WorkSpace.

My desk is a strange area.

It is full of bits and pieces, things to be done, things completed that need to be thrown out, and crap that's been sitting around because I'm just a great procrastinator.

There is a various assortment of pens, (some of which actually work!) scraps of paper, books, disks and for some reason, about three screwdrivers. (Still can't remember what I pulled them out for.) There's the pile of crap I take out of my pocket when I come home from work, and some of that is just stuff I should have thrown out earlier in the day. It's like a black hole in the corner of the room, slowly sucking everything towards it.

And yes, I said corner. To save space, it's a corner workstation, which means it's like, half a desk. When this puppy grows up, after drinking it's milk, it aspires to be a full sized desk. Take a pint-sized desk and a full sized monitor and you can imagine the sprawling amounts of space I have. Which makes all the shit I described earlier seem twice as messy.

So why am I rambling on about my desk? Well, I have to move it. Which means I have to clean it. It's moving to be closer to a phone outlet, as I'm switching to DSL, instead of the cable outlet where I am now. (Oh, to be wireless and free of all constraint.) The upside of the move? Cheaper rates, same speed, and a 19 inch LCD monitor (to be delivered later) which will save mucho space on the already mentioned cramped desk.

Will I gloat and ramble on about the new monitor when it gets here? All in good time my friends, all in good time.

Now, if I could get some help with the moving....

Later.

A Night Off.

Call it Laziness,
Call it Writer's Block,
Call it what you want.

Nothing really to say today, nothing bad, nothing great.
There'll be more tomorrow, faithful readers, so don't worry.

Why you lookin' at me like that?
Can't a guy take a night off?

Later.

Vocal Impotence.

Woke up this morning with a sore throat.

Now this isn't a problem, as I'm not some whiny pussy who gets upset that his throat's a little irritated, but the major inconvenience is what it did to my voice.

For most of the day I sounded like I was going through puberty a second time. My voice was pitchy, cracking, and ranged in volume from a whisper to a croak. Seriously, it was like I was thirteen again. Had to check and see if maybe another testicle was going to drop.

There's no way to be in customer service when you sound like that, either. Try answering the phone. I expected someone to ask if my Daddy was there, or if they could speak to someone over the age of twelve. Dealing with someone in a one-on-one is impossible as well, just because the minute they hear you they treat you like you have the plague, or ask some dumb question like "Losing your voice?" (I could stab every fucker that asked me that today.)

But it's getting better now, or at least it seems to be. Worst case scenario I do it all again tomorrow, just this time I up my dosage of Halls to three packs. (I know, I'm hardcore like that.)

I'll let you know if I find a third testicle, though.

Later.

Pay It Forward.

Yes I know I'm referencing a slightly cheesy movie, in fact it's on T.V right now.

I know that "Paying It Forward" is a great concept, but in truth, I don't think it's a very viable one. I mean, most people aren't that altruistic to begin with, so getting them to do something nice for other people is a bit of a stretch.

I think the best way you can get people to do nice things is to thank them for what they've done already. I don't think that enough people take the time to just say "Thank You" and sincerely mean it. Be it to your Waitress, your Hair Stylist, or even your friendly Dairy Guy, everyone likes to be thanked. It doesn't take that much time, and it costs you nothing but a moment.

I'll admit, I'm as guilty as the rest of you when it comes to this. In this busy life we have, we just have to take the time to realize that even the guys who work the Drive Thru or in some office selling insurance need to be thanked for what they do.

Lest I be even more guilty, I should at least take the time here to thank all of you who come and read this, for whatever reason you may have. God help you if I'm anywhere near the top five on your bookmarks.

That's all I got for now, unless I sink deeper into smaltzy-feel-good thoughts. That's just not like me. I'll be back to being an asshole tomorrow.

Later.

Social Obligation.

So after I got off work tonight I was supposed to stop by a party.

Now, initially I didn't want to go to this party, not for any personal reasons, but just because I thought that it wasn't going to be "My kind of scene". If figured there would be tons of people I didn't know, or worse, didn't want to know, and that I was just going to show up, make an appearance and leave.

Turns out I was wrong.

