Consultation.

Today seemed to be a day of questions.

It felt like everyone wanted to know my opinion on every little thing.

It's tricky - some people you can be brutally honest with because there is no cost to you. If you hurt their feelings with your opinion, it doesn't affect you at all. Then there are the ones you can be honest with, but have to watch how you say it so that nothing impacts you negatively. (Most of the time this is just simple tact.)

The best opinions are from a third party.
You may think you are hot, your wife/girlfriend/whatever may think you are hot, but it's catching that strange girl on the street checking you out that makes it all come together.

I did my best and phrased my opinions well.

Now where is my Consultant's Fee?
Xtra-Large, Three Cream - One Sweetener, please.
And throw a Cruller in there for the hell of it.

Later.

Taxes.

So I'm doing my taxes.

I do them by hand, with a pencil and calculator. My taxes are pretty basic stuff, no outrageous deductions or shady loopholes. (Although trying to claim a Swedish Nanny as an "Entertainment" deduction has crossed my mind.)

The Government and I have a good thing going. Every year I do my taxes, and they send me money. I then take this money and use it to pay off other debt. Sometimes I even use it to by an RRSP. (Oh no! Thinking about the Future!)

I have been tempted in the past to use those fancy software programs to do my work for me, but in the end I always have my trusty pencil. It doesn't have to be upgraded, requires little maintenance, and the software running it (while out of date) still runs well on the old machine. Plus I can use the pencil to scratch that itch in the middle of my back. Try and do that with your computer.

I've got to get back to filling out these forms.
The quicker I send them in, the sooner I get my fat Government cheque.

Now lessee....carry the 2 and divide by 6.25...
Forty Million Dollars? I think I must have missed something....

Later.

NerdChecker.

Google spellcheck is a closet comic book geek.

Why, do you say?

I have three spellcheckers on when I blog. (Yay for redundancy!) Google's, the one that Blogger provides, and the one that is built into Firefox. Of these three, only Google was able to catch my misspellings of Kryptonite, Spider-Man, and Galactus. (I only misspelled because I was trying to type fast, not because I'm retarded.)

Like Google needed to do anything else to win my undying affection.

(I'm such a nerd.)

Later.

Outlook.

I was told today that when anyone asks how you are doing, you should reply with "I'm Perfect."

The reason?

They tell me that the simple projection of confidence and self assurance will make you appear perfect and in essence command perfection from your life.

Horseshit.

I can go around and tell people how perfect I am and they wouldn't believe a damn word I said. (I know, I've tried.) How can you say you are perfect when you obviously aren't? What if you just had a shitty day, were late for work, and someone stole the seat off your bike? Will telling relative strangers that you are perfect make you on time and put the seat back on ?

I didn't think so.

I think that toning it down a little may be in order. You don't have to be honest and say that life sucks, but just aim a little lower - say "aight". (At least the ghetto white kids will know you're okay.) It's not to high and it's not too low. No one can be Perfect all the time.

As for me?

I've said before that I tell people I'm perfect, but that is only true 98% of the time.
The other 2%?
That's when I'm losing at Poker.

Later.

Please.....

Don't Use A Baby's Head In Your Sandwich.

Later.

Vehicular Conundrum.

I see trouble in my future.

I've said it many times: I'm a Coffee Whore™.

My coffee selection when around town is pretty much Tim Horton's. Forget coffee at The Arches; I wouldn't wash my car with that stuff.

Since I have the boys in the car, I go for the Drive Thru. That way I don't have to get them in and out of the car for just a coffee. (Parenting Rule #254: Avoid repeated removals from Car Seats - it will only make them angry. Pay at the Pump and Drive Thru are your friend.) I'm not one of those retarded parents who leaves the kids in the car when going in business establishments.

But they are building a new Starbucks in town. And it has a Drive Thru.

I love Starbucks.
Grande White Chocolate Mocha?
Yesthankyouverymuchplease.

