Scrambling.

- I've decided Poker doesn't like me anymore. I'm basing this on the shitty cards I got and the money I lost, not because I sucked and made stupid mistakes.

- The fact that I have one week until my holidays, and two weeks until my transfer, means that I've temporarily disconnected from giving a shit about this place.

- Except for Casual Friday - I'm very connected to that. (Visually, at least.)

- Just heard a girl call her ass her "dirtbox" - Classy. I'm going to miss Oyster River.

- It's time to change the radio station here, I think. I make that design because the sound of the DJs voice makes me want to reach through the speaker and strangle him.

- It's hard to focus on one of these lists when the breakroom is full and people are talking to me, yet somehow I would be the bad guy if I stabbed them all with a pencil.

- The last two observations make me realize that I miiight have some anger issues to deal with. The best tool? Gin.

Later.

Daily Caffienation.

Today is National Coffee Day.

While I'm normally not a fan of all the made-up celebratory days that are scattered around the calender, this is one of the ones that I can get behind. (Another personal favorite - Steak and a Blowjob Day - even though it's not celebrated at my house.)

Coffee is a staple of my existence. I drink around 5 huge mugs a day, and since I gave up smoking and rarely drink, it's my only vice. (That I'm willing to openly admit to.) A day without coffee is a sad day indeed.

I like my coffee in a variety of ways:

1. XL - 2 Cream, 2 Sweetener. This is my rock, my usual, my standard of being. If I am ever in need of a transfusion of any sort, this is what they should put in instead of blood. There's a cup beside me right now, and God himself couldn't pry it from my hands. (And don't bitch to me about the Sweetener part, either - I know it's horrible and shit, but after all these years, I like the taste. - I wish the Wife would say the same thing.)
2. Venti White Chocolate Mocha. This is what Fat Me used to drink. Fat Me would pound back a couple of these every time he went out for coffee with the Sidekick. (Seems like Fat Me had more money, too - at $5 a pop, he was paying almost a penny a calorie.) When Fat me decided to become Skinny Me, this was the first thing to go. Which put me on to....
3. Skinny Vanilla Sugar-Free Latte. Not nearly as decadent as the coffee above, but I had to wean myself down to something. The Sidekick and I would battle regularly on who's coffee sounded Gayer - my Vanilla, or his Venti Hazelnut Machiatto, Extra Hot, No Foam. (I think he won.)
4. Iced Coffee. While I don't go out and order iced coffee on a regular basis (I drink hot coffee in the summertime, yo - I'm a badass), I do occasionally sneak a sip of the wife's Iced Cappuccino every once in a while. The only reason I include it on this list is because I also include Cold Coffee in this category. Yes - I'm that guy that will drink his coffee even after it's chilled to what seems like less than room temperature.

...So let's just say I reeeeeeeaaalllly like coffee.

(No shit - a search of my blog reveals 139 posts with "coffee" in them. Out of 1400+ posts. One in 10 posts about coffee? I'm almost scared to search for the words "My Penis".)

Anyway - enjoy the day, snag a free cup if you can, and relax and do something you love (May I suggest reading old Midlife Rambler posts?) while drinking one of the world's greatest beverages.






Later.

Dubious Partnership.

Let me just start by stating I just woke up from a nap, so I'm a bit groggy.

Why the nap at 10am?
Because I'm tired.

Why am I tired?
Because I've recently picked up a workout partner, and He's killing me.


As I've stated before, I'm trying to get back into shape. I want to be able to get back to my level of running that I was at before, as well as lose the spare tire that has seemed to wrap itself around my waist.

So for the past couple of weeks, I've been on my own workout schedule, alternating running and weights and having some rest days in there as well. So far, so good.

Recently a guy I used to work with (and will be working with again, after my transfer) has come back to my gym. We used to workout together all the time, and old me was always able to hold my own. I wasn't benching 3 plates a side like this guy, but I was comfortable with my progress. He's glad to be back in my gym, and we've done a couple workouts/runs together - and that's where I think he's trying to kill me.

See, he's still in shape - always has been - and I'm a guy who's coming back. therefore, there are different levels for each of us.

• While he's thinking about how good his post-workout protein shake is going to be, I'm fantasizing that donuts have no calories, so there's no need to lift this heavy bar.
• While he says that he beat me in our 5K run yesterday,(He recalls the old, faster me.) I remind him that he's the pinnacle of fitness, while my ass is the reason spandex was invented.
• He's the guy that the women in the gym drool at as they walk by. I'm the guy they assume is the accountant, who must have free membership as a perk.
• When I woke up this morning, my shoulders were so sore that I winced putting my jacket on - I assume he had no such issues, except for maybe ripping his jacket Hulk-style when he flexes.

