Idle Hands.

We've been having a discussion at work for the last couple of days about masturbation.

It's not that the topic deserves that much attention, it's just that everyone who hears about the discussion has to give their input. (Or preferred techniques.)

Now I know the last thing that most of you wanted to read about when you came here is the ol' Rub n' Tug, but the topic of discussion was to point out that it's a major turning point in a man's life when he can admit in mixed company that he occasionally Auditions the Hand Puppet.

Most guys under the age of 25 will completely deny having ever touched themselves down there; thinking you are going to pull out a ruler and smack them on the hand. We even tested this theory on a couple of the younger guys at work, asking them if they ever Battled the Purple Headed Yogurt Slinger. Of course they all viciously denied it. It's not like you ask for specifics, you're just asking if they have ever committed the act.

Guys over the age of 25 will pretty much tell everyone that they do it, and will even go on about technique and grip. Sometimes too much information is not a good thing, especially when it relates to Wrist Aerobics.

I think women are fifty-fifty on the subject. We didn't go and ask the girls if they do or not, mainly because I like my job, and asking those kinds of questions to the girls would not ensure that I keep it for long. But the major thought from all of us is that they do occasionally Butter the Muffin, though maybe not as often as the guys do. I'm hopeful that some anonymous person reading this would love to set the record straight. I'm sure the numbers on admittance and denial would almost be the same as the guys, although it's my personal opinion that most women will tell you they don't.

It all comes down to that time in your life when you are finally comfortable with yourself sexually and can view such things without all the hang-ups and taboos associated with it.

I guess that's one of the perks of growing older, finally being able to come to grips with yourself. (pun intended) , either that or complete loss of shame. Whatever works.

Later.

4:41 am

Why am I up this early?
Just can't sleep.
Try and get some rest before I go to work.
Wish me luck.

Later.

Blank.

I've got nothing.

I've been looking at this screen for about 10 minutes and I can't get a damn thought to come out. Unable to focus enough to get anything to be coherent and post-worthy. It's like my brain has been kicked in the nuts, if that makes any sense.
I had a couple of ideas throughout the day but lost 'em all.
I need to write this shit down.

I'll try again tomorrow.

Later.

Ten Pounds Of Envy..In A Five Pound Sack.

I've always admired people who are quick thinkers.

The Internet has allowed for people with sharp ideas and a bit of time on their hands to make their fortune and garner a bit of praise while doing it.

But sometimes it's just retarded.

Take this, for example.

I'll be the first to give this guy props for doing what he did. He took an idea about trading a paperclip and ran with it. The fact that it caught on to worldwide attention only helped his cause. He accomplished his goal: he traded from a paperclip to a house.

That's where it should have ended.

Now this guy is going to write a book, and maybe get a movie out of it?
What kind of book can you write about this?
"Chapter 1 - put up blog about paperclip. Chapter 2 - traded paperclip for pen"
Well he had fourteen trades, we know the book will have at least fourteen chapters.

Is this book-worthy? Did he suffer hardship and loss? What's the story here, next to what you can already read, for free, on his blog? I just don't see what the point is.
I know I'm sounding bitter, but I'm not. I just think that we should congratulate him on a well done job and move on.

I don't need to see a book & movie deal for whatever the next fad on the Internet is either.

Does anyone see my point here, or am I just coming across as an envious son of a bitch? I'll admit, I wouldn't turn down a book deal if it was thrown at me, so I guess my problem isn't with him as much as it is with the publishers.

Or else my only problem is being crammed full of envy....

Later.

Sidekick Lounge Revisited.

Nothing changes around here.

Same villains, same tactics, same hangout every damn night.
I gave up being a bag-boy for this?
"Come with me, be my ward.", He said. "Defeating the evil that is rampant in the world is rewarding work."
And I fucking believed him.

What he didn't talk about was the long hours, the late nights, the "closeness" of the cave. He said there would be medical and dental, but I don't think having an Asian manservant who pulls my teeth qualifies under either. I asked to go to a real doctor when I injured myself loading his "utility belt" but he said that in the interest of maintaining our secret identities, it would be best to let it heal on it's own. Now there is no feeling in my arm and it's starting to smell like old cabbage.