The fact that when I got out of my car, McQuarrie was on the front lawn made it immediately a whole new ball game. You don't realize what a small town you live in until you find out one of your drinking buddies plays ball with one of your bosses. That added a new dimension to the party. Turns out there were more people I knew, and the night turned out OK.

I said my goodbyes a lot later than I had originally planned, and headed home.

What I expected to be a boring affair turned out to be quite pleasant, and actually a good time.

Now if I could get McQuarrie to stop drinking Lucky and switch to that good Belgian Beer, we'd be all set...

Like that's gonna happen.

Later.

Happy Birthday To Me.

I can't believe that I didn't post on my Birthday last year.
Don't bother to look and see, I checked.

Yes, it is my Birthday today.

I share this day with my Brother, whom I already phoned this morning. Others to celebrate on this illustrious day are: Pam Grier, Helena Bonham-Carter, Stevie Nicks, Hank Williams Jr, John Wayne, and Lenny Kravitz.
They all pale in comparison. (You know I'm right.)

So Happy Birthday to all those who are also a part of this day of days, may your day be as good as I hope mine to be.
We are Older, (though we don't look it,) Wiser, (though we don't show it,) and have a greater appreciation for life. ( You bet.)

Enjoy this temporary Sabbath, and May The Force Be With You.

Later.

United Colors Of...

You know, a lot has been said recently about Iran's potential plans for marking others of a different faith by making them wear colored badges. I don't know if it's true or not, but outside of the religious aspects, and the fact that it's got "Nazi" written all over it, I think they are on to something.

I'd take it a step further.

Think about it.
In this day and age of retarded political correctness, wouldn't it be easy to identify the people you'd like to talk to, as well as the ones you want to avoid, just by the clothes they wear?

Imagine you meet someone new at a party. What do you talk about? Well, if they are wearing their Orange armband, you know not to talk to them about Animal Rights. But if they have Purple shoes, you can talk to them about The Tragically Hip. Better yet, a Green Hat means they are sexually liberated, so all signs point to "Go".

See how easy that would be? You could instantly tell almost everything about someone in a glance. And it's all important stuff too, not religious crap. I'd rather know that if I talk to a guy in a yellow vest, he'll probably rattle on about stamp collecting for a half hour.

We are already halfway there. So many people brand themselves with corporate logos or witty sayings (I'm just as bad as the next guy.) that it's pretty easy to judge as it is now. My system just pinpoints it a lot more.

So what do you think? If you like it, throw on your Electric Blue T-Shirts and show the world you are with me! If not, Hunter Green!

Ah, Fuck. I'm gonna need a new wardrobe.

Later.

Welfare Wednesday.

Why is it that the people who are on welfare are the ones who seem to blow all their money on useless shit? I can't count the number of people I've seen recently that cash their cheque to buy booze or smokes. The amount that have cellphones is staggering too. Yet another sign would be the really shitty car with the huge speakers and Alpine stereo system.

I love seeing my tax dollars being put to such good use.

"Hey, you know that money would last a lot longer if you, I don't know, stopped buying crap and maybe Got A Fucking Job."

Rant's over for now.....wait until next month.

Later.

Energy Crisis.

Why oh why, when you need a battery, can you never find the right size one?

So I needed a battery for one of The Boy's toys. It was a couple of batteries, really. (I should be using the plural if I'm going to be telling it right.)

Do you think I could find the correct ones? Not a fuckin' chance. I needed Triple "A", (which is strange as just about every goddamn toy he owns takes about 15 "D" size batteries, or at least a small piece of fusion-able material.) and there were none around. I searched high and low, all over the house.

I found "D' batteries.
I found "C" batteries.
I found watch batteries, car batteries, rechargeable batteries (wrong size), batteries that were old, batteries that were new, batteries that were yellow, and batteries that were blue. (Not really, but it rhymes, right?)
But no Triple "A"'.

Now came the "Rob Peter to pay Paul" strategy. Which piece of electronic equipment could I live without, in order to steal the "gems of power" from within?
First to find something that would have Triple "A" batteries.
Penlight? No dice.
Hair trimmer? Nope. (Don't laugh, just 'cause a guy keeps himself neatly groomed doesn't mean he can't start some shit.)
Most of the remotes take "AA" batteries, so they would be of no use to me... or would they?

