Little Dog.

So today I'm walking to work, enjoying the sun.

As I came around the corner of the road I ended up startling a little dog. There's this big hedge that runs right up to the corner, so I didn't see the dog and he didn't see me. I'm not sure what he was doing before I came around the corner, but by his reaction I think it was either taking a shit or masturbating.

He leaped up in the air, yipped, and started barking at me. All while running away. That's alright - I just kept on walking, figuring the dog would run into the yard it came from and just leave me alone.

If it was only that easy.

This dog stayed about ten feet in front of me, on the sidewalk, barking while running away. It would look over it's shoulder at me and continue to bark - trusting in it's innate dogginess to prevent it from running out into the road.

This goes on for almost a whole block.

As the dog and I pass by this lady in her yard, she looks at the dog (still barking) and then looks at me. The dog is in full force and still heading away from me as fast as it's little legs can carry it. As I walk by the lady she looks at me in puzzlement and asks:

"Is that your dog?"

"Yes" I said to her, "He just really hates me and this is how I take him for a walk."

After another puzzled look, I explain to her that no, it's not my dog and that he's just running away because I spooked him when I came around the corner. Still not comprehending me, I just smiled and walked away.

The dog kept barking.
God I hate that fucking Dog.

Later.

Words of Wonder.

"Sweet Christmas!"

Yep, that's my catchphrase.

I'll admit that I've let it go out of use a little bit now and then, but lately it seems to be coming back with a vengeance. (Especially when I play poker and lose after going all-in.)

Why Sweet Christmas? Well first of all I wanted to be different from what everyone else was saying. I needed to have something that worked for all occasions and tones, and yet had an inside-joke quality about it. (Only comic savvy geeks get the reference.)

So I ripped off the colorful catchphrase of our Favorite 70's Super Hero - Luke Cage, otherwise known as Powerman.

(Side Note: During my Restaurant Management days, I used to use the term "Uglier than my sister" when describing a particularly dirty area, but stopped when she actually started working at the same location.)

Why would a chunky white guy steal the words from a fictional black man? Because I could, that's why. And it's worked out great so far. I normally use it when I'm surprised or startled, but it can work just as well to describe shock and awe. It's a multipurpose term, and a lot can be conveyed just by intonation.

I'd love to see it on a T-Shirt, maybe with "Show me your Power Move" on the back. (Too Geeky? Ya think?) I bet Marvel Comics would sue my ass.

I'd sure say "Sweet Christmas!" when I opened the court documents for that.

So what's your catchphrase?
"Awesome Possum", "Dope-a-lope", "Okilly-Dokilly"?

I got ya all beat.

Later.

Stretched Out.

I've got to give big props to the guy who invented the Rubber Band.

In my day to day work, the only thing I use more of is Paperclips. But ever since that guy traded a Red Paperclip for a house, I feel that they've become overrated, commercialized. Not so the humble Rubber Band.

From its sleek looks and versatile adaptability there seems to be no restrictions as to what one can accomplish with a Rubber Band. Sure, some say that it has limits, but when when one of them breaks it does so with a flourish. Even in defeat, Rubber Bands demonstrate their snappy, can-do attitude.

Rubber Bands are very casual. They just sit in a group, lounging around until needed. Some of them hang out in ball form, like a street gang out for trouble, but they are few and far between. There's no racism in the Rubber Band world, as all the colors do equally well at various jobs. There's not much difference between a Beige and a Purple, (except that Purple looks snazzier.) so there's no hard feelings when one has to wrap around asparagus and one has to steady the dangling testicles of a bull. (Not kidding, this is actual practice.)

As effective as they are at holding things together, Rubber Bands can also tear things apart. Snap your friend's ear with one from an inch away and I bet your friendship falls apart very quickly. (Rubber Bands don't hurt People. People misuse Rubber Bands.) Some insidious deviants have even cobbled together Rubber Band Guns, which could possibly be the worlds most terrible weapon.

Love 'em or hate 'em, Rubber Bands are a fixture of everyday life. You may not think much of them, even take them for granted - but everyone has had at least once in their life when they would just kill to have a Rubber Band. Look around your desk, office, counter or whatever.

Don't you wish you had one now?

Later.

Trade-Off.

I was thinking today....

(Stop right there with the jokes. I do think from time to time.)

In Superman 2, Superman gives up his powers so he can be like Lois and they can have a real relationship. This is either the most romantic or most idiotic thing in the world.

Wasn't almost everything Lois loved about Superman the fact that he was Superman? He is this larger than life icon who happens to be around whenever she decides to fall off The Eiffel Tower or get buried in her car. That's got to be a turn-on for a girl. Why would she want him any other way? You just know that six months after giving up his powers he would have stubbed his toe and she would have been yelling at him not to be such a baby.

