Someone Save My Baby!

Forgive me if I ramble - I'm a little distraught.

My youngest has been stricken down in his prime - and I'm having trouble dealing with it.

I stop at home on the way to the gym at lunch yesterday, and my wife tells me there's something wrong with Sammy. His full name is Samsung Hp-t4264, but I call him Sammy. (For Sammy Davis Jr, another wonderful black entertainer.) Sammy just shut off and instead of turning on, just makes a "click click" sound.

I immediately started revival procedures - I unplugged him and let him cool down. (Sammy usually did run a bit hot - it's his passion for the cinema that burns inside him.) When I got home after work, and all Sammy did was make that soul-crushing noise, I knew I had to seek professional help.

So this morning I bundled Sammy up in the blanket we brought him home in, snuggled him into the car, and drove him to Comox, where the nearest specialist is. I won't lie, a single tear rolled down my cheek when I left Sammy with the "Technician" (or whatever they call their Doctors.)

They'll let me know by Friday how much it'll cost to "fix" Sammy. I said money wasn't an object - the wife disagreed and said that $300 is the limit she's willing to go. (I don't understand - we've only had Tristan for 18 months longer than we've had Sammy - yet I know she'd pay more if something went wrong with him.)

So I'll wait by the phone until I hear from them - hoping and praying that Sammy will be okay. I can't even look at the spot where he used to be - his 21-inch cousin "Citizen" sits there now - but it isn't the same.


Come back to me Sammy - step away from the light.





Later.

Tattoo Goo.

Yeah - that's my leg.

You can tell by the muscular definition in the calf...and the freckles.

So I just got it done today, and it was an excellent experience. My last Tat was done when I was 19-20, so it's been a while since I've been in a shop. But completing my first marathon deserved something, and I think this was it.

My plan now, for future runs, is to put a small mark of some sort - ( a runner or if I want to sell out - a nike swoosh) under my time for each other marathon I run. Considering I'm doing 2 next year, I think the leg will be seeing some work.

Excuse the shitty, bleeding look to the pic.. remember - it's fresh.

Would ya believe I'm already contemplating my next one? Tattoos are almost as addictive as running. (Almost.) Thank God I'm in control of my addictions.. (Those of you who know me can start laughing now.)


Later.

Made me Laugh.

Saw this today and it made me chuckle.

"Use the Loofah..." Hahahah.



So I guess if you're and exhibitionist, Shiny Suds is for you...


Later

Station Identification.

Just so the world doesn't think I've died, I thought I'd update.

A lot has happened since I last wrote anything down here.

Most importantly, I lost my Father-in-Law - he was a great man and I was saddened by his loss and honored to be chosen to give the eulogy at his service. Trust me, I'm a talker, and getting up in front of those 350 people was both humbling and terror-inducing. From all accounts afterward, I did a good job , and everyone said he would have been pleased.

The two weeks preceding, I was single-dadding it - with all that had happened, my wife stayed with her mother, and even though it's on the same town, I didn't see her at all for 14 days. Juggling the kids and my OCD complex with the house was a challenge but I did it.

And if you think I got a lot of runs in, you're dreaming - check my Twitter - I haven't done much at all. Thank God it doesn't show yet, but I'm just glad to get back to the routine so I can get my shoes back on and just get out there. I'm still planning on Vancouver in May, and Vic again in October - with the Comox Half , Merville 15K, and any other run I can scrounge thrown in there. You have no clue how bad I'm aching for a 10 miler.. does that make me crazy?

Coming up, I have the Sidekick in town soon, and we're going to see the Trews at the Tidemark on the 23rd. (Yes, he's explained how coming to the sticks to see a concert is completly wrong, but he's still coming..)

And in 2 weeks and 2 days, I get my Tattoo. Totally looking forward to it.

Well you've been topped up with the meat and potatoes of my life - and yes, there's tons I'm not telling - but that's probably another post at another time.

Trust me, I'll be back.
(You can't keep a good man down - so a guy like me can only be kept down about 75% of the time.)


Later.

10K, A-Okay.

I ran my last race of the year today.

I finished the Miracle Beach 10k with a blazing fast 44:28 - 5 minutes off my time from last year. I still placed fourth in my age group, which just means the other old bastards (M35-39) have gotten faster too.

It was a great race, and I felt fantastic throughout. I probably could have even pushed a bit harder, but with doing Victoria last Sunday, I didn't think it wise to punish my legs further.

As always, the weather turned out great for the run - I always seem to luck out that way. (Knock on wood if you can.) It was sunny, cool, and the perfect weather to kick ass in.

For most of the race, I was running with a couple of guys, not paying attention to my pace, just running what felt right. It wasn't until one of them commented that we were clocking a 4'30" k that I started to check my pace, and even slowed down a bit - got to have gas in the tank to be able to finish. (Running's like sex - if you start out too fast, you just fall apart at the finish - never a good thing.)

Still, I was well ahead of where I wanted to be - at best I hoped for a time somewhere around the 45 minute mark, so to beat that even by just 30 seconds is a great thing. And as always, having them call out your name at the awards is great, even if it is just 4th place.

I say it's my last race of the year just because of the fact that I know of nothing else that's coming up. I'm contemplating the Vancouver Marathon, but that's not until May - and even then, I can incorporate the Comox Half and the Merville 15K into my training plan. ( I haven't really talked to the Wife about Vancouver - she already thinks I'm nuts, and telling her I want to do 2 Marathons and at least 1 Half next year will have her calling the guys in White Coats.)

So for now, it's back to just running for running's sake. I'm going to be hitting the gym for three days a week and running on the off days. I know there's a six-pack hiding under that last layer of fat - I'm determined to find it.

(Plus - and I won't make any promises - I should be able to blog more, now that I'm not going to be running 5 days a week. Believe it when it happens.)


Later.

Tattoo You.

I'm going to get another Tattoo.

As most of you who read this blog have come to understand, I have become slightly obsessed with running. ("No Shit!" You say - "Tell us something new!")

And as some of you may know, I already have a tattoo - the Japanese symbol for "Love" on my chest. As that Tattoo was wrought from pain and anguish (some of you even know that story), so this Tattoo will rise from pain and success.

I've decided to get the Roman Numerals for 26.2 (XXVI) tattooed vertically down my right calf, and at the bottom have my finish time for my marathon.

"But wait!" You say, "The Roman's didn't use decimals, you schmuck!". I know - I'm going to get a smaller "II" symbol tucked in beside the "I" - Trust me - I've drawn it out already, and it'll look cool.

And though it may seem crazy and weird to get a running tattoo on my leg, my reasoning is thus: I did it - I accomplished what few do, and no matter what else happens in my life, I will have that to be proud of. And it doesn't matter how many more I run, or whether my time improves or decreases - this was my first, and I want to remember it. (The only other thing I might ever get would be something involving my kids, but that's about it.)

The only thing that sucks is I have to wait until November 26th to get it done - the only reputable Tattoo Artist in town that I would trust my skin to is booked up until then.

I'm sure I'll describe the procedure and post photos when it happens.. But for now, I can't wait.


Later.

Good Mail.

