The 80's Fight Back.

Thanks to Public Radio and my own twisted psyche, I have been unable to get these songs out of my head.

Will the madness ever stop?

Later.

Patience Rewarded.

Thank you, Dave Grohl.

I'm really enjoying the new album, Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace. I can't say that there is a track that I don't like. (The Beaconsfield Miners thing is different, but still great.)

My favorite so far? I'd have to say Summer's End.

I don't want to sound Gay or anything, but I really need to see you. It's at the point where I've even entered online contests just to get tickets to your Canadian tour shows. ( The prize also had a 52" TV and Playstation 3, but please don't think that had anything to do with it.) I'm getting that desperate, dude.

But I'd just like to say thanks again - and if you can hook me up with some tickets, it'd be great.
Don't worry - I wouldn't tell anyone.


Later.

Mr Clean

I've been a productive boy today.

Dishes, laundry, vacuuming, getting the kids fed and dressed... and it's early still.

Some days I get the cleaning bug - I'd love to not have to work today, because I'm in the mood to scrub and sterilize my house. It's not that it's dirty, but I just have the energy to accomplish all those little nagging tasks that have been hanging around.

It'll be a shame to waste that energy on work, don't you think?


Later.

One Beer, Two Beer...

Three Beer, Four.

Tonight wasn't a bad night at work, thanks to my friend pictured on the right.

You see, I had to close with one of the other managers. (To prep for our year-end inventory.) The great thing was, he brought beer in with him. Between the two of us, we were done everything early, and spent the last 45 minutes sitting in the office drinking.

How can you have a bad day at work when you have a cold beer in your hand?

The only problem is that after work I felt like continuing the binge. Thank God we ran out of beer - if it had been available, I would have been in real trouble. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but to get my attention you just have to pop the top. (Ladies - that is a double entendre - take it as you will.)

At least I'm looking forward to work tomorrow -

Maybe there'll be a keg.


Later.

Wish You Were Here

My Nephew's service is today.

If there is one song that conveys how I feel at this time, this would be it.

I played this for my Brother after his service, and for my Aunt after hers.

Lucas - this one's for you.


Later.

An Ounce Of Prevention Is Worth A Pound Of Curl.

I was at the Mall in Courtenay today.

(Yes, Courtenay - I was slumming.)

As I'm walking through the mall, a lady passes by, and I can't help but look. She's dressed in upscale stuff, and everything below her neck seems like it's all in order.

Yet she has this mound of curlers (covered with a hairnet) piled on top of her head. I was confused to say the least.

If you care enough about your appearance to resort to curlers, why would you go out in public with them still in? I mean, the fact that you are using styling tools means that you are aware that others look at you and may judge your presentation. So why on earth would you not take them out before you go anywhere in public?

(I might add that this mall doesn't have a barber shop or salon, so it's not like she was shopping while waiting for the 'do to set.)

Is it just one of those female things I might not understand? I'm also willing to accept that it's a Courtenay thing - what happens in Courtenay stays in Courtenay.

Or maybe I'm just missing out on the next big fad.

Has anyone seen my hairnet?


Later.

The Long And The Short of It.

It's not the size of your pencil, but whether or not you can write cursive.

Be it longhand or shorthand, how you write things is almost as important as what you write. Good punctuation, fluid rhythm and proper syntax always make for and enjoyable read - one that you'll bookmark and read over and over again.

Beware improper uses of the comma and always be conscious of the period. (It's very important - miss one and you're fucked.) Contractions are okay, but for elegance and charm I believe that you should always go with the longer from of the word - it sounds classier, not trashy.

As stated above - penmanship is key. Keep it neat and legible. Scribbling all over the place doesn't do anyone any good. You want to make your message clear. If someone struggles with your writing, they aren't going to enjoy what you are trying to say.

I hope this all makes sense somehow, and if it doesn't I guess that's my fault. It's hard to sharpen one's own pencil with just one hand.

Has anyone seen my eraser?


Later.

MSG is Not For Me.

Every time I eat Chinese Food I feel like shit.