There is this older remote we have for a spare T.V. which never gets used. It's been sitting on a shelf for about four months, and since I've never had occasion to use it, I never checked what batteries lay enclosed in it's plastic shell.

Success! Triple "A"! Woo! Good thing I never used that remote. The way I flick through the channels, the batteries would have lasted about 15 minutes. But they were the correct size, and functioned perfectly for The Boy's toy.

I wish there was a type of "Universal Battery" that fit all devices, no matter what they did. And forget about needing ten of them to run one thing. Make it so that one battery will do the job, and if necessary, maybe two. (For heavy duty things like a fat person's scale, or a nympho's vibrator, you could use three.) Think about how easy that would make your life.

But until then, I'll keep scrounging, switching, and getting really pissed off looking for those oh-so-important cylinders of juice. So if your remote doesn't work one day, and feels a bit light....

Don't look at me.

Later.

Elementary, My Dear.

So today is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's birthday.

I have no idea what he wrote next to Sherlock Holmes, but I have read some of the Holmes stories. I guess being a Canadian boy, I just didn't get it. I found Sherlock to be stuffy, boring, and full of himself. It's one thing to be smarter than everyone else in the room, (Trust me, I know,) but don't tell them that.

I like my detectives more Magnum P.I. than Sherlock Holmes. Babes in bikinis sounds way better than hanging out with a fat tub named Dr. Watson. What was he a Doctor of, anyway? Donuts?

"Take two crullers and call me in the morning."

Sherlock just looked smart because he was hangin' with a fucking retard.


Later.

Entrapment.

While I was at work today I noticed a cop busting someone in the parking lot. It was for a driving infraction of some sort, and of course, the person on the receiving end of the ticket did not look too pleased. I chuckled and went on my merry way. (Better him than me, right?)

I look outside again a little while later, and there's the same police officer ticketing yet another driver. I was amazed that two people would be caught so close together.

Later in the day, I step outside again and you know what? Same cop, different driver. In total, I witnessed this officer ticket about five different vehicles in the space of three hours. That's just what I saw. I wasn't outside for any significant time, I just noticed when I had occasion to step out doors.

Now I'm all in favor of catching people who do stupid things when they drive, but considering the fact that I've been at this location for six months, this is the only time I have ever seen police doing any kind of operation like this. Why were they here? Was it to bust the tourists who are in the area for the long weekend? Was it to protect safety of people using the highway?

Or was it the fact that it's near the end of the month, quota's due, and they know that stopping offenders here is like shooting fish in a barrel?

I think it's one of the three, you can decide which.

Later.

Man Crush.

Now before you totally start thinking that I've switched teams, just let me say I'm not gay.

I've talked about this subject before with others and I just thought it was time to put it out there. (No, it's not "coming out".)

Most men will tell you that they would go and see just about any movie with their favorite hot chick in it. You know I'm right. Just look in the theater at Lindsay Lohan's latest piece of tripe and you'll see guys there, and not just the pussy-whipped ones either.

But what about male movie stars?

I'll be the first to admit, I'm a big Steve McQueen fan. From The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape to The Thomas Crown Affair, Bullitt, and The Towering Inferno, if Steve was in it, I'd like to see it. Does this mean I have a great appreciation for the man and his work? Yes. Does it mean I'm mooning over 5x10 glossies of him? No.

There are a lot of movies I will see just because a certain actor is in it. Hell, lots of movies I wouldn't even give a flying fuck about, I went and viewed just because someone I liked was in it. I even saw America's Sweethearts. Why? John Cusack. I liked Batman Forever. Why? Val Kilmer.

I'm not ashamed of enjoying these actors in their work, they did a great job in most of their stuff. They've established a track record with me, and I will give them the benefit of the doubt in regards to any role, regardless of how shitty the film may look.

No matter how I may sound when I go on about Val Kilmer in Top Secret! or The Ghost and The Darkness, or the fact that I'll ramble on about Cary Elwes in The Princess Bride, it's just a great appreciation for these men and the fantastic work they've done onscreen.

So show off your Man Crush - don't be embarrassed.

It doesn't mean you take it in the Pooper.

Later.

Blogger's Block.

So I was out for coffee with Bish, The Sidekick and The Graduate.

We started talking about blogs and blogging, and how frustrating it can be when you completely forget what you were planning on talking about. It happens countless times a day, when something happens or you have some random thought, and you think that you'll blog about that.