Most days, your average Inbox is so full of spam and other assorted debris that it's hard to sort out the good news from the ENLARGE YOUR PENIS NOW!!! - type stuff.

My Telus-assigned email address is the one I use for all my junk. Anyone who needs an actual address I can respond to, but I think is going to send me copious amounts of crap - they get that one. I check it once a week, and it's usually to just shift-select all-delete.

The Real Me uses Gmail.

Even with that, I still get some junk - newsletters I subscribed to but don't read, the one guy I know who still sends out FWD:FWD:FWD:FWD stuff, (even though I've asked him not to), and the occasional spam because the Wife signed up for something and put in the wrong address.

But today was a good mail day. I received 4 emails that brightened my afternoon:

• A reminder from the local running store about the 10K I'm in this weekend. (I placed 4th in my age group last year - going to try and better that)
• Same local running store sending out a congratulatory email to all the local runners in the RVM - sure, it's a bulk email, but everyone gets to see my name in lights - as a finisher.
• Message from the Event Photographers that my race-day photos are online. This one's tough because my finish-line photo looks realllly bad.
• And a confirmation email from the Tidemark that my 6th row tickets to see the Trews are in. (Oh yeah, baby - the Trews.)

So believe me when I say- checking my email, while purely habitual and borderline obsessive-compulsive, was very rewarding today.

And I also got this one from a Nigerian Prince who needs my help to transfer millions of dollars - this could be good.


Later.

Completion.

It's done.

26.2 miles, 42.2 kilometers, 16 weeks of training. And it rocked.

The Royal Victoria Marathon made me feel like I can accomplish anything. I'm still on cloud nine - not only did I meet my goals, I blew them out of the water.

As you can tell from the certificate on the right, I finished in 3:28:20 - almost 2 minutes faster than I figured my best possible time could be. I placed 402nd out of the 2611 who finished the marathon, and 63rd in my age group. (considering that 12 of the first 25 finishers were my age or older, that's a good sign.)

But it was a great day and I had an awesome time. Even when my calves and hammies started cramping up at the 40K mark, I kept going. I paused to walk twice, but my determination to run the race wouldn't let me do it for more than 30 seconds. (I'm stubborn that way.)

It's a beautiful run - from the Seawall to the Parliament Buildings, from Oak Bay to running through the golf course, (even ran by the Twin's Comic Book Store!) it was just amazing to be surrounded by people just as crazy and dedicated as I am.

Some of my memories from the run:

• The line up for the bathrooms - listening to some ladies debate the moralities of sneaking into the wheelchair porta-pottie.
• The Elvis Impersonator on a flatbed truck in Oak Bay - The King kept me going..
• The clothing strewn on the side of the road as runners peeled off thier outer layers.
• The fact that only 1 in 200 runners can hit the trash can at any water station. (which is why we run, instead of being in the NBA.)
• The running club offering "Beer Shots" at the 38K mark.
• Eating my first gelpak - was too much like really sweet chocolate pudding.
• Wondering if being struck by a golf ball means you get to subtract time off your finish..
• Seeing 3:2x:xx as I came toward the finish line - fuck the pain - I ran.
  
• Wanting to hug the lady as she put my finisher's medal around my neck.. (I didn't.)
• The greatest chocolate milk/donut combo ever as I walked out of the food area after the race.

Overall, an amazing experience.
I'll post the photos as soon as I can - with selective editing - no one wants to see me grimacing in pain.

Now, about next year...

Counting Down.

It's 10 days to go until the Royal Victoria Marathon.

And I think my taper madness has set in.

I feel good, I'm confident about finishing - but in the back of my mind, there's this slight shred of doubt about my hip flexor. I think that it may be the only thing that will hold me back from achieving my goal.

And I'm just really excited about the run. My nervous energy is a slight to behold - I've become someone who can't seem to sit still. I normally don't sleep well the night before any of my long runs - I'm sure I'll need to be knocked out the night of the 10th.

With my infrequent posting history as of late, I'm not sure if this will be the only post you see before the big day - I'm hoping not, but who's to say?

If it is, wish me luck - I'm going to try and make 26.2 my bitch.


Later.

A Long Day.

Today was my Long Run Day.

Technically, it's supposed to be tomorrow, but really - when you set out to run 22 miles, does it really matter what day of the week it is? Didn't think so.

The thing that weirds me out about my long runs lately is that I start out in the darkness of the morning (6:30), and before I'm even two-thirds done, the sun is up and the day has completely changed. Sometimes it almost feels like I've been running from one day to the next.

To tell the truth, I'm disappointed in my long runs. Last week, I was supposed to do 20 miles, and came up three-quarters of a mile short because my hip flexor was bugging me, and this week I was 1.5 miles short because of a leg cramp. (I know it was a hydration issue, but it just kills me.) The fact is, after 20 miles, I think my body just says "What the fuck are you doing?'

My Body's going to learn that I'm the one in charge.

I don't have anymore long runs until the Marathon on October 11th. The longest I run is 12 miles. (Ha! Two years ago I would have called you crazy to think I'd run 12 miles. Now I don't consider it "Long".) So now's the time to rest between runs, and just try and stay healthy and injury-free.

As for the Marathon, I'm still hopeful of my time - still want under 4hrs, and as close to 3:30 as possible. I'm confident in my training, and know that between that and adrenaline on race day, I'll do just fine.



Later.

The Inconsistent Blogger.

An Anonymous source has said that Micro-Blogging via Twitter isn't nearly as interesting as Blog posts.

And they couldn't be more right.

Trying to tell an interesting story via Twitter is like someone trying to write Fight Club via Facebook status updates. ("I am Jack's Wall - help me in Farmtown")

So then what's the deal with the lack of posting, you ask?

Just plain laziness and the inability to tell a story. Oh, I can talk a story - trust me. Nobody bullshits better than me. But trying to find something that I want to say and than making the time to say it seem to be my downfall right now.

I think I'll try and change that.

I do miss this place. It used to be my refuge,my place to shout out into the darkness and see what echoed back.

But after such neglect, if I shout is there anyone there to listen?
If you Blog and there's no one to read it, is it really a post?
Welcome to my digital tree - I'm going to chop it down and see if it makes a sound.

Later.

I Feel:

• That there's no excuse for prompt, punctual updates.
• That the previous statement makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world.
• That if you exclude the concert, the drinking, and the time spent with the Sidekick, I didn't get to spend enough time in Vancouver.
• That Twitter is both a boon, a distraction, and an addiction.
• That running 18 miles was the most rewarding solo effort I've done so far.
• That masturbation, although rewarding, can't be included in that declaration.
• That for the first time ever, I doubt my ability in regards to running.
• That looking up random music videos on You Tube is both cathartic and frustrating.
• That work,being work, is work- but sometimes doesn't feel much like work.
• That my inability to let go of a song will be my downfall.
• That reading Love Monkey was almost as good as reading High Fidelity.
• That I have to re-read some Tom Robbins.

Later.

Cream My Jeans.

I know it's only 14 seconds.
I know there's no lyrics.
I know there isn't even pictures of the band.



But there is the sound of Dave Grhol smashing the shit out of some drums. And if Josh Homme and John Paul Jones can keep up with him, this should be fucking Epic.



