Long, Green, and Lean.

..and I'm not talking about the Green Giant's dick.

I'm a huge fan of cucumbers. They are my go-to vegetable when it comes to pretty much anything - salads, sandwiches, even just plain snacking. Crisp, light, tasty - cucumbers have it all.

And yet the first guy to see me eating a cucumber sandwich on my lunch makes dick jokes about it. Now if I was dipping it in mayo and trying to cram it down my throat, I could see the joke - but really, where do you get a dick joke from a sandwich?

I would have pulled out my leftover cucumber and smacked him with it, but that would have just perpetuated the stereotype.

Much like Randall from Clerks 2, I've found a cause I believe in, and I'm taking it back. Persecute a cucumber eater at your own peril.

Viva la Cucumber!

Later.

The Grocery Store has a Dirty Mind.

After all my years in the Grocery business, I've come to realize that companies don't really take common slang into account when naming their products.

I know it's probably just my twisted frame of mind, but I always chuckle when I'm working some of these products:

- Stand 'n Stuff Tacos - This one pretty much explains itself.
- Cock Brand Sauce - Really? At least it's not white.
- Clam Nectar - I imagine this tastes nothing like I think it would.
- Mixed Nut Butter - And what do you spread it with? (ewww)
- Power Stick (Pepperoni) - Meat that gives you energy? I've been trying to sell the Wife on that concept for years!
- Dutch Crunch (sounds kinky) - I'm tempted to type this into Urban Dictionary, just to see if something's there.
- Manwich (kinda Gay) - I'm surprised the can isn't packaged in rainbows.

There's way more than that, but that is all I could recall on short notice.

So next time you see some guy chuckling to himself in the can foods asile, come up and say hi - it's probably me.

Later.

Swinging My Stick.

I got a chance to go out golfing the other day.

It's been over a year since I last golfed, and I jumped at the chance to go with some of the guys from work when it was offered.

Here's some of the things I noticed after being away from the links for a year:

- My game is still pretty much the same - shitty. I lose more balls than a group of lepers at a men's club.

- Used to be that beer cart girls were about a 10 or 11 - the economy must be killing the course, 'cause ours rated about a 4. Buck teeth, acne, and a voice like a screeching owl did make me want to drink more to dull the pain, so maybe their plan worked...

- The best part of being out is enjoying the pristine beauty of nature - and tearing it up doing donuts in the cart.

- Next to Poker, golf is the only game when you can openly and immediately mock your friend's performance. Out-driving another guy is almost as sweet as taking their money.

- Golf is one of the only sports where no one understands why you laughed because a guy is wearing a sunvisor.

- If I sold one of my children, I could almost afford a membership at the local course. (He's a ginger, so I wouldn't get much.)

- Beer just tastes better on the course.

All in all, I had a great time, and realized how much I miss getting out on a regular basis. (I miss the game too, not just the drinking.) The Sidekick and I used to go hit the links quite a bit - it was a pleasure to text him and rub it in when I was out this time.

His envious replies were almost as satisfactory as sinking a putt. (Almost.)

Later.

Dirty Mind Marketing.

I was talking to someone yesterday at work, and out of the blue, they turned to me and said "You've seen that new banned Skittles commercial, right?" .

When I said that I had seen something about it on Reddit, (a site I waste waaay to much time on) but hadn't actually seen it, they went on for the next 5 minutes about how much I'd like it.

( I would link it here, but it kept getting pulled off YouTube, so just go find it yourself - I'm not your Mom.)

I went home and checked it out, and they were right - I laughed my ass off. As we were chuckling about it this morning, someone said they were amazed that Skittles even let that commercial be made, seeing as they couldn't air it.

Now I'm not sure if Skittles did make it or not, but if they didn't, they should have. The copy that I saw was over 200 thousand views, and it hadn't even been up that long. That's a huge number of people who sat down and actually watched the commercial for your product. With having a Pvr at home, I can barely recall the last time I even more than glanced at a commercial. (Fast forward, y'all.)