He keeps feeding me shit about the secret identity too. It's not like I go out in costume, but he freaks whenever I hang out with my friends. "Evil never takes a break." he always says; but it takes a break when he wants to go to the movies, and someone has to stay and listen to the police scanner. Last time I was with my friends he had me ditch them to bust a shoplifter. (If I wanted to stop a twelve year old from stealing candy bars, I would have stayed at the old job.) I page him for a triple homicide and he's "busy". Like the nudie bar doesn't have another show on in fifteen minutes.

So instead of being with my friends, I get to hang out here. At least they've done some improvements; there is ice in the urinal now - very cosmopolitan - we used to just piss in the hole in the wall. They are even talking about putting cardboard over that broken window, so the wind doesn't blow in all the time.

I never hear any of the others complain. One of them is a mute - the boss always says he'd like to trade me in for that one - and the other guys don't really speak English. I asked to borrow the universal translator, but he said he needed it to "score with that green chick". I think that he believes I'll try to start a union. What union would want us? We can't pay dues, and none of us can put our real names on the union cards, anyway. The only guy who's for a union is the same guy who thinks short pants are the ultimate in high fashion.

I think I better go. He'll probably be done with the green chick by now, and looking for a shoulder to cry on. (Performance anxiety? - Ya think?) Hopefully I don't have to carry him again. The arm's still no good, and the smell seems to be getting worse.

Can you cover my tab until next time?
He spent all my allowance on knockout gas and aftershave.
I'll pay you back, I promise..

Later.

Muffin Top.

I think I'm going to invent the "Next Big Thing."

The All-Top Muffin.

The best part of the muffin is the top. The slightly crunchy, yet moist and chewy goodness that's easy to eat and tastes great. Really, after eating the top off the muffin, it's pretty much all downhill.

Sure the bottom is alright, but you have to peel the paper off, and it usually crumbles apart, forcing you to brush yourself off before you can go anywhere. The bottom part of the muffin is lost time, and in this go-go world of ours, lost time means...well it means something, but I'm not sure what.

What would the All-Top Muffin look like? Well because it's all top, the crust could be formed in to any shape you wish! Imagine a muffin that fits right into your cup-holder in your car. Better yet, imagine a muffin that is the cup-holder in your car! Breakfast on the go, eh?

The secret to the All-Top Muffin would be no pans. No baking pans means no paper cups, and no paper cups means no soggy, useless bottom on the Muffin. I think the best way to accomplish this would be zero-g ovens. Which means the Muffins have to be made in space. I figure retro fitting a shuttle with some ovens and a couple of tons of batter would be a no brainer. It's not like NASA is doing anything important right now anyways.

What would it sell for?

Well, the initial production run would be slightly more expensive to produce,(what with the cost of rocket fuel) but once the bugs are ironed out I figure they should retail for about $1500.00 each.

Should fit nicely into Starbucks pricing scheme. ( I think it'll be one of the cheaper items on the menu.)

So, anyone want to invest in a guy with a dream?

Later.

37 Things.

I had it.

I had Thirty-Seven points and lines from this movie typed out and listed.
Things I loved, great fucking dialogue pulled straight from my mind.
Blogger has a hiccup, and it's all gone.
I can't recycle that again.

I loved this movie. It was like it was made for me. It fit my sense of humor, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. (That's a lot of laughter for a stomach the size of mine.) A movie about Thirty Year-Olds who don't want to grow up? Could it be for anyone else?

Thanks Kevin, for making some funny shit.

"There's only one 'Return' , and it ain't the King, it's the Jedi."

Fucking Awesome.

Later.

The Circle Will Be Complete.

Dear World,

Going to see Clerks 2 tonight.
I loved the first movie and have waited 12 years to revisit these characters.
I'll let you all know my thoughts later.
All 37 of them.

Signed,
Gushing Fanboy.

Later.

Rotten To The Core.

I've been told I eat apples in a strange way.

I've been eating a lot more fruit for lunch and snacks at work lately, and apples are a major part of that group for me. They are something I've eaten since my childhood, comforting and familiar, tasty and nutritious. They are a "safe" fruit, in my opinion, you always know what to expect when you eat them.

But I'm veering off topic.

You see the thing people find strange is that I eat my apples with a knife.