But although the mind is willing, it's also retarded at times.

I've tried to write things down, little notes to myself, and none of that ever works. I usually look at the idea later on and wonder what the hell I was thinking. It would be great at times if I could write while the idea was still fresh, but if I was able to do that, I would never get any work done and my lawn would never get mowed. I'd be horrible if I had a job with an Internet connection, as I'd be blogging or wasting my time some other way. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

What's more amazing is that from other topics of our conversation tonight, I had about three different ideas that I wanted to talk about. Did I write it down? No. Did I forget? Yes.

Did I get lazy and fall back on an old standby of blogging about my inability to blog?

Well, you are reading this, aren't you?

Later.

On Writing

I'm reading a book that was lent to me by a friend.

It's Stephen King's On Writing, and it's pretty good so far. It's a semi-autobiographical account of how he got started in writing, and then it changes gears to give advice on how to write.

It makes me want to give it a shot.

I've tried before, when I was younger, and never seemed to be able to get anything over more than two or three chapters. It was pretty horrible stuff too, but what do you expect from a 13 year old kid. The stuff I was reading at the time was cheap pulp fantasy, and that heavy handed influence wouldn't be good for anyone's creativity.

Part of the problem is ideas. I think most of the ones I have are, for use of a better term, "stupid". But if Dan Brown can cram together a weak plot with bland characters, wacky theology, dubious theory, put it together with horrible pacing and shitty dialogue and sell over forty million copies, then maybe I can too.

The other problem is time. I hardly have time to blog some days, and stretching that into time to write is not conducive to daily life. Still, if you want something bad enough, I guess you can find the time. Maybe I can stop watching so much CSI - but c'mon, who can stop watching that?

Maybe I'll give it a try, who knows? Will any of you see it? Probably not, unless I'm feeling over confident. Getting shot down by strangers on the Internet may work for some, but I don't think much of it would be constructive. ("Why did you write about lesbians? What the fuck do you know?") Oh, I can see the comments now.

Later.

Scaredy-Cat.

What scares you?

I was dealing with The Boy today, cause he was freaking out about a fly buzzing around the house. Nothing major, he just doesn't like bugs. The problem lies in convincing him that there are bugs to be wary of, but none of them will cause you any physical pain unless you bother them first. It's funny, because he normally has no fear in any other sense, but for some reason, right now bugs really creep him out.

But it got me thinking about types of fear.

Some people are afraid of physical pain, even to extremes, and others don't think anything about jumping off cliffs and buildings or doing all sorts of crazy things that will cause you great bodily harm unless everything goes just right. I'm kinda middle of the road. I'm a cautious type, but I don't shy away from anything physical out of fear of hurting myself.

Others are afraid of the larger picture. Big things, like North Korea and Iran. To them, the War On Terror is a very real thing, and they feel that it could happen to them at any time. Inversely, there are people out there who have no idea of the happenings of the world, so to them, there are no big fears, just the day to day ones.

Some peoples biggest fear might be not making it to work on time, or having someone find out they listen to Kenny G. Others might be afraid of losing their home, or something happening to someone they care about. I'm not sure where my fears fall in to this generalization I'm making, but they are out there, and some are larger than others.

The main thing with my fears, and for anyone else's for that matter, is to not let them overwhelm you, as once they do, it's mighty hard to get them under control again.

Just ask The Boy when there's a bee in the room.

Later.

Remotely Confusing.

I'll admit it, I'm a remote control hog.

I usually see myself as a relaxed individual, but when someone else is holding the remote, I get nervous and fidgety, and lose any and all forms of patience.
I like to flick through the channels, scanning at my leisure, but when others are doing this it drives me nuts. Why? Who knows, but I think man has been like that since the little box was invented.

What's the best way to channel surf? Do you flick like I do? Oh, I could use the guide, but then that would involve reading the paper or another book, or God forbid, punching another button on the remote. Plus, those guides are wrong sometimes. What if there was a really cool rerun they forgot to list, how would I know? (It's a tragedy to miss that A-Team episode where they build a tank from a box of Kleenex and 4 Popsicle sticks. B.A. Baracus was the shit, yo.)