Would it have been worth it for him?
First time he got a cold, he would have been thinking "What did I give up those powers for? Sniffles? Headaches? Chronic Diarrhea? I could have dated her with the powers and not have to go through this shit." Well Supes, it's the thought that counts.

Nice Try.

Eventually he had to get his powers back and save the Earth from General Zod, but do you think that he felt bad about it? "Oh, sorry Lois, I can't go back to not having powers, and by the way - let me just kiss you one last time" (The famous amnesia kiss, in case no one remembers.) If you recall, Supes went back to single status after this...

So maybe he's either not that romantic or not that stupid.

Later.

Airplay.

Songs I like that I heard on the radio at work today:

Original Fire- Audioslave.
Barracuda - Heart.
I Can't Say - The Trews.
Some song by The Hip, it was actually good.
Broken Hearted Me - The Trews.
Bridge To Nowhere - Sam Roberts.
Jesse's Girl. - Rick Springfield.
Through Glass - Stone Sour.
Space Between - Dave Matthews.
The Adventure - Angels & Airwaves.
Is It Any Wonder - Keane.
Resolve - Foo Fighters.
Semi Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind

Wow. Thirteen songs in an eight hour shift. There were probably more, if you count the ones I forgot to mention or the ones that were playing while I was on lunch. (Why radio when the iPod is available?) That's about a 15% success rate - if you figure they play about ten songs an hour - which is not bad for radio. I hope they keep it up.

Or someones gonna lose an eye.

Later.

Bizzaro Work.

First day back from the transfer.

If I was going back to what I left, it would have been no problem at all. But since I've been gone there has been almost a 100% turnover in the front end staff,renovations to 95% of the place, a new department has been added, and my department has increased by a factor of five.

And I didn't even get to tackle my area today. I was caught in limbo, working another area while the Number Two guy covered mine. I came close to stabbing people a couple of times.

The amount of people (customers and staff) who came up to me and said they were glad to see I was back was staggering. The fact that some of the customers had thought I was only gone a month or two (ten, actually.) was strange. They must have had me confused with some other charming, chubby guy.

The difficult part of the day wasn't getting used to the new layout or staff, it was mainly getting used to the different attitudes and priorities of the people I was now working with. I was used to everyone being on pretty much the same page. Here it seems like one person has the right idea, but the next guy is off by about 5 degrees. The guy next to him? Out by another 5 degrees, and so on .... Not a problem, really - but eventually you get so that someone out there is way off from what they should be doing.

The sooner I can assert my alpha-male dominance, the better.
These people are also going to have to learn how to laugh and have a good time. If they don't get used to my sense of humor then there is going to be bloodshed. That's only funny if you are the one not bleeding.

We'll see how tomorrow goes.

Later.

Sellout.

Yes, as you can see by the ads above this post, I've sold out to the man.

Go ahead, click it - I dare you.
Earn me money to finance my quest for global commercial dominance. How much money, you ask? Why, I could be earning pennies as we speak!

At this rate, I'll have enough for a pack of gum in about 100 years.
Oh, I can't wait to savor the taste of internet-money gum.

Do you think it tastes like Vanilla?
I hope so.
I sure do love Vanilla gum.

Later.

Famished

I hate trying to decide what to eat every day.

I never have what I want, and usually end up feeling dissatisfied with what I've chosen. Not always, mind you, as I love to grill steaks - but you can't eat steak every day. (I've tried, trust me.) I'm always up for strange stuff, but it's awfully hard to come by sometimes. (Peaches and Fish, anyone?)

I yearn to live in a larger city where your menu items are more varied. It's sad that I get excited to go to the Mall Food Court in Nanaimo just because they have Greek and Japanese food. There is barely anywhere in this town to even eat Mexican.

As for cooking at home, I have no real reason to bitch. If I wanted something bad enough I could just make it, right? The trouble is that my kitchen is a blank spot in the universe. You can go in there with a great idea for dinner, but the minute you open the fridge, you are lost to the world. Whatever idea you had seems to melt away in a haze of leftovers and Tupperware. Pulling yourself away from that yawning abyss leaves you feeling weak and drained, with only enough energy left for warm Ichiban Noodles.

It's not like I couldn't go a day or two with out food. (I am a chubby guy, remember.) But if I don't eat something, I tend to fall under the power of the Donut, and as compelling as it is, you can only answer that siren song so many times.

Now that I've made myself hungry talking about food, I'm going to attempt a try at the fridge. Wish me luck; I'm going to tie a safety rope to the kitchen faucet - I hope it can handle the strain.
If you don't hear from me for a while - make sure you check all containers before throwing them out.