Like the rugged bad-ass that I am, I carve a chunk off, stab it with the tip, and eat it right off the blade. Sure, if I wasn't careful I could lose an eye, but then I'd just look like Snake Plissken eating an apple. I think the sheer coolness of it is what bothers people.

(Truth is, I hate getting apple skin caught between my teeth. This way, it's very little biting of the skin, and more juicy apple. Sure - I could peel the apple and then eat it, but c'mon, do I look gay?)

And if anyone bugs me about it? Well - I am holding a knife. The loss of an eye will deter anyone from commenting further on my fruit enjoyment habits.

I forsee a rise in the use of eye patches.

Later.

Undeserved Praise.

At work today I received a high level of praise point-blank from a customer.

Now having been in the service industry for so long, I know the instances of getting positive recognition from a customer are few and far between. Usually people are specific in their negatives and general in their positives. But this customer told me flat out that I was the reason they frequented our business. They even said it in front of other employees - a public declaration, if you will.

They then went on to describe an instance last summer where I was extremely helpful to them. It had been the end of a long and frustrating day, and my assistance and positive manner really made their experience with us enjoyable. They had decided to continue to do business with us based on that experience. Our company may not be the largest of it's kind in the area, they told me, but the level of customer service displayed really impressed them.

I stood there and thanked the customer for their recognition and praise and told them that it's just part of doing business, and that I really appreciate them taking the time out to tell me what a great experience they had.

After the customer left, one of my co-workers pointed out to me that I wasn't even at this location last summer. This uber-service God the customer described must have been someone else.

"I know." I replied, "I didn't have the heart to tell her."

It sure was nice getting all that praise heaped upon me. Just wish I was the one who deserved it.

Later.

Foreign Occupation.

The tourists have invaded.

Or at least, the pseudo-tourists have invaded.

Normally at this time of year, our beloved Island is flooded with RVs and trailers with license plates from Oregon, Washington, and from some as far away as Arizona and Idaho. (I saw a truck with no licence plate once. From the amount of rust and the gun rack, I assumed they were from Kentucky.)

This year, it's all people from the Island and other parts of B.C.

The sad part?

Instead of tanned beauties from California sunning themselves by the river, we get whale carcases from Royston who have not learned that a tube top does have a breaking point.

I know in some magazines they tell women that wrapping a sarong around their hips is fashionable and will make them appear slimmer, but there is only so much fabric in the world, and what they have around their waist is enough to make a small tent city. It must be manufactured fabric, because a billion silkworms slaving a billion hours could only cover one-fourth of the area needed for some of these people.

You can't expect me not to look; I view some of these individuals the way I do a car wreck. I know there is a human body in there somewhere, it's just hidden by all the carnage.

There are some sunny points, but they are few and far between. I feel for some of the pretty ones. We have a couple of guys who start drooling and panting the minute they see something pretty in a bikini. But when all you see for most of the day is the after effects of gross childhood obesity, any relief is welcome.

But without the tourists, life would be pretty boring, and they couldn't afford to pay me the big bucks like they do. So I welcome them with open arms, at least for the next couple of weeks.

The ones I can get my arms around, that is.

Later.

Censorship.

You know what pisses me off?

(Of course you do. If you are a regular reader, you pretty much know exactly what pisses me off. But that's neither here nor there, and takes away from what I was trying to say.)

I started watching a movie on T.V. when I got home.
It was Gladiator. I don't own it on DVD, so decided to invest my time and give it a shot, as it's one of those movies that I like but just never made the time to pick it up.

I had to turn it off.

What's the point in showing a violent movie about gladiators, if you are going to (badly) edit out all the violence.? I have no problem with watching unedited movies later on at night, but why show something that has to be bleeped and butchered to be presentable for the public? Is it not enough just to warn of these items like almost every other channel?

If it was good editing, I would probably not have noticed. But I think they had a guy with an itchy finger doing the work tonight. I think he had a seizure during some of the battle scenes.

What were my other choices? Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back? On TBS? Oh yeah, that would have gone great. My favorite line surely would have stayed in the movie ( "Look at these morose motherfuckers right here." - just in case you are wondering.) And TBS is worse than the CBC for editing their movies. Once again, what is the point of showing a movie when you edit or change half of the content?