Later.

Frustdata'd

As you could tell from my Twitter post on Sunday, I did two important things:

1. Did a 13.1 mile training run in 1 hour and 41 minutes, which shaved two minutes off my previous half marathon time. (Woo!)
2. Crossed the 1000 mile marker with my Nike + Sportband.

But there's a problem.

You see, normally over to your right there would be a big-ass Nike Certificate and I'd be bragging about shit over here. But on the run previous to my Sunday run, something happened to my Sportband.

It won't upload.

It plugs into it's USB port and charges fine, but that's it. No activation, nothing registers with the computer that anything is even plugged in. The port works fine, as anything else I stick in there works, and the Sportband did the same thing on another computer that I tried it on.

It still works great for everything else (except for the display), but it just won't upload. So now I'm stuck with 28 miles of runs that I can't post, and I'm getting a bit pissed. (So can't wait for my new Sportband 2.0 to arrive.)

Sure, I know I've logged the miles, and I know the time I did, but it's a satisfaction to see that reward up on the screen. Imagine how Pavlov's dogs felt when that fucker rang the bell and they didn't get anything.

(Fuck, Pavlov was a bastard.)

I'll get it fixed eventually, I hope, and am willing to listen to any ideas anyone has - If you wanted to earn my eternal gratitude, now's the time.

Later.

Hangin' Around.

Hey, I just flew into this blog, and boy, are my arms tired.
(Ba-dum Kssh)

Lame jokes aside, my arms are tired - from rock climbing.

I had no wife and no kids today, so like any normal guy I had coffee, read the paper, mowed the lawn, and then decided to try my hand at Indoor Rock Climbing.

I drive by On the Rocks at least once a week, (it's on the way to my parent's place) and having heard about it from other people, it seemed like something I'd like to try. But with always having the Boys, I've never gone in.

It was great.

For $20, I got shoes, a harness, and a quick introduction into the wonders of an auto-belay system. (The great thing is, it's $20 for an all-day pass - I'm going back after dinner tonight.) The auto-belay means you can climb alone, and once you reach the top, you can either climb back down (yeah right) or fling yourself into space, where it lowers you down gently rappel-style.

The gym was busier than I thought, with quite a few people there. Nobody seemed judgmental or rude, and everyone was enjoying themselves. The biggest shock to me was seeing a 8 year old boy scamper up the wall, racing his sister saying he's a "Spider Monkey". Once he hit the top, he just lowered himself down, unhooked and raced off to another area.

It may not be something that I'll do every week, but it's a nice alternative to have. (I'll tell you how nice tomorrow, depending how sore I am.)

I will say this: hardest upper body workout ever.


Later.

Your Chocolate in My Peanut Butter..

Below is a amalgamation of two of the best things in my universe: Kings of Leon and Pulp Fiction.

Uuummaa.



Sweet Christmas, is that awesome or what?

By the way, in case I haven't mentioned it a thousand times already - in 32 days 'till Kings of Leon in Van!
(Fuck, I feel like a giddy schoolgirl...)


Later.

Band -Aid.

My Nike+ Sportband is starting to give up the proverbial ghost.

It works fine, syncs well, and the calibration and everything are all right. The problem is that the display is starting to fade - all the numbers/letters on the left are illegible, and it's only getting worse.

Luckily, Nike knows about this and has the product covered under warranty - I contacted them, and was told that they'll replace it free of charge. I'll even get lucky, as the old, not working Sportband has been discontinued and I'll get one of the new, Version 2 Sportbands.

Because of my training for the RVM in October, I was concerned about sending it in and having to wait for the new one to get here - but Nike said if I went to where I bought it, I'll be able to exchange it there.

After talking to the people at Intersport, (Where I got it) I'm convinced I have the best of both worlds. The new Sportbands aren't out yet, but they have me down to do an exchange as soon as they get in - and until then, I can still use my old one for recording all my miles and such. (Which is great, because I'm only about 76 miles away from my 1000 mile mark - wooo!)

I can't wait.

I think that a big part of the success and continuing motivation I've had with running is because of the Sportband. Being able to see all the information I need right away, along with the tracking on the Nike+ website, make it easy for a Nerd like me to stay interested and challenged.

I hope the new one lasts for at least another 1000 miles. (Or until I go completely running obsessed and get a Garmin 405.)


Later.

Maintenance is Key.

I have high standards when it comes to my DVDs.

Maybe not in what I watch, (ask the Sidekick, and he'll say my copy of The Princess Bride proves that) but in how I take care of what I have.

So it drives me nuts when I see people treat their DVDs like shit.

I had a guy at work lend me Wild Hogs. (Not my choice, but the Wife liked it.) He brought the disc in for me and when he handed me the case I was appalled.

The outer case was scuffed, the cover slide was ripped, and it still had the price tag on it. It may sound trivial, but I don't need to know that he paid $24.95 for Wild Hogs - if he did, he needs to get a refund. I was almost terrified to open the case and see the disc.- I figured it would look like cats played hacky-sack with it.

I just don't understand how people can treat their stuff like that, especially if they are willing to lend it out to other people. Bad enough that you're going to get judged on your viewing choices - but to hand out beat up, badly treated stuff? It just tells me you can't take care of your shit.

And if you don't take care of your stuff, why would the people you lend it to bother to take care of it? They know you don't give a shit, so why should they? When I hand someone an immaculate disc in packaging that looks like I bought it yesterday, that's how I expect to receive it back.

Do I go overboard? Probably. But to present my things, and by extension, myself as uncared and unkempt is just unacceptable to me.

I'm going to end it at that.
I gotta go dust my collection anyways.


Later.

Of Bears, Beers, and Aching Calves.

Of all the golf courses I've played at, Bear Mountain reigns supreme.

Forget reigning - Bear Mountain takes the other golf courses, kicks their whinny little asses and sends them packing like the bitches they are.

As you can tell, I'm somewhat enamored with the course. As thrilled as I was to get a chance to play in the Thrifty Foods tourney, it was where we were playing that excited me the most, and the course didn't disappoint.

The treatment by the staff was phenomenal - it was like I was a touring Pro, not some shmoe from the sticks. The place just screams class and money, and the only other place I've been to that has the same feel in the air would be Whistler.

The greens, the fairways, the course is immaculate and in tip top condition. Too bad there were a bunch of drunks playing on it, but we had a fun time.

My team was a great group - I knew one guy already, and the other two were really nice. My cart-buddy was the most fantastic bastard of an Englishman I've ever met, and I could have sat and listened to him drink, curse, and laugh all day.

And drink I did. At Campbell River events, you have a choice of Lucky, Kokanee, or Coors Light. Not bad, but not my favorite brews. Yesterday I drank nothing but Sleemans, Alexander Keith's, Stella, and the odd G&T. And that was all from the Beer Cart. They must have known we had an Englishman in the group because the cart never seemed to be more than 3 minutes away.

So after a Lunch that stuffed me, 18 holes that drowned me in Beer, and a Dinner where the steak was cut with a butter knife, what do I regret?