So that commercial served its purpose completely. People who probably don't watch commercials actively seeked it out, just to see what the hubbub was about. (Just to say, the dialogue was great, and the Skittles money shot is fantastic.) I don't even like Skittles, and now I'm writing about them.

So kudos to Skittles, (or whomever made it) and even though they weren't the first to use sex to sell something, at least they were fresh and bold with what they did. I'm sure that other companies will soon follow suit.

At least I hope so - I'm dying to see someone sexify Paper Towel. (Don't ask why.)

Later.

Thank You.

Dear Sunshine, Dear Inventor of the Bikini top, Dear Lulemon, Dear Cut off Jeans Girl, Dear G&T, Dear Internet, Dear Running Shoes, Dear Sundress Girl:

I just wanted to say thanks. Can't get into specifics right now, but I'd like you to know I appreciate everything you do/are. The enjoyment you bring to my life is immeasurable.

Later.

Fab Recognition.

My job is like a Beatles fan club meeting.

Some days you're like John, admired for your wit and talent.

Some days you're like Paul, praised for your creativity and sincerity.

Some days you're like George, and lauded for your technical expertise and focus.

And every other day you are Ringo.

Sucks, eh?

Later.

Hero.

Let me tell you about Hero.

Hero (not his real name) is a guy I work with, and although you can't see the cape, I'm pretty sure he believes it's there, streaming majestically behind him as he goes about his day.

What irritates me about Hero (and the reason for the name), is that he will do or say practically anything to be viewed as the "good guy" at work. Need a day off and there's no one to cover? Hero will let you have it, even if it means the rest of the staff are fucked in your absence - as long as he looks good to you. He'll even tell people, after the fact, what he could have done for them if only he had known.

Hero always plays it casual. (Nothing bothers Superman,right?) He plays like getting upset about any work-related thing is waaay out of line, and that nothing ever bothers him. This blasé attitude really hasn't endeared him to myself or others. (Fuck, dude, at least Batman gets mad sometimes.)

I've realized that there's no point in calling Hero on his bullshit either - he just slips the Hero cape on, tells you what he thinks you want to hear, toes the line for a couple of days, and then resumes his retarded behavior. The powers that be choose to let it happen because "That's just how he is". (I guess they think he's from Kyrpton, so it's fine.)

As a person, I have no problems with Hero - we're actually alike in a lot of ways - it is just the "wanting to please everyone" attitude that bugs me. With the job and responsibilities we have, you just can't everyone what they want.

I know that short of kyrptonite, there's not much that can be done to change the behavior, and since I haven't seen any meteors crash near here, I'm shit out of luck.

I guess I'll just be patient and be grateful that it's just an imaginary Hero cape, and that he's not busting out the tights as well.

That would be too much.

Later.

Dear 18 Year Old Me:

I'm sending this to you from THE FUTURE!

Right now, I'm 39, and I thought I'd reach back into the past and give you some tidbits of advice that might make your life a bit easier in the coming years. I can't tell you anything that's incredibly life altering (Skynet won't let me.), but you can help me out now by following these instructions:

•  As tasty as they are, put the donut DOWN. Seriously - believe me on this.
• Quit smoking - Both you and I know that you look incredibly cool with a smoke and a beer in your hand, but I can tell you that eventually you'll be quitting anyway, and in 2011 everyone thinks smokers look like idiots.
• Don't buy anything on cassettes or CD's - mooch off your friends if you have to. There's going to be a couple of format changes coming down the pipe, and why buy it all again?
• As crazy as it sounds - start running. You'll find that you like it, and if you get a good foundation now, my times will improve. I'll be the fastest 39 year-old around.
• Stretch - those dirty hippies talking about yoga? They're onto something.
• As soon as you can, get High Speed Internet. Don't ask me what the fucking Internet is - just remember and get it when it's available. P.S. Dial up is not high speed.
• Don't give up on Pearl Jam - you'll regret it.
• What did I tell you about that fucking donut? DOWN, dammit!
• Go see more Movies. Good movies - and Firefox doesn't count as a good movie.
• Make friends with a nerd. if he tells you he's thinking of writing software for a startup in California or being an engineer for gas companies, he's your new best friend.
• I can't remember if you're wearing them now, but switch to boxer briefs. Sooo much more comfortable, and way better than that silk boxer-thing ya got going on now.
• Don't quit hockey - go back.
• Learn to type. I know it sounds gay, but do it. You would have received this letter way earlier if I had learned to type properly. (That grade 8 typing class we got kicked out of? Who knew?)
• Those vegetable things on the side of the plate? Eat 'em. 
• If I have to mention the Donut again, I'll spoil what happens to your cat.