Sometimes you just miss out. Someone has possession of the remote before you, and to just outright take it is bad form. (I'll admit, I stoop to this regularly, so don't think I'm a Saint.) I'm also famous for changing the channel as soon as you leave the room. ("Oh, you were watching that?" Don't worry , I think it's on later.") I do usually win most of the T.V. battles in my home, but I think that's more from pity than any real genius on my part.

I pout like a motherfucker when I don't get to watch what I want. (It's a last resort, but usually I catch the remote if it's hurled in frustration)

So are you able to let go? Do you hold the remote tighter than a fat-chick holds a bag of Doritos? Or can you relent to share and let others have input on what you watch.?

I'm in the first category, and I feel sorry for you all in the second.

Later.

Nut Flush.

Poker Night.

Some people thirst for it, some cringe at the thought of it.

Me, I'm kinda ambivalent towards it. I don't think I have great poker skills, so I don't overestimate myself. I'm one of those gamblers who looks at the money they spent and asks themselves if it was worth the time they had. So I lost 10 bucks. So what? I had a good time and drank some beers. And had a few laughs at other people's expense.

I'm a fan of the game, but I know I don't play it well. Watching me play poker is as frustrating as watching and epileptic kid try to feed himself pudding. Sure, some of it gets in, but is the mess made in the process really worth it? I think that's half the fun in playing, trying to convince others that you do or don't know what you are doing. You only lose when it's painfully obvious which one they've decided you are.

Needless to say the reason I'm posting is because I went out early. 3rd out of six isn't bad, at least for a guy my caliber. I had a good time and that's what counts. Good enough that I may go out again sometime.....

But not so good that I'm in a rush to do so.

Later.

With Two You Get Eggroll.

I'm always amazed at people's reaction when they find out that I'm a twin.

I guess the thought of another completely hot, incredibly charming, suave piece of man-meat like me is too much for them to handle. They probably have trouble determining if the earths crust can support my ego, let alone another of the same size.

And then the questions come out.
"Does he look like you?" - No , he wishes, but God must have frowned on him while smiling on me. We look similar; you can tell we are brothers, but identical? Forget it.
"Who is older?" - That's not a bad one, (He is by three minutes.)
"Does he celebrate his birthday three minutes before you?" - What are you, retarded? What kind of question is that?
"It must have been cool growing up" - Yeah overall it was, but there are some downsides to sharing every moment of your life with someone. The same presents at Christmas, the identical T-Shirts, nobody thinking you'll mind sharing a room, competing for the same girls, (I won most of the time), Your family's inability to support two of you going into the same sport or field trip at times. (Missed out on China 'cause of that.)

The greatest thing about having a twin growing up can be summed up in two words: Instant Alibi. It didn't matter what it was, if I needed backup or cooberation, he was there. And I would do the same. As long as we stuck together and kept our stories straight, no court could convict us, and we'd get off free and clear.

It's strange on how this Mother's Day I'm writing about my brother, instead of Mom. But one way to look at it is this: I knew him before I knew her, so she just had the distinction of being our first apartment.

Later.

It's Funny, Dammit!

Sometimes you realize that your sense of humor is just a bit different from almost everyone else. The things that you find amusing or downright hilarious don't even crack a smile in others.

I was talking to a guy about comedy the other day, and he's all about the Dave Chappelle. That's okay and all, but I'm trying to broaden his mind a little bit. We talk about some of the comedy that I found funny in my younger years, and I suggest he check out Andrew Dice Clay. Now I know that he's a little dated, and that he was a chauvinist pig, but I found him to be a fucking riot when I was younger. (Hell, I even own Ford Fairlane on DVD.)

So he checks him out, and I asked him what he thought. He said it was weak. Weak? What the fuck does he want, balloons and sparklers? It's great comedy, although a little dated, like I said. I agree that it's not as good as Chris Rock, but Jesus, at least give it a chance.

I then realize that maybe our tastes aren't as similar as we thought, and that there is always room for error. Comedy is all about perception, and if you are used to a certain style and rhythm, then sometimes it's hard to find the good in anything different.

Then I suggested he check out Dennis Leary, as No Cure For Cancer and Lock And Load, were great and edgy stuff, and I was sure that he would like it.

When he looked at me and said "Who?" I just shook my head and walked away.