I regret not resting my calves today. Although there was a cart, there's lots of walking in golf, and I was on the side of a mountain... Of my 3 mile run today, it wasn't until mile 2.5 that they started to loosen up and not be stiff as boards. (Putting them through 6 miles of hills tomorrow to show 'em who's boss.)

I'd love to be able to go back to Bear Mountain. And here's to hoping I get my wish.


Later.

All In One Shot..

I bet everyone thought I forgot about this place. Hard to believe I used to bitch at the Sidekick for posting so haphazardly, and then I become almost as bad as him.

I've come to realize that some days there just isn't enough time to juggle everything. Between work, the Kids, family/social obligations and running, by the time I do sit down in front of the monitor, I'm wiped and unable to focus a coherent thought - unless you want to hear about my latest run or maybe the annoyance of Ball Sweat.

I also feel that sometimes I just don't care enough to comment. Do I have thoughts on Michael Jackson's death? Sure I do, and they are probably the same as every other guy my age: Micheal Jackson died years ago, halfway through recording Bad, and was replaced by a pasty white guy I don't know anymore. Why bother commenting on something that everyone is sick of hearing about anyway?

I'd talk about Hockey, but it's no fun making cracks about the Leafs when my Avs are acting like all the high-level decisions are being made by Corky from Life Goes On, and he's using a dartboard with suggestions from Mike Millbury pinned to it.

Ranting about the economy doesn't do any good: I'm still poor. Bitching about the shitty drivers in Campbell River doesn't work - if they can't read road signs or speed limits, they aren't reading this blog. Plus, on the days it's too hot, I just can't get worked up about the little things like the elections in Iran or Obama smacking a fly and pissing off PETA.

I swear to God (like he/she is listening) I'm gonna post more. But think of me more like a posting Ninja: you're not sure when I'll strike, but when I do, you'll know.


Later.

Denim 2.0

Remember Jeans Guy?

Pretty sure I met his Dad tonight.

I was at the gym, just starting my workout, when I see these two guys come in. There's nothing remarkable about either of them, except the one thing that stands out in a gym: One of the guys is wearing jeans.

I tried not to judge right away, but as he took his jacket off the stereotype clicked right into place - tight white t-shirt stretched over a beer gut, the jeans all ratty and shitty, and the only thing I saw him do was arm exercises. If that's not a redneck, I don't know what is. I almost looked out into the parking lot to see if his truck had a camper and Nascar stickers on it.

(He did remember to bring his workout gloves, towel and water bottle, so I'm sure the jeans were intentional.)

I just find it nasty and gross to work out in jeans, but like I said - I try not to judge. Otherwise people are going to talk about all the time I spend in the tanning booth.

Stay real, Jeans Guy - you're a rebel. Don't ever change.
(I imagine with the inbreeding, that won;t happen anyway.)




Later.

Dirty Songs Make Me Laugh

I've always wanted to rhyme "hootchie" with "cootchie".

Really, what else does a song need?

This song speaks to the 17-year old boy that lives deep within my soul.




Later.

Inspiration, or Insanity?

I'm going to do it.

I've thought about it, I've debated, I've weighed the pros and cons.

I'm going to run the Royal Victoria Marathon in October.

That's right - Marathon - not Half - the full deal - 26.2 miles.

My goals?

1. Just to finish.
2. Finish in under 4 hours.
3. Finish as close to 3:30:00 as possible.

Why am I posting this now? Because I'm going to have to start training on Monday. I'm following a modified plan from Runner's World for their Fall Marathon Challenge. Do I expect it to kick my ass? Yes - yes, I do. But I'm doing it anyways.

Why do it?

Why not just do the Half, like I planned, and then do the Marathon next year?

I want to challenge myself. A Half Marathon is a great accomplishment, and after this, it'll probably be the race that I end up running the most - I really did enjoy it. But I want to push myself that little bit farther, and I think that this is the type of long term goal that will keep me focused on the training - simply out of fear of failure. And with it being the 30th Anniversary of the Marathon, I was hoping for a perfect-storm of Fate, Karma, and Timing to align and allow me to attain my goals.

We'll see what happens down the road. There's a lot of miles between then and now.


Wish me luck.


Later.

I Feel:

1. That I just don't sit in front of the monitor that much anymore.
   
2. That being told I look like Edward Norton isn't such a bad thing. (At least they didn't say fat Edward Norton.)
3. That being told someone from your company is going to run with the Olympic Torch, but it isn't going to be you, sucks.
4. That having a Full House and losing out to a higher Full House on the river sucks almost as much as not running with the torch.
5. That after a massive Crossfit workout yesterday, riding the Quad with the Boys last night, and running 7.5 miles this morning, my legs feel pretty good. I can't get up from the chair, but they do feel good.
6. That my son talking to me about Ben10 all the time is just payback for me talking to my Dad about The A-Team when I was 6. ("And then B.A. drank the milk and Murdoch got him on the plane.")
7. That some days I just want coffee pumped into my system intravenously, so I don't have to wait for the caffeine to kick in.
8. That some days it only takes 15 seconds for my kids to go from normal to batshit-crazy.
9. That they must get that from their Mom. (ha - she'll kill me if she reads this.)
10. That it must be disappointing to not see an update for 5 days and then come back to an "I Feel" list...

Later.

Man of Many Marinades.

With the summer season in full swing, I've gone to almost exclusively cooking outdoors every chance I get.

I'm a huge fan of marinades, and use them as much as I can. I like to prepare stuff in advance, so being able to whip together a marinade for whatever's hitting the grill the next night is a bonus. I've also found that having the meat sit in the marinade overnight in the chill-chest helps tenderize and add even more flavor throughout.

Do I follow a recipe? Not really - I treat marinades like I treat sex - some experimentation, throw in whatever you can, mix it up, and always check for flavor. Although I do use some standard ingredients, I can vary some of the complimentary flavors depending if I want heat or sweetness - or just go with ones that accentuate the flavor of whatever we're having.

Just typing that made me hungry - and it's almost time to fire up the grill..Mmmm


Later.

Moment of Zen.

Sometimes when I run, I use the time to sort things out in my head: thoughts, things I have to do, why yellow cars piss me off so much - you know, everyday bullshit.

But lately, my mind just goes blank - total nothing. All I hear is the sound of my breathing and my feet hitting the ground. I look at what's around me, but I don't think of anything pass that.

It's almost refreshing, but also disconcerting - I don't want to be a running zombie, shuffling my ass along the road - I liked being able to organize and catalog my thoughts. Made the run seem a bit more productive.

I think I'll make a mental note to try and multitask - focus on running and thinking at the same time. (I can walk and chew gum, so why not, eh?)

My only fear is that maybe I'm just about to reach Enlightenment - do I really want to miss out on that?

Whatever - I'll work it out as I run.



Later.

Literary Impact

David Eddings has died.

I first came across David's work when I was 13 years old. A friend of mine was reading Pawn of Prophecy and couldn't put it down. After I borrowed the book from him, I voraciously tracked down the rest of the books in the series.

I've read almost everything that David and his wife, Leigh, put out. Something about the way the characters interacted in all of their novels made them a very easy, enjoyable read. Curling up with The Belgariad, The Malloreon, The Elenium, and The Tamuli became something I did once or twice a year. If I could find nothing else new or exciting to read, I could always depend on Eddings.

