Holiday....

I must be doing something right - my first day of holidays are sunny and nice.
(Cold as Fuck in the morning, but I'm not going to complain about that.)

I originally booked these holidays to help the Sidekick move - but since we did all the big stuff a couple of weeks ago, I'm just going to go over to The City and hang.

There's going to be poker, comics, and probably the occasional Gin or Beer. (Oh Noes!) It'll be cool to just kick back and roll - old skool style. Of course it's not completely old school, 'cause back in the day I'd sleep in on a hungover Sunday morning - this time I'm making him take me to his Gym. (Sad, isn't it?)

I have to go to the Gym, he said his new place is down the road from an IHOP. (How the hell am I supposed to resist that?)


If all goes well, I leave Saturday morning and come back sometime Monday/ Tuesday. I think after 3-4 days with the Sidekick in the Big Smoke, I'm going to need another holiday just to recuperate.

Can't wait.




Later.

Giving Up The Game.

I have to stop playing NHL 09.

Not by choice, mind you.

You see, the copy I have isn't really mine - it's the Sidekick's, and I've just been using it while he was away from his Xbox. Now that he is situated in The Big City, I have to give it back.

And therein lies my problem.

At first it wasn't a big deal, as I'd received a Futureshop gift card for Christmas, and was planning on getting the game with that when I returned the Sidekick's copy. (No problem, right?)

But then I spent the gift card on DVD's. Some in January, and the rest just the other day.
( I got this sweet deal on The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen & Ghostbusters 1&2 - how do you pass that up?)

So now I will be without my Hockey fix until Payday. And that seems like an eternity away.

You have to understand, this is a game that I play religiously. Every day, at least once. It's addictive. Giving this up cold turkey will be harder than quitting smoking and masturbating at the same time. (Impossible, right?)

So wish me luck.

I'm gonna need it.



Later.

Kiss My Ass, Billie Jean.

It finally happened.

After months and months, I finally beat that bitch.

I beat Billie Jean into the gym this morning.

It doesn't sound like much, but it's an accomplishment.

Billie Jean is always first in the gym. Monday to Friday, she's the first name on the sign in sheet. Doesn't matter if they open at 5:15 or 5:30am , she's first through the door. It's been a goal of mine to beat her. (Sad, isn't it?)

Today was my day.

Usually her car is parked right by the front, next to the handicapped spot. It's a sweet spot, but tricky to get into as you have to cut a sharp corner as you come into the parking lot.

I was right behind her as she pulled in today.

While she was wrangling her Honda into her favorite spot, I parked and calmly walked (fast, but definitely not a run) into the gym and signed in. Victory!

She didn't say anything, (Probably because she doesn't know of my obsession with beating her to the sign in sheet)but I could tell she was hurting inside.

At least I think it was that - she was doing lunges, so maybe the pained expression was from those.

But in my mind, she knows.
Oh yes, she knows.




Later.

Pop For Sale.

So they are auctioning off Neverland.

Now, I'm not one to judge how batshit crazy Micheal Jackson may or may not be, but if you leaf through even just a portion of the online auction catalog, you'll understand that he just isn't living in the same world as the rest of us.

It's not the scores of Arcade games he has, nor the antique popcorn & coffee machines. (I'd have that shit too, if I had the cash.)

It's the dolls.

Not so much the life-sized Batman & Terminator statues (still cool), but the life sized ones of:

• Maids - old, not french.
• Butlers - old, not Alfred or Benson.
• Old people sitting on benches.
• Clowns.

There's more, but I think I mentally blocked the rest of the shit out.

I can't even begin to say I understand why he'd have shit like that laying around.

But who would understand? Macaulay? Janet? Someone ask Tito - maybe he knows what the fuck was up with that shit.

All I know is I'd hate to be the guy who's got to pick that shit up after it's sold.

"Was this pair of toddler's undies supposed to be with the belt and jacket from the Bad video? - Oh, I didn't think so."



Later.

W.T.F.

The Boys love to watch this show.

I have fun watching them watching this show.

They laugh so hard I almost think we might have to go back to diapers.





Seriously - whatever these guys are smoking - I'd like a hit.


Later.

4-Way City.

I had to go to Courtenay today.

Normally when I go to the City Next Door, (with the family) we head to the South part of town - where meccas of commerce such as Futureshop reside - we don't go into the Downtown core.

Today, however, I had to venture there to register for my Half Marathon. (30 days away!) The local running shop is located on Fifth Avenue, right in the middle of town.

It sucks to drive in downtown Courtenay.

I never realized that one area could have so many four-way stops. As you go up Fifth, just about every intersection is a 4-way, and no matter what road you turn down, you will come to another 4-way within two blocks. Combine that with some areas that are no left turn between 9am-6pm and you really have a headache.

It's like a driving school nightmare.

After navigating that for a while, I needed to get out.