The DVD industry will never be threatened by TV's weak-ass showing of movies.

If it ever comes to that, someone shoot me first.

Later.

Beaten To The Punch.

I was going to post about the heat.

But the Sidekick already did.

I was going to post about this movie I really want to see.

But Bish already did. (He actually got to see it too, the fucker. With a ticket from my "evil" twin brother, no less!)

It sucks to have your ideas ripped from your mind like that.

As the Sidekick said, it was hot today. Coming up with ideas to talk about is hard to do, even more so when your brain is melting and starting to run out your ears. (That made me about as bright as my average customer today.)
But what can I do?
I'm the last to post for the day.

Like the guy who gets to the break-room just after the last donut is gone...
Or the person who arrives after the last free beer is gone...

It blows to come in last.
(I'm not even going to make any sexual connotations about that last comment. It's wide open for it, but I think I'll try to contain myself.)

Later.

Rumination.

• "What's a guy have to do to get some breathing room? Stand up and scream?"

• "Is this guy ever going to show me something other than a white bowl?"

• "I wish he'd stop slapping me around."

• "These guys I hang with are nuts."

• "I'd dress up as a pirate, but with the patch, I wouldn't be able to see."

Random thoughts from my penis.

Later.

Handy - Capped.

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not a whiz when it comes to repairs and renovations.

I'm ahead of some in the fact that I do own tools.
I even have the knowledge to use them without injuring myself or others.
I'm also somewhat of an short-range optimist. This causes me to think that any job I tackle is going to be easy, because I haven't thought it through yet.

Case in point: The Faucet.

Hey! Changing a faucet should be easy!
Just rip out the old, jam in the new, wham bam, and yer done, right?
Wrong.
Who would have thought that the size of the water line needed for the new faucet would be vastly different from the one I have now? Not me, that's for sure. Shouldn't I have checked that out before I started? Probably, but where's the adventure in that?

(As an aside - I don't think I've ever started a project that I didn't have to stop at some point and run to the hardware store. I'm always missing something, or need a different tool, or have to ask for help because I've got no idea what I'm doing.)

I contemplated using Duct Tape as an alternative solution.
Problem was I was all out of Duct Tape. Since I was going to have to go to the hardware store anyway, I decided to see what could be done and only use the Duct Tape as a means of last resort.

The gentleman at the store was very helpful, considering I told him it was for a retarded friend of mine who was inept with all things mechanical. Told him I was only helping the guy out so he didn't look like an ass in front of his kids. We joked about those types of fools in a manly-man way and I headed off towards the checkout with the pieces that I needed to do the job. (I was masterful in my deception: I believe he thought I was Bob Villa's nephew.)

Wouldn't you know it. Once I had the right parts, everything went smoothly. I would have figured it out on my own, given the time (and effort) to do so.

Am I an optimist? I figured it would take roughly twenty minutes for me to switch those faucets. It ended up being about an hour, maybe just over. I'd say I did fairly well.

Now about these floors......

Later.

Boring Passenger.

Just got back from Vancouver.

It was only a quick day trip - go over, go to appointment, & go back. 3 hours driving and 3 hours on the ferry for a twenty minute appointment doesn't seem right, does it?

I didn't do the driving, I was just the passenger.
Truth be told, I wasn't a very good one either.

Putting me in a moving vehicle when I cannot control the volume of music or the amount the windows are open causes my body to release tryptophan, and I instantly slide into a coma for about an hour. (Each way.)

I'm just Mister Excitement, aren't I?

The only time I was totally awake was on the ferry ride to and from.
I don't trust other passengers on the ferries, I think they are sketchy at the best of times. Today was crazy because there were tons of people on board who were going to the Vans Warped Tour, and some of them had so much metal pierced into their faces they were setting off the theft detectors in the gift shop. It was strange to hear a sixteen year old girl say how excited she was to go see Joan Jett.

But all in all it was a great trip. The sun was shining, the traffic wasn't too bad, and most important of all - I'm well rested.

Later.

'Fo Shizzle.

I knew that George Bush was probably not the most formal man in international politics, but when I read this transcript of him and Tony Blair, I was amazed on a whole new level.

