YouTube Horoscope.

'Cause, you know - I'm just too damn busy to read it in the newspaper.

Ohhh - a new moon in my third house? Holy shit - I'm glad I found that out before I got dressed tomorrow.

Now if it was a naked horoscope, I could get behind this astrology thing....

Later.

Running On Empty.

You know what's tough?

Doing 35 minutes on Wii Fit (No games, just strength training), and then running 8K.

I just about threw up when I walked through my front door.
(Isn't exercise great?)

Either one by themselves aren't that hard - but put the two of them together and they sure did kick my ass. I was going to run 10K tonight, but once I hit the 4K mark (by The Sidekick's place) I decided to turn around and make it an early night.

My pace was faster than before, though. I think it has something to do with all the other people out running - I don't want to be the slow, chubby guy out there, so I kicked it into a higher gear. That, combined with Pearl Jam and The Foo blasting in my ears, helped me pick up my feet.

But now the tank is empty - It's time to hit the sack.



Later.

You Got Your Chocolate In My Peanut Butter!!

Ok, not really.

I stumbled uopn these videos on YouTube. See what happens when some guy takes two of my favorite movies and mashes 'em together with the all-time favorite. (I would say 3, but there's no way in hell Rush Hour is a favorite of mine.)

Watch and enjoy.








The Holy Trilogy will never be the same....




Later.

10K, Bitches.

No, I did not win $10,000

But I did run 10K today.

I got up this morning, strapped on the shoes and ran. I'm pretty sure it's the farthest I've ever run in a single moment in my recent memory. (You do have to remember, I'm over Thirty and my memory is pretty shitty.)

I did it in 55 minutes.

I probably could have gone faster if I would have pushed it more at the start, but my goal today was just to finish it. I'm even more committed now to doing the 8K in Victoria and the 10K at Miracle Beach. Those are my goals for the fall. (Still part of my overall goals - it feels good to be making progress.)

I have to admit, I sprinted at the end to make it home in time, and it felt like the run kicked my ass. But it also energized me, 'cause the rest of the day at work wasn't that bad. (And The Sidekick and I did another 1.5 miles tonight. - I checked - Yay Google Earth!)

Can Runner's High last 24 hours?


God I hope so.




Later.

Release.

Ever have one of those days when you have to pee, yet don't get a second to dash to the washroom?

For the last three hours, I had to piss like my life depended on it, but couldn't get away. Worse yet, I was running around and lifting things, and could feel every movement in my bladder.

The feeling of release when I did finally make it to the can was mind-blowing - I'd liken it to orgasm without all the fun. (Plus there's never a newspaper above the urinal when I'm having an orgasm.)

I could almost do with a smoke and a nap - then the circle would be complete.



Later.

Ink'd

I have a fascination with women who have tattoos.

I'll be honest - I think it's hot.

Forget the Tramp Stamp ones, they are a dime a dozen. I'm talking about the girls who have something different, not just some random tribal thing slapped above their ass. (Not that there's anything really wrong with that..)

I like to think the woman who has a tattoo is showing a bit of an edgier side, something that breaks away from the pack, but still stays within the realm of the "normal" people. Thank God for the rise in popularity and acceptance of women with tats - it makes my life much more pleasurable. (While I'm at it, I'd like to thank God for summer time and the clothing (and lack of said clothing) that goes with it.

Sure, there are exceptions to every rule, as there are some women and some tattoos that I find downright disgusting, but when done right and displayed accordingly, there is nothing sexier than ink on skin.


Later.

Beverage Spectrum.

If there is one thing I'll never understand, it's people who eat blue food.

I'm not talking about Blueberries - I'm referring to the bright, florescent type drinks that seem so popular right now. It just seems wrong to me.

I used to know a guy whose favorite drink was Vodka and Blue Kool-Aid. That's great if you are an adolescent alcoholic who doesn't know any better, but in a 20- something guy? You think he'd pick something a little more manly. (I guess it's a favorite in Port Alberni.)

It just gags me to see someone chugging back some unholy, unnaturally bright concoction - how can you believe anything that colour is actually good for your body? Think of the work your kidneys have to go through filtering out all the shit they put in it just to make it bright and shiny - it blows my mind.

(And when you are on dialysis - don't worry - I won't say I told you so.)



Later.

Facebook'd

I got off Facebook a long time ago.

