, but it's what I've come up with after all these years. To take something that can be so grand and cram it into a day of plastic trinkets and forced offerings seems shallow and trite.

Oh, don't get me started.

Later.

The Inside Joke

One of the greatest things in the world is an Inside Joke.

The fact that you can have an entire conversation or sequence of events summed up in a phrase or a glance. Shared history always helps, but it doesn't always have to be part of it.

Say two words.
Raise an eyebrow at the right time.
Quote a movie.

If anyone within a five foot range either laughs or says anything relevant, they are in on it.
And it's fucking great.

Later.

Circular Speech

There's this guy I work with, and he's a talker.
In and of itself, that's alright, as I am one myself, but it's the way he talks that drives me nuts.

Every conversation you have with him somehow leads back to the same topic, all the time.
It doesn't matter what you talk about, be it the weather, the stock market, the Olympics, whatever; he consistently brings up or redirects the conversation to this topic he's stuck on.
(I can't really say what the topic is, but it regards one of his family members.)

For once I'd like to hear something from him that wasn't about, connected to, or in recollection of his favorite topic. I know why he speaks the way he does, it just infuriates me that he does it.

The only comparison I can give is to talk about The Lord Of Port Alberni.
The Sidekick, (and others) will know who I'm talking about. But suffice it to say that the gentleman I speak of above is almost on par with His Lordship.
(And trust me, I don't have enough time in this life to fully explain that guy.)

Can you imagine having a conversation with me and all I talk about is My Best Friend? (See previous post) I know some of you will think that's all I talk about, but I'll correct you.

It's what I think with, not talk about.

Later.

Introductions.

He's always with me.
He never goes far, and although he has led me astray at times, it's really not his fault.
No matter what, he's usually positive.
Occasionally he can be a mean & uncooperative drunk.
But he makes up for it when all is said and done.
He's there to lift my spirits when I'm feeling down,
And I reward him as much as I can.
He has a hard life, yet never complains.
I'm not the easiest guy to associate with, yet he's never negative.
He's even got me out of a few tight spots.
We've had some good times,
Some bad times,
And some times we'd like to forget.
Always there, constant, available.
Able to handle the task at hand.
He's never let me down.
I'll never be able to thank him for what he's done for me.
Ladies and Gentleman...
My Best Friend...
My Penis.

Ode To A Runny Nose

My nose is stuffed
I cannot breathe
This cold just sucks
And again I sneeze.

Piles of tissues
All around me
It's not what you think
Don't be so dirty.

I feel all soft
In my head
I think I'll lie
In my bed.

Sleep won't come
Still can't rest
I need some drugs
To be at my best.

I have to work
Early to-morrow
I think I'll dog it,
To my co-worker's sorrow.

Just need some time
To feel alright
Listen to me cough
Listen all night.

I'll end this tale
Of woe is me
My poetry bites,
As you can see.

Later.

"What's The Spread?"

I am shocked and appalled that professional athletes are gamblers.

Not only do they play cards and roll the dice like the rest of us, but they actually bet on sports!
Heaven forbid that these people, who make millions of dollars a year, throw it away just like Tommy Punch-Card down at the local bookies. And for them to bet on sports! As opposed to what other alternative...?

Now I do agree that they should not bet on their own sport. In today's information society, it would be foolish to cast any shadow on your performance either for yourself or any team sport you may be involved in. But throwing a couple of bucks (or a couple of thousand) on the Superbowl, or the occasional ballgame? Who cares? The main thing that people are pissed about is that they did it outside the law, instead of going down to the Seven-Eleven and playing Sports Action instead.

The only reason it's investigated at all is because these individuals are celebrities, and because it makes good news. When was the last time you heard of any betting ring broken up by the cops? The authorities have been itching for a sports betting scandal ever since Pete Rose, and they still look fondly on the White Sox from 1919.

There's only one guy who should be mad, and that's Wayne Gretzky.
And only if Janet bet against the Coyotes.

Later.

Den Of Thieves

Had coffee with the sidekick and McQuarrie tonight.
Once again, good times were had by all.

Discussed the possibility of McQ accompanying us to the Trews concert in Nanaimo.
What concert you say?
What band?

Oh Yea Of Little Faith, trust in me when I say that I am a whore for this band lately. They are constantly on my play-list, in my car, and in fact, are playing right now as I type this.
I'd call them the bastard love child of the Foo Fighters and Sam Roberts.
Disagree with me if you will, but that's what I think.
I'm hoping all my well laid plans come to fruition.

Later.

By the way, my Dad's doing a lot better, he'll be home soon.

The Buck Stops...Where?