I know your sitting scratching your head through that luxurious mane of hair that you have, but as strange as it seems, I do know what I'm talking about. There's going to be a lot of shit going down in the next 21 years, and hopefully this will make it a lot easier on both of us. I'd love to give you stock tips and hints on the next 21 Hockey seasons (The Jets are back, baby!), but it would be too much change and we'd both be fucked.

Do what I said, don't be lazy, and keep wrapping it up.




Later.


...and quit with the donuts, already - I wasn't fucking kidding.

p.s. Totally kidding about that Skynet thing.

Over Rambled.

I seem to be a pretty popular guy - at least today, that is.

It seems that since I've come to work today, I've had more people wanting to talk to me about random shit than anything even closely work related.

Some of the things I've had people talk to me about today:

- Holiday plans.
- Gardening (and I have the blackest thumb EVER)
- Ripped pants.
- Monkeys (Dont even ask)
- Government of Canada letting Vancouver Island be its own Province. (Complete nutjob had this idea.)

I'm not sure why these people chose to talk to me about this shit, but even with cutting each conversation short and putting on my "scowl" face, listening to their crap seemed to drain valuable seconds off my life.

I should make note that these topics weren't short and quick, either, they were painful. The "Holiday" one, for instance, wasn't just "I'm going on Holidays!", it was an extended explanation of the itinerary for what appears (at least to me,) to be the most boring vacation ever.

But still, this person felt the need to to tell me.

Maybe it's phermones or something. Maybe I was giving off the "I give a shit" vibe.

..I'm going to have to work on that.

Later.

Run, Fatboy, Run.

These are the things I learned on my run today:

• With the amount I sweat, there's no chance of any headphones staying securely in my ears unless I use Superglue and clamps.
• A five-year-old on a bike is not the best choice to pace you.
• The attention span of said five-year-old is about the same as an teenager with ADD after 6 energy drinks.
• After not running for weeks, that first mile is painful.
• So is every other mile after the first.
• After not running for weeks, you notice things that jiggle - things that didn't jiggle the last time you ran.
• These jiggles distract you from the pain of running - hopefully, by the time the jiggles are gone, so is the pain.
• Dog shit is everywhere.
• The track sucks.
• There is nothing greater after a run than a hot shower.
• I just realized I'm crazy enough to do it all again tomorrow.

Later.

I Feel:

- That no matter which way the rest of this summer plays out, be it drought or downpour, Al Gore will sit back and say "Told you."

- That since I just faxed a blank piece of paper to an order desk, I should be less judgmental on who I call a "retard".

- That I want to compete in the Tour de France - just because blood doping sounds so neat.

- That I would look much like the Michelen Man if you squeezed me into bike gear.

- That if I were to win the lottery, a good portion of my life thereafter would be spent attending concerts. (Would Dave Grohl consider that stalking?)

- That instead of typing "my", my phone autocorrected to "KY"... which means I'm either texting about Kentucky or lube more often than myself.

- P.s. I don't know anyone in Kentucky.

- That some people's Social Filter are either set to "Low" or "Off", and the rest of us suffer the consequences.

- That the previous statement doesn't apply to me of course.

Later.

Shore 'Nuff.