I know that he's only trying to help, and I do appreciate it - the motivation to stay committed really helps when you have someone counting on you to be there. (The Sidekick and I both had great progress when we worked out together eons ago.) He's really positive and keeps telling me that in a couple of weeks, I'll be back to how I used to be.

I figure either that or I'll be dead.

If you're looking for my corpse, it'll be either on the treadmill or under a tremendous stack of weights. ( probably 45 pounds?)





Later.

Ramblin'.

- I'm not sure if having the Gay guy at the gym so excited that I'm working out in the mornings again is a good thing or not. That level of enthusiasm is creepy.

- The miles that used to fly by in a blink seem to drag a bit more now. Getting back to my usual pace/speed is going to be a bitch.

- I seem to always wake up at 5am now. Does that mean I'm old? Or does that only count when it's because you have to pee?

- My phone still confuses me - doesn't try to autocorrect "clitoris" - but didn't like me typing "pee".

- Ahhh, clitoris. I can spell it, and I also know where it is. Ladies, tell your friends.

- I wish that the healthiest food on earth was peanut butter. If that was the case, my body could be considered at temple to fitness and nutrition.

- Sometimes I want to send the Kids to school with Peanut Butter Sandwiches, just to see if the school calls in a Hazmat team.

- I always sleep closest to the door - it either signifies I'm a protector, or that I don't want to jump over anyone if I have to bolt for the exit.

- Have I ever stated how much I hate Dire Straits? I'd like to dick-punch every member of the band. If any of them are dead, dig 'em up - I'll dick-punch their rotting corpse.

- The contestants on the Biggest Loser always suprise me. They are amazed that they've lost weight - but isn't that what happens when you remove your head from the KFC bucket and get some exercise?

- If we get more and more bitter as we get older, does that mean by the time I'm 50 I'll be able harm people with my withering glare? 'Cause that would be neat.

- Puppets are a dying art form. Thank God. Pieces of felt that move and talk? That's the devil's work, people.

Later.

Manual Destimulation

I'm the Tech guy at work.

(I know it's the grocery business, but being the guy who deals with anything computer-related is just another hat I wear.)

Because I'm going to be transferred to another of our locations in two weeks, my boss has as job for me to do before I go: dumb down all the tech stuff I know how to do and put it in a book.

It doesn't matter that there's setup and operations manuals for all those scales, debit machines, terminals, security cameras, etc (you know, the ones I read when we installed the stuff?) - they're too hard - so I have to type out manuals of my own for them to use when I'm not around.

It's fucking boring, tedious, & harder than you think.

Taking something that I can do in minutes and breaking it down step by step is boring. Making sure that it is understandable - to someone who doesn't normally deal with the stuff - and that you haven't missed a step is more challenging than doing the job itself. Imagine you're writing a manual telling someone how to wipe their ass and you forget to explain grabbing toilet paper. Shit can get really messed up if your directions aren't correct.

So I'm having to either mentally walk myself through each step as I write it down, or actually do the job again and stop at each step to make notes. A 15min job takes 3 times as long to document. And I can't use proper terms, either, as "Insert disk drive cable into Modnet port." has to be switched to "Plug silver end of flat beige cable into the 3rd opening on the side of the scale. It will only fit in one, and only one way." - to me, the second one sounds worst than the first, but as long as they understand it, it'll work.

It's probably going to take a small part of each shift over the next two weeks to do it, but when its done I'll look like a hero. (And them being able to do the job without having to bug me will benefit me in the end.)

Just one thing I haven't figured out yet:

Should I type it out, or write it in crayon? Do you think they'd get the hint?

Later.

Rhythmic Ideas.

There are reasons that I write,
Communicating bits of my life -
The things I see from day to day
And whatever thoughts join the fray.

One reason is I think I'm funny
My outlook's bleak but also sunny
I try to tell what makes me laugh
And I publish all my social gaffes.

I'll tell you all about the gym
How running goes, sink or swim
I'll talk about work or drugs
Or if that lady has sweet jugs.

I'm middle aged, but a kid at heart
I don't want to get old, don't even start
Going on about your daily grind
I'm still fretting my receding hairline.

I like to vent and ramble and bitch
And blogging scratches that particular itch
Having others enjoy is a perk for sure
My sense of humour they must endure.