Now that I will have access to them in my preferred method of pickup, I think that my loyalty to Tim's might just waver. (I will acknowledge that I can get 3 XL at Tim's for the price of 1 Grande at Starbucks. Money will be a factor.) Timmy's will be my Chicken Soup and Starbuck's my Spicy Tomato. God help me.

It'll be nice to be able to treat myself.

I'm tempted to try and be the first guy through the Starbuck's Drive Thru - Pop it's Cherry, so to speak. I'm a Starbuck's Drive Thru Virgin myself, so we can consummate our love enjoy our first time together.

It'll be magical.

The only weird part?
The kids will be in the back seat.
"Why are you moaning like that, Daddy?"

Later.

The Resurrection.

I'm very faithful when it comes to charging my iPod.

I do let it run down to maintain battery life, but never have I let it run so low as to forcibly shut down. When I did get a chance to charge it, iTunes wouldn't even recognize it for about ten minutes. When it finally did pop up into the iTunes panel, I let out an audible sigh of relief.

My cell phone? I'll let that sucker die a thousand deaths before I charge it.
My iPod?

Never again, baby.
Never again.

Later.

Painting With Broad Strokes...

Just got back from the late showing of Ghost Rider.

I said to the Sidekick right after:

"People who like Nascar are going to love Ghost Rider."

There is nothing wrong with this statement or the movie itself. If you like flames, skulls and fast moving objects this movie is exactly what you are looking for.

Plot? Whatever.
Shakespearean dialog? Not here.
Skulls and flames? Oh hell yeah.

I was prepared for the bike to only turn left.

Later.

Pancakes!

Today is National Pancake Day at IHOP.

If you go into any participating IHOP, they will give you a free short stack of pancakes. (I believe a suggested donation to charity is all they ask.)

Next to Donuts, breakfast is my next Food Kryptonite. (Ask the Sidekick about The Grand Forks Breakfast.) Luckily the nearest IHOP is about 6 hours away, so I am unable to partake of this joyous occasion. If there was one in town, I would be found passed out somewhere between there and Tim Horton's. (God forbid if they were side by side.)

I'm with them in spirit, though.

I can almost taste the syrup.
(So Hungry....)

Later.

Dropping The Ball.

I don't make mistakes often.

At work, that is.

I'm actually pretty good at my job. I'm on-time, organized, responsible, quick thinking and able to adapt. (I'm like a dream resume poured into bone and sinew.)

Which is why it bugs me so much to have not one, but two errors pointed out to me. One was something I forgot to do, and the other was a miscommunication on my part which resulted in some confusion for other people.

Oh, the woes of perfection.

I'm harder on myself than anyone else could be. There were no repercussions because some of the people I work with were flabbergasted that I actually made a mistake. It was chocked up to "You must have just had an off day - that's not like you." (See what I mean about how good I am?) I did accept full responsibility and admit fault. That is so unlike me. (The admitting fault part.)

But I shook it off and finished my tasks.
Tomorrow is another day, after all.

....And it's my day off.

Later.

Hard Times.

It's tough to be an Avalanche fan right now.

This team is usually well on the winning side of .500 at this time of the year, and well on their way to securing a solid playoff berth.

But due to inconsistent goaltending and periodic injury, it's been a rough year for my Avs. I'm starting to think they won't make the playoffs. I still think that they can do it, but I do have my doubts.

I just finished watching them lose to the Canucks. Being an Avs fan in B.C. is like being a leper in a nudist colony. I don't mind them losing so much, but does it have to be to Vancouver? I took enough heat from the rabble around here over the Steve Moore incident, do I have to get it this year?

People love to see the mighty fall, and I've found out that they like to kick you when you are down as well.

But revenge will be sweet, I tell you. The Avs are going to pull their shit together down the stretch, Theo's going to be a wall in between the pipes, and come playoff time heads are going to roll.

You just wait and see...


But I'm not putting money on it.

Later.

Return Policy

I sometimes think that dealing with the public is to much for me. The human race as a whole is getting more insipid and ignorant, and I'm starting to lose my sunny outlook and positive demeanor.

Take tonight for instance. I have a customer come in tonight to return a product. No problem right? A customer service specialist's dream.

