Bucking for Pension.

There's been a bit of a shuffle at work and I've got a new assistant in my section. He's substantially older than I am.

I don't have a problem with working with people who are older than I. Really, I don't. But this guy is slow. He's got tons more experience in the industry than I have, and it's not like he's new to the company. I figured with all that knowledge, he'd be able to accomplish things more efficiently than my previous, younger co-worker.

I was wrong.

It's not that the job is too physically demanding - it's just that he has one speed. That speed is so slow that I'm worried he'll get left behind at the next Daylight Savings Time change. (I'm not joking.) I like the guy, and have tried to be helpful and respectful in how I let him know that he has to move faster.

But it's almost time to not be nice.

Tonight was almost painful to observe - I just about lost it. I'm going to talk to him when he gets back from his days off. (I'm not so much of an ass that I'd crap on someone right before a Long Weekend.)

Worst case scenario? I kick out his cane and he falls and breaks a hip. (I kid, I kid.)

Later.

When Did We Have Corn?

Tonight I get home to an excerpt from The Exorcist.

My Youngest one is throwing up all over the place. Left, right - I think I saw his head spin around. Not pleasant.

Luckily I have connections to a carpet cleaner, and then things settled down. One of the most amazing things about kids is how they can go from freaking out about something to smiles and laughter 5 minutes later.

This entire event punctuated my need for hardwood floors.
See? Something positive came out of it.

Later.


P.S. The Little Guy is fine, in case you were wondering.

Spree.

Since it was raining and there was nothing else to do, the Family went down to Courtenay. (By "went to Courtenay" I mean Future Shop and some of the surrounding stores.)

I was in Wally World (I know...don't ask) and happened to be walking by a discount bin of DVDs. I don't normally even look at them, but something caught my eye, and before I knew it, I had a handful of titles and was heading for the checkout.

I succumbed to what the Sidekick calls "The Urge to Round Out Your Collection."

You see, a bunch of the DVDs that I bought were ones that I liked but would never normally buy. However, they are cheap enough that it's more cost effective to buy than it would be to rent, should I want to watch them again. I also picked out some that do come out on T.V every so often, but are horribly edited for content when they do.
I'll even give you a quick list:

• The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - It's a weakness, and shitty when it's on T.V.
• Constantine - Probably my favorite Keanu film - and another that will never be shown on T.V. anytime soon.
• Alien 3 - Fuck all the haters, I love this movie.
• Hellboy - Sword of Sorrows - Never seen this one, but The Boy loved the Hellboy movie, so the animated follow up should be great.
• Superman & Popeye - I know what you are thinking. But it's a collection(5 disc) of the old Fleischer Superman shorts (all of them!) and a bunch of Popeye as well. I was raised on Popeye; maybe this will make The Boy eat his spinach.

I know that 5 DVDs doesn't count as a spree, but for me it is. I don't normally purchase anything unless it's brand new or something really significant being re-issued. So today was a splurge for me.

Now I just need a bigger DVD rack.......
Life is tough.


Later.

More Than Meets the Eye.

Who was the shittiest Transformer?

The Movie's coming out soon and I know that The Sidekick and I are probably going to go see it. I'm not a big a fan as he is (I believe I've stated this before) but I know I'll enjoy watching the Giant Robot Movie.

But it makes me think - who was the shittiest Transformer? My first guess, my gut instinct - says Bumblebee. When your alternate car form is a Volkswagen Bug, you may have gotten the short end of the stick. Why do the other guys get to be Tanks and Eighteen-Wheelers? Was he last in line and it's all that was left?

I almost feel bad for him.

The only thing lower would be if there was an Autobot that changed into a Smart Car. (Or a Pinto)

Quick thought: if the alternate forms of Buzzsaw and Lazerbeak were cassette tapes, does that mean that an Autobot Gerbil would transform into a dildo? (Just a thought.)



Later.

Anticipation.

Tonight is Poker Night.

It's supposed to be poker night - I'm not going to jinx it and have it not happen.