These two sound more like two teenagers talking about a piece of ass than world leaders discussing war in the Middle East.

I'd love to know who they are talking about in the later stages of the conversation, because being called "Sweet" by the U.S. President and "Honey" by the Prime Minister of England is quite the complement. It's obvious they are talking about a guy, but my first guess was Condoleezza Rice. They do seem concerned that her trip goes well. Must be nice to have two world leaders looking out for you. (See ladies? That's what you get when you put out on a regular basis.)

The headline tries to grab your attention by suggesting the shocking fact that George Bush said the word shit. What's the surprise? He causes and steps in so much of it, there should be no wonder that he says it from time to time.

Thank God they didn't put a microphone near Stephen Harper. The panting and moaning sounds he makes while he humps Georgie's leg would be embarrassing for us Canadians to hear.

Later.

Die Fuckers, Die.

Some people aren't happy with anything.

It doesn't matter what you do or how good everything can be, there is nothing on God's green earth that will change their opinion. If nine out of ten things are perfect, then they bitch about the tenth thing.

What can we do to these people?

I know there are times that I'd like to just say "Fuck You."
I'm also known for my wish to stab many people in the eye with a pen.
I think electroshock therapy might be good, but only if it's the kind where you use a car battery and jumper cables. The other kind would be too forgiving.

Take 'em all, shove them in a box, light the box on fire.
Dance while it burns.

Anyone got matches?

Later.

Red Shirt.

In every-one's life, there are people who are Red Shirts.

You know the ones I'm talking about.
The expendable guys who go down to the dangerous planet with Kirk & Spock and get turned into a cube or a pile of dust. Their only reason for existence was to keep a seat warm on the shuttle down.

I'm not saying all of us have sacrificed another's life just so Shatner could chew the scenery, but there are those people who are just background noise, just extras walking by your stage of life. People whose misfortunes just further our own life, or at least add an interesting twist to it.

That guy, who did that thing at that party once, and you tell everyone the story when you're drunk? - Red Shirt.

The shitty co-worker you have, who you can complain about to everyone else you work with? - Red Shirt.

The guy you used to hang with in high school until he did something completely retarded? - Red Shirt.

We should stop and thank these people sometime.
Just like Shatner probably thanked the rest of the cast before he went to his trailer for Hookers & Booze, we should thank the extras in our own life.

So next time someone walks by you in a horrendous outfit, or a strange fuckin' haircut, make sure to say "Thanks, you've given me something funny to tell others later." I know they will appreciate it.

And if they are wearing a red shirt?
Then they already know.

Later.

Same Shit, Different Pile.

There are two newspapers that are dropped off at my house twice a week.

They get delivered on the same days (Wednesday & Friday) and are clones of each other.
So on these glorious days, I awake to find my mailbox crammed full of newspapers, fliers, and whatever other thing they've decided to shove in this week. (Crammed may be an exaggeration for two newspapers, but it's a small mailbox.)

The only variation between these two publications is who they are produced by and what advertisements are in them. Some of the photos may be from a slightly different perspective, or what is on the top of the page in one may be on the bottom in another, but they have the exact same news. They don't even try to change it up a bit.

Why the same day every week? Why doesn't one of these publishing giants come out with a Monday edition? Is it too much to ask? The crazy thing is that if something important ever happens in this area on a Friday evening, you can't read about it until almost a week later.
Wouldn't it be great to find out I won the lottery, and was working for a week when I didn't have to.

Normally what I do is read one paper, skim the other on the off chance there is something the first didn't have (Rarely happens), and just go through the fliers once I'm done. (Future Shop first. Always.)

This makes one of the papers completely redundant. If I had a wood stove I would burn it, but I don't, so I lug it out to the recycling area when the pile gets too unmanageable. (Come to think of it, these publishers should be happy I just don't throw that shit in the trash.)

Something is wrong here.
If you can point to the hometown's amazingly high literacy rate, I may grant you the need for two newspapers. But otherwise, lets just trim the fat to one.

Besides, you can just Google everything else, right?

Later.

Consistency.

300 posts.

That's a lot of shit to be throwin' around.