During the last move, when I culled through all my books, discarding and donating, I never hesitated to keep any of David's books. I put them on the top shelf of my Fantasy section - right beside Tolkien. (And I think J.R.R. would understand.)

Mr. Eddings will be missed.
But his work will live on - I know, because I'm saving my copies for my boys to read.



Later.

Twitterpatied

If you'll look to your right, you'll notice that I've recently started using Twitter, and stuck it in my blog.

Yes, it's a blatant ripoff from another blog I read. (Didn't someone say imitation is the highest form of flattery?)

With the new phone making texting easier, I thought I'd give it a go. There was no point in doing it before - I'd waste so much time on each entry on my ol'school phone that I'd be doing nothing but typing about how sore my thumbs are.

I think Twitter is better suited to my style of humor. I'm all about the quick line and ready quip. If the Sidekick and I could link Twitter accounts, you know there would be some wicked witty banter going on - the Internet would fall before the onslaught of Kevin Smith quotes.

(Sad, really.)

So if you do check back and I haven't posted, look over there - I just might have something Twitty to say.



Later.

The Heat is On.

Holy Shit - it was hot today.

I don't care what the thermometers said, it was broiling. I deal better with the heat now - all the running last summer made me appreciate it a lot more, and this year I've gone from fat and pasty to slim(mer) and light brown.

Today I did something I never would have done years ago to beat the heat - I went to the lake.

Now before you start thinking about Frankie & Annette, I did bring the kids with me, so it was a family type day.

We had a blast. The kids played at the edge of the water, we threw rocks, and Daddy got to enjoy the beautiful scenery that surrounds the lake in the summer. A great time was had by all. I wasn't sure how the kids would handle the heat, but the only time they even kicked up a fuss was when we had to leave.

They want to go back tomorrow - I'm hoping we'll be able to. (First I have to do all the yardwork and shit, and then we can go play.)

Here's to not sitting in the house in front of the fan - summer fucking rocks.



Later.

Change Up.

There are 2 things I like to have with me when I run:

1. Music - Not always critical, but nice to have.
2. Phone - When you are doing 10+ miles on back roads or wherever, it's nice to have in case I have trouble or am needed.

My problem is I don't like to carry both.

Don't even mention a pack or belt - hate running with those, so they are out of the question completely.

Thus I feel my only solution is a phone that combines the two. As much as I would love an iPhone, it's just not possible - both to buy the phone and to pay for the data usage I know I would accumulate. I'm also on Telus Prepaid, so my selection is fairly limited.

I've decided to go with the Samsung Slyde that Telus offers - it's got an mp3 player, camera, and 1400 other features my current phone doesn't have. I also like that I can put whatever size microSD card in there to hold whatever music I want. I looked at the other phone they have and it just didn't grab my attention. Plus, a guy at work has this phone, and I helped him set it up, so I know how to use it. (Okay, I haven't sold you on the phone, but I've sold myself, and that's what counts.)

I'm going to go get it tomorrow - turns out London Drugs is having a sale on them, and I can get it for $40 dollars cheaper than at the Telus Mobility store.

Change is good.

Shiny, tech-y change is better.




Later.

Request.

Dear Homeless Man on the Seawalk:

For the love of God, please put a shirt on. I know it's summer, and the weather's gorgeous, but you have to think of other people at a time like this. For me to come around the corner by the park and be confronted with your fat blubbery man-tits splayed out for everyone to see not only made me gag uncontrollably, but I almost stumbled and fell - which would have prematurely ended my run.

Now I'm just assuming that by your disheveled, ragged appearance that you are homeless - If you are the fine owner of one of the oceanside mansions that dot the area, I would just ask that you step inside and fetch a shirt, or maybe have your butler do it. If that wasn't the case, maybe you could dig something out of that shopping cart full of shit you were leaning against.

As an aside, I just like to say that you must be the most resourceful homeless guy I've ever seen - most people with addictions such as yours are skinny and malnourished - for you to be as . . rotund as you are only hints at your ability to procure food. I wish you could have conjured up a shirt and maybe some deodorant, but I guess they aren't as high on your priority list as beer and whatever you get out of the dumpster.

If you get a chance, dig in the one behind Canadian Tire - maybe they threw out a tarp or something you could use. It just might have the coverage you need.



Later.

37

1. Atomic Number for Rubidium - 37
   
2. "Normal" Human Body Tempurature - 37° C
3. Holes in the mouthpiece of a rotary phone - 37
4. Number of times Elaine slept with Jerry on Seinfeld - 37
5. Number of plays Shakespeare wrote - 37
6. Seconds it took the Hindenburg to burn - 37
7. Height of the "Green Monster" at Fenway Park, in feet - 37
8. Number of Miracles in the Bible - 37
9. Dicks that Dante's girlfriend has sucked, including him - 37
10. First irregular prime number - 37
11. Characters available for use in personalized license plates - 37
12. Vertebrate in the tail of a Tyrannosaurus Rex - 37
13. Miles equal to 59.5 kilometers - 37
14. Numbers on a French Roulette Wheel - 37
15. Skeletal muscles used to move the Human hand - 37
16. Percentage of men that fantasize about their coworkers - 37
17. Points in a perfect bridge hand - 37
18. Cast members in "Les Mis" - 37
19. Weeks "Thriller" was #1 on the Billboard charts - 37
20. Elephants Hannibal had with him on his conquest of Rome - 37
21. Number of times Monica Lewinsky was cleared to enter the White House after she stopped working there - 37 (wink, wink)
22. Seconds from sighting of iceberg to collision with Titanic - 37
23. Yards in first touchdown pass in Super Bowl history - 37
24. Genes in the Mitochondrial Chromosome - 37
25. Percentage of an AMC Pacer that is glass - 37
26. Alphabetically, where the Casanovas are in my Zune artist listings - 37th
27. Twitter's rank on Alexa's Top 500 sites (as of today) - 37
28. Black Eyed Peas ranking on Amazon's Bestsellers in Music - 37
29. Year Nero (Roman emperor, not Star Trek villain) was born, AD - 37
30. Number of unidentified radio signals received from space - 37
31. Number of the Dease Lake Highway in northern B.C. - 37
32. How many times I stared at Google while typing this out - 37
33. Number of angels dancing on the head of a pin, at any given time - 37
34. Pounds of spices in the World's Largest Meatloaf - 37
35. Tracks in a collection of Beethoven's Symphonies -37
36. Number of minutes it takes, at minimum wage, to earn enough to by a Big Mac - 37
37. Years since I was born - 37

Yep - it's my Birthday today.
Punch and Pie, people - Punch and Pie.



Later.

Buck MotherFucking Rogers.

What's one of the greatest birthday gifts a guy from my generation could get?

(Unless you guessed the A-Team Van or the General Lee, you'd have to pick this.)

Buck Motherfucking Rogers.

You see, of the fabled geeky tv shows from my childhood, two of them stand out from the fog of memory. Battlestar Gallactica was one, and Buck Rogers was the other.

After Star Wars came and blew our minds in 1977, there had to be something to fill the void that was left until George Lucas stopped counting money and decided to make a sequel.