It's been so long since I actually held cards in my hands - I'm just a bit edgy. Playing online is alright, but I like the rush of playing against the person across the felt from you.

I'm even going to be a bit late to the game - I have Domestic Obligations to attend to - but you know I'll be traveling at light speed to The Sidekick's place as soon as that's all done.


Don't wish me luck - I won't need it when I have pocket Aces every second hand. (And pocket Queens every other.)



Later.

Me Bite.

Today I bit my lip.

Hard.

Not the metaphoric, holding-my-tongue biting of the lip either. I really clamped down on the sucker - so much that I drew blood.

So now I've been walking around all day with this swollen mark in the inside of my mouth. I notice it every time I talk or move my mouth. (That is to say a lot.) it's not visible if my mouth is shut, but I can notice it when I look in the mirror.

How retarded do you have to be to do this? Am I going to need lessons on the Proper Way to Chew Gum, so as to not encounter this again? I'm afraid the Government's going to step in and "Protect Me from Myself". That'll be all I need.

I'll just try to ignore it, and hope it heals (quickly) on it's own.

And I'm going to start chewing my gum reeeaalllyyy slow now.


Later.

Just Look It Up...

Today I had to explain to someone at work what a "Pearl Necklace" was.

I know that there is lots of modern slang out there, and there is more coming everyday. I just got a handle on "Dope-a-lope" and people start coming out with new things like "Textual Intercourse" and "Commercide" - it's hard to keep up.

But Pearl Necklace?

Shit, that's been around since before there was dirt. The fact that it was a girl who was asking made the explanation slightly more ... awkward than you'd think. ( The fact that she was only a couple of years younger than me made it even more confusing.) What was she doing during High School? Didn't she keep up with the class? (If your my age, that's like not knowing what "Rad" meant.) Even ZZ Top wrote a song about it. (That's how the subject came up, in fact.)

I explained as best I could. (Let it be noted that I was a gentleman and did not offer to demonstrate.) I think she was more embarrassed than I was, just because I spent five minutes going "You really don't know what it is? C'mon, you're shitting me right?" before I enlightened her.

I didn't want to be the only uncomfortable one.


Later.

Han Shot First.

Hollywood has a tendency to rape my childhood.

First it was having Greedo miss from point blank range in 1997. Amazing how he went from just unlucky - (to have come up against Han) to unlucky and bad at his job. A Bounty Hunter that misses from across a table? Come on George, I'll believe it from a Stormtrooper, but not a Bounty Hunter.

Then in 2002 they decided that E.T. was to violent. E.T? What the fuck are they talking about? They digitally erased the guns in the FBI agent's hands and replaced them with walkie-talkies. Yeah - that makes complete sense. Spielberg had said that he didnt like the scenes of the Fed's pointing guns at the kids. Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't they probably pointing them at the alien with the giant fucking head? Yeah, I thought so.

Hollywood's done it other times as well. Let us not forget Batman & Robin. as much as we'd like to. They even messed up Spider-Man. (Number 3? More like Number Suck.)

So it's easy to say that I'm just a bit apprehensive when I see the picture of Doctor Jones floating around the Internet. I know they are making another Indiana Jones movie, and that trilogy is the one unsullied thing that I can recall from my movie going childhood. I hope they do it justice. (It better not be Indiana Jones and The Cure for Osteoporosis.)

You better treat Indy right, Hollywood.

I've got my eye on you.


Later.

Putting The Word Out.

I've just finished writing two vastly different e-mails to two different companies.

I spoke about these two companies before, and suffice to say that each handled my situation in opposing styles. One company went above and beyond when they sensed my displeasure, and the other failed horribly and lost my business.

I believe in follow up - I sent off these emails to let the people in charge know how I felt about interacting with their company. I praised the good in the one business, and ridiculed the horrible service from the other.

The only way companies know how we like (or dislike) them is by feedback.

