Discomfort Is...

Going to the gym on your lunch hour, running your nuts off, (Literally, not figuratively.) and finding that you forgot to pack another pair of underwear.

Wearing sweaty boxer briefs underneath your uniform isn't the most pleasant experience in the world - especially if you have to go in & out of a freezer for half the night.

Sure, I could have gone commando - but my apron doesn't leave much to the imagination, and I wouldn't want to startle anyone.

They're pretty much dry now, but I tell you - next time I'll have 3 pairs in my gym bag - just to be sure.

Later.

Second Skin.

If you've ever ran over 10 miles at a time, you'll understand the need for compression clothing. It really helps alleviate chaffing and any discomfort caused by loose clothing.

I always feel like a Superhero when I'm putting on my Under Armour. Something about the stretchy spandex-iness of it just makes me feel like I'm gearing up to fight crime. That, combined with the fact that I wear my running shirts and shorts over the spandex, gives me the feeling of being Peter Parker, with his Spiderman costume hidden under his everyday clothes.


(Trust me, you don't want to see me in this stuff with nothing on over top - it shows every flaw you may or may not be aware of. I may be proud of my shoulders and chest, but I still have that pudge around the waist that looks HUGE when wrapped up like a sausage.)

The only downside to it is taking it off after a run - it tends to want to stay put, and wrestling with a sweaty, clingy thing is only enjoyable during sex. (And since I'm taking it off by myself, that only goes into awkward masturbation territory.) Still, it's better than chaffing.

On the bright side, if I happen to come across a crime in progress while out for a run, I'm suitably dressed for the occasion.




Later.

Questions & Answers.

Kevin Smith is coming to Vancouver for a Q & A on March 27th.

As we speak, the Sidekick is getting ready to scramble for tickets, as they go on sale this Saturday at 10:00AM.

I would give my left nut to go see this show.

As a long-time Kevin Smith devotee, there are a few questions I'd like to ask - if I get the chance, of course.

1. How hard was it to focus while filming Rosario Dawson's dance scene on the roof of the Mooby's? I would have just stared at that shit for hours.
2. What is your favorite mall, and where is it located?
3. Tell me about Linda Fiorentino. (Supposedly, he just won't talk about her.)
4. Which is a faggier drink - a Grande White Chocolate Mocha, a Skinny Vanilla Latte, or a Venti Hazelnut Machiato -extra hot, no foam?
5. If you were forced into an all-man threeway with Ben Affleck and Jason Mewes, would you be on the inside or the outside of the sandwich?
6. Will you be my friend? (Even if it's only on Facebook?)

Nothing really deep and personal, mind you, but just stuff I'm curious about. (The Affleck/Mewes thing? Don't ask.)

I hope the Sidekick is successful in his endeavor. I hope that we get a chance to go to this. I hope Dave Grhol is sitting beside me in the audience.

Here's to hoping.



Later.

Things I Learned This Weekend...

1. When you tell your wife you're going out for a couple of drinks and will be home by 11:45, don't get piss-drunk with your Sidekick, leave your cellphone in the car, and come home at 2:45am.
2. Make sure you don't have to attend a Six-Year Old's Birthday party the next morning either - the noise level is not conducive to your altered state.
3. Moxie-sizeing your Gin and Tonic? Not a bad idea. Porn Stars at the Bar? Bad Idea.
4. Don't run into people from work at the bar - the next day, everybody from work knows what you were up to.
   
5. Going to work is actually the best thing for you - it keeps you moving and somewhat focused. (As long as you stay moving - whatever you do, don't stop moving.)
   
6. Running 10 miles Monday Morning really gets whatever toxins are left in your system out. It sucks, but it works.
7. I have moves like a mad pimp.

Later.

Long Time, No Beer.

The Sidekick's back in town tonight.

He's getting ready to move to the Big Smoke, and came over early to get things started. Tonight will be the first time we've have a chance to go out for drinks since the Canucks game o-so-long ago.

It'll be good to just sit and shoot the shit. Trying to stay in touch with someone who is on a completely different schedule, and doesn't have the computer access they normally do, is next to impossible.

Of course I'll have to have all the gritty details of what he's doing in Van - how am I supposed to live vicariously through him if I don't know what's going on?

Fucker better have some stories.



Later.

They Grow Up Fast.

I just had "The Talk" with the Boy.

Not that talk - (he's only six), but the Boyfriend/Girlfriend talk.

There's this girl that he plays with at school all the time - they are always together. I used to bug him and call her his Girlfriend, at which point he'd get mad until I said "Friend who's a girl" - he took that shit pretty seriously.

So we're cleaning out the garage today ( yay Domestic Chores) - after I had just picked him up from a playdate at her house. (When I got there they were playing Wii together - is that something I should be worried about?) I asked the Boy how his Girlfriend was - expecting the same reaction as usual. Instead, he says "Daddy, you aren't supposed to find out." When I ask him what it is I'm not supposed to know, he tells me this:

At school they are best friends, but away from school they are Boyfriend /Girlfriend. (It's a big secret.)