I think that one of the central problems with the religion of Islam is that no-body's in charge.

Think about it.

If it was Catholics rioting over some cartoons about Jesus, you know for sure that the Pope,(Evil as he is,) would be calling for peace and condemning those who are the cause of the riots. The Church may not look favorably upon said caricatures, but you can at least look to their leader to ensure that the fervent beliefs of his followers don't cast a black mark on the entire religion.

If some newspaper published funny drawings of Joesph Smith, the Mormon Elders would be all over it. They would not encourage rioting or the storming of embassies. (I don't believe there are Danish embassies in Utah, but you know where I'm going.)

But nobody is in charge of the Muslim Religion, and that's a problem. There is no central figure who can be counted on to rein in the more ardent worshipers of the faith. It's mob rule, and everyone knows how that works out. (I know that there might be some kind of Hierarchy, but I checked on Wikipedia and could not find anything.)

So somebody has to take charge. I know George Bush would gladly do it, but that is like asking Beelzebub to take charge of the Sunday School class.
I know that the Muslims are upset about the drawings, but if there was a central figure who could express the Islamic people's disapproval and get a formal apology, then I'm sure it never would have degenerated into the stinking mess it's at now.

Where does it go from here? Who knows.
But I'm going to doodle more carefully from now on. (Least I offend a passing Jedi.)

Later.

Keeping The Streak Alive.

Too tired and frustrated to really write anything, yet writing gives me a sense of calmness and continuity. Thus I find myself quickly jotting something down before I must retire for the evening. (If possible.)

All of you just wait until I'm well rested, then it'll be all snappy answers and quick comebacks.
None of this lame-ass meandering.

You wait and see.

Wonder Twin Powers, Activate!

Later.

Paternal Dilemma

My Dad was admitted into the Psyche Ward today.

He's been depressed for a while now, and was on some medication for it, but due to complications he had to be weaned off those meds and given different ones. Since he was weaned off the original ones, he's never been the same.

My family doesn't talk about shit like this, so I've found out the severity of this only recently, probably just around the start of December. We got together for a family thing, and something about Dad wasn't right. You see, like me, my Dad is a talker, and he'll go on forever if you let him, especially if he's in the mood to bitch. But that evening, he was so quiet and had so little input that it was unnerving. I mentioned this to my mother, and she calmly told me what was going on. (Everything in my family is calm, we don't cause a ruckus about shit like mental health.)

Fast forward to the new year and things seem to be better. Dad appears to be back to his normal self, and no information about anything being out of the ordinary is coming my way.

I get home from work and the message is passed on: Call your Mother.

I phone Mom and she tells me that Dad has been admitted to the care of the Regional Psychiatric Care Society at the hospital. I'm quite in shock, and she's saying that earlier in the day he was talking funny. Not funny ha-ha, funny "It's not worth carrying on", "What's the point of life". Mom recognized that something wasn't kosher, and called one of my Dad's friends to come and take him to the local hospital for a consult with the Crisis Nurse. Once there, they all, Dad included, decided it was best for him to be admitted. Dad was then sent to the Regional Facility.

When I was on the phone with my Mother, it didn't seem serious. It was all surreal 'cause she's so calm about it. I chalk it up to professionalism, (Mom's a Nurse) and she's telling me what went on. Then she asks me to phone and tell my Brother what is going on.

Now don't get me wrong, I have no problems phoning my Brother. But when ever anything is going on, it's always me who has to phone him, nobody else from the family will. That's not fair to him. He should be hearing from the source, not second hand through me.

When I explain that to her, then she starts crying. Now I know something is really wrong, people. Let me make this clear. My Mother does NOT cry. She is the epitome of strong womanhood, and tears are reserved for only serious occasions. My heart beats a little faster as I calm her down, tell her I'll call my Brother and I also double check that there are people coming to be with her. I tell her I'll check with her tomorrow, and I also arrange to meet with her before I go see Dad.

It'll be a couple of days before I can see Dad, but that will give him time to settle down and give me time to adjust to what to do. I'm not 100% sure how to handle this, and I want to convey my support and love without causing him any embarrassment. Don't ask why I fell he'd be embarrassed, I just think he will be.

Dad breakin' down and Mom actually crying?

Two of my pillars just started crumbling.

Later.

Hut, Hut, Hike.

Well, it's just about that day.
You know the one I'm talking about.
I shouldn't even have to type it in here, it's so obvious.

I don't really understand the fascination with the Super Bowl.
I mean, I like the concept of a one-game, winner-take-all format, but when did it start to become it's own entity, when the events surrounding and occurring during the game became larger than the game itself?
And I'm not talking about Janet's breast. Yet.