Most people punish poor service by giving feedback with their wallet - they just won't go there again. I like to take it a step further. The President or Head Honcho of a company won't know if I stop going there by looking at the sales sheets, but he'll know when my email crosses his desk. I also like to let the guys in charge know when one of their own has done the job right - these people deserve to be rewarded from higher up. How are they going to find out if no one tells them?

Get out your keyboards and use the Internet for what it was made for - interaction and feedback. (No, the Internet was not made for Porn - it just seems that way.) Think about the last good or bad interaction you had with a company and let them know.

It'll make you feel better.



Later.

Blank Look.

I've been looking at this screen for 15 minutes.

15 minutes and I don't have a single thought to spew out into the ether.

That's just sad.

I think I'll go play some Poker online - that usually gets some thoughts brewing in my head. (Usually bad, mean, I-want-to-stab-you-through-the-monitor thoughts.)

Catch you later when I have a clue.


Later.

I Can't Stand It.

Trying to find a stand to set my T.V on is harder than picking out a T.V by itself.

There's two price levels in regards to stands at all the stores I've looked at. Ridiculously Expensive and Dirt Cheap.

There are pros and cons to each:

• Ridiculously Expensive - Solid, good-looking, and loads of well-thought features. (Cable Manegement.) Problem: When the stand costs half as much as the T.V. - I have a problem giving up that much cash just to keep something off the floor.
• Dirt Cheap - Cost effective, not as much selection, inferior materials. Problem: It looks Dirt Cheap. Why can't something resonably priced not look like it came from the thrift store?

I'm not sure which way I'm going to go.

The other thing I've noticed - In the T.V. area, someone has a hard-on for silver. I'm not talking T.V wise, (thats about 50/50 black and silver) just the stands. Silver and glass. I've seen so many different combinations of the two that it's maddening. I hate silver.

Of course I could go trailer-trash and just use some boards and cinder blocks, right? Pretend I'm still in college? Maybe some milk crates for a DVD stand.

Ohhhh.... Now I've got an idea....


Later.

Relief.

Shitty day at Work?

Check.

Ice cold glass of Chocolate Milk?

Check.

Cookies specifically engineered for Dunking? - (A Scientifically proven way to reduce stress and promote inner peace and tranquility)

You bet your ass.

Don't anyone bug me - I'm going to be busy for a while.



Later.

The Iceman Cometh.

Quick Confession:

When I was younger and comic books were still my main form of entertainment, I was a rebel.

Everybody and their dog was a Wolverine fan ("'Cause he's the best there is at what he does...") but I went a different path. My favorite X-Man?

Iceman.

Sure, he was a cheesy snowman in the original comics whose main weapon was throwing snowballs or freezing people's boots to the ground, but I liked him anyway. It wasn't until later on that they gave him the "icey" look, and he no longer resembled Frosty's retarded kid brother.

And let's not forget Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends - classic T.V. for any 11 year old. I always wished that Iceman would have made a dog-sicle out of Ms. Lion.

I bet you Iceman was wicked in the bar. Chilled drinks, Ladies? (Smooth Pimp, y'all.)

As much as I like the X-Men movies, I do regret the fact that they made Iceman into a emo kid who's just out to chase after his "one true love" and play super-hero with the big boys. The best thing about the character in the comics was his confidence and wisecracking ways. At least he made it in the movies, I can be content with that.

I haven't kept up with the character or comics in general - I'll have to check and see if The Twin can get me some Trade Paperbacks to check out. It'll be good to feel like a kid again.


Later.

Release.

I see the world
Feel the chill
Which way to go
Windowsill
I see the words
On a rocking horse of time
I see the birds in the rain

Oh dear Dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll ride the wave
Where it takes me
I'll hold the pain
Release me

Oh dear Dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll wait up in the dark
For you to speak to me
I'll open up
Release me
Release me
Release me
Release me



Greatest Father's Day Song Ever.


Later.

Daddy Quotes.