Fuckin' Kids, don't know shit.

Later.

Pandora's Box.

I've been keeping a secret.

I used to surf around the Internet, checking out different radio station websites, Amazon, Blender, anything I could find to try and discover some new music to listen to. Nothing too drastic from what I listen to now, just a change of scene, so I don't get tired of the same old same old.
It worked Ok, but it was really hit and miss. Half the time I'd download something and it wouldn't be worth it. I found some gems, (like Arctic Monkeys) but my success rate was pretty low.

I forget where I first heard about Pandora.
It might have been Forumopolis, or maybe just some site I stumbled across. Basically, it's a subdivision of The Music Genome Project, (Whatever the hell that is,) and you enter the names of bands that you like into "Stations" and it plays a sample song from the band in question. It then plays songs that it thinks you might like from bands who have similar tendencies. The thing I enjoy is that it doesn't really do clone bands. It takes what you like about a group, turns it about two degrees, and then suggests it to you. You then choose if you like the song or not, and it makes further selections based on your feedback.

Yeah, it's not perfect, but then listening to Top Forty or generic Power Radio isn't really perfect either. At least this seems to give it some type of randomness, yet in an orderly fashion. And contradictions like that are some of my favorite things.

Give it a try, I think you'll like it.
I'm not sure how it will do for Rap, Hip Hop, or some of that Gay stuff the Sidekick listens to, but I hope it works as well for you as it's done for me.

Later.

Rant.

If there is one type of person who frustrates me, it's the Know It All.

Correction: The Know It All that doesn't have a clue is the one that drives me bat-shit insane. If they did really know it all, then I wouldn't have to deal with their lazy asses, because they would already know that I think they are a waste of skin, and that they should maybe pick up the pace before I boot them in the backside.

Whew. Thanks.

It's not a bad night or anything, it's just that sometimes these type of people get under my skin. If I'm not doing anything, it's because I have all MY shit done, and my only job is to then check up on you, not to talk to you, or hear about the latest adventure of Jesus Christ.

(Sorry about that last part, I thought I got it all out.)

I don't normally rant about work, because it's not a bad job and I do have fun there, at least most of the time. But tonight, as I said above, certain people just get under my skin. At least I get to bitch about it on the Internet - They have to go home and still be retarded.

(Ouch, that was nasty.)

At least tomorrow is another day. And hopefully a better one.

Later.

Life For Sale

I was sorting out the garage today, going through some of the stuff that's been around for years and the things that just seem to collect, even though it's been just over a year in this house.

You see, I like money. Yet I don't seem to have enough of it. I have a lot of crap just laying around, and I'd like to get rid of it. This can mean only one thing: Garage Sale.

I've never done a Garage Sale before, so setting it up should be a wonder in itself. I'm giving myself about 3 weeks time to do it, as I still have tons of stuff to go through. There's toys, trinkets and assorted schwag that has to be sorted and tagged. If I'm gonna do this, I'm doing it right.

There are items that shouldn't be sold like that, so for a few select items I'm going to try e-Bay. I don't know much about it, but it seems simple, and worse case I can get my Brother to sell it for me. He sells tons of shit for ridiculous amounts of money on e-Bay all the time. I would probably give him a small commission, just because I'm a nice guy.

In that way I envy him sometimes. He was always the pack rat when we were younger, and he still is, to some extent. While I was spending my money on beer and cigarettes, he was buying CD's and toys, which he kept in mint condition and sells for stupid money now. Oh, to go back and save some of those items now! But who would have known that obscure hair metal band CD's would go for $50 US after fifteen years? If I would have known then what I know now, I wouldn't have used my Trixter CD as a coaster. For shame.

I hope it all goes well. If not, you'll probably be able to get the full police report online. Look under - Local Man calls Garage Sale patrons "Cheap Fuckers" -starts swinging bat. I'm not hoping to make millions, but I'm not going to have some 85 year old lady nickel and dime me about some placemats I got four years ago for Christmas.

Later.

T-Shirt Hell.

If there is one thing in this world I agonize over, it's buying a T-Shirt.

I know when you hold it up against other things like global warming and world hunger, it doesn't really seem like a big issue, but to me, it's right up there.