Buck Rogers filled the void.

I was at that age where I was old enough to appreciate Buck's stranger-in-a-strange-land quandary, and yet still naive enough to wonder why Colonel Wilma Deering made me feel funny in my pants.

The show had everything: humor, action, a hinted at sexual tension between Wilma and Buck, and a fucking robot that walked around carrying another robot like Flava Flav wears a clock. (The fact is, I think Flava owes Twiggy & Dr. Theopolis a shout out for the inspiration.) Combine that with different hostile alien races and exptic worlds, and it was enough to keep me sitting four inches from the T.V for a hour once a week.

Big props to The Sidekick for picking this gem up for me for my Birthday - even bigger props for giving it to me early as he won't be here on the fabled day.

I can't wait to sit down and watch my childhood appear again before my eyes in all it's chessy glory. What I can wait for is the uncomfortable dream of a three-way with Deering and Twiggy I know is going to happen.



Later.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder.

Holy shit - I've really let this place go.

For it to be the 23rd and I've only done 7 posts? It's almost like I've developed blogging habits similar to the Sidekick's. I better pick up my socks.

My reasons for not posting aren't that hard to understand - life tends to catch up to you every once in a while, and certain things tend to fall by the wayside. I have to admit, when I look at spending my time, lately I've chosen going for a run or to the gym over blogging.

And notice my mention of the Sidekick - he's yet another reason for my lack of online activity. Picking his sorry ass up from the ferry at 12:45am and then driving an hour and a half back home, combined with the beers until 1am the next night and poker until midnight on the third evening, made for a span of days where I barely glanced at a monitor - and I'm happier for it.

(Memo to Sidekick: Rickard's White? Excellent beer. The amount we drank that night? Not so good. But fuck it - I had a blast.)

But everything in life is cyclical, isn't it? So no worry, my friends - soon will be the days of multiposts and rambling stories - as soon as I sit my ass down.


Later.

Curse The Radio.

I curse public radio.

I curse the radio in general, be it at the gym, the car, or at work.

Why?

Because it got this song stuck in my head. The Fucking Jonas Brothers






And that's just unfair.
Catchy, lighthearted pop, but unfair nonetheless.

Now I have to scrub my brain with some hardcore Death Metal. (That's the audio equivalent of an SOS pad, right?)


Later.

The One Test You Can't Study For..

Tonight at work, I sold a 17 yr old boy a home Pregnancy Test.

He was nervous, wild-eyed and visibly shaken.

As I handed him the bag with his receipt, I said "Hope it works out for you, brother."

The "Uh-huh" and blank stare I got back told me everything I needed to know about his hoped-for results.

Tough break.


Should have sold him a box of condoms, just so he won't have to be back again.



Later.

Stand Alone Dad.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I Feel:

1. That swallowing a bug while you're running, albeit a fine way of ingesting protein, isn't a pleasurable experience anytime.
2. That when I decide, on a hot and sunny day, to run a winding 5-mile loop on lonely roads instead of on the Seawalk full of women in their summer best, I'll need help.
3. That I need help.
4. That the worst thing in the world isn't being at work on a gorgeous, sunny day - it's all the fucking people coming in, telling you exactly how awesome it is outside.
5. That it's a bad thing that I thought that Bea Arthur and Dom De Luise were already dead, and thus was doubly shocked to hear of their deaths.
6. That Star Trek was a fucking awesome movie. And that's not just my inner geek nerd-gasming, either.
7. That having the lady walking behind me jokingly grab my ass as we're leaving the theater was a little bit disconcerting.
8. That I can understand her desire to do so. I'll admit, for a guy, I've got a great ass.
9. That watching playoff hockey when your team isn't involved is like having sex in a raincoat.
10. That, yeah - that didn't make sense to me either.

Later.

Youth and Young Manhood.

Happy Birthday, Sidekick - you beautiful son of a bitch.

Now before you go wondering why I would call my best friend by such foul terms, let me tell you that I have only the utmost regard for the man. He is, after all, the Hetro-Lifemate.

The reasons I call him beautiful are as follows:

• He's not completely fugly. There are women out there who find him attractive and charming. (Go figure.)
• He's got the soul of a saint, the heart of a poet, and the penis of a miniature schnauzer. (I'm calling the last one by what I heard through the grapevine. I have no first hand knowledge of this.)
• He's been my rock, my backup, my confidant, and my moral compass.
• He just received tickets to the Kings of Leon concert in Vancouver and asked me to go.

Oh yeah.

Lets look at that last one for just a second. Savor it, soak it in.

(Pause)

The Fucking Kings of Leon! Sweet Mary Mother of God and All that is Holy - The Kings of Leon.
For me, right now in my musical evolution, this is one of the top 3 bands I would Give My Left Nut to see. (Please note that the Sidekick did not ask for said nut, nor did he make any mention of my nuts as a form of currency.)

Thank God he gave me 3 months warning - now I can make sure I have the time off, the cash, and build up my stamina for the event.

Hold on a sec - I have to wait three months to go to this concert? Every day is going to be like molasses, endlessly dragging on until the day of the show.

Curse you, Sidekick - for giving me the musical equivalent of Blue Balls - I can go, but I have to wait for it. I'll have a stereophonic hard-on for the next 98 days.

God, my Zune is going to take a pounding.


Thank you, Sidekick - even with the wait, I still think you're one beautiful, glorious bastard.


Happy Birthday.




Later.

Swineful Behavior.

No, this isn't about swine flu - it's about me being a pig.

Sure, I got up and went to the gym today. Lifted weights, ran for a half hour, tanned - but then six hours later, I blow it all.

For some strange reason, I just demolished:

• A Peanut Butter sandwich
  
• Two sticks of pepperoni
• Chocolate Muffin
• Glass of Chocolate Milk

And that was after my lunch and hour ago - in which I had a healthy, fulfilling sandwich. (Mmm Turkey.) I think I know the culprit: boredom.

It's not that I'm bored, really - I'm hanging with my two Boys, so nothing is really boring. It's just that with the rain and wind we're inside - and even playing with them, there's some downtime, and they eat some snacks, and there's all this shitty food laying around, so...

I do it to myself.

It's easier when I can take them out and do something with them - it keeps me busy as well, and not being around all the shitty food is a plus.

But now I'm feeling guilty, and have already begun to plan my "revenge" workout for tomorrow in my head.

Yes, I know - I need help.

Don't worry about the binging - it's when I start purging that you can call in the shrinks...



Later.

Disco to Disco, Round 2.

Today was a glorious day to run.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, yadda yadda yadda, I decided to repeat one of the runs I did last year: Disco to Disco. I haven't ran it in 6 months, so why not, eh?

I actually added on about a half mile - I started from my house instead of WP Disco, so the distance to OR Disco was actually 9.77 miles - but what does it matter, right?

Even with the extra distance, I improved on my time from last year - I did the 9.77 miles in 1:14:00 as opposed to the 1:21:00 I did last year. It may not seem like much, but believe me - in running, seven minutes is a long fucking time.

And next to almost being clipped by some bastard trying to pass three cars at once by the Driftwood, it was a great run - no issues, legs felt good, and I even had energy left to bullshit with the guys at the store until my ride came and got me.