Later.

John Deere, Destroyer Of Worlds.

"The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass - it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself." - Henry Miller

Being a blade of grass must be a bitch.

Out in the sun, frying to a crisp, watered until you are sopping wet, sprayed with chemicals and pesticides, walked on, shit on, and just when you are feeling tall and proud - someone cuts your head off.

What did you do to deserve such treatment? Nothing. All you've been doing is standing in the same spot, putting down roots, chatting with your buddies. Hell I've seen groups of teenagers do the same thing in the lobby of the local McDonald's. ( Oh how I wished I could have whipped out the weed-eater and gone to town.)

Does grass feel pain?

I hope not, because even I would feel a little bit of guilt if I knew that each blade was screaming in agony just so my lawn could look neat and tidy. (Who am I kidding? I would just turn up the iPod and keep on mowing.) The sound must be out of range of the human ear.

What if the revolution comes?

When it does, I'll turn on every one of you. I'll convince our new green overlords that the ones responsible are those bastards at Home & Garden Television, broadcasting their message of hate across the airwaves, sullying the image of a wild and free lawn. I'll even help set the Home Depots on fire, just to prove my loyalty. I'll turn so fast, I'll start producing oxygen.

No one will be safe.

Until then I'll bide my time, and keep mowing.
Has anybody seen my sprayer of Killex?

Later.

Evening Harder.

I've been waiting a long time for this to come out.

I'm not sure if I've commented on this before, but I am a Kevin Smith Junkie. (It's not a man-crush; I don't like him that way.) I own all the movies (can quote verbatim if necessary) and enjoy watching them over and over. Hell, I even get most of the in-jokes that are so abundantly spread out through all his films.

So of course I'm excited that his Q&A series has a sequel, and that it's coming out on DVD November 28th.

So why am I so excited so early? Well, if you've even seen the first Evening with Kevin Smith, you know that it's a complete laugh riot. The guy is full of witty stories, insider information , and he really breaks the silence in regards to his opinion on those celebrities we all know and love.

And it's just funny shit.

Would a guy wearing old-school black and white vans slip-ons (with no socks) on the cover of his own DVD case be anything but funny? Hell - look at it; You know this isn't a movie about fashion. I mean come on, short pants? That's pure comedy right there.

I can't wait.

Later.

Hot Water

I woke up this morning to cold water.

Why, do you ask?

My hot water tank blew up. This not only is a great inconvenience in my daily ritual, but it also means that my plans for a trip to Victoria are cancelled. To compound the problem, I have a gas hot water tank, which I do not have the knowledge or skill set to deal with.

I've replaced electric tanks before. A little bit of plumbing, a bit of wiring, and poof! you are done. But gas? No way am I going near that. The possibility of explosion is too great.

I've got someone to come and deal with it, but they won't be here until tomorrow.

So until then, it's all cold showers.

It's like I'm back in high school all over again.

Later.

Misdirected Communication.

Since I've switched to Telus, I've been getting someone else's mail.

I get my own mail as well, but periodically I get accouncements from webistes and radio staions I've never heard of, addressed to "Mindy". Mindy and I have the same last name, and I guess at one time she did have this email address.

I can forgive some of the spam that she has signed up for in the past, (Country Music? Really, Mindy, come on...) but lately I've gotten wedding pictures and emails from her friends. I reply that this is not her address anymore, and that they should contact her somehow to get a new address, but I still end up getting mail.

I feel like a peeping tom, and it's not even my fault.

When I switched addresses I emailed everyone at least once about the change, and I mailed them after to confirm it. I even switched newsletter and update information to make sure. Your email address is like your property on the Internet. You wouldn't move and not tell anyone where you were going, would you? (Unless Mindy is a fugitive from the law...)

I claim squatter's rights to this address now, and possesion is nine-tenths of the law. If she wants it back, she'll have to fight me for it.

I'll take her on...
I hope she doesn't try to shank me.

Later.

Random Thoughts.