• The product was not in any packaging - original or otherwise.
• He didn't have a receipt, till tape, debit slip, nothing.
• He didn't have anything identifying the product as being bought from us.
• He was also rude from the start.

I politely inform him that without any proof of purchase or even any packaging, there is nothing that I can do for him.

He then proceeds to tell me that it's bullshit that he drove all the way here and that I won't do anything for him. I told him it's not that I won't do anything, it's that I can't do anything. I would love to help him if he had any proof of purchase, anything at all. Heck - if he would have shown me that he had spent any money at the place I would have helped him. But to just hand out stuff without anything to show my bosses is against company policy.

He then stormed off in a huff.

I don't think I was unreasonable, and trust me, I am way more polite in person than the above testimony sounds. I was following company policy. Name one retailer that you can go to without a receipt or even a package that'll give you your money back. I can't think of any. It just doesn't happen that way.

But people who refuse to see the other side of that issue are what frustrate me. The guy tries to make me feel like an ass just for doing my job. Listen buddy, if you would have stopped and thought for thirty seconds before you got into your car, we would be having a much nicer conversation.

It's not my fault you are retarded. Blame God for that.

Next, please. (Big Fake Smile™)

Later.

The Show Still Goes On...

I'm tired of Anna Nicole.

I feel bad that she passed away, and the tragic circumstances of her death and what she has left behind is saddening.

But enough already.

We (the General Public) don't need to know every single detail or every single moment. What is going on with her body? Let me know when they bury her. The paternity scandal in regards to her new baby? Put out a blurb in the paper when it's all said and done.

I don't need to see this shit, or have to sit through it to see some real news. (I'm looking at you CNN.) I get home tonight and flip the news on to see what is happening in the world, and CNN has some guy on explaining how they are going to embalm Anna's body. Why do we as a people need to know this?

I'm sure that James Brown's will, estate and history were just as fucked up as Anna Nicole's. It wasn't all over the news on a 24-hour basis, though. I theorize that there are a few different reasons for this:

• James Brown didn't have 38"DD tits.

Okay, I only came up with the one.

But the world as we know it loves a train wreck, and from what I glimpse while trying to find real news, this one is a doozy. The media is going to drag this one out for a long time.

Wake me when it's over.

Later.

Needs More Riboflavin.

I've been trying to (somewhat) watch what I put into my body lately. I've been avoiding the more refined and processed foods and trying to watch the sugars and stuff that I ingest.

(Don't even talk to me about Donuts. They are a once-in-a-while treat that I have to have. They are what prevents me from going mad and stabbing people. It's either them or smoking again.)

Have you ever really looked at an ingredients list?

Working where I do, I get to see them all the time.

It scares me how some people are oblivious to serving sizes when reading ingredients. They seem shocked when they see a can of soup with 1009 grams of sodium per serving. Tell them that a can is two servings and then you see their jaw drop.

They actually believe that the numbers the company is showing them is the whole truth. The numbers are right, but check out the average serving size. That bag of chips? About 12 servings.
(Once again - Donuts are above the law when it comes to serving size. )

Take a look at a Hungry-Man Dinner - boasting "Over a pound of food!" it's 455 grams - 1 gram over a pound. They aren't technically lying, but they are counting on people's ignorance and gullibility.

Thank God I haven't been eating any of that crap.

So I take a little longer to pick stuff up at the store now, and I'm usually seen squinting at some can or package. But in the end (and around the waist) it's all worth it.

Later.

All You Need Is Love...

Valentine's Day.

When you are to take the feelings you are supposed to have all year and cram it into one day of whatever you can come up with.

It's 50% creativity and 50% desperation.

Ever see that episode of The Simpsons when Apu goes apeshit for Manjula and makes every other guy in Springfield look like a schlub?

That's what Valentine's Day is.
It's all about overcompensation.

I always preferred Homer's way of thinking: "Marge, we're getting some drive-thru and we're doin' it twice!"

That bald Casanova...
He's my inspiration.

Later.

The Tragic Demise Of The Double Folded Bag.

