Hallowed Out.

I'm just not that into Halloween anymore.

I'm down with the spookiness, the zombies, and the mythos of it all, but Halloween seems like more and more of a contrived, forced holiday that it sucks the joy out of it for me.

I enjoy the dressing up - some of the outfits that people come up with are astounding - but I think so much pressure to have a great costume ruins what I think should be the spontaneity of it all.

The fact that I live in a cold, windy, wet area makes taking the tots out trick-or-treating more of a torture than listening to Justin Beiber. They may be running on a sugar high from house to house, but Daddy wishes there was more than cream in his coffee - just to take the edge off, of course.

I'm sure if I was back in my 20's it would be more enjoyable. Back then all you had to do was dress up as Shaggy and try to fuck whichever girl came to the party as Daphne or Velma. (Those were the days, eh?)

But times have changed, I've grown up, and I have to try and remember that its not all about me. The kids really enjoy it, and the satisfaction I do get out of this day is seeing their imaginations at work.

So I'll do my best to persevere - just don't ask what's in my coffee if you see me out tonight - I might just have some "help" in there.

Later.

Fatty Foods and Running Guilt.

Do you see that wonderful creation to your right?

That's an Applebee's Maple Butter Blondie dessert.

It's fucking incredible. It's an orgasm that comes served to you on a sizzling plate. While you're transfixed staring at the stack of ice cream, walnuts and pecans, some sort of magic sauce is poured over - covering the ice cream, boiling and caramelizing as it hits the plate.

And then you eat.

Now, you're probably already 3/4 full from your dinner, but it doesn't matter. Once the taste of this motherfucker hits your palate, you are instantly compelled to finish it all. The wife and I share, and even then we are battling over the last few crumbs.

The worst thing I ever did was look at the nutritional information on my beloved Blondie. Each serving has 990 calories - and that's where the guilt kicks in.

Skinny Me knows that splitting the Blondie (Sound's like an 80's Porn slang, amirite?) was a good idea, but he also knows that those 500 calories, plus what dinner was, equal at least an hour running.

Fatty Me doesn't care - that dessert is worth it.

Skinny Me knows that you can't cut out everything from your diet and, in moderation, a cheat day every once in a while is a good thing.

Fatty Me already wants more. (Fatty Me is a selfish asshole, in case you haven't noticed.)

Thankfully the nearest place we can get the Blondie is a 45 minute drive away - keeping Fatty Me away from it shouldn't be too much of an issue. If it was just down the street, we'd be in trouble.

Maybe if I ran to the restaurant from home (31 miles) I wouldn't feel so guilty about enjoying my dessert.

.....and then maybe I can have a whole one to myself....*evil grin*







Later.

Let's Hear it for Beaver.

It appears some people in our Government want to change our National Mascot from the Beaver to the Polar Bear.

Fuck that noise. Beavers rock.

Hardworking, industrious, big fat tail, buck teeth - Beavers just don't fucking care what people think. They looked at what nature gave them and said, "Fuck 'em - I'm gunna cut down some trees and make a house.". That's the kind of plucky animal I want representing our country.

Polar Bears are only badass because they're bears. Who gives a shit? Winnie the Pooh is a bear and he gets no respect. The fucker is practically retarded. Polar Bears aren't much better - the only time anyone likes a Polar Bear is when it's a rug. No one romanticizes about Polar Bears when they are rifling through the garbage.

Say the word "Beaver" to any international tourist and, next to Pussy, the first thing they'll think of is Canada. (WARNING: If you are a girl, repeatedly saying "Beaver?" to someone who doesn't quite speak English could cause some type of, uhmm...mis-communication .) Say "Polar Bear" and people will nod and point to a Coca-Cola can. Not really an association I'd be proud of.

Sure, individually a Polar Bear will fuck your shit up. But take a thousand Beavers and they'll cut down all your trees, build a dam, and flood your fucking town. Who's more badass, now, eh?

In short, if these people in Government want to "Update" our National Symbol and "Keep it fresh" maybe they should try giving the ol' Beev a trim and shine up that tail - don't go replacing what's not broken.





Later.

