Driving Me Crazy.

Fuck me, summer's here.

I know the weather outside doesn't show it, but to many people, once the kids are out of school it's summer.

I can sure tell it's here, based solely on my drive to and from work.

I know the Sidekick and those of you who live in the big city may scoff, but for it to take me more than 15 minutes to drive to work is absolutely retarded.

Today was almost 25.

Now in the city, I can understand that traffic problems are caused by simple volume and time of day, and I can accept that. Here, however, the main traffic delays are just because some idiot is driving along looking at the ocean or almost anything else but paying attention to what he's doing.

It's maddening.

I really think that the time has come for every vehicle to have a hands-free phone, and said phone could be called by dailing the licence plate.

That way I could call the asshole in front of me, tell him to fucking pay attention, push that little pedal on the right, and maybe I can get somewhere TODAY.

See? Problem solved.
All it would take is a bit of communication. (With extreme prejudice.)

I know - imma fkn genius.

Later.

Blank.

Since I can't really think of anything to write about right now, I'll just leave you.with this sweet clip of the JBT.

Did I mention it's less than 2 months until the concert?

Watch "Funky Tonight - JBT - Official Clip" on YouTube

Oh yeah....

Later.

Kinect-ed.

Just used Microsoft's Kinect for the first time last night.

It's fun and the games are almost Nintendo-ish in their hokeyness. However the fact that you don't have a controller to hold while you are doing all the strange gyrations is a bonus.

I also think that as much as some people like Wii Fit, the Kinect kicks ass based on the simple fact of its ability to give feedback on posture and such during an exercise - it busted me for not going low enough on my lunges. And with Kinect, you can't fake running by shaking the controller - get those knees up, people, or else you crawl along like a snail.

I do wish you could do more with it voice wise, though. As cool as it was to have it listen when you want to switch things around, it would be awesome if it could adjust things like volume or turn on and off by voice. I'm sure there will be some sort of update eventually that would take care of that.

So far the shine is still on the apple, so I'm sure you will eventually hear me bitching about it. But for now its a great way to keep myself and the kids active and moving on the days its too shitty to go outside. It will never replace the gym or my running shoes, but I don't want them replaced anyway.

So if you walk by my house and it looks like I'm having a seizure in front of my tv, don't worry - its just Kinect.

Later.

Check How You Roll.

If there is any place that my OCD goes into overdrive, it's the bathroom.

It's not like I wipe my ass 6000 times or anything like that , but my frustration does come from the room's paper product.

It's not the whole over/under thing with the TP, either. People who get pissed at that shit need to loosen up and relax.

My issue is with the lazy fuckers who can't be bothered to put it on the dispenser in the first place - it puts me into an almost apolexic-type rage.

I mean, really - how hard is it to just take off and throw out the old roll and put another one on? You've gone to the trouble of getting a new roll - take the plunge and finish the job - it's not Rocket science, people.

What gets me is that this isn't just an occurance where I work - its in almost every bathroom I've seen, including my own home. (Which is why it drives me nuts so bad.)

I'm thinking that if you can't be responsible enough to put the TP in it's proper place, you shouldn't be able to use it at all. I'm sure a couple of days of wiping your ass with your hand would teach you a lesson.

My main worry with that plan is that if you are too lazy to put the roll on, you're too lazy to wash your hands.

....but that's a whole other blog post.

Later.

I Feel:

- That the day couldn't get any longer if you tied bricks to the clock.
- That making up your own metaphors sucks, and should be left to the professionals.
- That the sight of a good pair of yoga pants makes any run easier.
- That trying to reason with a 5 year old is like trying to stuff a cat into a Coke bottle.
- That I seriously need help, metaphor wise.
- That while I accept and enjoy the choices I've made in life, having the Sidekick text me from the strip bar when surrounded by women makes me wish I'd stopped aging at 25.
- That if my bald spot gets any bigger, it means the terrorists are winning.
- That it takes a lot to build up to the speed I used to run at - right now, I could probably outrun a homeless guy.
- ....Unless he got some shoes in the riot - then I might have trouble.
- That I think the thing I miss the most would be the things I can't remember.

Later.

Reassessment.

Normally I think Horoscopes are shit, but much like a car accident, I can't look away.

The person who normally writes the horoscope in the paper I read usually puts some cliched, trite quip in the parentheses at the end of the horoscope, and I always just roll my eyes and think mean thoughts about her level of intelligence.

But the fact that she ended today with a quote from one of my favorite movies just moved her up in my estimation.

Congratulations, Horoscope Lady - I only think you're a cheap scammer instead of a retarded cheap scammer. Good for you.

Later.

On Fatherhood.

I won't lie, there's times when being a Dad is the most balls-out, greatest experience ever.

It's having your boy throw that first perfect spiral to you, having them pedal their bikes beside you as you go for a run, playing in the pool, riding go-karts, watching a movie, and just having two people out there who think I am the most brilliant guy in the world.