Now I normally use my T-Shirts for layering, or if it's really hot, I wear it on it's own. (I'm normally a fan of the collared shirt, always have been. It's that 80's pop-and-lock-collar I grew up with.) Therefore, some things are really important to me:

The fit of the neck. I like it tight, but not too tight. (Get your mind out of the gutter.) I don't want to be choked by it, but I hate the sloppy neck look. It just seems too, I dunno, lazy. This to me is the most critical part of the shirt.

Obviously the slogan. I'll whore myself out for Tommy or Ralph or Nike, but I really prefer to have something witty or thought provoking. I've seen interesting Japanese shirts, Comic Book shirts, and just strange shit, but it has to appeal to me if I'm going to wear it. I do like sites like Think Geek and T-Shirt Hell, but haven't ever bought anything from them. There are tons of sites out there that have something unique and different, but I just can't see shelling out thirty bucks for a T-Shirt.

And that's what it comes down to most of the time, price. I was just at Motley Crue a while ago and even though they had some okay shirts, nothing appealed to me. Nothing I'd want to pay $40 for.

Am I a cheap fuck? Not really. But after all it is just a shirt.

And I can make anything look good.

But the devil is in the details, and by following my guidelines, I've never been steered wrong.
(Except for that Wham! Shirt in '87 - boy, that was a mistake.)

Later.

Nothing Of Importance.

You know, it's funny.

I have all these thoughts that rattle around my head all day.
It's to the point that when I see things or read things I sometimes think, "I should blog about that." Because I know how all of you are just dying to hear what I think about things.

(That is why your here, isn't it? Tell me you didn't hit the wrong bookmark, and you were planning on checking out porn instead. I'm good, but I'm no match for porn.)

But tonight, I sit down and I draw a blank. There's either so much I want to talk about, or there is nothing of importance that I have to say. Thank God I called it "Midlife Rambler", it does give me a certain leeway in what I can relate to you.

Sometimes my thoughts are all a jumble, and it's hard to pin down exactly what I want to say. Other times I think I'm pretty concise, and get right to the point. (You can tell what type of evening this is, right?)

So thanks for letting me say a bunch without really saying anything. I can't say it won't happen again, but I'll do my best to at least make it entertaining.

Later.

The Hardest Thing.

(Get your mind out of the gutter.)

I've been trying to shed a few pounds lately, and it's working out OK.
Trying to eat the right things, get as much exercise as I can, and trying to control some of my wilder impulses. So far so good, as I've dropped about 10 pounds since I started.

(Most people don't notice, I think, and the first one to say "Dropped? Where? From your belly to your ass?" gets a pen in the eye.)

I've been pretty committed, too. But I will say this:

Watching The Boy eat a chocolate covered donut he got as a treat rates as one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. (Top Ten material.)
Thank God it wasn't a Caramel Fritter or a Cruller, I think I would have snapped.

I was able to restrain myself only due to seeing the sheer enjoyment he got out of eating it. (He doesn't normally eat sweets, so He goes apeshit when he gets one.) My limits were tested, but that's nothing new.

I composed myself and helped him clean up after his chocolate odyssey. I hope he gets as much enjoyment out of celery, 'cause it's all I'm going to watch him eat for a bit. He can go in another room when he eats the delectable stuff I can't have.

Later.

Bitter Canadian.

I was working tonight, and I was talking to some American tourists that were up as part of a school choir type function.
(I forget exactly what it was, but there was singing involved, and a lot of people.)
As I had helped serve the organizers of the group the other night, we got to talking and I asked them how they were enjoying their stay and how they were being treated. They said that everything was great and that everyone had been "incredibly nice" to them.

We talked about weather and then I asked them what they thought about our gas prices. Since what we are paying a litre works out to about $5.50 a US gallon, I figured they would be shocked. And I was right.

As I was making that comment to them, another customer, completely not part of the conversation, chimes in about how our prices would be lower if we didn't export so much to the U.S. Then he starts on about how we are being screwed in the softwood lumber agreement by the U.S. only paying back 4 billion instead of 5 billion in illegal tariffs.

He came across as really bitter and really sarcastic.

I covered as best I could, and tried to make light of the situation. But c'mon, what would you think if you were on vacation and some yahoo started in on you about the things your country has done. It's not like these people have anything to do with American oil imports or softwood lumber. They are people on vacation, and are hopefully going to go back and tell everyone what a great time they had. But if we verbally bitch to every American we come across about how stupid and rotten their government is, that's not going to change anything, except that they won't come here and spend money anymore.