1. What does daddy get for his hard work? The big piece of chicken at dinner!
2. That's right - If the kids can't read, it's Mama's fault. It's Mama's fucking fault. Now if the kid can't read 'cause there ain't no lights in the house - That's Daddy's fault.
3. What's Daddy's song? Papa was a Rolling Stone.
4. Nobody ever says, "Hey, Daddy, thanks for knockin' out this rent." - "I sure love this hot water."

Thanks Chris Rock.

On this special day for all of us who are Fathers and who have Fathers.... I salute you all.
Now someone get me a beer.



Later.

Denied!

It must be some strange side effect of the procedure I had.

It could be the fact that my Doctor says "Don't even think about it for 10 days."

It might be that every nerve in my body is aware of the slightest twitch or tingle in "that" area.

Whatever it is, I'm horny as hell right now. Haven't been able to focus on anything else all day.

I think that due to the trauma in the area, my body is producing extra testosterone just to make sure the equipment functions like it used to. As a result, I'm randy as a goat and can't do shit about it. (I would probably take the chance, except that I'm worried about anything that may cause hindrance to future enjoyment. ) This is probably the first time in my life I'm going to follow the Doctor's advice to the letter.

But it's tough. Sex surrounds us as a society. Everywhere I look I see it, images of it, things that make me think of it. (The Internet is no help, that's for sure.)

I should probably just render myself unconscious for the next 7 days - it would be easier to come back from a coma than avoid this.

Anybody got a hammer?



Later.

Best T-Shirt Ever.

Which makes Hasselhoff that much more of an Asshole.

Shirt from Think Geek

Later.

Afterwards.

Well, the ache is down to a dull throb right now. Of course, I have been sitting around all day alternating bags of frozen peas on my crotch, so I guess everything is still a bit numb.

The biggest shock? The realization that I'm pretty much immune to local anesthetic. The Doc had to load me up big time. (Needles in the nether regions? Ouch.) I won't go into any more details about that.

The next biggest shock? Cauterization. I couldn't see much from my vantage point, but at times the smoke coming up from there made me think he replaced my genitalia with a Wood-burning Kit. Not the greatest smell in the world. (As long as he's not blowing smoke rings, can I really complain?)

We'll see how it goes tomorrow. So far, I've made it with just a couple of Tylenols and the aforementioned bags of peas. If I can make it through tomorrow, I think everything will be okay.

Want to see my scar?



Later.

V-Day.

What else can I say? Today's the day- wish me luck.


Later.

Lack of Communication.

Two Companies have pissed me off today. Both of them due to miscommunication on their part.

Nothing frustrates me more than being out of the loop - even more so when my money is involved.

That being said, I find that dealing with companies whose headquarters are east of Manitoba is especially infuriating. It's like they know I can't just drive over there and punch someone in the nose. I asked to speak to some-one's supervisor today and was told that the supervisor "doesn't take phone calls." - I just had to hang up then due to frustration. (They might have won that round, I'll win the war.)

Just to let you know I'm not an ass - I don't freak out on people who can't do anything about my problem. But if you can't fix it, put me through to someone who can. (Then I'll rip them a new asshole.)

And just let me know what's going on - that's all I expect as a customer.

So I'll try again, and wade into the mire that is Customer Service via Telephone - where trying to talk to an actual person is only half the challenge. (The other half is getting them to do anything about my problem.)


Wish me luck - I'll keep in touch.



Later.

Weed Whackin'

My arm is killing me. (And it's not why you think.)

I borrowed a friend's gas-powered Weed Eater today and laid waste to unruly patch of weeds in my back yard. (I was afraid if I left them any longer, they would take over somehow and all would be lost.)

Strapping on a Weed Eater is like adding 5 feet to a man's Penis. I think my testosterone doubled the moment I fired it up. I was ready to tackle any and all grass related troubles. I did my backyard, some edging around the house, the lower troublesome patch and was looking around for something else to whack when I realized I had to stop.

It would have taken me over.

You've just got to know when to whack, and when to put it away.