I ask for no MSG, but there are some items (usually my favorites) that are prepared ahead of time and contain the dreaded ingredient. It doesn't matter what I order - I'm either going to get something I like that makes me feel horrible, or be left unfulfilled. It's a lose/lose situation.

MSG never used to bother me, but I've found that as I've gotten older I just can't hack it anymore. Sometimes I feel so horrible that even the thought of Chinese Food is enough to make me gag.

Yet I keep going back, so who's the real idiot here, right?

Haven't you ever loved something, even when you knew it was bad for you?

I'm a whore for fortune cookies, I'll admit it.
Anyone seen the Pepto-Bismol?


Later.

A Night In.

Tonight was Movie Night.

We watched Monster House with the kids.

I have to admit, I was very impressed. Spielberg and company did a nice job with this one. I'll be honest - it was the first animated movie I've watched on the High-Def setup and it looked gorgeous. The characters and the lighting were awesome.

Oh, yeah - the kids liked it too.

The Youngest One isn't into movies like his older sibling - He would rather do anything else than sit still for 90 minutes. I like that he's not totally committed to the television, but it would be nice if he could enjoy the film , and we didn't have to stop and entertain him every 25 minutes. (I'm sure in 12 years I'll be curing him to get his lazy ass off the couch.)

The oldest one? I think he likes the DVD player more than he likes me. (If the DVD player fed him, I'm sure that would be the case.) I lid - he's great - he just enjoys movies so much because he knows I enjoy them too. I foresee many years of bonding over movies. I'll have him hooked on Kevin Smith - as soon as his Mom will let him watch it. (How old does a kid have to be for dick and fart jokes?)

It's been a pleasant night - we'll have to do it more often.

Now if I can maybe slip Kill Bill into the DVD Player.....we'll be set.


Later.

Dirge, Revisited.

I've found a new tune to add to the Funeral Dirge.

(I know it seems morbid, but bear with me.)

"Home" by the Foo Fighters.

It's such a sweet, haunting melody. Perfect for the occasion.
Dammit, Dave Grohl - did you have to be such a poet?

My man-crush grows deeper.


Later.

Jealousy Unleashed.

The Sidekick left for the Home Office today.

My envy knows no bounds.

It was about six years ago that He and I went East to visit friends. A simple trip that became a Life Experience. The Memories of drinks and laughter are ones that I recall fondly.

Waking in the Vinyl Lounge with a throbbing headache each day, tasting the beer and cigarettes from the night before. (Yes, that's a good memory.) The drive out to Bobcaygeon, the day in the T-Dot, and touring the "Ghetto" of Ontario.

He's got a condensed trip out there, but I still envy him.

The Fucker.

Hopefully I'll just take his money in Poker when he gets back. (That'll show him.)


Later.

A Thousand Words...

..ain't worth shit.

Today I didn't feel like talking much.

I went to work, and because my mind was elsewhere, I wasn't much for conversation. ( It wasn't that I was mopey or anything - I just wasn't chatty, that's all.) But some people feel like the best thing for me to do is talk.

I'm handling the death of my Nephew better than anyone else in the family. But that doesn't mean I'm going to be all sunshine and lollipops for every member of the general public I come across. Just because I'm like that 95% of the time doesn't mean I have to be like that today.

Someone made the comment that I must be really emotional because I'm quiet today. My emotions had little to do with it. Just because I don't feel like verbalizing my feelings to you doesn't mean I'm an emotional wreck - It means I don't want to talk to you.

I'm all good now - going to work and having to interact with people (even the general public) is good for you. And when all else fails I can always bitch on the Internet - that's what it's here for, right?

I'll get back to our regular programming soon, have no fear.


Later.

No Post.

I've had a Death in The Family.

My Nephew, Lucas, passed away this morning at 8am.

He was a sweet boy - he will be missed.

Later.

Somone Dig Up Johnnie Cochran..

..The Juice is in trouble again.


Later.

Creative Mess.

YouTube makes it way too easy to be a lazy Blogger.

Can't think of anything witty to say? Steal someone else's creative idea, post it and comment. Takes no thought and less brain power than eating Cheetos. Seems simple, right?

Wrong.