Shameful Introduction.

I'd like to introduce you to two people: My Dear & Big Fella.

Who are they, you ask?

Are they characters in my as-yet-unfilmed Porn masterpiece?
Nope.

It's simple, really - My Dear and Big Fella are what I call anyone I run into whose name I can't remember.

Cheezy, right? I know.

It's not my fault - God gave me a great eye for faces (and boobs and butts) but I'm kinda lousy when it comes to names. I'm that guy who says "If I saw them I'd know who it is" when somebody asks if I know someone. I also use it a lot with any ex-employees that used to work for me. After managing a McDonald's (for what seemed like an eternity) I always run into people who remember me after working there for only 6 months - I barely recall any employee who worked less than 2 years.

Big Fella and My Dear work great, though. For women of any age "My Dear" is a personal yet non-creepy greeting, and "Big Fella" works with guys of any age or size. (If they're fat or muscular, they're used to being called Big Fella, and with any other size person it's a nice informal greeting.) I've never had this fail for me, and with working in retail, I use it repeatedly every day - mostly for customers and stuff, but also with people who you haven't seen in years whose name doesn't immediately spring to mind. (If they say hi to me first, I usually respond with a token "Hey..You!" until my brain catches up to my eyes and figures out where I know them from.)

So there you go - my secret is out.

Don't tell anyone, K? Thanks.

By the way, My Dear, I like the way the light of the laptop reflects in your eyes - and you, Big Fella, have you been working out? Nice to see ya, thanks for stopping by.





Later.

A New Groove.

I'm so fucking tired.

For the last 2 years, I was on set days off of Wednesday and Thursday. It was sweet - I always knew what my schedule was, could make plans, and the routine was set.

One of the pluses of the new work location is that I can rotate with my co-workers into weekends off. That means I get to see more of the Boys than just mornings and nights, and it's also great for going to events like this last weekend. (Which I still believe I am recovering from - I just can't party like I used to.)

The thing is, I'm so used to having Wed/Thurs off, that when Wednesday rolls around, I'm fucking exhausted. (Some of you may look at my Twitter and say "Well doesn't the 5 mile run you did have anything to do with it?" - I say no.) My body expects today to be a day off - not really a day of rest, but a no-pressure day.

No such luck.

I'm just about to head back from my lunch break (going to try a 10 minute power-nap and see if that helps) and all I really want to do is sleep instead. I'm contemplating going to bed when my kids do tonight and seeing if there's a difference.

The same sleep schedule as an 8 year old.
Life's not as glamorous as I imagined.





Later

Unfathomable.

My kids were amazed last night.

Why?

Because my Wife cooked rice.

Now cooking rice isn't a new thing around our house - we frequently enjoy the tasty grain. The kids are used to seeing Mommy setup the rice cooker on the counter while getting stuff ready for dinner.

They were excited last night because they got to help pick out what we were having and were looking forward to it as we haven't had rice in a while.

Imagine their disappointment when we found out the rice cooker wasn't working.

The kids were just about to go into whiny/crisis mode (I know - over rice. First World Problems, eh?) when they looked astoundingly at the Wife when she pulled a pot out and put it on the stove. They asked her what she was doing and seemed dumbfounded when she said "Cooking Rice".

My kids have never seen rice cooked on a stove.

As hilarious as that sounds, I somehow feel like I've let them down. If my kids are baffled by the fact that rice can be cooked in something other than a rice cooker on the counter, how are they going to be when they are lost in the wild? I can only picture them wandering around, trying to plug their Nintendo Ds into trees, hoping for a miracle.

I'm wondering what other things they are missing out on - maybe I can surprise them with the news that dishes can be washed by hand or before air conditioning we just opened a window.

Trust me, the situation will be rectified, even if I have to strand them in the park, Man vs. Wild style.




Later.

Discordant Arrangement.

There was something that struck me as odd at the Sam Roberts concert the Sidekick and I attended Saturday night.

There was a lot of old people there.