1. I'm beginning to think that due to natural evolution, women will soon lose all feeling in their lower back. I've noticed that most of them seem to show so much ass-cleavage that pretty soon the nerve endings will be affected by exposure to the elements.
2. I've also noticed that most men aren't complaining about that fact.
3. Playing online poker is entertaining. I have never wanted to reach through the screen and hurt someone before, so that's a new thing for me.
4. Some ideas come at the worst possible time. If my hands are full and I have no access to a writing instrument, I will have an epiphany so enlightening that to gaze upon it would blind you. Of course, I forget this as soon as I am able to record it.
5. My disdain for certain "Classic" musicians is almost as strong as the Sidekick's disgust for new ones.
6. That although everyone has seen Star Wars, not everyone gets the casual Star Wars reference. Saying "Slicker than Lando on Bespin." only earns you strange looks in mixed company. Don't even try to mention starting a Galactic Empire...
7. Nobody looks trough the viewfinder on cameras anymore. Ever since digital cameras gave us that little screen on the back, everyone holds their camera as far away from themselves as possible, like they are trying to push the camera onto the image they want. And people wonder why we delete over half of our digital photos.
8. My dishwasher is like a halfway house for wayward dishes. They're not dirty anymore, but odds are they won't make it back to the cupboard before being dirtied again. Some call it a dishwasher, I call it "The Wet Cupboard."
   
9. Does anyone even eat plain donuts anymore? If so, why? I'm not talking about post-dunk, chewy tasty donuts; I'm lookin' at the pre-dunk, dry-as-sawdust donuts. For Christsakes, break down and slap some glaze on that! Name one thing in the world that isn't better with glaze on it. Go ahead - I dare you..
10. I'd like to invent a new sexual position. Something so awesome everyone wants to do it. Then I'll give it a really dumb name. That way in the moment of passion you'll hear " That's it, baby! Swangle me! Swangle me hard! Oh God Yes!" I think that laughter only heightens ejaculation.

Later.

Popeye's Pissed.

Spinach is being recalled all across Canada and the United States.

There is E.coli in there, which means that those who eat it will get very, very sick.

I always thought that Popeye's squinty eye was just astigmatism, and that a early childhood hormonal imbalance was the cause of his freakishly large forearms and Jay Leno-like chin. It seems to me that Popeye wasn't telling us everything about his favorite leafy green vegetable.

If the price he pays for Super-Human strength and endurance is bloody diarrhea and kidney problems, he can just keep that shit to himself. (Pun partially intended.) I think this juice-junkie has toyed with our nutrition for the last time.

Thanks for Spinach Dip and Spanokopitas, Popeye, but no thanks.

Later.

Evil Genius.

If I was a super villain, I'd go against all the norms.

1. I would shoot first and monologue later.
2. I would hire smart henchmen with at least some problem solving skills and decent accuracy on the firing range.
3. My lair would be both fashionable and functional, as demonstrated by The Futon Of Death.
4. I wouldn't cut off my kids hand. (Until after he says he doesn't want to rule the galaxy.)
5. Two words: Safety Rails. If your lair has to be in a cave or space station with large, bottomless holes, I can't stress the importance of safety rails.
6. Keep your eye on the prize. Instead of risking the ransom you've won to kill the superhero, take the money and hire someone else to do it later. Subcontracting is just smart delegation.
7. I wouldn't have a cape. Unless I was a gay Super Villain.
8. My evil plan? I'd keep it to myself. Most likely commit it to memory. Everyone else is on a need-to-know basis.
9. I'd not hesitate to waste the hero's lovable Sidekick or Super-Pet. You just know that'll fuck them up somehow. Advantage? Me.
10. I would not let some grudge from days gone by get the better of me. If the hero wants it to be just me and him, mano et mano - I'd laugh and have one of my more sniper-like lackeys shoot him in the knees while I sipped my latte. (Yes, Evil Masterminds do enjoy a latte now and then.)

Later.

Bad for Business.

I know who really gets pissed after one of these school shootings.

Trench-coat manufacturers.

Since the long black trenchcoat has become the symbol for gun-toting angsty youth, sales of this item would be tricky. There must be the boom years - After Underworld came out, I'm sure there were tons of hot chicks looking for trenchcoats. Same with the Matrix films. But all it takes is one whacked out fucker to get a gun and start using it, and all those sales are gone.

And it's not even your fault.

What can you do when the product you design and sell happens to not only keep you warm and dry, but is able to conceal extremely large automatic weapons? Do you shorten it up, and lose all the sales once people's knees start getting wet?

I think that you should have two options when purchasing a trenchcoat. For one, if it's brown or beige, I think you should get a discount. However, to buy the black ones you should have to pass some sort of rigorous mental test, designed to weed out the crazies. If you fail the test, you can still buy the jacket - but it has "Possible Gun-Happy Freak" in large white letters on the back.

I'm sure that by taking the pro-active approach the industry can hope to avoid any backlash after the next incident. Hopefully that never happens again, but if it does, maybe the uniform will have changed. (It would be easier to spot the nutjobs if they all wore pink tutus.)

Later.

Lack of Space.

I'm running out of space.

You know, when I got the iPod just a few short weeks ago , I looked at it and said "Two Gigs? - I'm never going to fill that." You must realize that I was coming from a 512mB player; I thought that I had scads of room.