Oh, I'll pull it out tomorrow, don't you worry.
As soon as my arm stops throbbing.


Later.

Holidays Revisited.

My Holidays are pooched.

All my grand plans and wishful endeavors are for naught.

Most of the things I had to take care of on my holidays: Yard work, Garage Sale, Power washing - they all require focused, concentrated effort. (Remember, these are power tools we are dealing with.) My plans were based on The Wife having the same time off, so she could watch The Boys while I took care of the work.

In a perfect world, it would have gone off without a hitch.

However, due to another girl being sick at work, The Wife has had to cancel and go in. The only days I have free are Thursday and Friday - and I'll probably be laid up those days. (Snip snip.) I'm effectivly gone for Mr. Fixit to Mr. Mom.

So what now?

I'm going to try and do as much as I can with The Boys around - I'll just have to go to extra lengths to make sure they are entertained, out of the way and yet in plain sight. (Sounds easy, right?) Most of the heavy-duty yard jobs are going to have to be canceled.

Between Mother Nature and now this, these Holidays are really starting to suck.


Later.

The Saddest Room I've Ever Seen.

Tonight The Sidekick and I went for coffee.

There's nothing new or surprising in that; it was a regular coffee run, enjoyable and full of witty insights - however there was a disgusting part to the night that I didn't even mention to him at the time. (It must have been the shock.)

While getting our cup of coffee at the Downtown location of Timmy-Ho's I went to the bathroom. (Number 1, in case you were wondering.) The nightmare began the moment I stepped over the threshold of the God-Forsaken place.

First thing to hit me was was the sharp acrid smell. Some genius had made the decision to cover up the usual "bathroom" smell with an even worse one. How did they do that? They threw mothballs into the urinal. Great - now my eyes were watering as I'm fumbling for my zipper. If I didn't have to piss so bad I would have left.

I go to wash my hands, and after getting the soap dispenser to spit it's last 1/10000th of a gram of soap into my hand I notice that the taps look like they've grown an extra layer of scum just to discourage people from using them. Great. I look for some paper towels to grab and protect my hands, except the only hand drying instrument is the air dryer. I peer into the stall to grab some T.P to do the job - no dice - the dispenser has been ripped off the wall, and there is an empty packet of Wet Ones there instead. (Glad I didn't have to do Number 2.) I suck it up and use my hands to turn the water on.

After scrubbing and rinsing my hands I turn to the aforementioned air dryer to dry them off. It would have been more effective to blow on them myself. Had I let this wonder of modern technology do it, I would still be there instead of typing this post. I don't think it could have blown the seeds off a dandelion. (Yes I admit I dried my hands by wiping them on my pants. Feel my shame.)

I don't even want to think about the door handle I touched to get out of there.

Afterwards I went out and had coffee like normal. The horror of what I had experienced had not sunk in yet, and it wasn't until later that I felt compelled to write about it.

Next time I'm down there and have to pee - I'll just get an extra cup at the counter.
Disgusting? Yes - but better than the alternative.


Later.

Fuck Me, HDTV.

I've been looking for an HDTV.

Why? I'm tired of looking at shitty pictures on my shitty television, that's why. I'd also like the space that can be saved by these newer televisions.

I've got the go-ahead to go and purchase one; that is where the agony sets in. Anyone who has read anything I've posted previously has had some small glimpse of my Buyer's Remorse. With this potential purchase, I've almost been crippled by it. I know what I want and have practically found it already. Now I'm paralyzed because I know that as soon as I buy it, it'll go on sale for 15% less.

I'm going to have to suck it up and bite the bullet.

The only thing that can assuage my Remorse will be if I can haggle something extra out of the store. If I buy the T.V and they throw in a stand or an entertainment system, then I won't feel so bad when it does become cheaper.

It's all about the extras.

You'll know when I find that deal and have it in my house. I'll post pictures with it - (some risque ones, possibly) and the guy on the right with the big-ass grin? That'll be me.



Later.