(Just proof of how young the Boy really is: When asked what it was I'm not supposed to know, he immediately tells me. They only do that at this age - eventually I'll have to be more circumspect in my questioning.)

I asked him what it is that Boyfriends/Girlfriends do. Do they kiss? Hold hands? (It's been 30 years since I was six..) Much to my relief, he told me that they don't do any of that stuff, it's just like at school but they call themselves Boyfriend/Girlfriend.

Thank God that's it.

I'm sure I'll eventually have to have the Big Talk with him, but I hope it's still at least 6 or 7 years off. (I'll cover that shit early with him, so he doesn't pick up some dumb information off the street.)

For now he can keep his secret - (he asked me not to tell his Mother) so I'll just keep it on the down low. - I don't want her to think she's raising a Man-Whore.


They do grow up fast.





Later.

High Hopes.

If John McCain was good for one thing, it was this quote:

"Maverick I can do, but Messiah is above my pay grade."

I, like many others, feel that Barak Obama's election to the Presidency is a good thing. Like most Canadians, I like him better than our own Prime Minister. (That's really kinda sad, right? Sorry Mr. Harper.)

But I think a lot of Americans view Mr. Obama as some sort of national savior, and I worry that they will either expect too much right away, or else forgive him too easily for any of his shortcomings.

It could go either way.

On one had, these are the same people who elected G.W. twice - obviously they tend to let things slide a bit - but they are also people who have lost over 500,000 jobs in December, and poor people hate nothing more than to see someone else wasting money.

I wish him well. - He's going to need it.



Later.

Ass Crack Heaven.

What do most bowlers have against belts?

Last night was a nightmare.

I was at bowling, (cool, I know) and for some reason, everywhere I turned, there was man-ass hanging out. I'm not talking good lookling man-ass either - this shit was like a bad acid trip.

I swear to God one guy had so much hair I thought he had his sweater tucked in his pants.

It was like some kind of natural disaster - you just stared at it in horror.

The weird thing is all these ass-crackers are also the guys who do the big, sweeping throws with lots of leg movement - by the end of the swing, their belly's hanging out the front, and they're giving the vertical smile to everyone behind them.

I had no appetite at all last night. I didn't think I'd be able to hold anything down.

I'd like to get all these guys on one team - (and hopefully they would be sponsored by a belt & suspender company) that way I only have to see them once every ten weeks - I could at least prepare, or better yet, sit that week out.

Next to that, there's not much I can do.

Next week I'm going to try blinders - hopefully that will prevent some of the peripheral ass-cleavage from making me ill.

Wish me luck.


Later.

In a Fog.

Tonight after work I went out for a run.

For the last couple of days, we've had a ton of fog - I'm talking thicker-than-pea-soup shit. I went out anyway.

It's surreal, running in the fog. Everything is muted, from the lonely call of the foghorn to the muffled sound of the occasional car that drove by. I didn't bring my iPod, so there was no music to distract me - the only sound was my own breathing.

I could only see about 20 feet in any direction, but since I was following the Seawalk it wasn't a problem. I just stared straight ahead and ran.

I did come across a couple of people - some who were out for a run like me, and others who were just walking. It was almost as startling for me as it was for them. (When all you hear is heavy breathing and then some guy comes running by you in the fog, it might scare you just a bit.) It's funny - you'd think we'd have some sort of shared connection, us denizens of the fog - but most people preferred not to make eye contact and weren't social at all. ( Probably thought I was some crazy fucker for running in the dark.)

My favorite parts were when it seemed like I was completely isolated from everything else. It was eerie and relaxing at the same time. (Don't ask me how that even makes sense, but it does.)

I'd like to do it again - but next time I'll pick a more deserted road... and bring a hockey mask.

That'll really scare the shit out of someone.

(In case you were wondering - 6 miles, 45 minutes. Oh yeah.)


Later.

Post #2 - Fucking Hilarious.

This Ad cracks me up.



It's the squeaking that makes it.

Oh God, ..the squeaking.

Someone needs some lube.



Later.

Large & In Charge.

I was In Charge today.

Imagine a scenario in which the President is dead, (think Bush, not Obama.) and the Vice President is incapacitated. Half of the House is out with the flu, so who's in charge?

Eventually you work your way down to someone inconsequential, like the Secretary of Agriculture, who by the power of the Presidential Succession Act, takes charge if no one else can.

Today I was the Secretary of Agriculture.

With two of my bosses on Vacation and another one on his day off, I alone wielded the power in my corner of the world.

And it was Good.

I'd like to say that it was all fun and games, but to tell you the truth, I was bored out of my mind. When you delegate as efficiently as I do, you end up leaving nothing for yourself. (Although that coffee won't drink itself, will it?)