I think it only took seven 4-way stops to get me to Futureshop, where I was able to relieve my stress with the purchase of a DVD or two.

I couldn't get back home fast enough.

Campbell River Drivers: You're shitty, you weave in and out of traffic, pass on the right, don't signal, and break most road safety laws. But at least I don't have to pull up behind your ass and wait every block and a half.




Later.

Hurricane Obama

As I toiled away on the Stairclimber at the gym this morning, there was one thing that bothered me.

I was watching the news, and they were discussing Obama's visit to Canada today. There were shots of Air Force One, and pictures of the Ottawa skyline.

The strange thing was the amount of attention they were paying to the weather.

They were talking at great length about the rain in Maryland, and possible weather conditions in Ottawa. They updated it about 3 or 4 times. I don't think that the guys who fly the President's plane are going to be deterred because of a little rain - so I was confused as to the attention.

Although it's strange, I think it's a good thing that's all they had to talk about. If it was the previous President coming to Canada, you'd have stories about extra security to prevent a Mukluk assault.

I had to work today, so I didn't get to catch anything about the visit - I'll read up on it tomorrow. Knowing how Canadians feel about Obama, I'm sure he was greeted at the airport by mobs of adoring fans, and treated like he was the Second Coming of Christ. (That or the Black Superman, I'm not sure which.)

Either way, I'm sure it'll be entertaining.




Later.

Plateau.

I've hit a wall.

In regards to my weight loss, that is. (Please don't think I've injured myself or anything.)

With my training right now, I'm running anywhere from 24-30 miles a week. You'd think that with all that exercise, I'd just be shedding the pounds, right?

Not so.

I've been the same weight for the last two weeks - not even a pound difference.

Granted, it's been the two weeks with Valentine's, (Shitty food) company over, (Shitty food) and a couple of family birthdays/ outings thrown in. (Shitty food and beer)

So I think tomorrow will be my start back to the goodness that is Healthy Choices in what I eat.

I have 35 days until my half marathon, and only 28 until the weight-loss competition I'm in finishes. The only hiccup I'm going to allow is for when I'm in Vancouver with the Sidekick - next to that, it's the Good Life for me.

If I've been eating like shit and had no change, imagine what I'm going to look like with the glorious combination that is diet & exercise.


I"ll be off that plateau yet - mark my words.




Later.

The Biggest Man In The World.

My Grandfather wasn't a big man.

By the time I was 15, the Twin and I towered over him.

But size didn't matter - he could still kick our asses.

Have you ever heard of Old Man Strength? Pop had that in spades. He'd throw us around like ragdolls if we tried to mess with him. He was the most gentle, unassuming man you'd ever meet, yet he could grip your arm and grind your bones together if need be.

He drove truck during the Second World War. He didn't brag about it, but I've seen the medals he had for being in certain areas, and being part of the U.N. afterwards. That's how he was - it wasn't what you've done in your life that mattered, it's what you're doing now.

He and my Grandmother lived across the steet from me when I was born. Except for 5 years when I lived in Tumbler Ridge, they've lived in the same town as me, no matter where it was. The Twin and I spent 16 hours in a Ryder moving van with him when he helped us move to the Island. (If putting up with two 14 year old boys for 16 hours, while driving the Fraser Canyon doesn't deserve a medal, I don't know what does.) He's always been there, on camping trips, hockey games, cub scouts, weddings, births - the good times and the bad times.

I held my Grandfather's hand as he died Thursday night.

He left this world quietly and peacefully, just like the man he was.

Like I said - Pop wasn't a big man, but he loomed large in my life.

I'll miss you, Poppie.

More than I can say.





Later.

Departure.

We loaded up the Sidekick's stuff today - he's off to the big city.

I think he had even more crap than I did - and I lived in a house, not a one-bedroom apartment. (To be fair- he's been in that place a long time.)

The best find:

This cover - just picture a band across the corner that says "Gretzky Retires" and there will be no confusion as to how long this particular piece of literature has been sitting in his apartment. He started calling it a Pop Culture Archive, what with all the Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly laying around, but I think it was more of a explosion of geekiness - a Nerdgasm, if you will.

And now it's packed up and gone.

I'll admit - I'm a bit sad.

It should be okay, though - he's coming back to tidy and finish some final stuff at the end of the month, and I'll go over and stay in the Big Smoke for a couple of days when he heads back. After that, I'll have to live vicariously through his exploits via Facebook. (At least until I can get over there again.)

I wonder if Skipper felt like this when Gilligan left the island?

We'll never know.




Later.

At Least I Have A Warm Heart...

There's really only one disadvantage to working in the Dairy/ Freezer section - cold hands.

Sure, I have gloves, but they are pretty much useless, and eventually, my hands get used to a certain level of chilliness - I don't even notice how cold they are.

Until I have to use the washroom.