I think I won't wait another six months to do it again, though - as the summer progresses, I could see this being something I do probably every two weeks - with my goal being to run there and back (19.54 miles) before I do my half marathon in October.

That'll be a post worth blogging about.



Later.

Defeetist Attitude.

I'm at a loss for what to put on my feet.

You see, for years I only had two pairs of shoes: The ones I wore to work, and some sneakers I wore with everything else. No sandals or flip-flops for me - I wouldn't wear shorts unless I had to, so my summertime footwear was the same as my wintertime stuff.

But it's all changed now.

Since I started the whole gym/running thing, I've really become accustomed to wearing shorts. I'll wear shorts all day long now - if you'd let me. (With legs like mine, why not show them off?) I'm even hoping I can get away with shorts on a casual day at work - so you can see how the insanity has spread.

But when wearing "dressier" shorts, instead of gym ones, I realize that my choice of footwear really is - for lack of a better word - shitty. Scuffed sneakers just don't jive with the kakhi shorts.

So I'm looking to upgrade, and there's 3 ways I think I can go:

• The Boat Shoe: Looks good, comfortable, and classy. I actually used to wear this with jeans and a popped-collar polo shirt circa '87... which kinda scares me now.
• Flip Flops: I'd like to try flip flops, I really would - but my only problems are 1) I hate having something shoved in between my toes, and 2) can you run after a 3yr old in flip flops?
• Mocs: I like the look of these, and I've heard they are comfortable. But would they look good in shorts? And if I'm not wearing socks, would everything just get funky?

I'm at a crossroads in my decision making process. I'm not in a hurry - I've looked like a shlub for so long I don't think a couple of weeks more will make a difference - but I do want something I can break in and use before summer's over.

Please don't say Crocs - they are the most retarded thing to hit peoples feet in years. I don't care how comfortable they may be - I think they're stupid.


Help me, Internet - you're my only hope.




Later.

I Feel:

1. That nothing beats running outside. The gym is nice; but the sun in the sky, the wind in your face, and women honking as they drive by just can't be beat.
2. That with the gym and the tanning, I'm never gonna get tired of hearing "Hey, you look skinny and dark now."
3. That with 28 days until my 37th birthday, it's ironic that I'm in better shape than when I was 26.
4. That as shameful as it is to admit, watching Boomer Phillips on Video on Trial can sometimes be the comedic highlight of my day.
5. That the Sidekick being so far away kinda sucks - not having a go-to coffee buddy really blows. (And I'm not just saying that 'cause he sent me an uber-gay text message.)
6. That with the pathetic performance by my Avalanche this year, the Sidekick's going to get He's Just Not That Into You and The Princess Bride as his DVD rewards. (Hey - the bet was two DVDs, not which two DVDs. Hahahaha.)
7. That being insanely jealous of everyone I see who has a new cellphone isn't really bad - it just means that I'll have to deliberately break my piece of shit phone (opps!) to get a new one.
   
8. That playing in the park with the kids, as fun as it is, can be both the most uplifting and yet most aggravating experience of a lifetime.
   
9. That as soon as I cross 1000 miles, I'm getting this shirt. Seeing as I'm only 330 miles away, I should have it by August for sure.
10. That once again, I leave you hanging with number 10.....

Later.

The Most Disgusting Thing in The World.

I don't mind dealing with the general public at work - but there's one thing they do that disgusts me more than anything else, and it involves tissue.

(Don't even think it - I'm not going in the direction you're thinking.)

For some reason, as I'm walking about doing my job, I always seem to find some tissue that someone has inadvertently dropped on the floor. (At least I hope it's by accident - if they're doing it on purpose it'll piss me off.)

I'm always loathe to pick it up.

I know it's probably nothing - just fell out of some old ladies pocket - but I still cringe when I pick it up.

How do I know what's in there? Could be snot, mucus, blood - could be the tears of a sainted angel for all I know - but the act of reaching out and picking it up off the floor is enough to gag me.

It's just awful.

I think I'll start to carry one of those metal hot-dog sticks around - that way I can just stab the tissue, and not even have to have it come near me. I think that would work.

Or I could just ignore it and keep on walking - that's what everyone else does.



Later.

Watch Out, Gary Carter...

There's a new kid in town.

That's The Boy and I at his T-Ball game. He's really liking it so far, and his favorite position is catcher. (Why a catcher in a t-ball game? Someone has to put the ball on the tee, and this is better than him laying down in right field and not paying attention.)

He's has 4 hits, one run, and one outfield catch. He's all over this game as oppossed to Soccer, where he ran around for 45 minutes and didn't feel like he accomplished anything. (It might have something to do with the T-Ball championship I won at his age - must be in the blood.)

The thing I like the most is that the games are Monday and Wednesday evenings - so I , a guy who works most weekends, can actually go. It's even been suggested that I help coach, (I dare say I'd be better than the sham of a coach that they have now.) but we'll take it one step at a time.

I know that most of you probably looked at the title and went "Gary Carter? Wasn't he Arnold on Different Strokes?". And you'd be wrong, 'cause that's Gary Coleman - Gary Carter was the only cool batcatcher to play for a Canadian team when I was growing up.

At least until my boy hits the Majors.....




Later.

Bubblicious.

Tip #1: Never look at yourself in the mirror while running on the treadmill. (Side profile)
Tip #2: If you do look, don't look at your ass.


Cold and Dreary - that means the treadmill. As I zoned out and lost my mind to the rhythm of the music and the pounding of my legs, I happened to glance around the gym, as I am wont to do.

Big mistake.

I was on a different treadmill than my usual one, and as my regular unit isn't in the line of sight of any of the mirrors, I never pay any attention to them. But My Baby's being used by someone else, so I'm on a treadmill next to the mirrored wall. I happen to glance downward - looking at my feet, for some reason. (I forget why.)

The first thing I notice is that - damn! - My legs are nice! Then I happen to glance up...

What the Fuck is That?

You see, I was always told I had no ass. As a fat guy with no ass, I just assumed that there was a straight line from my shoulders to my ankles. But I guess all the running changed more than just my frontal appearance.

...I should have realized it, too - running is mainly the work of your quads, glutes and hamstrings - quads lift the leg up and forward, but the propulsion power comes from the back of your legs and your ass.

I knew this. And appreciated it too - I've seen women runners in spandex, remember? I just never thought it would affect me.

I have a Bubble Ass.

I guess it's not a bad thing, as it's not a jiggly Bubble Ass, but still, since I've seen it I'm a little self conscious of people looking back there.

I think I'm going to need to get some new, baggier shorts - just so I don't feel funny while I'm running. It makes me think that all those comments about "looking good" I get when I'm running on the Seawalk weren't about my running posture and form...

Oh God - I feel so dirty...




Later.

Guilty Conscience

When it's cold, I don't like to run in the rain.

It seems that whenever I run when it's either really cold or raining and cold, it's inevitable that I get a cold or congested chest afterwards.

Because of this, when ever it's too chilly or chilly & wet, I hit the treadmill to get my mileage in. There's no shame in it, and at least I'm staying active and healthy.