I found it to be an annoyance, a distraction, and as full of meaningful contributions as Xbox Live is full of intellectual discourse.

But I keep having people tell me to sign back up.

Sure, I can see the positive side of it all, but compared to what I found the cons to be, it just isn't worth it.

Everyone I want to stay in contact with, I either have their phone number, email, blog address or I see them everyday.

Everyone else can go fuck themselves.


Later.

No Accounting For Taste.

I've lost my faith in Humanity.

It's not the endless war in Iraq.

It's not the money-hungry gas companies.

It's not the mindless crimes committed against our fellow humans.

It's the fact that the most-viewed video on YouTube is Avril Lavinge's Girlfriend. (93 million views? WTF?)

What is the world coming to?


No wonder the earth is going to hell in a hand basket - look at the shit we are destroying our brains with. It doesn't help that 10 of the top 20 are Rap/ Hip hop videos and at least 2 of the other 10 are by My Chemical Romance. (That's sad - really, really sad.)

But what was I expecting? I didn't think I'd find a documentary on the Large Hadron Collider, but at least something intellectual would be nice. Alas, it was not to be. I think I'm getting dumber just looking at that page.

But at least I can get caught up on watching all these Timbaland videos....




Later.

Fuck You, Mats Sudin.

Let me set the record straight - I'm Not a Vancouver Canucks Fan, (Go Avs!) but even I think it's retarded that Mats Sundin hasn't responded yet to the offer the Canucks put in front of him on July 1st.

2 years - $20 Million.

Is he fucking nuts?

At least give them an answer. I'd understand if you said no right away - nobody wants to dance with the Ugly Chick at the party - but to put them on hold and keep their hopes up, that's like telling the Ugly Girl you'll dance with her when you hear a song that's "Just right for the two of you".

And that's just mean.

For twenty million dollars I'll steal the Stanley Cup and bring it to Vancouver.

So what's he waiting for? A better offer? Not even the Habs are dumb enough to try and offer him more money than that. He should get off his ass and reply already. Let the Hockey world move on.

Personally, I think that if he doesn't take it he's retarded - but he's been playing in Toronto for so long, I'm sure he's halfway there already.



Later.

This Tree Has Roots.

Tonight we are having a Barbeque at the 'ol Homestead.

Since The Twin is up with his spawnlings and I aslo have an Aunt or two that happen to be in twon, we are having a big get together - the last time this many of us were together was either when someone got married or someone died.

This post is short then, because as Man of The House I must be at my station in front of the Barbeque, making sure the dogs are grilled and we don't accidently roast a toddler.

They taste good with Ketchup, right?


Later.

Pineapple Tidbits.

The Sidekick and I saw the trailer for this when we went to see Hellboy 2.

As much as I enjoyed that movie, I was more thrilled about getting the chance to see this picture when it comes out.

It looks funny yet it also seems to be much more than your typical stoner movie. And hey, it's got Seth Rogan in it - I have to give it a chance.

Judging by the trailer, this might be good enough to make me forget about the last time I had to see James Franco on screen. (shudder)

Oh hell, I might as well post the trailer too:



See what I mean? That shit's going to be good. "Smells like God's vagina" is the greatest saying I've ever heard.




Later.

Wii-Tired.

If you would have told me yesterday that a Plastic Board and Video Disc could make me break out in s sweat, I would have laughed and shaken my head in disbelief.

That was until I went home on my lunch and discovered Wii Fit waiting for me.(Thanks for thinking of us, Cat.)

I only got to try it for a bit, but it was an interesting workout.

I'm sure it will be great for those evenings when I want to burn some energy and going for a run or to the gym would make me look like a fanatic.

I can see how it's successful - you are so in tune with what you are doing in the game that you don't even realize you're exercising.

I'll post more about it when I can, if you can get me off the board.



Later.

Scooped!

The Sidekick beat me to it.

I was going to post about The Watchmen trailer that's been released on the Internet, (I'll also get to see it when I go see The Dark Knight) but the bastard stole my thunder.

The guy posts twice in a week and a half, and he steals it right out from under me? That's just not fair. Sure, I know movies are his shtick and all, but you think I'd beat him to the punch on this one.

I guess I'm slipping in my old age.

I'll let him have the page views - you can check out his site to see what it looks like.