Eventually you'll stop using your brain, and just live off the funny shit that other people create - you'll be lifting all your lines from comedians and skits you saw on YouTube. Soon, as your brain rots inside your cranium, it'll leak out onto the floor and make a mess on your carpet.

And nobody wants that, do they?

Later.

(I'd like to be able to do the chip shuffle, though.)

5 Reasons Why I Love Harvey Birdman.

The Video says it all.

I can't get enough of this show - I've talked about it before, but every time I watch it, it just gets funnier and funnier. It really fits my sense of humor.

I still have yet to pick up the Third season, but payday's coming up, and I might need to treat myself.

Later.

In The Still Of The Night.

At 5 am this morning, I was awoken by a beeping sound.

I shrugged it off, rolled over and went back to sleep.

The beeping sound came back.

Half-awake, I try to stay conscious long enough to figure out where the sound is coming from. Turns out it's my cell phone, and the battery is dying.

My cell is in my pants pocket, and they are on the chair in the corner. The simple thing to do would be to take the phone out of the pants, turn it off and deal with it in the morning.

But no. At 5am, I'm just not that smart.

My solution was to throw my pants on the floor, and then throw my housecoat on the pants. (I must have thought the housecoat contained a cone of silence.) Seemingly triumphant, I stagger back into bed.

And then it beeps again.

I crawl out of bed and take my phone out of my pocket. I turn it off, and then hurl it (with great force) upon my crumpled housecoat. I proceed back to bed, to close my eyes until dawn's early light.

Or, an hour an a half later when the alarm goes off.

Fuckin' technology - keeps me awake at night.


Later.


(P.S. I'm blaming the 9 bucks I lost at Poker on my phone.)

Size Matters.

Toronto now has the world's worst case of Shrinkage.

Yes, the T-Dot, once proudly flailing Canada's most public phallic symbol, has been relegated to #2 on the ol' size-o-meter.

The Burj Dubai has surpassed it, and I can see Toronto suddenly questioning it's masculinity.

I'm sure that they'll soon pass bylaws ensuring that people drive more Hummers and Corvettes in Toronto, and that they'll say it's "not how tall your building is, but what you do with it." They'll start to scorn size altogether, and instead focus on how great their sports teams are doing ....oh wait.

I know that this must be a crushing blow for Toronto and it's people. But they'll get by - they always have the memories. No-body's laughing and pointing at the little twig of a building they got there, right? (At least not yet.)

And remember Toronto, it could be worse.

You could be Port Alberni.


Later.

The Coolest Fucking Toilet I've Ever Seen.

It's a given that Starbucks has some cool shit going on.

Hip music, trendy lighting, hot coffee. But I didn't think it extended into the bathrooms.

I was wrong.

As I walked into the Starbucks washroom last night after Poker, I noticed the sleek, racecar-like lines of this porcelain wonder. I was perplexed - it didn't have a visible handle - just two buttons on top, but I had to go, and the bladder waits for no one. (A moment of panic crossed my mind - it was almost like the three seashells in Demolition Man.) While I stood there looking about I saw there were instructions on the wall about how to flush the toilet.

I read them while conducting my business. (Yes I can read and pee at the same time, and don't worry - I didn't splash the seat.) Each button corresponds to a bodily function. If all you are doing is Number One - press Button One - and just enough water comes out to rinse the bowl clear. If you're making a deposit (Number Two) - press Button Two and a torrent of water releases, whisking away that concentrated evil you left behind.

What a great way to save water and be ecologically pro-active, don't you think?

Except for people like me who will stand there for five minutes pressing the buttons to see if they can tell there's a difference, and seeing what kind of tsunami they can create by pushing both buttons at once.

Next to that - it's a great fucking idea.


Later.

Night Out.

Tonight I'll be playing in my first ever Poker tournament.

(I know it's not the Ripple Rock, but I'll take what I can get.)

It's a free tourney with a potential cash prize. I'm not expecting to cream the competition, but I hope to do well. The best result would be if the group I'm going with all make the final table. (The chances of that happening are astronomical.)

I'll need some help from lady luck - not much, but the odd Pocket Aces or runner-runner flushes would be nice.