Now, I'm close to 40, so when I say someone is "Old", I'm saying around late-50's. I'm not going to judge these people, but I will admit that maybe they were at the wrong concert - I did a quick Google search and there isn't any operas or classical artists named Sam Roberts, so maybe they were at the right venue after all. There where quite a lot of them, (I'd say 10% of the people there) and I just chalked to up to season's ticket holders or some such thing.

But they sure weren't there to have fun.

There's one thing that happens at every concert I've been to: People stand up and groove along to the music and the people behind them stand up and so on and so on. It always happens. Sit down when ya want, but once the music starts, prepare to stand up.

These people were having none of that.

When the teenage (mid-20's? - I can never tell anymore) girls in front of them started dancing, they complained to the usher. When the people in front of the girls were standing, they complained to the usher. No matter what, they complained to the usher. It wasn't just an isolated incident either - I could see him running around to every group of older people and receiving some kind of bitching. This 19-year old kid looked like he was frazzled from having to try to appease all these people, and all because some kids want to dance.

The Sidekick's comment: "These people make the parents from Footloose look like a bunch of party animals."

When I go to a concert, I don't expect to sit down. In fact, I really only use the chair to hold my jacket and to mark the general area where I'm permitted to do my flailing about. (That's dancing, for those of you who have never seen the spectacle of my moves.) There was a bunch of old people around us, but since no one was standing (and I could see just fine) I restrained myself from jumping up.

The Sidekick's brilliant plan saved the day.

He had seen that even though the ushers had moved some people around to seat the dancers and non-dancers together, there was still a couple five or six rows in front of us who weren't looking like they were having a good time. He took it upon himself to approach the usher (who looked completely terrified at the thought of someone else complaining) and suggest that we switch seats  - as stated before, I'm perfectly fine with standing up and dancing my ass off.

So we switched, the people were happy, and all was well.


But the question remains: Who the fuck goes to a ROCK CONCERT and just sits down? Elvis would be rolling in his grave at the sight of it.

That older generation - I'll never understand them.





Later.

Digestive Downfall.

Beer kills me.

As much as I like the foamy beverage, it doesn't seem to reciprocate much at all. Normally, this isn't a problem, but on weekends like this it can be an issue.

You see, I was just in Vic at the Sam Roberts Band concert, and since I'm hanging with the Sidekick (official Beer Snob) there's a lot of the brewskie flowing.

I lost count of the types and amounts of beer that was consumed. (Really, it was all the Sidekick's fault.)

Add coffee, Gin, Denny's, pancakes, and driving to all of that and it means my guts are churning up a storm. I'm sure the wife and kids are really going to appreciate the odor I'm bringing home.

Yet another great thing they don't tell you about middle age.

Maybe I'll be nice and strap a charcoal filter to my ass and save everyone some discomfort.

Or maybe not - I'm kind of an ass that way.

Later.

Sammy.

I know I usually call my TV Sammy, but tonight it's a different story.

Tonight the Sidekick and I are attending the Sam Roberts concert at the Royal Theatre. They are one of my favorite Canadian Bands, and seeing them live is something I've been waiting for and can now check off my list.

Just so you don't feel left out (and to rub it in a bit) here's a couple of samples of what I'll be enjoying:







It's okay to be jealous - I would be if I was you.






Later.

To Good to Be True.

I checked the mail yesterday, and there was some interesting news.

Supposedly, according to the letter I received, their was a multi-millionaire with the same last name as me that died in China in a mysterious hiking accident. The partner in his investments is looking to cash in on the $21 million dollars that was left in-estate, and needs my help. He hasn't given me all the details yet, but it seems almost too good to be true.

Which is why I know it's a crock of shit.

We've all heard this one a thousand times - just usually a Nigerian Prince instead of a wealthy Caucasian. This guy did try really hard, however, and I will give him credit on a couple of things:

• His use of actual paper. Everyone is so used to the email scam that receiving something in the mail almost makes it seem legit. You'd think the cost of the postage and the paper would work against the scammer, but all he needs is for one person to fall for it and his expenses are covered.
• He didn't make it an outrageous sum of money. Having $21 million tied up in a foreign country seems like something that could possibly happen to a person who deals in International business.
• The English language is butchered horribly - almost as bad as when the Sidekick sends a tweet - but he actually apologizes for it at the end of the letter! Would a real scammer do that?