As for the movie, I'm quite stoked. I love the graphic novel, and if it translates half as well on screen, we are in for a treat.

Check it out, I'm sure you'll like it (or at least be intrigued).



Later.

Bat-Fucking- Hilarious.

In honor of The Dark Night opening tomorrow, (or midnight tonight, if you are one of those lucky bastards who got in to a midnight screening) I 'm posting two of the funniest Bat-related images I know.

Enjoy.

Later, Friends - Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel.

The Only Guy I Know Who's Hornier Than Me

The Sidekick and I are going to see Hellboy 2 tonight.

I'm somewhat shocked, as he didn't really care for the first one, but give him any chance to go to the movies, and he'll be there. (I recall a rumor that he was at the theater on the opening day of Mean Girls.)

As much as I liked the first Hellboy, I'm a bit skeptical on this one. I'm worried that there will be too much "monster overload" on the screen, and that what might be a great story has been covered by special effects.

I will say one thing - as long as Ron Pearlman continues to portray the Big Red Guy, I'll probably keep going to these movies. (You have to admit, it's one of the best casting decisions of all time.)

Have no fear, I'll tell you what I thought of it.

Until then, imagine me in the theater, drinking my Timmy's and watching this:







Hellacious Goodness.




Later.

Breakfast Redundancy.

I'll just never understand people sometimes.

We just received this new product in at work, Kraft Bagel-fuls.

They are bagel-textured tubes of bread filled with cream cheese. You throw them in your toaster or microwave and eat 'em "on the go". It's supposed to be a time-saver for those people who are in a hurry.

Doesn't the regular bagel already fill all of the above requirements?

Lets see:

• Heat in toaster - Check.
• Eat with your hands - Check.
• Ability to contain cream cheese - Check.

Yeah - that's what I thought - this product is absolutely useless. You are already using the toaster to heat your regular bagel, so how are you saving time here? If you can't spare the 3.6 seconds it takes to spread cream cheese on said bagel, you have a lot more things to worry about than breakfast, my friend. If you don't like the mess of spreading it yourself, maybe you can stop at one of the many coffeehouses that seem to be everywhere. I'd be surprised if they didn't have bagels and cream cheese.

I think I'm going to inwardly laugh whenever I see someone buying one of these. Sure, you'll never know the horror of opening your fridge to find you've run out of cream cheese, but that's about the only plus I can see - and as I said before - if that's how stressed your mornings can get, you have larger problems that need addressing.

Usually I'm all about the free sample to try these things out. I took a pass on these - if I'm going to go down the long dark path of bread and bread products, I'll do it with a real bagel, like God intended.





Later.

Editorial Ineptitude.

I'm not 100% sure who is directly responsible for the "satirical" cover on the New Yorker, but I'm pretty sure that by the end of the week they'll be unemployed and standing in line counting change - hoping they have enough to cover a Burrito and Coke on the Taco Bell Value Menu.

I don't care that you're a "highbrow" magazine, and that your readers are intelligent enough to get the joke. The average, Fox News-Nascar-watching American isn't going to understand.

I'm not even American, and although I don't find the cover offensive (I understand what they are trying to poke fun at), I still think it's a bad idea. Sure you'll get publicity, but you're also causing a shitstorm of unbelievable proportions.

It's like having a commercial of Ronald McDonald slapping a fat kid. Sure, everyone will watch it, but in the end they'll just think Ronald's a dick.

Just like the guys at the New Yorker.




Later.

Sweating Bullets.

I think I'm going crazy, and here's proof:

I took yesterday off from the gym. It's good to let your body rest, and even I realize that you can't workout all the time.

I was going to go this morning, but decided to sleep in and have a family breakfast before I went to work at noon. As I was getting ready for work, I was feeling guilty about skipping the gym and then it occurred to me: run on my lunch (dinner) break.

It all seemed so simple: Pack my gym gear, get changed at work, run from work to the seawalk. I figured I'd only run a short bit, not too hard, and turn around 10 or so minutes in and head home for a shower and back to work.

I didn't figure on how retarded I am.

• My work clothes, in a backpack, with shoes and keys and everything = about 10 pounds.
• I'm running at 3:30 in the afternoon - probably the hotest part of the day.
• I should have known that once I started, I wouldn't be able to stop at "just a little bit."

So what did I do?