I talk of dicks, and boobs and ass
You'd think I didn't have any class
You may be right my friend indeed
But its my words you're here to read.

And I may have days where I phone it in
My mind's so full of thoughts it spins
To sort them out is a chore, you see
And sometimes the tank's completely empty.

Those are the days that you get what's here
So sit back and have a beer
And read a rambling poem, my friend
Which started well but now must end.

Later.

Coolest.

People say that kids are tough - I agree. (No matter how much you marinade them, they always are stringy and chewy.)

Now that I've grossed you out with some cannibalistic humor, lets get to the meat of the matter (bad pun): Kids.

As troubling as they can be, there are some positives to the entire experience from a "Dad" point of view. These are mine. (Of course, my kids are 5 & 8, your teenager may think you're the biggest dick ever - not my problem.)

1. You are the epitome of "Cool". - It doesn't matter how cool or uncool you were in High School or College, to your kids, you're Joe Fucking Cool and everything you do is to be admired and copied.
2. You can fix anything. - Once you fix one thing for your kids, they automaticlly assume you can fix anything else in the world. Fix a busted Optimus Prime toy? Your child now thinks you can repair a damaged Nuclear reactor. My kids think the only reason I have other people fix things (ie: roof, car) is because I want to spend time with them instead. "Dad could have welded that strut back on, but he'd rather take us to the park."
3. If you know one thing, you know everything.  - I answered a question on Jeopardy once before anyone buzzed in, and got it right. According to my kids, I'm now the smartest man alive, and can answer any question they have - from "Why is the sky blue" to "Why do some dogs squat and some lift their legs"? (Thanks for backing me up, Wikipedia.)
4. You are the best at any game, any time. - My kids saw me complete a season on NHL 11 and win the Stanley Cup, so now they think that I can finish any level on any game in less than 30 seconds. They also think that I rule at Snakes and Ladders, but that's because they don't catch me cheating.

Basically, my kids think I'm the shit.

And I'm quite alright with that.




Later.

Fblabergasted.

Today seems to be a day of rage.

I hear people howling for blood, demanding change, threatening boycotts and legal action.

You're probably thinking Libya, Egypt, or the fact that the U.S. isn't backing Palestine's application for statehood, right?

Wrong.

It's Facebook.

Facebook decided to revamp their layout again - this time it's more like a news page, with "Top Stories" and "Recent news" (I think I even Tweeted about it)- and everyone in my neck of the woods is losing their shit over the changes.

I'm almost ashamed to call some of them "Friends". (I use the apostrophes because their is a huge difference between Facebook friends and Real Friends - If you haven't figured that out already, stop reading, go grow up, and come back and read this blog when you have your big-boy pants on.)

The most impressive display of intelligence that I've seen is that people are doing one of those "Copy this into your Status" things to show Facebook their hatred for the changes. So let me get this straight - they are protesting their displeasure with the site by using it even more and encouraging others to do so as well? I'm sure these people don't understand the word "boycott". If that's the case it means you can show your Boss how much you hate your job by working harder and for less money - that'll show him.

Personally I don't care about the changes - except for the fact that Facebook thinks someone updating about their breakfast is a "Story of Interest to You" - so for now I'll just check in every once in a while until the rage dies down and people forget there ever was a change.

Just like they did last time.





Later.

Nemesis.

I encountered an old Nemesis today - one I hadn't seen in quite some time.

Every encounter between the two of us is extremely unpleasant, usually painful, and leaves me generally frustrated. There's precautions I can take so the two of us don't come across each other, but I forgot about them today - next thing I know, Bam! Nemesis.

My Nemesis?
Chafing.

Don't laugh - I went for a run today, and was wearing the wrong kind of shorts. That, coupled with my chubby-ass legs means that there's some friction going on down in the neather regions. (Not the good friction, either - that I could handle.)

I shrugged off the irritation and kept running - no pain, no gain, right? It wasn't until I jumped in the shower afterwards that I regretted my choice.

Just so you know, water hitting a chafed area is like getting an Indian Burn (do we call them First Nations burn?) from someone whose hands were soaked in kerosene and set on fire.

So my day went to shit from there.

Right now I'm shuffling around at work, trying to prevent my thighs from touching each other. (Its quite a challenge.) I'm waiting until I can go home, put something loose fitting on, and just relax.

Thanks for listening - I  just wanted to share my pain.

Later.

State of the Union.