I find the Super Bowl is a lot like Christmas, Thanksgiving or any of the "Event" holidays that litter the calendar. I'm excited about the possibility of it, but by the time it actually rolls around, I'm sick to death of the hype, the bullshit and the incessant media coverage. I just want the damn thing to end so we can get back to living in the really real world.

And like I said, it's not so much about the game anymore, as it is about the commercials and the Half Time show. Everyone was so fascinated with Janet's boob that most people can't recall who even won that year. And don't get me started on the acceptability of violence over brief nudity on prime time. I agree with my friend Hank on that score. And the Half Time show? This year they have geriatric rockers the Rolling Stones. I understand you have to cater to the masses when planning this spectacle, but do we have to parade this type of shit onstage? Hell, I'd rather see Carrot Top preform "America The Beautiful" on the spoons than see those over the hill "entertainers" anymore. Jesus Christ , Mick. Just die already. ( I'm not serious about Carrot Top, but you get the point.)

I'll admit I'm a little bitter about the commercials. There are commercials out there that will have cost companies millions of dollars to produce and air, and some of them are shown only during the game. But I'm here in Canada, and the CRTC doesn't want me subjected to the latest Chunky Soup ad, for fear that it's corrupting my Canadian heritage. So I don't get to see some of these ground breaking works of pop culture, but having me witness an old British guy celebrating an American sport is not a problem.

I think that in the future, with the way television is heading, you will be able to set up the Super Bowl to be shown on two channels. One with the game, and one with the hype.

I bet the ratings would be neck and neck between the two.

And that's what is really sad.

Later.

Who Does This Remind You Of?

ENTP - The Inventor
You scored 90% I to E, 21% N to S, 61% F to T, and 63% J to P!

The single word that describes your type is "inventor", and you belong to the larger group called rationals. You love to tinker with things and come up with new ideas. You are outgoing and curious with an insatiable appetite for knowledge. You have no real desire to lead, only doing so if there is no other way. 2% of the population share your personality type.
You are a flirtatious and energetic romantic partner, fun and engaging, always looking for something unusual to try. In your enthusiasm, you may make promises you can't keep. Your competitive nature and need to be perceived as an expert can be daunting to a romantic partner at times. You so enjoy the tug of a good debate that sometimes you act as if you don't take anything seriously. You are usually very supportive and helpful to your mate, but somewhat scattered and unable to devote your full attention there. You feel most appreciated for your great ideas, unusual perceptiveness, and ability to understand and communicate with people. You feel most appreciated when your partner understands your need for lots of social contact and your need to live life as spontaneously as possible.


Test from OK Cupid.

I'd love to know who wrote this test.
Need to be competative? In Bed? It's not a race, you know.
Only 2% of the population are like me? It's good to be unique.
Good Parts bolded for emphasis.

Later.

Public Persona.

The Sidekick and I were having coffee tonight, and he brought up an interesting point.
(I know, I'm as shocked as the rest of you.)

"What if you finally got to meet the one person you always wanted to; and they turned out to be completely the opposite of what you expected?"

I'm not sure how I would handle that.
There are lots of people I want to meet, maybe have a beverage with, and the reason I'd like to meet them is because of what I perceive their personalities to be. Obviously, if I think a guy has the personality and intelligence of a piece of cork, (George Bush) then I'm not going to want to meet him. (Except to slap them around, as in Dubya's case.)

Slightly different than I expected? I can deal with that. I have yet to meet any person who completely lived up to my preconceived notion of them. That's not a bad thing by the way, 95% of the time my preconceived notion is that the general public are idiots. You normally have to work to disprove that theory. Most do, the rest you read about in these pages.

However there are a few people that I can think of that I would be disappointed if the image they presented was opposite that of the real one.

• John Cusack- Should be just a regular guy, but famous.
• Dave Grohl - Same as John, but better on the sticks.
• Tom Cruise - I expect him to be a psycho, any different would be upsetting.
• Dennis Leary - If we didn't get drunk and smoke a pack of cigs, I'd be amazed.
• Bono - If he's like Joey thinks he is, I'll be shocked.
• Angelina Jolie - If she doesn't scoop me off my feet, it'd be her loss.

That's just a random sampling. I am I wrong in most of my perceptions? Probably. But I may be fairly close, and that I can handle. Walking into a room to find Britney Spears doing advanced calculus would be a general idea of the kind of opposite I'm talking about.

But until I meet these or any of the other interesting personalities out there, I'll just go with the feeling I have in my gut.

It's been pretty good so far.

Later.