Insurmountable Tasks.

So I'm on Holidays now.

(Hold for Applause)

I have a list of shit that I have to accomplish, a list that makes the Labors of Hercules seem like something you'd have the "special" kid do while you get some real work done.

Problem is, I have no desire to do any of it right now.

It's not that I don't have the energy or ability. I just don't feel like attacking that load of stuff today. I'm going golfing tomorrow, and then taking a day to do nothing important - after that, on Monday, I'll get down to business.

The only thing I'm really looking forward to is Pressure Washing. All men love to use the pressure washer - it's like an extension of our penis. (A powerful penis that can clean concrete.)
I'll even pull that baby out in the rain and hose away - I don't care. (Just so we're clear, I am talking about the pressure washer, but I could understand if you are confused.)

I think that I'll tackle the list just like Herc did - in a loincloth one day at a time. It'll be more manageable that way. (And comfortable, too.)

Wish me luck, I'll need it.


Later.

Bag Of Nuts.

Someone handled my Nuts today.

It's not like it was just anybody. It was a professional - and by professional, I mean a Doctor, not some skanky chick out behind the Campbellton Esso.

You see, today was my consultation for a Vasectomy.

Yes, you heard right, a Vasectomy. I know that messing around with my jiggly bits is somewhat akin to defacing a national monument - you might as well take the horses out of The Musical Ride - but it's something that needs to be done. (Why? Well that's a whole other post, isn't it?)

The most uncomfortable part of the consult? Having my nuts cradled in the hands of another man. (Of course). His hands were cold - that's all I'm really willing to share at the moment. (I don't think warm hands would have lessened my discomfort.) He had to check and see if the tubes were easily accessible - I think he just wanted a peek so he wasn't overwhelmed by my package come operating day. The tubes were fine - although one of them kept eluding his grasp, like it knew he was hunting for it and out of instinct was dodging away.
I was almost expecting him to say "They're like steel cables - there's no way I can cut these!"

Alas that was not the case.

Afterwards we went over what the procedure entails and how it's going to happen. I felt like I was planning a heist to sneak into The Smithsonian and break up all their shit. (He will be wearing a mask, remember.)

So that's it.

Next Thursday I go in and come out tender, but able to fling my pseudo-seed with abandon.

Ice Packs all around, y'all.



Later.

Mother Nature Strikes Back.

I can tell that the next week/ten days is going to be the shits, weather-wise.

"How can you foresee this, Oh Great & Powerful Oz?" (I know that's what you are thinking..)

Well, it's because I will be starting my holidays on Friday. I have outdoor activities planned, so of course it'll rain like it's monsoon season. I expect tons of rain on Saturday because I'm going to be golfing. (I haven't golfed in years, so the one time I do get a chance they are calling for rain.)

I was even going to work on my tan. (For this pasty guy, that is quite a statement.)

I'll persevere through the shitty weather - Mother Nature won't break my spirit. If all else fails I'll drink Timmy's coffee and watch the rest of Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law.

I know you are all secretly jealous.



Later.

I've Got to Meet More People....

Just so I can play cards with them.

Poker Night was supposed to be tonight.
Unfortunately only a couple of the regular players could make it, so we canceled. It seems that it's a tough time getting a game together nowadays. (I'm not going to resort to Retard Poker - I've already stated that. Gives me cold shivers just thinking about it.)

I'd like to find a game that's fun and challenging, but also has a somewhat serious side to it. I also need something in my price range - it would be nice to be able to afford to play.

Oh, and they have to be good enough so that I want to play with them, but shitty enough so that I can take all their money.

It's not like I'm asking for a lot, is it?


Later.

I Got Nothin'

I don't really have anythig to say today.

It wasn't too hot, nothing overly dramatic or exciting happened, and I can't even think of anything on the world stage that I care to comment on. ( I was going to bitch about the warnings about toothpaste from China, but decided I'd skip it. Toothpaste = bad, thousands of Mandarin Oranges every Christmas = OK? Whatever.) If I can't bitch about the weather or the world, what's left? Nothin'.