When I was doing my Front Counter Service training at The Arches (oh so many years ago) there was one thing that was relentlessly drilled into our young teen-aged minds.

It's all about Presentation, baby.

When you handed that bag to the customer, be it over the counter or through the window, it had better be double folded and the logo should face the customer. Not only were you handing them their food, you were presenting them a branded package that was also going to keep whatever they had ordered in it's best shape for the journey. The double fold was like a magic insulator that helped to keep the burger warm and the fries golden brown.

Ah, The good 'ol days.

I wonder what happened to them.

Standards must have slipped, because whatever food service place I go to now they just seem to crumple the bag and hand it to you. They no longer care about the final look of the product. Once they have your cash they forget about closing the deal. They don't even care if the food stays hot - I've had food handed to me in a wide open bag, with all the precious heat and moisture venting out the top. (The meal would have been lost if it wasn't for my considerable folding skills.)

I long for the days when presentation mattered and people had pride in the product they served. The loss of the Double Fold may not seem like much, but it's a fearsome harbinger of what is to come.

- And it has to be a fold.
Rolling the top of the bag? That's just fucking lazy.

Later.

Old Reliable

In this world of FoodTv, haut cuisine and celebrity chefs, I'm astounded to see how many people still get down with the ol' Mac & Cheese.

At Work I witness it's power on a daily basis. It doesn't matter if it's frozen, deli made, or straight from the box, people eat the stuff like it's the food of the Gods.

I can't stand it myself.

I have eaten it in the past, but only as a means of last resort. Believe it or not, the few times I have had to eat it, I prefer the box stuff over any-one's homemade. (I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings Mom, but it's the truth.) People add strange shit to their homemade stuff, and that makes it even more unbearable.

I've seen people try to camouflage it's taste as well. Dump ketchup on it, add diced tomatoes to it, put cut up hot dog in there, whatever works. My question is: Why? If it tastes so shitty, why are you eating it in the first place? And suck it up, it's a box of macaroni, not filet mignon. Don't bother trying to dress it up.

And I can say that it's not a class thing, either. I've seen poor people holding a box and looking at it like it was the finest meal they are going to have, and right behind them is an obviously loaded guy buying half a case. It takes all kinds.

I'm sure it must just be a matter of convenience. A quick and easy meal that you can just choke down.
Please don't tell me people eat it for the taste.

I don't think I can take the thought of that.

Later.

Justification.

I can smell a donut from 150 yards away.

They are my greatest nemesis.

They are an enemy, a lover, an abusive relationship with mindblowing make-up sex.

I can't seem to stay away.

I think the whole basis I have for repeatedly going to the gym is so that I'm able to periodically eat Donuts and not weigh 350 pounds. That's it. Forget the health benefits and the fact that it's just good for you. I do it so I can eat sugary glazed crullery goodness. It's on par with smoking while you play sports. ( I used to do that too. Ask the Sidekick.)

I have Trivia for mental masturbation.
I have Poker for competitive masturbation.
I have Donuts for appetite masturbation.

And we all know what the right hand is for...


Holding Donuts.
(With a firm grip.)

Later.

Laughing My Ass Off.

The Sidekick mentioned a show called Robot Chicken the other night.
I was curious and bored (a dangerous combination) so I decided to check it out.

Funny Shit.

Some of my Favorites:

• Calvin and Hobbes.
• Grand Theft Mario.
• Star Wars - (If you will only watch one, make it this!)
• Transformers.

Thanks Buddy, I'll be watching YouTube all night now.

Later.

No Parking.

Let's give Rats the credit they deserve.

Put those little fuckers in a maze with a piece of cheese and sooner or later you are going to have a happy, well fed Rat.

Maybe Rats should be parking our cars.

I find that anytime I go into any parking lot in town, it's a clusterfuck. People are going the wrong way, trying to put a F-350 into a "small car" zone, and generally just causing mass chaos. My blood pressure rises just watching these assholes at work.

It's because people are fucking lazy.