I ran my usual 6K in almost my best time ever - with the extra 10 pounds on my back. When I got home, I was sweating like mad. I was even sweating after I came out of the shower. (That can't be right.) I was almost done sweating by the time I made it back to work.

Was it hard? Yes.

But it felt great.

I'm thinking of signing up for the local 10K that takes place in October. I could start training soon, and it'll fit right in with the workouts I'm doing now. It'll be one thing to check off my lifetime "To-Do" list.

Next time you see some fool running on the Seawalk in the heat of the day, honk and wave - I'll wave back if I can lift my arms.




Later.

Click, Click, Clit.

Want to have a song that plays on the radio 5 times in eight hours?

Want to have a video that racks up over a million views? (Seriously, there's three or four postings on YouTube with about a million views each.)

All you have to do is be female, hot, talented, and sing about kissing another girl.



I didn't even need the video and I was hooked.

Now does this make me more or less of a man? (I vote more, due to the raging testosterone sapping my will to avoid shitty music.)

I can't help myself - it's genetics.



Later.

Zune-y Tunes.

Don't hate me, Steve Jobs.

Right now, in my hands, I'm holding a Zune.

It's 8Gb of shiny black techno-goodness.

I just finished charging and setting up, and so far I like the feel and innovation of it. There's lots of stuff I haven't tried yet, like wireless syncing and having it play through my 360, but I'll get to that in due time.



I'll check out the video capabilities of it tomorrow. (I'm checking out some video podcasts and stuff as I type right now.) I have to stay at work for lunch anyway, so it's a great time to see if it all works.

I'm impressed so far - I think my iPod might be jealous. (My iPod doesn't play video, so it can't complain - it hasn't been satisfying my needs.) To be fair to the iPod, every new MP3 player that comes out is hyped as the new "iPod killer" - when you're it the top of the heap, everyone wants to take you down.

I'll let you all know how it all works out, and may even let you try it - if you can pry it from my cold, dead hands.





Later

Adverse Reflection.

I bought a pair of sunglasses yesterday, and there was one thing that really bothered me.

The mirrors that they put on the sunglass stand/turner-thing are similar to circus fun house mirrors. Depending on which mirror I looked into, I was either anorexia skinny or morbidly obese. Do I go with round frames to accent my sharp cheekbones, or do I get square to hide what looks like my fourth jowl?

They're also set a midget-height. (I'd say dwarf, but a dwarf might have to use a stool.) You almost have to bend in half to see your refection. I'd have better luck checking my shades on someone's chrome tailpipe.

With no help or thanks to the mirrors, I did end up purchasing some glasses. They even looked good when I got them home and checked them out in a real mirror. The Boys wanted me to buy them some too, but they already have some, and I wasn't about to get the youngest one the Spears-Lohan-Hilton type bug-eyed white ones he wanted so badly.

That'd be therapy for sure.




Later.

Loose Baggage.

I'm not normally one to complain about breasts, but here goes.

There's this lady at the gym who works out at around the same time as I do. She's not the prettiest thing in the world, but she's no behemoth, either. I admire her dedication and the fact that she is trying to improve herself.

The problem is her breasts.

I don't think she's ever heard of a sports bra - or a bra at all for that matter. It's distracting - but not in the oh-my-god-look-at-those-things-move way. It's more like is-she-flipping-flapjacks-under-there? way, which isn't attractive at all.

I'd be willing to mention it to her, but then I'd get the "Stop looking at my breasts" comment, when all I want is for her to settle them down so that they don't accidentally flap out and I throw up mid-rep. I'm saving her dignity and my breakfast.

It's not like it happens all the time. If she ran on the regular treadmills like everyone else, I wouldn't even notice when I'm on the weights side of the gym. It's just that she runs on the extra treadmills, which are located in full view of the weight area. (You can't even look away - it's a gym, after all- there's mirrors everywhere. It's like a hall of mirrors horror show.)

I'm hoping that she'll eventually break down and go the sports bra route. I'm amazed that she hasn't had a black eye or at least felt some level of discomfort from all the movement happening under there.

Until then, I'll be the guy who either stares intently at himself in the mirror all the time, or the one who works out with his eyes closed. (I'll need a spotter for that last one.)




Later.

Uphill Battle.

So yesterday I went running on my lunch break.

I went with one of the guys I work with who runs quite a bit. We changed into our gear at the gym and went outside from there. (Who runs in 25° weather? Retards and Grocery Guys, that's who.)