That was before my well-documented BitTorrent addiction and almost obsessive-compulsive searching for new music. I could fill two Gigs in my sleep now.
I'm already rotating some songs and albums in and out of play, but it's getting tedious. It's to the point now that I have to clear stuff I know I want to hear - just to listen to something new. That's like asking me which testicle I'd like to get rid of so I can try on a pair of socks. (Trust me, it's a fitting analogy.)

Do I need a bigger iPod? Yes.
Can I afford it? No.
Should I trade a red paperclip for one? Can't. It's already been done. (Plus red paperclips are hard to come by, treasure what you've got.)
Maybe I'll sell myself on the street - That'll be good for a buck-fifty.

Later.

Lost & Found.

I lost my work keys today.

Who cares, you say?
I do.
Not only are having the keys a requirement to do my job, but the keys are a symbol of the power that I wield at work. A visible item that people can look at and recognize. Me without my keys is like Superman without his cape or Darth Vader with out his lightsaber.

I felt naked for most of the day.

Forget naked - I felt impotent and emasculated. Useless. I might as well just skipped out on work for the day. Oh sure, I'd get called to perform some task or approve a function, and then be disregarded because I was key-less. It was like I was a common employee. (No insult intended to any common employees out there.) It drove me nuts.

Thankfully by the end of the day, the keys were located at home. It's strange - I put my keys in only two places. I'm very obsessive about that. If they are not in one place, they are in the other. For them to be in a completely different spot, in a jacket that isn't mine, just seems odd.

And now I have them back - and all shall tremble before me and my mighty keys.
Together, my keys and I will rule the Galaxy.

But now I can look back and laugh at it all.
Maybe I'll look fondly on this event.
Maybe I'll have learned something from it all.
Nah.

Later.

Genesis.

In the beginning, God created the Earth and Sky.

After that, it all went to shit.

I know it's a general statement, it's just the best I can come up with right now.

Later.

Farewell Tour.

I'm being transferred again.

Back to the old digs, which is now the new, shiny, fully updated digs.
When I posted this, I was hesitant about leaving my comfort zone and going somewhere different. Now I'm doing the same thing all over again.

I really enjoy where I am now.
The people are great and I'm doing well - no complaints about my performance or anything. But once again I think that my abilities are being hyped, as I believe they expect me to do wonders with staff morale where I'm going. It's almost the same thing as when I went to this location, and I seemed to pull that off nicely, so who knows.

The pros are that I'll be closer to home, able to walk to work (iPod at the ready of course,) and able to go to the gym on my lunch hour again. That will be great.

The cons? I'd rather not get into all of them, as nobody but me really cares anyway, but the fact is I'll be leaving a place where I'm known by all and going to a place where I'm only known to a few. Getting new people accustomed to my way of thinking is always tricky business. Plus the lunchroom where I am now has a couch, and where I'm going has no couch. If I could take the couch with me, it would ease the pain just a smidgen.

So I have three more days of work left - my last day is Saturday - and then I go on holidays for a bit. When I get back, I'm in the new location. I'm glad that I have the holiday "buffer" - I think going from one place to the other would be a little bit too much culture shock for me.

Wish me luck, I think I'll need it....

Later.

9/11.

I looked back through my archives and I realized that I've never posted anything in regards to my thoughts on September 11th.

Some news stories and people will say "The events of September 11th, 2001." But I think if you just say 9/11 or September 11th, everyone knows exactly what you are talking about. You don't have to specify if you are referring to the Towers, Flight 93 or the Pentagon - Most people just lump it all under that one phrase.

I'm not going to talk about what I saw that day or how it unfolded for me, because that's all anyone has talked about for the last four years. I'd rather give you some thoughts I have on the disservice done to the memory of those who died that day.

Disservice?
Yeah, I said it - and here's why.

1. Why is Osama Bin Laden still running around out there? Once you publicly identify the main perpetrator in these crimes, why do you allow him to run free? All you are showing the world is that you are weak and ineffectual, and that one man can make a stand against your nation and not have to deal with the repercussions of his actions.
2. Why did the American government feel it was necessary to use the events of that day to justify the actions they are involved with now? In most of the things I've read in the papers, any talk about why they are in Iraq is answered as being part of the War on Terror. Since the Terror argument is a direct result of September 11th, you are indirectly telling people that is why you are there. I'd feel pretty shitty if someone killed my family, the cops knew who it was, and just used my loss as an excuse to bust a kid siphoning gas down the block.