The shock of cold hand on warm ... member is, for lack of a better word, disagreeable. For a moment, I thought my penis was in full retreat and trying to hide somewhere behind my lower intestine.

Needless to say, the next time I had to use the facilities, I washed my hands with warm water, dried, and then coaxed Mr. Happy out to frolic.

It's just more pleasant all around.


And sanitary, now that I think about it.



Later.

A Nothing Day.

Today was to be a day of Accomplishments, Achievements, and just a Get-Shit-Done kinda day.

In fact, it was a day of doing Absolutely Fuck All.

Next to the stuff I normally do when taking care of the kids, (Playing, feeding, cleaning) I didn't do a single thing that I wanted to do today.

• No Gym.
• No Run.

I know it's nobody's fault but my own, but I'm kinda divided on weather or not to feel good about taking the day off, or feel guilty about not doing anything.

I'll go with both.

Seeing how tomorrow is a big run day, (12 miles) I'll feel good about resting, and use the gulit to push myself the extra distance.

Wish me luck.




Later.

5 Steps Short.

I messed up.

I went to the gym today with a purpose - to run 3.5 miles as fast as I could without killing myself, and then to get in at least another 30-or-so minutes on the weights.

You see, the 3.5 miles were important because they were going to put me over the 400 mile mark according to my Nike+ Sportband. That's a pretty big milestone to hit, and I was really pumped about it.

As I'm just about done my run, one of the guys I workout with shows up, and asks if I want to hit the weights in a circuit. I agree, check my mileage and see that I made it - I hop off the treadmill and hit the weight section. (But that's a story for later on.)

When I get home and plug my Sportband in, it tells me that I didn't hit 400 - I'm .1 miles short. I guess I misread it at the gym. I was all hyped up for this big feeling of accomplishment, and I can't even hit the mark until Sunday.

Why Sunday? Well, that leads to the next part.


You see, the workout partner and I did a circuit as follows:

• 10 Thrusters.
• 10 Side Lat Raises - alt with front raises in later sets.
• 20 Hanging Leg Raises - knees to elbows.
• 10 Leg Press
• 10 Leg Extension
• 10 Leg Curls
• 20 Decline Bench Situps
• 20 Straight Leg Raises
• 10 Burpees
• 20 Kettlebell Swings

And we did that 5 times around in less than 45 minutes. I was dead at the end of it.

It's been so long since I've really worked my legs - I can feel my hamstrings tightening up even from just typing what we did today. Throw 9 hours of work (On a major warehouse/receiving day, no less) and I'm wiped.

So tomorrow is a Rest Day. (I still have to work, but it's a rest day from the gym.) I'm going to take it easy on my legs and then come Sunday I'm going to kick some ass.

It'll just be a letdown, knowing that I'm not crossing this milestone at the end of a hard run, but with my warmup mile. Just seems anti-climactic.

Whatever, I'll take it.




Later.

Last Guy to the Party.

According to YouTube, I'm the 22,853,391st person to watch this video (and laugh, I presume).

If you haven't seen it already, just take a number and get in line.




Funny Shit




Later.

Meaningless.

I don't know whether or not to feel bad for Nickelback.

Sure, you've just been nominated for 5 Juno awards - but at the end of the day, what does that mean, really?

It's like being the fastest skater on the ice - but only when pitted against kids with just one foot.

When your competition is Celine Dion and Hedley, there's really not much to get excited about. (When was the last time Celine Dion was relevant in music anyways?)

The biggest threat they have is from Sam Roberts - and knowing how, as Canadians, we usually mess this up, we won't honor Sam and the boys at all. (Not that the Junos really matter - when was the last time you saw "Juno Award Winner" on a CD case by any band that tours outside of Canada?)

So I guess I shouldn't feel bad for them - they are most likely going to win something - but I can still feel bad for them for just being Nickelback.





Later.

The Day Groundhogs Ruled The Earth.

I guess the British didn't need the lovable rodent to tell them that winter's still here for another six weeks, eh?

Seriously, though - has anyone really looked at how accurate these little bastards are? I'm sure they have a better ratio of right/wrong than your average forecaster, and they don't have to go to old people's homes when Great-Gran hits the century mark.

Come to think of it, looking at my TV and seeing a Groundhog come out of his hole would be just as interesting as what my regular weather guy does.

What made the Groundhog so special, anyway? (I'm guessing that the other rodents are somewhat jealous.) Was there a particular reason our forefathers chose this hibernating animal? Why not a Bear? I'd rather watch some guy try to wake up a Grizzly than see if a Groundhog catches a glimpse of his shadow.

But it'll never happen - the Groundhog is too ingrained into our culture. I'm sure that there would be some sort of outrage, a protest gone wrong, and then next thing you know the picture to the right is all too real.


At least I know Bish will be enjoying the holiday - he did say it was his favorite, after all...





Later.