If you go back and check, there are not many days when I didn't post something. (Don't bother checking, take my word for it.)
I'm not saying they are all solid gold, but at least most of them were worth putting out the effort to read.
Some nights it's so hard to come up with something to say, and other nights the thoughts trip over themselves trying to get out of my brain. I need a blog just for the shit I'm thinking of blogging.

I think self-censorship is the biggest thing. What can I say? I don't want this to get deeply personal, but at times it has. I'd prefer to shower you all with my irrepressible wit and charm, but it's tough to find something funny to say everyday. (Unless it's about the Sidekick's inability to use the Spellchecker. That shit never gets old.)

So here's to the next 300.
(It gets better with post 301.)

Later.

Audio Slave.

(Or - What I'm Listening to Right Now, Volume 253.)

There's a bunch of new stuff that I'm listening to right now.

Some of it is new; some is just new to me.
The Sidekick is either going to take credit for the good stuff, or shake his head at the stuff he thinks is shit. But since the rest of you aren't elitist musical snobs, I thought you'd like to hear some of the tunes that are damaging my eardrums right now.

• Keane - Under the Iron Sea: I know the Sidekick is going to hate this. But you know, it's got this great melodic sound to it. Complete chill out music. What can I say? I'm a sucker for British music at times.
• The Raconteurs - Broken Boy Soldiers: I'll give credit where it's due. This album is fantastic. Covers every type of sound you could ask for. I wasn't the hugest Jack White fan, but in this band, it all comes together. Yes, the Sidekick did point this out, but it's so good I would have found it anyway.
• Sam Roberts - Chemical City: Some shmuck posted about this album ages ago, but it just took me a while to get around to listening to it. It's nothing like their first album, but you can clearly hear the evolution of the sound. Lyrically, it's leaps and bounds above the previous album.
  
• Foo Fighters: No particular album, it's just that they have made their way back to my playlist. Lots from In Your Honor, but the back catalog is starting to come out...
  
• Spin Doctors - Nice Talking to Me: Yeah, I think I mentioned this album before, but it's just growing on me. If Keane = Valium, then Spin Doctors = Caffeine. Stumbling upon this album was a great thing.
• Pearl Jam: I haven't stopped listening to these guys since we went to the concert. I think I'm trying to catch up on fifteen years of missed music.
  
• Stone Temple Pilots: I just got them back on my radar. Loving anything acoustic by them, or even if it's Weiland doing a cover in front of Velvet Revolver. I could listen to Purple all day long and not get tired.
  

That's about it right now.
I'm grooving on some Beck as I write this, but we'll see if it makes it back into heavy rotation.

So what are you listening to?
Is there something I'm missing?
I know Hairpiece will tell me I should be listening to the newest beats by Busta Rhymes, but next to that, what can anyone suggest?

Later.

Real Woodsman.

Tonight The Boy and I will undertake our greatest adventure together: Camping.

The thrill of the outdoors, the stillness of mother nature surrounding you, the bonding between a father and son that can only happen with s'mores over a campfire.

But since it's his first time camping, it'll be in the backyard instead of the wilderness. Still, being outdoors and enjoying the experience will be great for both of us. Real men - roughing it the way Mother Nature intended.

But since I don't have a tent, we'll be camping out in the living room. We'll be in a fort made from bedsheets, watching videos all night while eating popcorn. It'll feel like outdoors 'cause I'll shut the lights off, leave a window open, and only use flashlights to go back and forth to the bathroom.

Parental bonding without having to shit in the bushes? I'm all for it.

So until I get a tent, or figure out which tree to plug the DVD player into, this will be camping.

Microwaved s'mores, anyone?

Later.

Questionable Viewing.

I hate to admit it, but during the World Cup, I actually watched a couple of games.

Is something wrong with me?

I didn't watch the whole game every time, but if I was surfing through the channels and came across one, I was glued to the set for about half an hour.
The strange thing? I hate soccer.

I've never really had a taste for it.
I played as a child, but hockey was more violent and exciting. I admire the stamina of any man who can run around for 90 minutes without collapsing, so I'll admit it is fascinating on a physical level. However the game is usually so boring that I can't stand to watch it. The only sport more useless on T.V. is Golf. Or Nascar.

Someone has to explain the fascination of this game to me. I'm convinced that the matches I watched were abnormalities. They were only exciting to watch because of the importance of the matches. I don't think I could watch soccer on a regular basis without slipping into a coma.