I've been good - I think luck owes me that much.

Later.



Update: Made it to heads up at my table, and was doing well. Busted out when my Full House got beat by Quads. That's right bitches - Quads. I was happy with my performance though, and will go again next time I'm able.

The Pretender

I can't wait for September 25th.
Dave Grohl never disappoints.


Later.

Throne of Wisdom.

I have a confession: I don't remember a damn thing from High School.

Well, anything outside of the social aspects. If it was forced into my brain inside the four walls of the school, I've completely forgotten about it now. I still remember the early stuff, reading, writing, and recess, but anything after that? Not at all.

Practically everything I know I've learned from The Bathroom Reader.
(And just to let you know, I'm not a slouch either - I kick ass at Jeopardy.)

Be it historical facts or trivial quotations, I've accumulated this information while relaxing on the porcelain chair. It's amazing how open your mind is to new snippets of information when you are getting rid of that bean burrito from the night before.

I think it's the combination of great lighting and relative silence that makes the data so easy to absorb. There's no eye strain, and there are no distractions: no phones, no kids, nothing but you and the material. Optimum learning conditions.

The funny thing is, because they are published in the States, I now know more American History and trivia than most college graduates from the States.

But I have to be on the Can to prove it.

I've got to go... I feel an urge to go number two learn about Abraham Lincoln's assassination. Can't hold back the quest for Knowledge!


Later.

Comparative Mortality.

A guy I worked with died today.

He passed away at home.

The fact that it happened wasn't a shock to us. We knew it would occur eventually. (But not as quick as it did.)

He was over 50, didn't take care of himself, and was constantly getting sick. It didn't matter what we said to him about his health, he seemed ambivalent towards his situation. He even started smoking. No exercise and a very sedentary lifestyle didn't help.

I'm sad for him, but even moreso for his family - (his youngest son works for us as well) - they were unable to do anything to make him see what he was doing to himself, and no matter how hard you may have tried, there will always be some semblance of guilt.

I wouldn't want to put my family through that.

I look at myself and ask how committed I am to my health. Doing even the smallest thing is better than doing nothing at all.

I think I'm going to go back to the gym.
And give my kids a hug every time I walk out the door.



Later.

Comfort Zone

I've decided that I'd like to not wear pants.

I just find my Boxer-briefs so much more relaxing.

The first thing I did when I got home tonight? Took of my pants and lounged in a t-shirt and boxers. I didn't even look to see if there was company around. (It wouldn't have mattered if there was.)

I know the question you all want to ask, and the answer is Yes - I take the socks off as well - for maximum relaxation.

I know that I'll have to put pants on for work and such, but as soon as I don't have to go anywhere, the pants will be off. If I could get away with it, I'd play Poker in my Boxers. (I think the Sidekick would get a bit unsettled, though.)

The other advantage is that with the pants off, I'm already halfway to naked.
And naked ain't a bad thing. (Unless I'm walking by a mirror.)



Later.

The Sweetest Two Dollars.

Winning money is great.

But winning money from your best friend?

That, good people, is like sex on cake.

It's only two dollars, but that's irrelevant. I don't get to take The Sidekick's money often - We are pretty much even when it comes to Poker - so any victory is a sweet one. (And at Golf? Bonus!)

I was behind in the match. We were playing $.25 a hole and although I was in the lead earlier, I lost some crucial holes and was down $.75 walking to the last tee box. I proposed double or nothing, to at least get my $.75 back, but The Sidekick decided to raise it up to $2. (He'd won the last hole, and was feeling cocky, I guess.)

I'll admit, I didn't play the hole well - I hit to the right, into a ditch and shot right again coming out - I was up by the pin, but off the green. My nice chip shot and shitty putting allowed me to shoot a 5. By some stroke of luck, The Sidekick faltered at the end, and we ended up tying the hole.

Over and done, right?

Not fucking likely. It's playoff time.

First we decided to chip to the green and putt - we tied.
Putt from far away - tie again.
Putt from what seemed like across the galaxy - I finally sink it - but he gets a chance to tie it up.
(This is the moment I thanked God for the shitty putter that he always complains about.)
And....