But there were some red flags:

• This guy is supposedly a Investment manager who deals with moving money Internationally - his English should be better, and if he has access to a computer to type this request, he probably has Spellcheck. Like I said above, the apology was nice, but c'mon - who falls for that shit?
• If a Multi-Million Dollar Financier disappered in a mysterious accident, it would have been covered on the news. Bill Gates can't take a shit without someone writing about it, so overlooking a death seems far-feteched.
• Looking up the name Anderson Watson in any search engine brings up 0 results. Google, motherfucker - have you heard of it?

If it turns out that I'm wrong and this kind Chinese gentleman really is trying to give me millions, I will apologize - right after I endorse the cheque with my Unicorn-horn pen and blot the ink with the ass of Santa's Reindeer.






Later.

Partial Timeline.

My Day Off today:

• 7am - Wake up, stumble around house in a daze until I make my way to the kitchen to put coffee on.
• 7:05am -  Go into each kid's room and proceed to wake them up with a combination of tickling and threatening to fart on their heads. (They're Boys - they think farting is the height of comedy.) 
• 7:15am - Hand coffee to the Wife as she gets out of the shower. (Yes, I'm that terrific of a husband.)
• 7:20am - Get breakfast for the Boys, and try to make sure they eat it while they deploy every strategy known to 5 & 8 years olds on how to postpone eating said breakfast. (The Ruthless Parent in me sometimes wants to send them off with no breakfast like they want - but the Shameful Parent knows they'll tell their Teacher "Daddy didn't feed me".)
• 7:40am -  Tell the kids to get dressed - Check with wife to see if it's going to be a "Need a Second Cup" kinda day before she goes to work.
• 7:45am - Find out that the kids must be colorblind - there's no reason they would dress themselves like that on purpose.
• 7:50am -  Redress the kids, and make sure their hair is combed/teeth brushed/faces are clean  - one wants me to gel his hair up in a faux-hawk and the other wants his hair to have the Superman "S"-type curl on the front. (Yup - I've raised a couple of classy ones here, people.)
• 8am -  On my way to get dressed for the gym, pass by the wife getting ready and give her a little Helicopter Dance (no contact). I don't think she appreciates it.
• 8:10am - Tie my shoes, kiss the Wife goodbye, (There's a bit of a twinkle in her eye - maybe the Helicopter worked after all..) and hustle the kids out the door to school.
• 8:30am - Drop the oldest off and let him go to class - take the youngest to kindergarten, where I realize that while mine seem bad at times, they pale to other people's kids in bad behavior. (One Dad tells me his kid pissed on his bedroom floor because he was mad about Lego.) I try not to gloat.
• 8:45am - Sign in at the gym and run my ass off for 45 minutes (give or take). Try to avoid repeat glances at the tatted up, firm-buttocked lass on the stair climber in front of me. (Unsuccessful - Great inspiration, though) Proceed to stretch my hams, glutes, lats, pecs, and any other muscle that feels like jelly.
• 10am - Get home, make a coffee and a sweet omlete for breakfast and say I'm only going to spend 15 min online while I eat.
• 11am - Finally realize that 15 minutes has turned into an hour. (Don't judge me - I bet you've done this too.) Resolve to finish one last thing and then sign off.
• 11:30am - Feel shame and amazement at how quickly a half hour flies by. (But look! Now you can tweet this post! )
• 12pm: Fresh from the shower, dance around naked while listening to the Foo Fighters. (Yes, I checked - the blinds where closed.)
• 12:15pm - Scramble to put pants on when I hear a noise at the door. Relax after realizing it was just the paperboy. Wish my paper was dropped off by out-of-work Supermodel.
• 12:30pm - Try to figure out what I want to blog about today. Running? Work? Batman? Poker? Why I think Gerbils are classier rodents than Guinea Pigs?
• 12:40pm - Start typing. You have no idea how shitty I am at typing. I'm not a touch-typist, and not quite a hunter-pecker, either. People who have seen me type compare my roaming, fumbling hands to a teenage boy undoing his first bra clasp. 
• 1:19pm Post this and hope for the best.