It's watching them grow and accomplish things on their own - from making it to the other side of the pool during swimming lessons, to scoring that first goal on the ice. And finding out that they excel in areas you never did (like math).

It's having them think that no matter what job you do, its the greatest job in the world because you do it.

There are two things that will happen to you every day that you are a Dad - your kids will piss you off, and they'll amaze you at the same time.

So far, that 50/50 balance is alright by me.

Later.

Fatty Fortune.

See these?


We just got them in the store today.

It seems to me that the cookie has disappeared and is now just a chocolate delivery system.

Needless to say, they will probably be a big hit with the local fatties. (As a former fatty, I can attest to this fact.)

I will attempt to be on the other side of the aisle anytime I have to walk by them. Partially to escape temptation, but also to avoid the obese wave that will surely come crashing through the cookie aside and possibly swamp the chip aisle as well.

Betcha didn't know my job was so dangerous, huh?



Later.

Modern Stupidity.

Dear Vancouver Rioters:

I'd just like to throw my opinion in with everyone else's and agree that what you accomplished Wednesday night in Vancouver was disrespectful, shameful, and an embarrassment not just to Vancouverites and British Columbians but to Canadians everywhere.

I'd also like to add that I think you're a bunch of fucking retards.

Like most yesterday, I spent some time online and was repeatedly astounded by the fact that you thought being part of the mob gave you anonymity, and somehow either didn't notice all the cameras and cellphones around, or didn't think they would be used against you. What shocked me even more was that some of you bragged to others on Facebook or Twitter about your endeavours.

How stupid are you? I know you're dumb enough to take part in a riot and destroy and steal things, but where in the world do you get off thinking it ups your social standing to brag about it?

Unfortunately, I guess it does, because the amount of "right on" replys to some of the posts were adding up - at least until someone with some sense told you that saying stuff like that on Facebook is the equivalent of standing on your front lawn and yelling what you did.

But you will get caught. This isn't something that will just "go away" - people can't help but see the pictures and video, and even though you aren't ashamed at what you did, someone you know will see you, and they will be ashamed enough for both of you and turn you in.

Luckily for you, our justice system is such that you will just get a slap on the wrist, but thankfully, a criminal record follows you everywhere - I'm sure disclosing to potential employers or others what you were charged for will have to do for social punishment.

I'd like to close by saying it again: you're a bunch of fucking retards.

Fuck you very much.

Later.

Dignified.

I'm surprised with myself.

I took the weed whacker out to the backyard today.

That in itself is not surprising.

The fact that I was out there for a whole hour - sweating, grunting, and taming that wild brush - and yet it was another whole hour before I tweeted something vagina-related (and classily mentioned 70's porn) is.

Just goes to show how mature I've become.




Later.

4 Miles.

4 miles.

That's 7040 yards, 21120 feet, 6437 meters, 253440 inches, 1.3 leagues,...

(You get my point.)

Eight months ago I would have done 4 miles and laughed at how easy it was - it was something done on a lunch break, as natural as warming up soup in the microwave at work.

But since then, I'd let myself slip - missing runs, putting things ahead of what I wanted to be doing and just not feeling the passion for running that I once did.

As I said in an earlier post, the Royal Victoria is 16 weeks out and I want to be ready for it. That was the first race I'd ever had that I didn't improve upon my time - looking back, I took that harder than I thought and without realizing it, I just gave up.

That's not like me.

The 4 miles I did today felt much like the miles I did years ago when I first strapped the shoes on my feet and ran for myself, rather than running for the sake of getting my face close to the food.

It felt good.
I felt better.
I felt like myself.

I'm not going to let that go.





Later.

Come Home Stanley.

I'm not one to say that any Canadian team in the Stanley Cup Final is automatically "Canada's Team", but I'd be hard pressed not to cheer for the Vancouver Canucks as they face the Bruins tonight, with a chance to take home Canada's first Cup since 1993.

I cheered for Edmonton, Calgary, and yes, even Ottawa when they had a chance to bring the Cup back to Canada.

I can understand those who have been die-hard Boston fans for years not cheering, and I respect them in their conviction. I know if it was the Avs playing against Vancouver I would be singing a slightly different tune.

But if you like Hockey and love your country, you gotta want the Cup to be up North - our drought has been too long.

And anyway, Colorado is going to dominate and win it next year, so if they don't do it now we'll be waiting even longer.

(See how optimistic I am for my team? Now that's a fan.)

Later.

Lyrical Summer.

I'm really looking forward to this summer.

There's the obvious things -like getting to do fun stuff with my kids, day trips to Parksville, Go-Karts, and hikes - to the little things like just being able to go for a nice long run on a sunny day.