All and all the day was fun, hopefully I get to do it again soon with out having to have someone bumped off.

Now that's career advancement....



Later.

Headgear.

There's one thing I will never understand is guys who wear toques in the gym.

A hat I can appreciate, unless you wear it backwards, in which case you look like a nerdy 12-year old. I'll even accept the "do-rag" that some guys have. Headband? If you think you can pulling off with out looking like a fag, go ahead. (Hint: you still look like a fag.)

But a toque? What's the point? I can see if you are outside, but we are in a temperature-controlled indoor environment - and sweating to boot.

Most of the guys who are going with this look are the ones who workout in their wife-beaters and talk on their cellphones in between sets, so I shouldn't be surprised. They are the same ones who look like they are smuggling watermelons in under their shirts, but you only see them doing arm curls. (Although there is the occasional huge guy who does it, but like I'm gonna tell him he looks like a dick.)

I hope this fashion fuck-up goes away soon - it's not that it's really distracting or anything, but it's just one of those things that look so out of place that it boggles the mind.

If I go in tomorrow and see a guy doing curls with earmuffs and mittens, I'm going home.


Later.

300.

I hit the 300 mile mark today.

(That's 482 Km for the metric people.)

Sadly, it was during Intervals - which suck. (But are necessary, if I want to be faster.)

That means I've ran the equivalent of 11.45 marathons since September 14th. That's pretty impressive, I think.

I'm just over two months away from my half marathon now, and with the training I'm doing, I'm logging about 24-26 miles a week. Nike gives out another "Milestone" award at 500, so that's my next goal - and should almost coincide with my race, which would be cool.

See you on the streets.


Later.

Said To Me By A Bitch At The Gym...

"Have you been on that treadmill all this time?"

(After doing 10.25 miles in 90 minutes.)

"You need therapy."


What can I say? I don't like running in hurricane-force wind and rain.


Bitch.

I Feel #42531.

1. That the anger from going to the gym at 5:30 in the morning, only to find that the guy who's supposed to open it has slept in, almost burns as many calories as being at the gym.
2. That playing Wii Music makes me feel retarded. At least with Guitar Hero or Rock Band, you're playing a pseudo-instrument, instead of pretending to play a pseudo-instrument.
3. What do I love seeing when I come in from a morning at the gym? My brand new coffeepot waiting, having brewed a programmed cup for me just minutes before.
4. That trying to get a bunch of middle-age women who work together to get along is impossible. I should try something easier, like having Israelis and Palestinians hold hands and sing.
5. That when it rains, it pours - this can be both a good and bad thing.
6. That I'm not going to explain the above post.
7. That the new radio station at work is the worst possible station in the world. I would rather listen to cats mating than listen to that crap much longer.
8. That nothing will make me happier than being able to do a nice long run on the streets again - the roads around here are almost passable now, and I yearn for an outdoor run. (I yearn for a lot of stuff, but a run will do.)
9. That I forgot how much fun the rowing machine is. It's no party, but it's better than the bike.
10. That after so many days without really posting, you think I'd have more to say.

Guess not.

Later.

My Baby's Back.

Today at 5:42pm, My baby came home.

I almost wept.

She's hooked back up, and running like a champ. I didn't want to put the controller down.

It's been 1 month and 7 days since she broke down - now, with therapy, she's a s good as the day I first plugged her in. I almost forgot how the light shines off her crisp graphics and fast gameplay.


Welcome home, baby -

Welcome home.




Later.

Google News Is Some Fucked Up Shit.

Google News obviously has a different view of "Entertainment" than I do.

When I plopped down in front of my computer tonight, I do what I always do - hit Google News to get caught up on what's going on in the world.

As I scrolled away, checking each section, I noticed that the type of stories that were usually in "Entertainment" ( Movie premieres, Album releases, Lindsay Lohan on a coked-up binge) weren't there. Instead there were the three stories you see to your right.

Now why Google News describes Drunk Driving, Childbirth and Fleeing for Your Life as "Entertainment" is beyond me. I can't picture any of the people in the above situations laughing and cheering as they unfold. (Maybe the Drunk, but not if he's been nabbed by the Cops.)

Somebody fucked up somewhere.

It's probably just a glitch, but if the local Bake Sale is listed under "World News" I'll know someone has gone off their rocker.



Later.

Resolve

If you can't guess what my New Year's resolutions are going to be, I'm not going to tell you.

Based upon the sound advice of "If you tell someone what you wished for it won't come true" - I have decided to keep my resolutions close to the chest. That way the only person who can hold me accountable to them is me, and I'm pretty lenient with myself.

I know what my goals for the next year are - some of them are admirable, some are necessary, and some are downright selfish. (Do I really need to masturbate that much? - Yes.)

I'll let you know when I've accomplished one, but the failures I'll keep on the down low.


Later.