I'm not an American. It's not my country that was directly attacked. But I'm not so naive as to believe that terrorists do not view us in the same light as our neighbors to the south. Yes, as Canadians we do not have the same heavy handed approach to foreign policy as the Americans do, thus we look better than them - but we don't do anything to protest or prevent the way they do things, thus we are lumped in the same group as them.
The attacks on that day were aimed at America, yet they were a warning to us all.

Unfortunately everything has gone to the shitter since then. At one time, all of America was focused on bringing down the people or governments responsible for what happened. The support for the Government was never higher. But now it's all fucked up; the country is divided and there is no faith in the Government to do the right thing.

Do I have the answers? No.
Do I feel that the chance we as a society had to capture and punish those responsible for these attacks has passed us by? Yes.
That's the disservice right there. Allowing that chance to slip away is one of the worst things a nation could do to the surviors and those left behind.

Later.

Congestion.

Is there a Doctor out there?

I'm having a little problem.
(Not that - get your mind out of the gutter.)

For the past couple of days I've had the Sniffles. I'm not sure if that is the medical term for it, but it's the only one I know. The constant running of my nose - like someone turned a tap on in my sinus cavities.
Sniffles I can deal with. The only downside is that I'm walking around rubbing my nose and snorting like a coke friend on the last bender before rehab. (I envy the coke fiends sometimes. So skinny.)

But now only one nostril is functioning. I'm running at 50% capacity.
The other? Who knows - it's closed up like a Chinese border.

I'm going to treat this like most men my age treat any type of illness.
Completely ignore it and hope it goes away.
Oh sure, I could try medication, but wouldn't that make me look like less of a man? Forget that shit. I'm just going to go on with my daily routine, and the only addition to that routine will be the constant bitching I'm planning on doing.

I'm sure the Ancient Greeks or Romans had ways to deal with this type of thing. They must have just ran around in their togas drinking until the evil spirits were flushed from their body. It sounds like a good plan, but at this time I just don't think it's feasible. I envy them - that was real medicine. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.

But like I said, I'll probably just ignore it until it goes away.
However, if you see me all boozed up in a sheet, you'll know I'm doing my damnedest to beat this thing.

Ah-choo.

Later.

Cooked Bread.

I'm a huge fan of toast.

Bread's okay - it's good for feeding to pigeons and making french onion soup, but it takes on an extra zest when exposed to heat. Notice I didn't say that bread was good for sandwiches - it is, but any sandwich can be made instantly better by being on toast. (Or toasted after, whatever works.)

People can be picky with the topping they put on their toast; some people I know get offended if you suggest anything but butter. (Boring.)
Jams, jellies, spreads. There are whole aisles of your local grocery store devoted to toast. I'm not entirely picky, as I like to vary the toppings from time to time. I just realized I've never tried cream cheese on toast, I've always left it for bagels.

Now I'll have something else to try tomorrow.

What bread to I prefer to subject to heat and transform into heavenly, yet decadent toast?

I used to be a whole wheat fan, but now I change it up and go with the whole grain breads. Something about crunching into your toast and watching a whole seed shoot out is extremely satisfying.
When in a restaurant, I order sourdough bread about 98% of the time. I say 98% just because sometimes they don't have it, and sometimes I just forget. Toasted sourdough with jam or even just butter is divine. (Yes I said divine. Straight guys can use that word too, you know.)

Don't be afraid of toast.
It can be breakfast, a snack, accompanying a meal, or the meal itself.
Love Toast. Appreciate Toast. Embrace Toast.
Just not right after it pops up - it's hot then.

Later.

Out Of Style.

This place needed a change.

After 365 posts and a year and a half in real life, it was time.
I wanted something simple, yet outside the Blogger norms.
(There is no way I could have done this on my own - I just went looking for templates.)

Bish - tell me what to change to get the Title Dark Blue instead of Orange and I'll buy you a donut next time you are up. (By Dark Blue I mean the color of the Sidekick's car.)

I may change it again, but we'll see how she holds up under repeated use.

Let me know if you like it or not.

Later.

Close Shave.

I enjoy the feel of my face after I shave.

I feel clean, young, and shiny - for lack of a better word.

I still keep the pseudo-goatee I have, if only because the last time I shaved it off, my face felt horrendously cold. But cheeks and neck are completely deforested now.

I shave in the shower, as it saves time and just feels comfortable. Must be the gallons of water all around. Shaving over the sink seems dry and scratchy, and is only done when absolutely necessary. After shave? Sometimes - nothing really smelly though. No point in looking this good if you are going to emanate the odor of a Froot Loop. (Even though my spellchecker hates it - that is the correct spelling.)

As much of a pain in the ass as shaving can be, it's something you have to keep up on. The only guy who looks good with three days stubble is Indiana Jones, and I left my bullwhip and fedora in the other washroom.

Later.

Animation Inflammation.