And even then, I'm in danger of being head-butted by a crazy Frenchman.

Later.

Funnier Last Month.

I've been spying on all of you.

I have a counter on the site, so I can see if my worldwide dominance has come to fruition yet.
It's great to see that people from Malaysia, Thailand, and the U.K. check out this little piece of Internet real estate on a regular basis.

Unfortunately, less people are realizing exactly how funny I am.
I'm losing readers. The numbers are down.
Sweeps week was not kind, I guess.

What's a guy got to do to get an increase around here?
Don't go thinking I'll actually preform a service or anything.
That's not what you come here for.

I'll admit, this place has no real purpose other than giving me a spot to preach my twisted outlook on the world, but it's somewhat nice to think that other people possibly give a shit as to what I have to say. Or they at least want to laugh at my idiocy. (I'll take either, I'm not picky.)

The sad thing is that if I had erotic literature or naked midget porn this place would get a lot more traffic. But I can't write worth shit, and midgets are scarce in this area so I'll have to stick with what I've been doing.

Unless I can bait a midget trap in the back yard...

Later.

Lapsed Itinerary.

I get frustrated when things don't go as planned.

When I'm obligated to be at a social event at a certain time and place, it annoys me when I arrive and nothing is ready and things aren't organized. It seems obvious that I could have spent the last half hour sitting on my ass instead of rushing to get ready for nothing. If it's not ready now, why did you tell me to be here?
I must admit, it pisses me off, and it shows. My usual pleasant demeanour comes crashing down, and I start to act like ...well, like an asshole.

I'll admit, in hindsight, I was a dick tonight.
I don't think it was overly obvious to everyone, but I wasn't pleasant.

What's the point of respecting other peoples effort and time if it seems that they don't respect yours? I go to the trouble of getting there on time, and then some people have the audacity to show up late? I'm talking major late - I could care less about fifteen minutes or so. Arggghhh. It drives me nuts.

Was I an ass? Kinda.
Was it justified? Maybe.
At least this fucking post is on time.

Later.

Lost Day.

Today went by so fast.
It seemed like I had just got to work and then it was almost time to go home.
I was busy today, but it just felt like the clock was against me.

Once I was home, I figured the night would slow down a bit, but no such luck.
It just feels like I got here and now it's almost time to go to sleep.

I hope the rest of the summer doesn't go by as fast.
If I wake up tomorrow and it's September, I think I'll snap.

Later.

So Ronery

The world seems shocked that North Korea is testing Nuclear Weapons. What arrogance! What audacity!

Hello, did nobody see Team America?

I mean if Trey Parker and Matt Stone can figure out that Kim Jong-il is an evil son-of-a-bitch bent on world domination, then how can the U.S. security forces miss it?

Oh, yeah, right.

Most people figured that the supremely evil person in that movie was Alec Baldwin. I disagree - but not by much.

So what do you do now that they have fired off a couple of rockets? Slap them with a rolled up newspaper? Introduce sanctions and cut them off from the west? Uh, if they cared about being popular at the U.N. they would be in it.

I'm not sure what to do.
Maybe we could ask nice, see if that helps.

Or maybe we could trade them Alec Baldwin....

Later.

Look - Up In The Sky...

I just got back from seeing Superman Returns.
(I know it came out last week, but with my schedule, it's the first time I've been able to see it.)
I expressed my concerns earlier, in this post.
I had nothing to worry about.

That movie was everything I hoped it would be and more.

I watched the original movies the other day- just 1 & 2 because we've already established that I don't believe there were any made after that. You don't have to see those movies to appreciate this one, although you'll enjoy the little nods and slight references to the previous flicks, which makes this films story stand out way above the previous two.

I won't go into detail, because there are probably some people who haven't seen it yet, but I found the story to be quite engaging and the visuals were just stunning. It is a beautiful movie. (I'm a guy, we don't throw the word "beautiful" around a lot, but in this case, it's worth it.)

I felt like a kid again - amazed that a man could fly.

I wanted to rip open my shirt and leap towards the car.
(I just barely restrained myself.)

DVD will not come soon enough.

Later.

Unknown Bonus.