So that's about it.

Tomorrow is Poker night, so I know I'll have either a good or bad story to tell. (I'm not playing at the Poker Retard's house , so it should be good.)

Wish me luck - I'm going all in with Pocket Queens.



Later.

Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me?

For a treat tonight we took The Boys down to the Fishing Pier for ice cream cones. (I know going to a pier for cones seems strange, but it works in this town.) They had both behaved really well while I was at work today, so it was a nice reward for them.

Boy #1 went with Cotton Candy ice cream. I swear that that kid picks flavors on what is going to seem the sweetest or what will gross Daddy out more. (I think I've told him I hate cotton candy.) I didn't even want to watch him eat the damn thing, except it's hard not to notice when it starts to run down the front of his shirt. Since he is only 4, I forgave him.

Boy #2 shared Vanilla with Mommy, so I went with something I've never tried before. Butter Pecan.

Oh My God.

If anyone would have told me that eating this confectionery delight would be like having an orgasm inside my mouth, (Please ignore all gay connotations of the previous statement.) I would have tried it ages ago. I feel ripped off, that nobody let me in on this secret.

It makes me wonder: What else have you all been hiding from me?

Now is the time to let me know, people - I'm still reeling from this discovery, I'll be lenient with the next few revelations. If I have to start finding shit like this out on my own, you just know there's going to be damage. (Just like that Mentos and Diet Coke thing - right?)

Nobody wants that to happen.


For now I'll be over in the corner with 2 liters of paradise and a spoon.
Please bring napkins.


Later.

Helping The Handicapped.

Last night, The Sidekick and I were supposed to play in a local Poker tournament.

It didn't happen, so instead we went to a guy the Sidekick is familiar with who "has a game going all the time." I've played there before - it wasn't too bad, a lot of big talk and shitty hands - but what the hell, it's been awhile since I played and I wanted my fix.

We get there and it's like Poker Preschool. They were so confused as to what was going on that I thought I'd have to point out where the table was. I'm surprised they didn't have a Poker Winning Hands guide on the wall. ("What do you mean a flush beats my two pair?")
Next to all the smoke breaks and bullshit chatter, I'm surprised that there wasn't a break for nap time. If you've ever played Poker online - these nutjobs make online players look like seasoned professionals.

The Sidekick and I persevered as long as we could and then left. I've never been so happy to see my cards beaten. I committed a bit of poker suicide, but I just felt that the longer I stayed there, whatever knowledge I might possess would be overwhelmed by the combined stupidity in the room.

I swore that I would never again let the urge come over me so much as to make me play there again. (And I'll play almost anywhere.)

My only question is: Can I write-off my losses ($5) as a charitable donation to the handicapped? Can I put that down on my Schedule 1 Form? When asked for a description, will Canada Revenue accept "Played Poker with really dumb people."?

I certainly hope so.


Later.

"Mr. Gorbachev, Tear Down This Wall"

On one side of my property, there is a fence.

Actually, there is a fence all around my yard, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. The fence on that side of my yard is starting to deteriorate, and needs replacement.

Now the only thing older than the fence itself is the guy whose yard it borders. He's about 156 years old - sweet guy, but I think he knew Christ when he was a small boy. He's too old to be of any help to repair the fence, and my skills at carpentry are only surpassed by my skills at juggling, harpoon throwing, and banging fat chicks (which is to say, I have no skill at all.)

The best case scenario is to have someone do it for me. That's where it's great having an Ancient Deity Elderly Person on my team. There is no way I'm going to pay too much for a fence when one of the negotiators remembers paying 3¢ for a loaf of bread. He'll help chop the price down for sure.

Should I feel bad about not going out and getting my hands grimy and full of wood slivers? Possibly, but I think that having something done by professionals will certainly look better and last longer than anything I could construct. And that adds value to my place.

If it doesn't go well I've always got Mike Holmes's number, right?


Later.