Ohhh! Shank to the right! I win!

Not only was the shinny Toonie great, but the coffee I bought with it later?
All the sweeter because of it.


Later.


(Thanks for letting me win, buddy.)

Would You Like Some Guilt With Your Coffee?

This makes me feel shameful for enjoying my Venti White Chocolate Mocha.

Only moderately, though. She's right - they are freakin' delicious.

I think the Bible said it best - "Give a man a fish and feed him for a day - Take my coffee and I'll fucking kill you."

I'm not 100% sure of the quote, but it goes something like that.

Later.

Techno Bitch.

I think my iPod has diminished my appreciation for music.

Don't get me wrong - I love my iPod, but I think that it's easy-to-use system and features have corrupted me. It's made it simpler to not explore all of an artist's songs.

I'm from the era of cassette tapes - unless my favorite song on any album was the first one, I had to fast forward and rewind all over the place to get to the track I wanted. God forbid if I had put the tape in on the wrong side - I was listening to completely new material! You were forced to listen to other parts of the album - well, if you were a lazy bastard like me you had to.


Because of this, I discovered songs I'd never be exposed to. But today? Download the one song you want and ignore all the rest of the musician's work. Heck - you're practically ignoring the context in which the song should be heard. Nobody listens to an album straight through anymore. Imagine listening to The Wall in random order. Sure they're good songs, but you are missing the experience of the album. The flow, as you will.

And I don't think that's right.

Sure, there's an album selection area on the iPod, but how many people do you know who listen to an entire album at once? Next to the Sidekick, I can't think of any. (And we all know he's a little strange.) I'm going to try make it a point of listening to the music the way the artist intened, and in the order they selected. Sure, I'll have some tunes that I just can't sit through, but for every one of those, I think I'll find at least a couple of gems.

Fuck You, Steve Jobs - you don't control me.
(I'm just kidding Steve, I love your products.)



Later

Bad Medicine

I was comparing Saturday nights with an 18-year old kid who works with me.

His - Booze, Babes, Body Shots.
Mine - Kids, Kin, Kozy'd up to the T.V.

I know that morally, I had the better evening - but we aren't talking about wall paintings right now. (Ask the Sidekick for an explanation to that joke.) However, I admit I was jealous of the smarmy little bastard - if only for an hour second or two.

I think it's just an indication that I'm itching to go out and get wound up again. It's not like I do it all the time, but I think I'm due. I can feel all the usual symptoms start to flare up again.

[Bon Jovi]

I don't need no needle
To be giving me a thrill
And I don't need no anesthesia
Or a nurse to bring a pill
I got a dirty down addiction
It doesn't leave a track
I got a jones for your affection
Like a monkey on my back

[/Bon Jovi]

Where can a guy get a prescription filled around here?


Later.

Temporal Distortion.

I swear time was moving backwards today.

I glanced at the clock and I'm positive it was moving counter clockwise. Either that or not moving at all. (And before you ask - no, I haven't been smoking illegal narcotics.)

I'm sure it's one of God's forms of punishment. Between him and the Scheduling Manager, one of them has it out for me.(You'd say that too if you knew who I was working with.)

But it will be better tomorrow, right?


Unless tomorrow ends up to be yesterday, which means I'll have to do today all over again.

Which means I'm fucked.


Later.

Compression.

Trying to get three hours of social time, including dinner and visiting, into two hours is a very hard thing to do.

But we pulled it off.

Tonight I was able to get off work, feed the kids and see my grandmother - and still have the kids in bed (slightly) on time. I did have to compromise by telling Grams that we'll be out to see her again on my next day off, but all in all it wasn't too bad.

I do hate rushing things, though. I'm more of a relax-and-chat guy, not a howyadoin'goodtoseeyoutimetogo person. Forcibly cramming pleasantries into a conversation doesn't just happen for me. And trust me, as a parent there are just some things that can't be rushed - a four-year old never does anything quickly when it comes to tidying up or getting ready to leave. (They have to fight the ADD the whole way.)

But now it's over and done with: decompression can occur.
Undo the belt, unzip the pants, and relax.
Oh yeah... that's the ticket.


Later