I'd post the rest of the day, but it hasn't happened yet. I could make it up, but all of you would get suspicious if I mentioned winning the lottery or battling dragons I found in my crawlspace. Best to just stick with reality.






Later.

Under The Bus.

I'm enjoying being at the new (old) location for work - everything is going well, I'm getting lots done, and I like just  enough of the people  I'm working with. (They are finally starting to get my sense of what's funny.)

There's only one thing that's bugging me:

The guy I switched with.

He's a good guy, and we've known each other for ages. He took over my old section at the other location. I had found a couple of minor-ish things wrong down here, and I expected for him to do the same there - everyone is different and we all notice different things, so there will be some stuff that we each will find. I didn't say much about what I found, just gave him a heads up and he told me a couple things too.

But I heard from two or three reliable sources that he's slagging me down there - trying to critique my job and blowing anything he found waaay out of proportion.

This fucking pisses me off.

I checked with my bosses, and they don't believe or don't care about any error or missed item on my part.

I confronted my co-worker, and he complety denied saying anything negative. (Repeatedly, in fact - I think he's scared of me.)

I don't really give a shit about it, as I know and am fully confident in my job performance - it's just that for some reason the useless little shit pushed my buttons the wrong way.

I think that a pen to the forehead (Dark Knight style) should be punishment for anyone who pulls this type of shit. (Anyone else agree?)

It's over, it's dealt with, moving on.

Thanks for the rant, Internet, its been fun.

Later.

I Feel:

- That beating up thugs playing Arkham City is almost as much fun as shooting up Zombies in Left 4 Dead.

- That if there was a game where Batman blew the shit outta Zombies, I'd be first in line at the preorder desk.

- That being closer to home means I get a nooner when I go home for lunch.

- That it also means I can play video games.

- That being able to do both in the same lunch hour doesn't say much about my staying power. (Sad face)

- That having once-regular customers ask if I just got back from holidays (when I've actually been gone for 2 years) is kind of a letdown.

- That having the Sidekick finally finish editing the podcast is excellent, because I can then post this.

- That kicking ass at Jeopardy, thereby schooling everyone else in the room, will never get old.

- That after gym, work, dinner and kids, my body and mind are both completely wiped.

- That I used to have the same feeling after Spring Break when I was younger - but it was Gin instead of Gym, Weed instead of Work, and somehow Women replaced both food and kids.

- That I'm finally in good enough shape to keep up to the dreams of my youth.

Later.

Switcheroo.

So after being down in the OR for 20 months, it's my first day back in WP, where I spent my first 8 years.

Some things I noticed:

- Next to Department Heads and long term employees, I have no fucking idea who anyone is.
- But no one knows who the fuck I am either, so it kinda balances out.
- I'm so used to my routine in OR that I'm just kinda wandering today. Boring only begins to describe it.
- The breakroom in OR? A fucking palace, with 2 couches, a recliner, and tons of space.
- The breakroom in WP? I could fit it in my crawlspace. (Hopefully I'll be going to the gym/home on my lunch more often.)
- I have yet to see one redneck today, or sell one pack of cigarettes - in OR, both are staples.
- The people I could usually make my witty/crude/humourous comments to aren't around, and I haven't had a chance to break these new ones into "my" sense of humour.
- Hopefully doing that doesn't involve lawyers.

It'll take a bit to get back into my rhythm, but I'm looking forward to being back - even if it's just because the drive home is 3 minutes instead of 25.

Later.

This Post May Be Late...

.... due to the image you see at the right.

Yup - I lucked out at Wal-Mart and got Arkham City 3 days before it's supposed to be released and due to another fuck up on Wally's part, I also got it for $20 cheaper than I should have.

So I'm taking a night off to beat up the worst that Arkham can throw at me.

What can I say? I'm a nerd.





Later.

Comment Commentary.

I love getting comments.

You have no idea the joy I get when I recieve a notification to my inbox saying that someone has posted a comment to my blog. It means that they've read something of mine and liked/disliked it enough to take the time to respond to it. Be it a compliment or a complaint, it's welcomed.