Is it really that troubling to have to walk a little bit farther to get to the store you want to go to? Do you feel it's imperative to hold up all the traffic behind you so you can wait for that person to give up their spot? It's okay if they were just backing out, but to sit there and wait while they put their belongings away, put their kids in the car, find the keys and eventually back out just so you don't have to park one lane back is retarded. (Oh, sorry - if you were retarded you'd have that primo spot already, right?) Just let the spot go and move on. You'll get it another time, cowboy.

And don't get me started on entrances and exits. With the amount of people I see entering through the exit, I'm amazed anyone gets pregnant anymore. (You see what I did there? The parking/sex analogy? God I'm good.) I guess that big white arrow painted on the ground just isn't direction enough.

We should leave it to the Rats.
A bit of cheese in each parking spot, and all the cars would be lined up neatly.

Probably be a bitch on the upholstery though.

Later.

Overload.

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Out Of Sync.

Sometimes it only takes a little thing to throw my day out of whack.

On my days off, I have a routine. It varies slightly, but basically I do the same things each day in regards to domestic chores and things I have to take care of.

When something comes in and throws that routine out the window, it takes me a bit of time to recover. Not long, because I'm adjustable, but it really pisses me off. Then I get mad because the routine was ruined.

When it comes to work, I'm flexible and easy going. It seems that it's only in the home life that I am so rigid. I guess I just like to have everything a certain way. (Trust me, I know this makes me a joy to be with.)

Does everyone get like this?
I can't be the only one.

Obsessive-Compulsives Unite!

Later.

"Caught A Bolt Of Lightning..."

"Cursed the day he let it go." - Nothingman - Pearl Jam.

Last week the Sidekick had a present for me.

It was only right that he would give me a gift. I had just lost to him at Poker (a rare occurrence), and by my accounting, he owed me something.

He had just purchased the Official Bootleg of the Pearl Jam concert we went to on September 2, 2005. All 29 songs in glorious digital sound.

I hadn't really had time to listen to it until tonight.

It brought me back to the moment that converted me. The raw sound, the energy and intensity - it was all there. I could almost taste the beer. The only way I could replicate the exact moment would be to find the highest seats as far away from my stereo as possible. (The Sidekick knows what I'm talking about.)

If anyone else has a chance I suggest they go and purchase it right away. (Yes, I said purchase - who'd a thunk it?) If you listen closely, I think you can hear the Hetro-Life-Mate and I screaming our heads off.

Good Times.

Later.

Yer Not The Ocean

It amazes me how there are some people out there in the world who believe that the universe revolves around them.

(They should know better, it revolves around me.)

To work with these types of people is a very infuriating experience. No matter how your day is going, their day is always worse, or better, or whatever. They have absolutely no interest in anyone but themselves. They don't care about any situation except how it impacts them.

I'd like to stab them in the eye with a pencil.

Would that be selfish of me?
(But then the ambulance and police would be all about them, and they would just be doing it all over again, wouldn't they?)

Maybe I'll make it a dull pencil.

Later.

Things I've Learned...

1. The more that I have to say, the harder time I have saying it.
2. Being beat by a higher kicker is like being slapped in the mouth with a handful of pork fat.
3. No matter how well you prepare, if you have children, eventually one of them will throw up on you. Twice.
4. When Spongebob starts to make sense, it's time to turn the T.V. off.
5. The Internet may seem infinite and vast - but there's only 10 sites I like to go to. The rest is either encyclopedic or a car wreck. You decide.
6. I'm tired of laundry. I want the futuristic disposable zippered jumpsuit. Now.
7. The more I want to see a Super Bowl game is inversely proportionate to my ability to be able to watch said game. (Had to work, missed it all.)
8. That just seeing a picture of a Starbuck's cup will make me want to have a Grande White Chocolate Mocha. Guess what I'd like for a topping.
9. The more work that I have to do - the more people want to talk to me about nothing.
   
10. That thanks to the Sidekick making me attend a Hip concert, I can now pick out Gord Downie's whiny voice whenever it hiots the radio. (Damn Canadian Content laws!)
    