I'd tell you how the run went, but it's easier to show you:


The green area at the top is where we started, and the line represents how easy the run was at the time: flat, easy pace, nice breeze, etc. There's also a downhill slope about halfway though that, which made the run easier at the start.

The yellow line was where things get ugly - we decided to go for a "longer" run at this point, since things were going so well. I completely forgot that the area we were running into was all uphill. (Hey, I've only lived here for twenty years - I can't remember everything.) This part of the run was harder, but not bad at all. The hill was gradual and mild.

We even got another green area! All downhill, here. The hardest part of this was pacing yourself and trying to lessen the impact on your knees. Easy Peasy, that. The worst part was that the sun had come out from behind the clouds and it had gotten a bit hot by then.

The next yellow part was a tougher run through a suburb, nothing major, although the ground was starting to slope dangerously uphill...

The red area represents my own personal hell. A long, steady hill, pounding sun, and I can't even recall what water looks or tastes like. This was the hardest part of the whole fucking run. I'm proud to say that I kept my pace and didn't stop or slow until we reached the top of the hill, clearly marked on the map as "I thought I was dead". (Please forgive my crude writing - my mouse skills aren't what they used to be.) At this point, my lungs were burning and I was thankful it was almost over.

Until the next red part. See, my gym is almost at the top of a very long hill, and we join the main road about halfway up it. I still had to run the last bit to the gym to finish it out. It was hard, but after making it through the previous area, it was almost easy. (I say almost because it really wasn't.)

The air conditioning and the water fountain at the gym were fantastic. I couldn't decide which one I wanted to mount use first. I chose the fountain, in case you are wondering.

All in all it was a good run, and I can't wait to try it again. I think The Sidekick and I will hit the Seawalk first before we tackle this, but I think he'll be ready soon. As long as I have enough energy to beat him to the fountain at the end, it'll be great.

Oh yeah, it'll be awesome.



Later.

Up, Up, And ....Yeah.

Went and saw Hancock tonight.

(Do you know that typing Hancock into Google Image search without SafeSearch on is a bad thing to do? Sure, you get the picture you want, but you also get stuff you don't want to see.)

I liked it. It could have been better, but I really did like it. It starts off great, but somewhere around the middle of the second act, it drops down a notch in intensity and just plateaus. Still a good flick, and worth seeing, but don't expect it to go in any direction you think based on the previews.

But I do have to say one thing - Hancock's scowl ranks up there alongside Derek Zoolander's pout as a facial expression for the ages. It never falters, wavers, or gives up. Will Smith may look angry, or constipated (or angry about being constipated) but he stays true to the character for the entire film.

I'll say it again - I liked it. I'll buy it on DVD when it hits. (But that's nothing special - I want to buy everything on DVD when it hits.)



Later.

Vicious Cycle.

You know what I hate?

I hate it when you go into the washroom to wash your hands - tonight I was handling some dusty stuff - and halfway through washing your hands, you suddenly have to pee.

So you finish washing your hands, dry them off, and then relieve yourself. What do you do then? Wash your hands again, of course. What was the point of washing my hands in the first place if I was just going to have to wash them again? Couldn't my bladder have gotten it's act together sooner, so I wouldn't have to repeat the hand-wash portion of the routine?

Just think of the time I would have saved.

If cleanliness is next to Godliness, I'm something like Jesus's half-step-brother now.
(At least my hands are.)



Later.

Dairy Daycare.

Nothing drives me crazier than Babysitting.

(I'm not talking about Spending Time With My Children.)

When it's my kids, it's not called Babysitting. When it's co-workers ranging from the age of 15 to 62, it's Babysitting, pure and simple.

My two immediate bosses are on holidays right now (one's just going and one comes back Monday) so I walk in today to people just wandering around, looking lost. Considering that most of them have been here longer than I have, I shouldn't have to remind them what tasks have to be completed. ("Hey, guess what? You just have to do the same fucking thing you did last weekend.")

Technically, it's not even my place to remind at least one of these guys - but if he's not going to step up and take charge, who will? I'm not going to let the place run into the ground just so the mice can play.

It's infuriating, really - and as blunt as I was with my criticism and "direction", I still think it'll look like shit when I walk in there to-morrow.

And I'll do it all over again.