I used to watch Cartoons as a kid.

Yeah, I watched Super-Friends, Astroboy, and even G.I. Joe.

G.I. Joe was more of a weekday fix. I'd watch before school started, after I got out of the shower. My timing was never right, so I'd have to sit through ten or fifteen minutes of My Little Pony before I was able to get any "Yo Joe!" action. Talk about awkward. After masturbating furiously in the shower - to have to sit and watch rainbows and magic saddles? (I consider it a miracle that I'm not messed up sexually.) Thank God it only went on daily for about three years.

But I'm getting sidetracked.

I have a lot of respect for those memories. (Not of the shower...) However, they are not the world to me. It amazes me how some people get so worked up when Hollywood tackles a beloved childhood memory.
In various spots on the Internet I have seen rumblings about the Transformers movie that is scheduled to come out next year. Some of the designs of the characters have been leaked and some of the fans are in a bit of an uproar over the way their cherished characters have been adapted for the newer audience. To them I say: Chill The Fuck Out.

It is incredibly hard to take a piece of animated work and turn it into something watchable as live action. That's why the Comic Book Movie success rate still only hovers around 65%. Even in this age of massive CGI, making what may be pure crap look good is challenging. (If the Star Wars prequels didn't have Ewan as Obi-Wan, I think the whole shebang would have sucked. Even with, there are some terribly weak moments.) So CGI and design isn't everything. The story has to be there.

You can't go into anything nowadays and experience that same wonder you had when you watched it as a kid. You are a different person now, and most of us look back on the past through rose colored glasses anyway. Sure, I fondly remember watching G.I. Joe on those mornings before school, always amazed at how they were able to defeat battalions of Cobra tanks without a single fatality - but I always seem to forget the fact that most of the time I was in a post-orgasm glow, and anything would have seemed great at the time.

So I suggest to those that are skeptical or even hostile of Hollywood's productions of their favorite shows:
Try to go in with an open mind and appreciate the time and effort that went into the film, and try to understand that they are attempting to bring in new viewers who may not know all the history or characters. These new viewers are the ones who will guarantee the future success of your cherished memory.

Or Jerk Off just before you go in the theater; everything will seem great then.

Later.

Felonious History.

I busted a couple of shoplifters the other day.

Sure, they were small kids and didn't take much, but I nabbed 'em just the same. Called the parents and had them write out letters of apology - pretty light, but I don't think they needed to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I gave 'em a bit of a lecture, just to set them back on the straight and narrow.

If they only knew....

My friends and I used to be the biggest bunch of pre-teen shoplifters ever to hit the aisles. Our group used to steal bags of stuff from our local grocery store, and get away clean.

We used to have a system.
We'd ask for a bag, "Because ours ripped" and would take it down an aisle - usually pop and chips - snack aisle stuff. After stashing the bag we'd leave the store for about an hour or two. (During this time we would spend whatever lunch money we had been given at the arcade. We knew we weren't going to go hungry.) Later we'd go back and position watchers at the ends of the aisle, while one guy loaded up the bag. Throw on some cat food and milk, and it looked like we were good kids doing the shopping for our poor mothers.

Of all the times we did this, not one of us ever got caught.

There were about four or five of us in on it, and we would rotate on who would go in and who would stay outside, so that it was never the same group twice. (Criminal genius's at such a young age. And they say television never teaches you anything.) We changed tactics all the time, employing backpacks and other carriers instead of bags, and even using distractions in other parts of the store to reach the really valuable items to pre-teen boys: Batteries, Smokes, and Porno Mags.

This went on for months, and I can't even begin to estimate the dollar value of all the stuff we stole. But eventually it a came to and end, and all it took was a pack of gum.

My friend Scott (No point in changing the name - he's not ever going to see this.) decided one day that he wanted some gum. (I seem to recall it being Root-beer Bubblicious, but don't quote me on that.) We headed into the store, and he proceeded to swipe it, then go look at the magazines. I decided to wait outside for him, which was a good thing on my part as they nailed him as soon as he walked out the door. Like any good compatriot, I bolted and left him to rot. Parents were called, punishment was issued, and like a true friend, Scott never brought my name into it. (I almost feel bad for leaving him hanging like that.)

Seeing one of our own get caught made all of us realize that we were playing a dangerous game, and it was time to quit stealing.
From that store.
The petty theft continued a bit, but we were now so paranoid and self conscious that we couldn't really pull it off. Self-retirement was our only option.

Looking back, I know it was just a phase. It's best that it ended when it did, before we graduated into car-jacking or somethinng really dumb.

So I took it easy on the kids I caught, just because I could see myself in them. However, if I catch any of them again....

Later.