Spring Cleaning

I'm aching for warmer weather.

For those who know me and my pasty white flesh, that is a telling statement.

But I'm not in it for the tan. I don't relish the thought of the sun scorching me - I tend to go up in smoke like a Vampire in the movie Blade. ( Is it acceptable to reference a movie from that long ago? Whatever - it's the truth.) It's just that I'm aching for my Spring Cleaning.

The random accumulation of crap from November to February has driven me insane. My self-declared OCD can't handle the disarray. I look longingly to the time when I can going into my garage and just start throwing shit into the back of the truck for a recycling/dump run. As is, I found myself scrubbing the laundry room floor yesterday, periodically stopping to survey the garage and mentally prepare my plan. (Let me get something straight. Most people don't consider my garage that messy. I can get the vehicle in there with lots of room to spare. But I like to have a place for everything and everything in it's place.)

I'm tackling small tasks to get warmed up. Today I went through my bookcases and cleaned and sorted any untidy areas. I found myself at the DVD rack individually wiping DVD's and decided I was being silly. (I'll finish them later.)

I can feel the itch begin.
Spring can't come fast enough.
Someone hand me a broom.

Later.

From Hero To Zero.

I used to be fat for a reason.

It's not like I'm skinny as a rail now, but I'm way less than I used to be.

When I lost all that weight (about 3 years ago) the main thing I did was change my diet. The biggest change to my eating and drinking habits was to stop drinking pop. I was a mass consumer of Vanilla Coke. (Fuck all you haters - Vanilla Coke was Good.) All that sugar went straight to my chubby ass.

As soon as I cut out the pop, I started dropping the pounds.

I enjoyed pop, and I did miss it. The worst thing was to have to drink Diet Coke. It was the only available sugar free cola at the time, (Don't you dare call Pepsi a cola - that's just wrong.) but drinking Diet Coke was like having someone piss in your mouth while stealing your money. I hated the aftertaste. When they released Diet Coke with Lime I was able to stomach a little bit, mainly because the Lime taste covered up that horrible flavor.

But there was no alternative to "real" pop. I would watch people chug down gallons of Coke with a strange mix of lust and rage. I just couldn't go back to that sugary syrup, no matter how awesome it looked.

That's when I discovered Coke Zero. I've liked it since I've tried it, and it's a great alternative to drinking Diet Coke. No Sugar, no calories, but there is flavor. People either love it or hate it, so it's almost the same as when I drank Vanilla Coke.

The other thing I've noticed is that I always check out the sugar and calorie contents of everything I drink now. I never would have done that four years ago. If something looks good but is full of sugar, I'll stay away. I've even turned down Beer on the odd occasion, so it goes to show you that not only have I lost weight, but my mind as well.

Please don't talk to me about the caloric content of my Tim Horton's coffee. I don't want to know, and until they have a Tim Horton's Zero, I ain't giving it up.

Later.

Top Twenty

The Top Twenty songs on my iPod, as listed by times played.

1. Go -Pearl Jam
2. Uprising Down Under - Sam Roberts
3. Other Side - Pearl Jam
4. Hello, I'm in Delware - City & Colour
5. Comin' Home - City & Colour
6. In Your Honor - Foo Fighters
7. Dissident - Pearl Jam
8. One And The Same - Audioslave
9. Save Your Scissors - City & Colour
10. Dreaming With A Broken Heart - John Mayer
11. Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town - Pearl Jam
12. This Could Be Anywhere In The World - Alexisonfire
    
13. We Dreamed In Heist - Anberlin
14. Brighter Than Sunshine - Aqualung
15. A Bad Dream - Keane
16. Here It Goes Again - Ok Go
17. Nothingman - Pearl Jam
18. What If I Do - Foo Fighters
19. So She's Leaving - The Trews
20. I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor - Arctic Monkeys

That even surprised me in a couple of places.

Some of them I guarantee are because of my "Workout" playlist at the gym.
Others? Who knows?
I like what I like and I listen to it often.

Later.

(Can't wait to see the Sidekick's comments to some of these. Bring it on Bitch!)