- Today is the type of Monday that takes other Mondays, bitch-slaps them, and then sodomizes them while eating their lunch.

- When I can wake up late it throws my whole day off - I do not believe there is any amount of coffee that could get me back on track. What is the Starbucks snotty name for a half gallon cup - I'll start with one of those.

- Just heard on the radio that Trooper has 3 sold out shows in Victoria this weekend. My guess is that maximum room capacity is 14 people.

- I'm not one to make light of anyone's injuries, but I do give a dirty chuckle whenever a girl says she has bad knees.

- Quiet people bother me. It's either they don't have anything to say, or they are planning my imminent demise.

- My wife had the audacity to ask me if I play Left 4 Dead (Zombie killing game) with the kids. They're 5 and 8, for chrissakes - they'd be useless, so I only use them as spotters.

- Speaking of the Kids, I'm waiting for the first round of school sickness to occur. They are usually great until they have to hang out with other people's dirty, filthy children. And the wife won't let me wrap them in Saran wrap.

- My phone tried to autocorrect "Saran" to "Satan". I think Satan wrap would be a big seller. The KKK could wrap up the leftovers from the last cross burning.

- Saw a Gif on Reddit - had Alderann shooting first before the Death Star blows it up. Waiting for George to incorporate it into the newest raping of my childhood.

Glad I finished with the nerdiest sentence I've ever written.

Later.

To Cap It Off.

I'm a guy who wears a baseball cap practically every moment he's not at work. I'm the only person I know who thought "Sandwich Artists" have a great job because they get to wear ball caps while working, so you have to take this list with the understanding that I'm a bit biased.

I think that when making a first impression, the way you wear your hat says a lot about you. What's on it (logo, team, etc) says even more, but I'm not going to even get into that right now.

This is what I think when I see someone wearing there baseball cap any one of the following ways:

-  Curved Brim - You're casual, relaxed, and just an average guy being yourself. You could even be a cool motherfucker with his own blog and everything.

-  Bent Brim - You're a redneck. The sharpness of the bend is just a measure in degrees of your redneck-ess - the sharper the bend, the more likely you are to have multiple gun racks in your pickup, and keep trying to invite me to watch NASCAR. You're probably nice, but I will automatically label you as "Cooter" in my mind.

- Flat Brim - In this case, race pays off. I know it sounds bad, but Black guys pull this look off effortlessly. White guys? My first thought is that you're a douche. Second thought is that you're a wannabe douche, and if you have your hoodie unzipped and the hood up over your flat brim hat it will be all I can do to restrain myself from slapping you.

- Backwards - If you are doing something that requires the hat to be backwards (Jetskiing, parasailing, cliff diving) I understand. If you're just walking around with it on backwards I'm going to assume you're a narsisstic bastard who wants everyone to see his face because he thinks he's 20 times prettier than the average guy. (See: Fred Durst)

I know this only covers a few variations, but you get my point. How you wear your chapeaux (if you wear one) says just as much about you as the rest of your outfit. (Unless you're not wearing pants, then that says enough on its own.)

I could probably ramble on more, but I think you get my point. I'm sure there's those out there who disagree or think there's something I missed - but hey, that's what comments are for, right?

Later.

I Feel:

- That having 3 days off in a row is a blessing and a curse.

- That, next to masturbation, blowing away Zombies on the ol' 360 is the best stress relief ever.

- That having my kids in School allows me the time to do stuff for me.

- That not having them around for 6 hours makes me appreciate the time I do get with them.

- That true love is when you purchase shitty music for someone because you know they'd like it - even though it shames you to be seen holding the CD.

- That you know a Hockey game isn't great when you're hoping the puck flies over the glass and takes someone out just to liven things up.

- That reading the review of the Pearl Jam concert in Hamilton makes me want to see them even more.

- That I could post a link to the review, but I'm nobody's bitch.

- That when people talk to me about how fat other people are, it makes me feel skinny.

- That the reason old couples should stay together until death is because her overpowering perfume smell covers up his old man stank. (I work in retail - trust me.)

- That at times, I feel just as stupid about cars as most people do about computers.

- That because I've won the Cup in "Be a Pro" Mode in NHL11, I should just get NHL12 for free. That makes sense, right?

- That I'm not ashamed to say I don't own any R.H.C.P. albums - do I have to turn in my "cool" card now?

- That next to "Yay boobies" too much is being made of Scarlet J's leaked photos.

- That I'll admit I looked, but only because the link was there.