Fingers & Toes.

Look at your hands.

Do you like them?

I'm pretty ambivalent towards mine.
It's not that I don't find them useful; typing stuff out each night would be tough if they were not there. (Can you imagine typing with your wrists? Jkkjl dibdsd - that's what it would look like.) It's just that I don't find anything interesting about them.

I was told once I had hands like a girl.
(This by a person who was in the hand-industry, so it's even twice as damning.) I was slightly offended at the time, but now I really don't care. Does that mean I have fine, delicate fingers? (Oh yeah, baby, you should see the things these fingers can do..) I'll try to take it as a compliment. Who wants ugly hands? Or fat hands that can only hold fried chicken?

I'm more impressed with my feet. They are perfectly proportioned, no odd toes or weird angles, and everything lines up like it should. I look great in a pair of socks. I have no interest in other peoples feet, so don't even go there with those type of thoughts.

The thing that I find most fascinating is that they carry my weight. That's good enough for me.

So next time you are washing your hands, or look down in the shower, (Not at that. Lower. On the floor.) take the time to look at your appendages. Inspect them. Scrutinize them. Judge them.

Tell me what you see.

Later.

Bad Day.

Had a bad day at work today.

It was a day in which I felt I was like a record player; repeating myself over and over, except I was moving at 45 rpm and the rest of the world was at 33. (Warning! I just made a reference to a record player - many of you will not have had any contact with these in your lifetime. Some of your fancy DJ's will call them "Turntables", but at the end of the day it's just a wheel that spins a vinyl disk. First person to ask what vinyl is gets a pen in the eye.)

I think my two main sources of frustration are ignorance and apathy.
If you don't know - learn. If you don't care - leave. I got no time for you either way.

Thank God there are the little things that make up for the shittyness of the day.

Coffee - If I didn't have coffee someone would die.
A person on the other end of the line to vent to.
Muffins - Coffee's natural partner.
A hug from the Boy when I get home.

After a day like today it is nice to blog and let the stress of the day pour out through the keyboard. So in that sense, all of you have helped me too. (Don't wait for a thank-you, that's as mushy as I get.)

The day is ending, tomorrow is another.

Here's to hoping that one doesn't suck too.

Later.

Vicious Circle.

I've got to stop repeating myself.

I was all fired up to write a post bitching about something, (it's not important now) and start to type away. The words pour onto the keyboard at a speed only surpassed when I'm writing about porn and then, mid-sentence, I stop.

"I've wrote this before", I thought.

Sure enough, I check back over my posts, (359!) and you bet, I've bitched about this exact topic before. I had to delete what I had. I can't force you, fine readers, to read re-hashed material. You come here for fresh, crisp ideas and sparkling commentary, and to serve you warmed-over opinions is just not going to happen.

I've got standards, dammit.

So let this tide you over for a bit.
This guy is way funnier than me, and I bow to his greatness.

Later.

Passing Notes.

I got a text message today.

I'm not a big cell phone kinda guy, and the phone I have I don't use all that much, so receiving any kind of message is a big deal. I'm not going to tell you what it said, (As it's none of your goddamn business,) but it did make me think.

You know what it reminds me of? Passing notes in class.

You don't have a lot of space, so you have to state what you are going to say in the most concise terms possible. When I passed notes in class, it was on minuscule bits of paper that made a microdot look unwieldy. I was able to fold that fucker so tiny that it was like most of it's mass went into another dimension.

And just like in class you don't want anyone to see what is being passed. As I was checking my message, someone was walking by, and I hid that text like I was hiding National Security secrets. Nosy bastards.

It's a pain to type anything on those keys, but in time I'm sure it could be mastered. I've seen some of the people I work with do it, and they seem to have no difficulties. I refuse to use that damn shorthand shit, (C U L8Tr?) as I think it would make any message you send sound stupid.

And the last stupid note I passed in class was one of those "Do you like me - yes/no". After that, all my notes were works of art. (I mentioned my origami talents earlier).

And the Teacher never saw.

Later.

Kick Ass.

I'm trying out a new coffee blend this morning, trying to jump-start my already over-caffeinated heart.

Switching coffee blends is similar to switching prescription drugs. You can't just stop using one and go on to another, the change may be too jarring for your system. I find it best to do a couple of brews that are half & half; part old mixture and part new, that way there's a transition, a "buffer zone" to minimize any problems you may encounter.

So far it's working well - my heart is only thudding in my chest at 147 beats a minute. That's up a couple of beats, it must be the brew. At least it still proves I have a heart. (I wonder myself sometimes.)

Why that particular title? That's because it's called Kick Ass Coffee.
I mean, how can you not want to try that out?

Later.