And we look like whiny little bitches while we are at it.

And nobody likes a whiny bitch.

Later.

Low Tide.

I drive to work every day.

It's not a complaint, as I like to have the time to wake up, listen to music, or tune in to the radio. (Talk Radio only, news or sports.) Most of the drive is along the shoreline, where I can look out over the ocean as the sun breaks, it's changing colors illuminated in the waters glassy surface.

When I'm going home, it's on the other side, and I can watch the light play on the waves as they break on the beach, and see the ships on their way as they pass thru the straight.

But somedays, at certain times, it sucks.

You see, on a day like today- when it was about 19-20 degrees Celsius all day- it will sometimes happen that the tide will go out during the afternoon. If it is an exceptionally low tide, and the sun is beating down for just the right duration, the stench of rotting kelp and other sundry odors emanating from the beach are enough to make me want to toss my cookies, and then toss the bag they came in as well.

Forget how long I've lived in the coast. Forget that I've been to the beach countless times. Forget that the human olfactory system can become acclimated to almost anything thrown its way.

That shit stinks. Bad.

I'm not even going to go into the people who own Oceanside homes. But how do they stand it when it's like someone unloaded a septic tank all around their home? In the summer? When you want to be outside. Crazy.

If it's like that tomorrow, I'll be Mr.-Rolled-Up-Windows-With-The-Air-Conditioning-On.

Later.

Hi, Ho, Hi, Ho.....

Do you ever have those days when you don't feel like going to work?

I don't have them often, because I like my job, but on days like today when I know I have a lot on my plate and it's going to be a busy day, I just can't drum up the enthusiasm.

I have a bunch of stuff that has to be removed so we can change out a part on a major piece of equipment. This is going to take at least an hour and a bit to remove the stock, and I have no idea how long the part installation is going to take tomorrow.

I work better when I have a set structure as to what's going on. When the time frame given for completion is "We'll see", I get a bit antsy.

If you don't see corpses in the River, the day went OK.

Later.

Change Of Pace.

I'm working on changing my routine.
I'm going to try cutting back on "teh Internet" for a bit.

Oh, I'm still going to blog.
I've made it an addiction. And out of all the ones I have, it's probably the safest one to keep.
But changing the way you do things is never an easy task, and sometimes it can be uncomfortable and unpleasant. But I've made a commitment to change and that is what counts.

I've stated time and again how much I like to blog. I find it relaxing and cathartic, and a welcome end to the day. I've just changed at what time I blog, not what I say or what I feel I can say.
It's mainly just time management. I have to make the most effective use of my time right now, and as incredibly addictive as the 'net is, I have to wean myself of it bit by bit.
(Or would that be bit by byte? That's the nerd in me talking.)

So have no fear, the thoughts they are a ramblin' and I'll still keep spewing them out for all of you to hear. (Or read, actually, but you know what I mean.)

Later.

Rise And Shine.

How do you wake up?

I go either of two ways.

In the morning, if I know I have to work, I normally bounce out of bed when the alarm goes off (or at least after the "snooze" has been hit once) and hurry toward my morning ritual to get ready.

If I don't have to work, or have any place special to be, I am horrible at getting up. I get out of bed alright, but if I'm given the least chance to be horizontal again, it's all over. Afternoon naps? Love 'em, but I'm a bag of shit for an hour afterwards. Same if I try to cat-nap on my lunch hour. (Where I work there are couches in the lunch room, and trust me, I make full use of them when I can.)

Is everyone like this? Or is it just me?

I've known people in the past who have been horrible at getting up. I had a roommate once who could sleep at least eighteen hours. I've also known people who can charge out of bed at the crack of dawn and be ready to do complex math equations in fifteen minutes.

I'm normally somwhere in between. Except for the math. God, I'm bad at math.

But that's another post in and of itself.

Later.

Work It Out.

Sometimes working things out is much more difficult than starting anew.

But you have to try, otherwise what's the point of it all anyway.
You may not be confidant of the outcome, but to not make the effort would be to invalidate everything that has gone before.

Wish me luck.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Later.