- That I would try to record a solo podcast, but I'm afraid it would come off as half Pee-Wee Herman, half Ted Kasinsky.

- That finding a way to end one of these is almost more difficult than hand-washing a cat.

Later.

Total Cop Out.

No Blog post today - unless this counts as a blog post, and in that case, Welcome!

I thought I'd just leave you with something I stumbled across the other day - it made me laugh, and who doesn't like to laugh? (Okay, maybe people with out tongues because they sound funny - but next to them, everyone likes to laugh.)

Nudity Probable from the irregulars on Vimeo.

See, that's some funny shit right there.

Don't get used to it, because my regular crap will be back tomorrow.



Later

Gaseous Deception.

I stopped off to get gas today, and I'm pretty sure they're fucking me over - and I'm not just talking about my wallet.

I wanted to make sure I had enough gas to last until payday, so I only put $25 in. At $1.23 a litre, it doesn't take long to complete the transaction.

Except tonight it did.

I'm at the pump, nozzle jammed in the gas tank (get your mind out of the gutter), looking around aimlessly as the tank fills. I can hear it running through the hose same as ever, and after a moment or two, I glance over to see where the total is at. (Should almost be done, right?)

I'm only at $13.

I check the dollars/liters total and it seems to line up. But it took almost another 2 minutes to hit $25.

Now either I have the fastest sounding/slowest pump ever,

OR

They're trying to hide how fast put money is going into the tanks by slowing down the whole process without making the pump seem slower. If $25 of gas only took 30 seconds to fill, we would all realize how fast they are sucking us dry. (Once again, get your mind outta the gutter - that's not the sucking I'm talking about.)

Genius, right?
Can't slip anything by me.

I've got my eye on those fuckers.

Later.

To-Done

It's the first day that both The Boys are in School full time.

It's also my day off.

I'm used to always having at least one of The Boys around on my days off, and having to feed, entertain, monitor, play with, and clean up after them. The most I ever get is an hour and a half alone while the oldest was at School and the youngest was in Preschool - I'd usually just head to the gym and get a coffee after - not much time to do anything else.

But now I have from 8:30am to 2:30pm completely wide open. It's a staggering amount of time to fill. Just today I have:

1. Gone to the Gym and worked out.
2. Ran for half an hour.
3. Made myself breakfast. (Mmm eggs.)
4. Unloaded and loaded the dishwasher.
5. Cleaned the Kitchen Counters, Cupboards, & Floors.
6. Three loads of Laundry.
7. Cleaned both bathrooms.
8. Dusted and Vaccummed.
9. Listened to Hollywood Babble-On on Smodcast.
10. Had 2 cups of coffee.

...and now I'm Blogging - and I still have two and a half hours left.

I'm contemplating going out and mowing the lawn, which means I'll still have time to shower before I have to go pick up The Boys. But if I do that now, what am I going to do tomorrow? All this free time is going to drive me mad. (I mean, really - how much masturbation can one man take? Notice I didn't put that on the "done" list - you're welcome.)

I'm sure I'll find some way to fill it. There's always pressure washing the house or staining the deck - or I could go the lazy route and get caught up on all the movies and TV shows The Sidekick is always going on about. (Who has that much free time? I'd have to watch 3 movies a day for an entire year just to break even with the shit he watches.)

I think right now I'll just flip a coin.
Heads - Mow the Lawn, Tails - it's "special time".





Later.

My Phone Thinks I'm Bilingual.

If you've read this blog before, I've made reference to the fact that I blog on my lunch quite a bit. I just pull out my phone, fire up the Blogger App that I have, and merrily type my rambling thoughts into a tiny, tiny digital keyboard.

Sure, like everyone else, I've had autocorrect bite me in the ass and replace "communication" with "condom" - but I'm not a complete retard, so I proofread before I post. (And don't blog drunk, kids - that's just silly.)

Where I have a issue with my phone is in its ability to switch to French at the push of a button - I'll be typing out a thought in English, hit the wrong key (right next to the space bar) and all of a sudden its suède école somethings thaïlandais I Fidj't intendant fo type.

(That is supposed to read "suddenly become something I didn't intend to type".)

The difference between that and the autocorrect mistake is that autocorrect is usually just one word, but hitting the French key fucks up whole sentences.

If it turned my shit writing into the suave words of a French poet, I could handle it - but it makes me sound idiotic, and I can do that all on my own.

Thanks for the help, phone, but no thanks.

Au Revoir.

Lack of Progress.

We have put men on the moon.

We can travel across the country in hours instead of days.