We've just had a really busy weekend at work.
We did some record sales, and everything went smooth as glass.
(I like to think that I had something to do with it.)

So I see my Boss today and he says he wants to talk to me. I'm quickly trying to count the thousand possible things I might have done wrong, but he congratulates me on how smoothly everything went. He then tells me that since payroll is coming up, there's a "little bonus" on there for me, just for all the hard work.

I'm flattered, say thanks and that's pretty much the end of it. I figure payday's coming this week, so I'll see what it is then.

When I get home tonight, I realize that I don't get paid for another ten days. Now I have to wait that long to see what the bonus is, how much it is, if it's a raise or just a bonus, or what the heck is going on. I don't even know if anyone else got a bonus, so I'm not going to run around and ask them. (I prefer to keep all financial stuff kinda private from most at work.) I'm not the kind of guy to ask the Boss what it is or will be either. (I think it puts too much emphasis on the money and that's not right.)

So I'll have to wait it out and see what happens. I'll admit, it's nice to be recognized anyway, and the cash doesn't hurt either. I'm not going to complain about it.

Thing is, this weekend didn't even feel like work, that's how smooth it went. I was busy, but I had a great time. Do I feel any guilt for being rewarded for having fun? Maybe just a little....

But don't tell anyone, Okay?

Later.

Forgiveness.

I forgive you Pearl Jam.
Nirvana? - I'm sorry.
Please tell Soundgarden and Alice in Chains that I've finally come to my senses.
I was a fool.

I blamed all of you for the death of Hair Metal.
I know now that it wasn't completely your fault, it was dying already, and you just kicked the carcass into the ditch. I've held onto the resentment and bitterness for so long now that I was unable to really appreciate what you all accomplished with your music. I've opened my eyes now, and can see how reckless and foolhardy that was. More importantly, I've opened my ears as well, and tried to really listen to what you were all trying to say.

Thanks for being so patient and understanding, I'll try not to let it happen again.

Later.

Underwear? Under There.

Nowadays there are so many choices when it comes to underwear.

I'm just talking about guys underwear. I won't even try to fathom the difficulties involved with shopping for women's underwear. (God, if I was a woman I'd have a horrible time trying to pick out what kind of undergarment to wear. Actually, if I was a woman I'd have a hard time not touching myself all the time.) For the purpose of this discussion, I'll just focus on what's out there for a guy like me.

1. Boxers - Boxers are okay, lots of room for "The Boys" and very comfortable. The only bad thing is that they have a tendency to bunch up when you're putting your pants on, which makes it look like you have tumors erupting from your legs.
2. Briefs- Otherwise known as "Tighty Whiteys". No one over the age of five should be caught dead wearing these things. What's the point? I understand that you can't let "The Boys" swing around all the time, but don't resort to this.
   
3. Boxer Briefs - The best of both worlds. Ebony and Ivory, Sonny and Cher, Beer and Peanuts. The support of briefs, the coolness of boxers. Form and function all in one. Point of fact: They tend not to "ride up" as much, which is a plus in my book.
4. Thong or "Bananna Sling" - No. No. Nononononononono. Never. Unless it was for ridiculous amounts of money. If anyone wears these around under their street clothes, they should be reported to the police, both fashion and conventional. The factory that manufactures them should be nuked from orbit.
5. Freeballin' - "'Cause I'm free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change" Okay, not Freebird. Freeballin' (or Going Commando) is some times necessary, but I would strongly recommend against it. Your risk the chance of either the "Stray Drip" or the even more fearsome "Zipper Entanglement". Even letting "The Boys" out to play isn't worth that risk.
   
   

What's your preferance? Does it matter?

I think I covered all the choices, or at least the general areas. It's obvious which is my favorite, at least the one I wear when I'm not being paid outrageous sums of cash...

Later.

I Am Canadian.

Happy Birthday, Canada.

A great day and an excellent night.
The Fireworks were spectacular.

For 139 years of age, you look really good.
I wouldn't say a day over 120.
You could be partying with those young countries like Armenia and Ukraine.
Must be that beer and hockey diet.
Or coffee and donuts.
Or back bacon and poutine.
Whatever it is, you're lookin' fine.

Great party, we should do it again next year.

Later.