Why would you watch Jersey Shore, when you could just go to the zoo and watch monkeys fuck and throw shit at each other?

Someone please explain it to me.

Or maybe I'd rather not know.

Later.

Caffeinated Disaster.

- Ode to my spilled cup of coffee.

Your passing was a shock,
One I care not to repeat.
You've left me feeling empty,
And staring at my feet.

I see you everywhere I look,
There's no escaping you.
Looking at the shattered remains,
I'm lost without a clue.

I had such great plans for us,
Together through the night.
But now that's been ripped away,
And all that's left is blight.

A blight upon the counter,
And all over the door -
Oh curse my clumsy elbow,
That knocked you to the floor.

I didn't mean to do it,
I just couldn't stop.
There's no way to replace you,
Short of wringing out the mop.

I know they just won't get,
Just what you meant to me.
Where I see hope & joy & love,
They just see coffee.

- I think we should have a moment of silence and contemplate what could have been.

.........

Thanks.

Later.

MidlifeRamblers Episode 7: Mastery of the Geek Haiku.

Oh yeah, we ramble on about Transformers too. (And everything else in our worldview, too.)




Later.

I ♥ Dave Grohl.

....just another reason to show the Foo Fighters (and by inclusion, Dave) some love.

Best Line Ever - "You don't come to my show and fight - you come to my show and fucking dance, you asshole!"




He can do no wrong.



Later.

Calling an Audible.

When you call the Workplace, you will generally be greeted by 1 of 3 ladies who work in the office area and handle the majority of calls.

They will then get on our intercom system and announce who the call is for and what line to pick up.

These women each have a very distinct sound to their voice, and I can only describe them as The Wheezer, The Nazi, and The Porn Star.

The Wheezer has the most nasal voice I've ever heard. That, combined with the fact that she holds her mouth so close to the phone that you can hear the exaltation of each breath, makes it seem more like an obscene phone call from the Geek Squad than an announcement.

The Nazi, believe it or not, is actually a French-Canadian woman. Unfortunately her accent and incredibly abrupt and bitchy tone make it seem like she'd be more comfortable paging Mr.Goebbels to the camp gate than me to Line 2.

The Porn Star is my age, and I believe that she believes she could possibly be the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe. It's the only reason I can find that she would answer every call and announce each page in the same sultry tone as Marilyn singing "Happy Birthday" to JFK. She sounds like a retired phone sex operator who's just doing it to keep busy on the weekends.

Needless to say, everytime I hear the telltale "ping" before an announcement comes over the speaker a part of me looks forward to see who it's going to be and the other part covers it's ears and wishes for the peacefulness of public radio to return.

....and we all know how I feel about public radio.

Later.

Shameful Eating.

What I had on lunch today:

- Coffee
- Pepperoni Cheese Puff
- Chicken Salad
- 2 Mini Donuts
- 1 piece of Pepperoni.
- Handful of Cashews.

Don't fucking judge me - I feel fat enough on my own.

Later.

P.s. Cashews autocorrected to "Cashiers" ...that would be a COMPLETELY different lunch.

Sunday Observance Pt 2.

To continue with my rant about the Sunday Funnies:

- Zack Hill: This is the comic that made me want to write this in the first place. The art sucks, the story is horrible, and it seems to have just become about what witty shit the dog says. (And it's not clever-funny, either - it doesn't even register on the scale.)

- Dog Eat Doug: Attention Zack Hill - this is how you make a comic with a dog as a central character. While not always incredibly entertaining, at least I don't feel number for having read it.

- Rudy Park: Coffee, technology, and bitchy old people complaining about not understanding society? Works for me.

- Hagar: Really? They still draw this one? I figured they just reprinted it over and over because almost every joke is the fucking same! It get it - he's a Viking who's a slob..uh, ok? Today was special because it ended with the wife a daughter realizing they belong in the kitchen. (Thanks 1940!)