We can power our homes with the sun and wind.

We control the brightness of our world with the flick of a switch.

We can communicate across thousands of miles almost instantly.

We've created virtual worlds in cyberspace.

But if I want to keep paper stored neatly in book like form, I still have to put up with this:

What the fuck is up with up with that?





Later.

Unfunny Papers.

I know it's September 11th.

Like everyone else, I've been talking with other people all week long and the subject always comes down to each of us relating our "Where I was" story.

We remember those who died in the attacks, those who perished trying to help others in the hours that followed, and those who were left without a Dad/Brother/Mother/Sister/Friend.

That being said, I turned to the comics today looking for something to lighten my mood.

14 of the 21 comics were all September 11th related. Morbid, depressing stuff.

I'm not asking for a lot, just something to put a uplifting spin on life. Leave the depressing stuff to the rest of the paper - believe me - the coverage was there.

I'm just of the opinion that the comics are there to bring a bit of brevity to the paper, and not just sink us deeper into gloom. If they weren't supposed to be funny, they would all be Family Circus.

And nobody wants that.

Later.

Man Vs. Food Vs. Wife.

Today: (So Far.)

Coffee.
Pop Tarts.
Coffee.
Grapes.
Peanut Butter Sandwich.
Coffee.
Chili.
Coffee.

...and the Wife is making spaghetti for dinner. Throw another coffee on top of all that, and I think I'm looking at a bout of gastro-intestinal distress.

Pretty sure I'm bound by provincial and federal law to warn the Wife about the Chili, but I think I'll let her find out for herself. In the game of Marriage, you always have to keep your opponent on their toes - the only problem with my plan is that we don't have a dog, so I'll have to blame it on one of the kids.

It's going to be an interesting night.

Later.

Shake, Rattle, & Relax.

So we had an Earthquake today.

From my understanding, and I'm just quoting public radio, it was a 6.8, about 250 kilometers north of where I am, and it was something like 50 miles underground. No damages, no injuries - I felt it, but most didn't.

Of course, everyone around here lost their shit. We've had people in the store for the last couple hours stocking up on water and canned goods, "Because the next one could be the BIG ONE!". Half these people didn't even feel anything, which makes the panic even more surprising. Checking Facebook is a mixed bag - people freaking out, people being blasé, people wondering what the fuck is going on.

I'm not having a cow. (What an 80's quote - do I get extra points for that?) It came, it's over. If anything does happen, I'm in the best spot for supplies. Of course I'll take the necessary precautions at home, but I think most people should just relax. There's thousands of earthquakes every year that we don't feel - but everyone is freaking out like we are going to be the next Japan.

The only place I hope saw some damage would be Beerfest in Victoria - the Sidekick's there today, and he's been Tweeting about how awesome it is. Some spilled beer would take the wind outta his sails. (I will accept the beer offence).

So I hope people just chill out and relax - I'm more disappointed in the fact that I wasn't at home having a nooner at that time - all that shakin' would make me look like good.

Later.

Change Or Lack Thereof.

I went back to the Gym today.

It's been a while, to say the least. I must have some residual guilt from the donuts last week, because I finally achieved the motivation to get my ass out of bed and go instead of shutting off the alarm and going back to sleep.

•  I won't lie - both the boys are in school full time now, and it's waaay easier to go to the gym at 8:30am than it is at 5:30am.
• If anyone happens to read the archives and recalls that guy who used to get out of bed at 5am after drinking all night and run 20 miles, could you ask him to come back? His body needs him.

When I walked in it was like an episode of The Twilight Zone (would that make me like a young William Shatner?) - everything looked the same, but there were subtle differences from the last time I was there:

• New Girl behind the counter. Bigger than the last one, which is weird for a gym, and she didn't have any tattoos, which is unheard of in mine. (See my previous post "Iron = Ink")
• Only one old lady. The early morning crowd is mainly Hardcores and Geriatrics. The Hardcores are there to get their early morning swole on, and the Geriatrics have either been up since 3am or got up out of fear of shitting their Depends.
• 3 new pieces of equipment - another cable machine, an ab machine, and something to smack you on the ass and tell you how good you look in the mirror. Ok, maybe just 2 machines.