But I'm really looking forward to a couple of concerts that the Sidekick and I are going to in Victoria:

John Butler Trio - this one is in August, it's a band I really like, and the fact that its Victoria in the summer is a plus.

Sam Roberts - sure, this one is in October, but whatever, I've wanted to see them for ages, and they are one of the bands that I have always said I would see if I had a chance.

I'm stoked for both of these, and have already started to filter random tunes by each back into my musical rotation - I'm that fucker who sings along at times, and there's no way I'm going to mess up any words. (Concert faux pas!)

Try not to be too envious, and I'll try not to rub it in too much.
(Who am I kidding? I'll rub it in every chance I get.)

Later.

Put Up or Shut Up.

As of tomorrow, the Royal Victoria Marathon is 16 weeks away.

While I'm not doing the Marathon this year, I am planning on doing the Half, if only to make up for my abysmal performance last year (1:39:00). I know some might think that was a good time, but it was one I wasn't really happy with, and I want to rectify that.

So its time to get back on the horse and get going.

Wish me luck - I think I'm going to need it.

Later.

Stretched Out.

So I had a free moment the other day, and feeling a little tight after my run, I decided to try something different to work out the kinks.

Yoga.

Please, don't laugh.

I had a DVD that I got for the Wife at Christmas, so I grabbed the yoga mat, threw the disc in and went to town.

Yoga is fucking hard.

It's an introductory disc, so it started out with stretching and stuff - felt great. I'll admit - as it moved on into explaining some of the poses and flows and shit, I stayed with the "easy" level - but even on easy, it's hard. I'm not the most flexible of guys, and the flexibility is only part of it - you have to have balance and core strength to boot.

As I did the stretching afterwards, I knew I was going to feel that soreness the next day - that good ache that tells you that you had a great workout.

I may not do it everyday, but I think incorporating yoga into my running schedule can only be a good thing.

Just give me a while before you look at me doing it - right now I feel as graceful as a Orca doing hurdles on dry ground.

Later.

Trouble Overhead.

The radio at work usually sucks, and I'm not just talking about the content. (Do they really need to play the Hip so much?)

The Worksite is located in what I refer to as "Where signals go to die" - cellphones, AM/FM radio, all of it is scratchy and inconsistent.

Because certain radio stations fade in and out, we find that we are changing to a different station at least once a day. No matter which one, it eventually goes to static and we switch again.

And that's where the fun comes in.

Periodically, one of the local FM station's signal will be overpowered by what I believe is a station from Seattle. It's hard to notice the change at first, because the music that's played on both stations is relativity similar.

It's the DJ's that make the difference.

After a music set had ended last week, the DJ's started talking, and since they usually prattle on about local, small town stuff, I generally tune them out until the next song comes on. So needless to say, my attention was focused elsewhere during their conversation.

Until I heard the word "Laibia".
Of course, this got my attention.

Turns out the station had slipped over to the Seattle one, and the DJ's were having a conversation about personal grooming, tattoos, and peircings. It seemed to be an interesting and heated conversation, one that I would have gladly kept listening to.

But instead, I was running up the stairs two at a time, hoping to change the station before any of our elderly customers clued in that the "hood" the DJ's were talking about wasn't a piece of clothing.

I just made it in time, as I'm sure I heard the phrase "Prince Albert" uttered before I hit the button.

I'm hoping our customers just thought someone was still talking about the Royal Wedding.

That seems plausible, right? Right?

Later.

Obviously Not Decaf.

Coffee coffee coffee.

Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee.

Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffee.

Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffee.

Fuck I have to pee.

Later.

Episode 6 - Rambling About Midlife.

I present to you Midlife Ramblers Episode 6.

In which we discuss many things, from the day I was born to how to wrap up this crazy thing we've been doing. (And the hope we can do more.)




Savor this one, people, it might be the last for a while.

Enjoy, and as always, comments are our bread and butter.


Later.

Working Class Heroes.

I got called into work the other day, and because my days off are the days that I watch the kids, I had to bring my youngest in with me for a half day.

And if you do something for one....you have to do it for the other, so today I had my oldest doing half a shift with me.

My kids are a blast at work.

They are both great helpers, incredibly attentive, and they think I'm the greatest boss in the world (they're right). I have so much fun with them that I don't even notice how fast the day flies by. And we get lots of positive compliments from the customers, who think it's pretty cool.

Of course, the half day is done, and I'm sure the rest of the shift is going to drag on (since I'm missing the hockey game too).

Maybe I can call them back and have them finish off the shift...

Later.

Seeking Solitude.

Today is a day where all I want to do is chill out, enjoy my lunch break (or dinner break, whatever), compose my thoughts and blog.

...and of course every single person that comes within 15 feet of me wants to have an in-depth conversation about whatever is on their mind.

It's hard to balance out politely ending what could be a long conversation and restraining myself from stabbing them with my pen.

Right now I think the latter is winning.

Later.