- Luann: Dear Luann: Please read Zits and learn what funny is. Dear Luann Artist: For chissakes, learn to draw a face.

- Garfield: Enough already - just stop. Hasn't been funny since I was 3.

- Dilbert: I used to hate this comic. I found it utterly inane and pointless. Now I visualize Bish workin in the sweatshop, and I laugh my ass off. (Sorry Bish.)

In closing this rant, you can see that there is some good and some bad to be had in the Sunday Funnies. Okay, mostly bad - but I must be a glutton for punishment, because I keep coming back. I guess when you're raised on them, its hard to break the addiction. (Just like heroin!)

Later.

P.s. Please kill Zack Hill - seriously. My 8 year old could draw, and my 5 year old could write, better material.

Temptation.

As usual, I'm on lunch at work right now, and there's trouble brewing.

What trouble could happen on a lunch hour, you ask?

First, get your mind out of the gutter, I'm not talking about that.

The trouble I'm referring to involves the fact that there's chocolate cake in the fridge right now.

CHOCOLATE FUCKING CAKE.

And there's even a note attached to it - "Help Yourself".

What kind of sick individual would do something like that? Why would they mess with my head?

Do you realize how tempting that is? That's like putting water in front of a duck, except there's acid in the water, and the duck knows there's acid, but he still wants to swim in that cool fucking water, and flap his little ducky wings and enjoy himself.

You see what I mean? (Re-reading that, even I don't know what I meant.)

I'm just going to pretend it isn't there. I'll just ignore it. I'll ignore every sugary slice, every morsel of tasty chocolate.

After all, it worked for the duck.

Later.

Poetry at Work.

I think that I should never work,
With midgets, clowns, or random jerks.
I know that I would rage away,
And not do any work those days.

The rage would not be at the clowns,
Who tumble, bumble, and sometimes frown.
Those merry makers are kinda neat,
With ugly hats and floppy feet.

And midgets, if I can call them that,
Certainly deserve no flak.
And they would not get any from me,
Less they hurt me at my knees.

But it's the random jerks you see,
Who fill me up with rage daily.
They are such goddamn fucking pricks,
That I would punch them in the dick.

A dick-punch, you say? How rude, how crass,
But easier than kissing ass.
For these jerks do not seem to see,
That retail is not slavery.

Mine is not the part to play,
Granter of their wish-per-day.
I have a service that fills a need,
And it isn't to do their shallow deeds.

I wish the day would come to soon,
That someone would please make me swoon.
And take the random jerks away,
To somewhere far from my gaze.

But I'll be patient and I'll wait,
Until that very special date.
And I'll hold back that special dick-punch,
Because my story is over, I'm back from lunch.

Later.

Fourteen Hundred.

1400 posts.

That's a lot of bullshit over the last 7 years. (I'm not saying it's all shit, but the amount of times I talk about my penis is rather startling.) When asked what I write about, I find it difficult to describe - I'd say that it's the contents of my mind filtered only by my limited vocabulary and the time needed to write it down.

It just occurred to me that digitally, I'm like Jack from Fight Club - except instead of my ramblings taking up hundreds of paper journals in a run down house on Paper Street, it would all fit neatly on a USB drive that could be flushed down a Campbellton toilet. (That doesn't say much for what I think of the quality of my writing.)

It's always nice to hit a milestone - but I only noticed when I logged in and saw the post count number, and decided to write about that.

What was my other topic, you ask? Take a guess - it's either extensionalism or my dick - with this place, you never know.


Later.

Cinematic Recollection.

I watched "National Lampoon's Vacation" last night, and there were moments when the 1983 classic took me back to being a 12 year old boy again.

Sure, there was Christie Brinkley - the car, the hair, the strip tease with Chevy Chase by the pool - all great scenes. But the part that takes me back the most is Beverly D'Angelo in the shower - pretty sure they were the first pair of boobs I ever saw on the big screen.

My reaction to them wasn't what it was back then (boner alert!), but I enjoyed the memory nonetheless.