However, there were some good changes too:

• No creepy old gay guy. There's a regular in the 5am group who, although it's not stated publicly, has to be gay - there's no other word for how much he appreciates being around other sweaty men. The gay I can handle - it's the creepy staring that just goes too far. And really, I know I'm an asshole, but I draw the line at publicly bitching out a 65 year old.
• Barely anyone there - I know that will change as the summer ends and we all realize Winter is Coming (Game of Thrones fan, can ya tell?), but the fact that I didn't have to wait for anyone to finish on a machine or find out they were using the weights I wanted was great.

I busted out a workout, feeling the fact that I haven't been here in months with every rep. When you can't lift as much as you used to or run as fast as before, it's kinda humiliating. I swear I saw an extra jiggle when I was running on the treadmill - not a good sign.

But I got it done and still feel fine - at least until tomorrow. If I'm too stiff to type I might have issues.






Later.

Things I've Learned From The Grocery Store - or Why We Won't Survive The Zombie Apocalypse.

Reading the Comments from yesterday, and Tinderno's words got me thinking. I've been in Customer Service for about 25 years now, (the last 9 have been in the Grocery Industry) and the things I've seen don't give me any hope for humankind if there ever is a Zombie Apocalypse.

For Example:

Nobody Plans Anything. - The people I see on a day-to-day basis can't figure out what they want for dinner - forget planning on what they need to survive a Zombie outbreak. These are people who rush into the store Halloween night at 8:30pm wanting pumpkins to carve. Same for Christmas, Valentine's Day, Thanksgiving, whatever. Even when they know it's coming they aren't ready.

People Can't Follow Directions. - This could be the biggest downfall. We have people come into the store and ask where the bathroom is - I tell them it's at the end of asile 1, second white door, marked "Washroom". Guess how many walk into the closet (first white door) or leave out the back exit (third door)? Trust me when I say whatever you guess, it's higher. When the Undead are roaming your neighborhood and you tell another survivor to get the ammo from the 3rd drawer down, are you going to be happy when they throw you a pair of socks? I don't think so.

People Blindly Follow Anyone. - When I worked at the Arches, dressed in my Managerial best, I sometimes had to go to the Grocery store to get extra stuff. Because I kinda looked like I worked there (it's the shirt/tie combo) I'd have tons of people asking where stuff is - and I would give them what I knew were complete bullshit directions. Even though I was in the wrong colored shirt, the fact that I had a tie on was enough to have them believe me and go merrily on their way like Lemmings. After the Minions of Evil start to roam the land, the average guy is just going to follow whomever looks to be in charge, even if it's to their own doom.

People Have No Common Sense. - The amount of people who come up to me and ask (by my judgement) really stupid questions is amazing. Asking if we sell lottery tickets makes sense - some stores don't - however, asking if we sell milk (what grocery store doesn't?) is just sad. As well, coming into a small, 6 aisle store and asking if I have a kids clothing section boggles my mind. Trusting these people to make the right decision when there's rotting corpses walking around? Not likely.

People Can't Handle Change. - Seeing how the average person completely loses their fucking mind when the Debit Terminals aren't working, when they can't get their favorite ice cream (because it's not being made anymore) or when there's no newspaper because of the holiday makes me wonder how bad it will be when the global economy comes crashing down due to World War Z. People shit their pants when it's a Jersey Shore rerun, they'll go crazy when the banking/monetary systems are all gone. And because we've established how little common sense people have, the barter system will have tons of people who traded a goat away for 2 bullets.

Those are just the examples I could come up with today - and it took me longer to type it out than it did to think it up. Weep for humanity, people, because when the movies turn out to be right and everything goes to shit, the people I just described will be the first ones joining the shuffling herd.

Me? I'll be working on my cardio and picking who I'm going to trip while running away.

Later.

First World Problems.

- My alarm went off 30 minutes early because I hit the wrong button when setting it last night.
- Jumped in the shower, shaved, washed, and realized I forgot my towel - had to do the damp naked run to the linen closet.
- Made coffee, took a gulp, burned my mouth. (Not bad, but about the same level of pain as eating Capt'n Crunch.)
- Even with getting up early, left later than I like to and got stuck behind a guy who's previous occupation I assume was a tank driver in WWII - I judge this by age and speed of travel.
- The CD player in the car skipped during the whole drive.
- I forgot to bring my coffee to work. (If you know me, this is a MAJOR malfunction.)

I know in the grand scheme of things these are all "First World Problems", (ie. Compared to the starving child in Africa, my burnt mouth is nothing.) but having a day that's just continually full of shitty little things is quite maddening.

(As I type this, I know I'm sure to read a tweet later from the Home Office in Ontario saying how much he's enjoying the beer on his back deck.)