So why do I feel so guilty if I see someone else running in the rain?

Take today: it's raining and cold - which means I'm heading to the gym to hit the 'mill and bust out 6 or 7 miles. As I'm driving there, I notice at least 3 sets of people running along the side of the road- jackets zipped up and hats pulled low. I'm cozy in my car, headed to my nice dry gym, to do the exact same thing they are doing.

So why do I feel like less of a runner?

Does not wanting to brave the elements make the distance that I run less?
Does not running against the wind and rain mean that I'm not really running?
Does it make me a pussy?

I know that in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal - both of us are better than the guy who never gets off the couch - but for some reason it bothers me. Like they're snickering at me as they run.."Look at the pansy in his truck, going to run on the spot in a room!"


I'm not a pansy - I'm a runner.
I just get a little stuffed up is all...




Later.

Herd Mentality.

Please take the time to watch the following Video and then ask yourself one question:




Don't you think it's ironic that at a party that's "Celebrating Originality", everyone is wearing the same brand of clothes?

Did the guys at the marketing meeting not somehow see this?

And would I have been ostracized if I showed up wearing my Reebok's?
(They are pretty sweet shoes, yo.)


Later.

It's That Time Again...

Time for me to bitch about being fucked over by Tim Horton's.

It's getting pathetic. The last couple of times they did the "Roll Up the Rim" promotion, I just bitched about only winning the occasional coffee or donut. I think they must have heard my complaining, because this time around, I haven't won a fucking thing.

No Coffee.
No Donut.
Nothing.

How fucking discouraging is that?

I know I'm not their best customer anymore, but c'mon, don't they even want to try and lure me back? It's not like I won't eat a donut - especially if it's free.

It makes me want to never go there again, and just drink Skinny Chai Tea Lattes all day. (Except for the fact that they're $4 a pop and sound kinda gay.)

Fuckin' Tim Horton's.
Buncha meanies, that's what they are.




Later.

Holiday, Shmaliday.

After enjoying Turkey with all the trimmings post-late shift last night, I was looking forward to hitting the gym this morning. (Yes, I'm the sad type of person who looks forward to punishing their body physically.) Something about eating that much that late at night makes me crave the workout - like if I give the fat molecules any extra time to stay in my body, they'll never leave.

I had even planned on having a tan - with lotion!

I got up at my usual time, (5am) and headed off to the gym. It's never a shock to be the only car in the parking lot - when you go as early as I do, sometimes you're the only car there. But after 5 minutes, when none of the other regular's cars were showing up in the parking lot, I decided to go and see what was going on...

Closed.

Not reduced hours, not opening later - closed for the whole day.
(For Easter Monday? Really? We close a business for a Zombie Holiday?)


Fuck.

I'm awake already, so I don't want to go back to sleep. It's too cold at this time of the morning to run outside, so I'm at a loss as to what to do.

So I go home, make some coffee, and read until the sun comes up.

As much as I enjoyed the quiet time, I really wanted to get a workout in. I'll go for a run later, but nothing beats that 5:30am sweat - makes every calorie I consume later on feel guilt-free.

Goddamn Catholics and their fucking holidays - (right, Sidekick?) ruining my routine...




Later.

Step Up.

There's been a bit of a shuffle at work.

Our Head/General Manager has quit, and that means that things are going to change fairly quickly. I don't think it's a bad thing, as it only looks good for me.
More money, better environment, and an opportunity for advancement.

You see, I'm in the favored group for the "regime change" as we've come to call it at work. I'm still doing the same job, but my opinions count a lot more with the new leadership. In fact, after it was announced that my old Boss was leaving, I had three phone calls (happened on my day off) telling me that I shouldn't worry and I'll be looked after.

After the corporate mess and double talk (except from the Sidekick) at the last job, it's a good thing to hear.

I'm already enjoying the change - I've been working the last two days and already I can see how the pressure's going to be and where I'm going to fit in. More responsibility, sure, but also more perks and more input into the operation of the "Big Picture" - and isn't that what we all want to be - part of the Big Picture?

There may be some growing pains, as we're moving people around from other locations and forming a mix of people that haven't ever worked together before, but it shouldn't be that bad - I'm optimistic about the whole thing.


(Please don't quote this post if I'm bitching about work in three weeks time.)


Change is good.
Let's keep it that way.




Later.

Enlightening Experience.

I am a bronzed God.

Not really; I'm still the pasty-white guy you all know and love - but I am a wee bit darker today.

I had my first fake-n-bake experience today.

I won a punch-pass for tanning as part of my Biggest Loser prize package. Since my normal skin tone is translucent, I figured I'd give the booth a try. I did tan a bit last year, due to all the running I did outside, and since I expect my mileage to go up this summer, I think a base coat is a must-have. So with some trepidation this morning, I stepped up and hit the bed.

It's an odd feeling for someone who's never seen the inside of a booth - it was like standing in a vertical coffin, naked, and then suddenly the eyes of God are upon you. For the first minute I kept my eyes closed, for fear of having my retinas singed. (Did I mention that I didn't get a very through walkthrough on this machine?) But eventually I did open them, and found that it's like playing with a blacklight when you were a teenager - the only difference being that my grey chest hairs didn't stand out quite so much as a teenager. (God, I'm old.)

I did find it oddly refreshing, which makes sense if you figure I compressed a half-day's sun into less than 10 minutes. All that melatonin coursing through your system has to make you feel a bit giddy.

I do have nine more times inside this thing, so hopefully at the end of it I come out looking ready for outdoor fun, and not like some orangeish-leathery-freak.


See you in the booth - next time: Lotions!!




Later.

Mourning My Mornings.

Usually my mornings go like this:

• 5am - Wake up, get dressed, go to gym.
• 6:45am - Leave gym, head home. Have coffee, check email, and relax before anyone's awake at -
• 7:15am Get kids up, get them ready, take Boy to school by 8:15, go to work.

But due to the fact that it's Spring Break for the Boy right now and we don't even have them 'cause they are staying at their Uncle's for three days and I'm working late shift three days in a row, my morning looks like this:

• 7am - Wake up, get dressed for the gym, wait for Wife to get ready for work.
• 8:15am - Drop Wife off at work, go to gym.
• 9:30am - Leave gym, go home and have coffee, eat etc.

My routine's all fucked up.

I don't mind the sleeping in, but the main thing I miss is the morning group at the gym and my quiet time by myself in the early morning.

Going to the gym with the later crowd is different - in the morning group, we're all fairly dedicated people, who realize that we are there that early for a reason: to work out and get on with our day. The people who go to the gym at 8:30 , for the most part, don't have jobs to go to - they are retired or just to old to work.

So a lot of talking happens with that crowd.

I'm not anti-social - far from it - but I don't go to the gym to socialize, so leave me the fuck alone and quit chattering to me. I swear to God I could have slapped three people today for nattering away at me.

I also miss the quietness of the house at 6:45am - nobody's up, the place is my own, and the day has yet to begin. It just isn't the same at 9:30 in the morning.


It'll all go back to normal soon - the kids are coming back tomorrow night - and once I'm done with the late shifts, my routine can settle once again.

And I'll never let it go.




Later.