Maybe if I smacked them and sent them for a Time Out - do you think that would do it?

It's tempting.



Later.

Sounds Like A Joke.

What do you get when a woman from Ontario suffers brain damage?

- A Newfoundlander.

I know it sounds funny, but it's the real thing. An Ontario woman had a stroke and afterwards developed a Newfie accent. The Doctors treating her didn't know it, because they just assumed she was from Newfoundland originally. Turns out she's got Foreign Accent Syndrome, which causes the change in speech patterns.

I'm wondering - if I smack my head against the wall, will I sound like James Bond? I bet if I smacked it 1000 times, I'd sound like Bono. (Hope the Sidekick appreciates the unnecessary dig at his favorite Irish singer.)

I've got to admit, if that was the only repercussion of having a stoke you'd see people trying to get them all the time. ("Me? Just loading up on the bad cholesterol - I have to give a speech next week, and I'd really like to sound Australian.") Don't laugh - I could see it happening.

As for the lady above - it could have been much worse. As if living in Ontario wasn't bad enough, she could have lived there and sounded like a Quebecois. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.



Later.

Rhyme Of The Ancient Rambler.

Please don't let me grow old(er).

I have seen the future, and it's not pretty.

I went out to lunch today with my parents. I love my Mom and Dad, and they are great people. They adore The Boys, and the kids jump at any chance they get to see them. Everything's great on that part.

The horrible part is anytime my Dad starts to try and talk about anything, it just takes forever. He spends 15 minutes looking for a point and another 15 trying to get there. If you don';t know the general context of what he's talking about it's easy to get lost, as he tends to go off on tangents.

Here's an example:

Dad: "Hey son, did you hear about those hostages being freed?"
Me: "Kinda, Dad - how did they pull it off?"
Dad: "Well, they infiltrated this rebel group and ordered the hostages to meet a yellow helicopter. I don't know why it was yellow - I used to have a yellow car once, you know. '68 Charger - it was great."
Me: "And then what happened?"
Dad: "Well, we sold the car after your older brother was born."
Me: "No Dad - what happened to the hostages, the ones in the yellow helicopter?"
Dad: "How the hell should I know? I only caught it on CNN this morning."

Try dealing with that over your salad with low-fat dressing.

I wonder if my kids have the same frustration when talking to me. Does The Boy look up at me and think I'm an idiot for not understanding a simple reference to some Educational morning show he watches? (So what if there's a Super-Hero who has the power to Spell? He can sit right beside Aquaman in the only-need-you-if-we-go-to-the-library-or-ocean corner.) I'm wondering if he already thinks he's smarter than me. The last rumor I want on the school playground is that I'm an idiot.

But chatting with my Dad is great - if you've got the time. And maybe a map of where the hell the conversation's going.




Later.

I Gotta Get In There.

So I'm at work yesterday, slaving away down an aisle, and I hear a commercial come on over the radio.

Now, normally I ignore the radio as much as possible, but when I hear the words "erotic toys" and "lingerie" thrown around, I pay attention.

It was a commercial for a boutique in Courtneay, and the whole reason I'm writing about it isn't because they were having a half price sale on vibrators, (They aren't) but because of the tagline they used at the end of the commercial.

You know what a tagline is, right? If not, I'm not going to explain it for you - that's what Wikipedia is for.

So what caught my attention? What was the tagline that made me laugh for about five minutes after hearing it? What could possibly be the best advertising slogan ever for an erotic boutique?

Secret Drawers: Please come inside us. (Sung in that perky, sing-song commercial voice)

Is that not the greatest thing ever?

Bravo, marketing people, bravo! I want to go there just based on that - forget what they sell. Anyone with a grasp of the double-entedre like that is someone I have to meet.

But don't worry - if I see a cheap vibrator, I'll pick one up for ya.




Later.

Happy Birthday Canada.

As Canada Days go, this one hasn't been anything special so far. The usual hustle and bustle of everyone trying to have everything done early so they can enjoy the evening.

Well, this year I said Fuck It. I'm not going downtown to crowd myself in amongst the masses and then fight for 45 minutes just to get home. I'm going to a secluded vantage point, where the Family and I can witness the fireworks in relative comfort. (I say relative only because real comfort would be watching them on HDTV.)

So Happy Birthday, Canada - I'm going to enjoy it.



Later.