But now I've vented and moved on - the great thing about First World Problems is that they are easily solved. As for the kid in Africa, he'll have to wait until after my coffee.

Later.

-

I Feel:

- That checking my blog stats and seeing I've gained repeat visitors makes me feel warm and fuzzy.
- That if they keep coming back here, the rest of the Internet must suck ass.
- That the 10,000th repeat visitor will get a night with the Sidekick, no questions asked. (Buy him a snobby beer and anything's possible.)
- That having one of the kids who works for me point out that they can't read an analog clock makes me weep for humanity.
- That being told by another co-worker about the fantastic lunch-time sex they had makes me wish I didn't live 20 minutes away from home.
- That the previous comment is irrelevant - we all know I could do the drive there, the deed itself, and the commute back and still have time for a snack.
- That reading about the Westbro Baptist Church wanting to picket a Foo Fighters concert saddens me, Because even religious nutjobs will get to go to a concert, and I won't.
- That the creator of Lulemon deserves the Nobel Prize for Libido Stimulation.
- That I don't Tweet as much as I should, but I refuse to live-tweet my bathroom breaks.
- That although the most important person in your life should be your spouse, in reality it's the best friend who deletes your History and Porn Stash upon your death.
- That as much as I like the Beatles, I'd rather put a nail in my ear than listen to early stuff like "I Wanna Hold Your Hand".
- That immediately after reading that, the Sidekick disowned me.
- That if you call in to a radio station on a all-request weekend, are one of the lucky ones to actually get through, and ask for Nickelback - your call should be traced and a truckload of music critics sent out to curb-stomp you.
- That slowly but surely, I'm giving in to the Dark Side - but without the angsty whining about sand and my Mom.

Later.

Inception.

After my shitty work day/feel good donut binge last night, I crashed and went to bed.

Rule #1 - That much sugar before bed is NOT good for my mind. (Caffeine is the bomb, though - I drink coffee like snot-nosed kids drink NyQuil.)

I had the weirdest dream - I was working, and was losing it on some guy who was late for his shift (repressed rage, anyone?). As I was leaving the store after chewing this guy out, I walked into the sunlight - and woke up.

When I looked up, it was 7:05 - I work at 7:30, and it's a 20 minute drive away. I jumped up, started coffee, had the fastest shower/shave in history and busted my ass getting to work.

I made it to work by 7:35.

Thank God I'm the boss today, because otherwise I'd have to explain to someone that the reason I'm late is because I was dreaming about giving someone shit for being late.

And that would have made me sound like more of a nut than I am.

Later.

Pastrinomical Relaxation.

Today at work, I walked into a Clusterfuck.

None of the issues were work related, except for the fact that they happened at work. Most of it was people's dramatic bullshit and the main frustration was just having to deal with it all. The added bonus of having a guy blow off his shift and having to do his job as well as mine was just the icing on the cake.

...and it's funny I mention icing, because after I ranted my frustrations to the wife, I come home to find a freshly made coffee and donuts.

Let's just say that the donuts may not have been good for my waistline, but they were good for my soul. Each delicious bite took me juuust a bit further from my shitty day - and that can only be a good thing.

So I'd like to give props to the Wife - she somehow knew what would make my day, and came through with flying colors. (Considering the only other option to ensure my cheerfulness would have been a blowjob, I guess I should be disappointed, but whatever..Donuts!)




Later.

Smore Than Expected.

People look at me strange when I say I don't like S'mores. They stare at me like I just told them I torture puppies on my days off.

Then they always say, "Really?", like it's also something I lie about for shock value.

Why is it so hard to understand that the sickly-sweet taste of marshmallow simply turns my stomach? Or that I hate them because when you do try to eat them, they crumble and fall apart into a gooey, nasty mess? (The same reason I hate eating Tacos - Pink Taco aside - that I'm a big fan of eating.)

Graham Cracker? I like it - crush it, make a crust, put cheesecake on it, and I'll demolish it like a fat guy eating...well, cheesecake.

Chocolate? I'm a huge fan - as anyone who's seen me and a box of Reese's Pieces can testify to.

And that leaves the Marshmallow as the deal-breaker. I can't get past it. To me, the only reason marshmallow was created was to make Rice Krispies consumable by humans. (Get it? Otherwise they suck!)

Until they somehow figure out a way to make marshmallow not taste like the inside of a Smurf's asshole, I'll just keep my fireside camping treats contained to throwing puppies on the fire.

What? I never denied anything - I just said they look at me strange.




Later.