The other scene that amazed me was Chevy's f-bomb laced rant to his family in the car. The younger me must have blocked it from memory, but the older me can certainly relate.

Later.

Sunday Observance, Pt. 1

Dear Sunday Funnies:

Having been a loyal reader of yours for years, I've become accustomed to a certain level of quality in your product. As of late, I have noticed a distinct drop in what I would consider "funny".

If I may, I'd like to give you a rundown of the paper, and give you some general feedback to do with as you wish:

- Zits: This is a great way to start the funnies section - good comic, sometimes not 100% on the laugh-o-meter, but relevant to many generations of readers.

- Get Fuzzy: Fucking brilliant - never change this comic or I will hunt you and possibly commit some sort of painful...thing, something that I'm not willing to describe right now.

- Grand Avenue: Today's comic was about back pain. Let me repeat that - BACK PAIN. What's next in this Grandmother comic? Something funny about gout? Maybe a rib-tickler covering menopause?

- Sherman's Lagoon: I have to admit that I kinda like this one. There's something about dumb sharks, greedy crabs, and passive-aggressive turtles that just works.

- Heart of the City: If you could get this comic to just be about the funny/nerdy friend, and skip all the single mom/eccentric girl bullshit, it would be good.

- Baby Blues: As a parent, I find this comic amusing. Also as a parent, I find that if these were my kids there would be a lot more comics about smacking the kids around.

- One Big Happy: What? Another parent/kid/grandparents comic? How original! And look! This one is just like the others - shitty! Lippy girl, snarky boy, absent parents - where's the humor again?

- Rose is Rose: This comic tries to be so feel-good and cutesy that the only way I can even glance at it is to imagine that what we are being shown is all the random imagined realities of the title character as she is locked away in some asylum. (At first I thought Meth-head, but then realized anyone that messed up would probably be locked away.)

- The Other Coast: You know that comic that tries to hard and fails? Sometimes, you can appreciate that. This is not that comic. The fail is there, alright, but I don't think the try is even on the map.

- Mutts: This comic has two gears - stupid and even more stupid.

- Rhymes With Orange: I have to give this one credit - it tries very hard to fill that "Far Side" void. It doesn't do it very well, but at least the effort is there, right?

- Tina's Groove: The guy-who-deals-with-customers in me loves this comic - purely for being able to relate. However, the guy-who-knows-what's-funny in me hates every mind-numbing moment.

- Pearls Before Swine: I'll give the Sidekick credit - he was onto this way before me. Sometimes it falls flat, but mostly it's gold.

- Tundra: Tries waaaaay to hard to be "Far Side". Good thing there are 3 comics in its group, because 2 of them usually suck.

And that's only half the section - there's sooooo much more to get into - but since its God's day of rest and not mine, I have to go back to work. But believe me, I'll cover the other half next Sunday.

Later.

-

Prophetic Disagreement.

I'm calling it now.

I'm making a prediction, and I'm sticking by my guns.

The radio station at work is playing their "Canada Day Long Weekend Countdown" of the 500 greatest "hits" of all time, and while I can't predict what song they will have selected to lead the pack, there is one thing I can predict:

Whatever song they have as #1, I'll pretty much disagree with it - just based on the fact that public radio doesn't no what the fuck they are talking about.

My one joy would be the off chance that they pick U2, for the simple fact that I know the Sidekick would lose his shit if Bono was picked first in anything.

Thanks in advance, public radio, I know you won't let me down.

Later.

Freedom.

As much as I love my kids, last night/this morning was a shock.

The Sister-in-Law had the boys for a sleep-over last night, and while that's nothing new, it usually happens when I work early the next day, so I don't get to reap the benefits of a morning to myself.

This morning was different.

Got up, had coffee, shower, etc, and then got to actually sit and watch the morning news without anyone climbing all over me or demanding my attention. It was a teasing reminder of what life was like before kids.

I'm glad I got to enjoy it, because they will be back tonight.

....and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Later.