Except for this guy.

This guy commented on a post from 2005, and while I was initally excited that someone was perusing the archives, (There's gold in them there hills, people.) the comment itself leaves a lot to be desired.

1.  It's in Russian. Tip to the commenter: When leaving comments on an blog that's written in English, it's best to go with that language. Do I go to Arabic blogs and leave comments in Danish? Hell no - because I can't read Arabic and I eat Danish, I don't speak it.
2. After running it through Google Translate, I find out the commenter's name is "Removal of Iron Magnetic Separator". His parents must have fucking hated him. Although the abbreviated "RIMS" makes him sound like a cool secondary character in The Fast & The Furious.
3. His comment is "Supplies of iron, magnetic separators and metal detectors for the industry." WTF? What kinda comment is that? You are adding nothing to the conversation, sir - you remind me of that kid in Elementary school who would interupt our G.I.Joe conversations with repeated shouts of "Pudding!".
4. He somehow bypassed the incredible capatcha security Blogger has on the comments section, meaning he's either smarter than I think, or someone's trained a monkey really well.
5. I will give him credit - commenting on the post about anonymity on the Internet is veeerrry subtle.

So thanks for checking out the blog, RIMS - but no thanks. I'm not in need of a magnetic separator, (my personality is magnetic enough) and I get all my iron from Broccoli. (Veggies - Yay!)

I hope my calling to task of this wayward feedback doesn't discourage others from commenting - I do seriously have a mini-nerdgasm when that notification pops up - and I don't want that to stop.







Later.

I Feel:

1. That having the guy who tries to kill me whenever we workout together tell me he wants to train with me for my Spring Half-Marathon makes me want to run less, not more.
2. That he will find distance running so boring he'll want to quit in 2 weeks. (Bonus for me)
3. That watching Escape from New York is weird - it's version of the future was 14 years ago. Probably why I've never watched 1984 - that, and 1984 doesn't have Snake Plissken.
4. In the last 2 days, I've watched EfNY, and From Hell. After watching Kurt Russell and Johnny Depp flex their acting chops on screen, I'm almost obligated to watch Porn as to not develop a man crush. (It's in my own best interest.)
5. That I spent way too much time at the gym this morning looking at the dimples on the girl's ass in front of me. I feel that balances out how much the gay guy at the gym was creeping over by the treadmills.
6. That I'm so much of a nerd that I got excited when I saw someone else had a Zune at the gym today. 
7. That I want to meet and have coffee with the guys who write this - just when I think I've crossed the line with something, I read Cyanide & Happiness and know I'm not even close.
8. That I like Halloween for two reasons - neither of which involve candy.
9. That those reasons are: The enjoyment my kids get out of dressing up, and the enjoyment I get from the massive amount of slutty costumes women wear now. (Although Slutty Elmo creeps me out.)
10. That saying in my last post that I would put up a full frontal probably scared away more readers than it gained.
11. That Holidays are the greatest thing ever - to fill my days with Movies, Podcasts, Running, Coffee, Writing, and Family is what I'd like to do with my life. Now if only the Lottery or Internet Fame would help me out....

Later.

Wrong Place in the Queue.

I swear Blogger hates me.

They're subtle about it, but I think they do.

I was looking at my Blog on a different computer, and just for shits and giggles, I clicked the "Next Blog >>" thing at the top, just to see what was next in line for someone who was just visiting my little space of online real estate. I get a lot of traffic from that "Next Blog" button, so it's kinda nice to see what's behind me, and maybe where people are coming from.

What I saw kinda shocked me, so I clicked again. And again. And again.

Each of the blogs that followed mine had a common thread - They were written by middle-aged Christian women writing about their families and their faith in the Lord.

WTF?

How did I get in with that bunch?

If it had been just one, I could understand - the random nature of the Internet is kinda sickly-weird in the fact that it would stick a quasi-religious blog behind a guy who talks about his dick as much as he talks about his kids.

But three in a row? That's just too much coincidence.

I think Blogger's just fucking with me - all those posts bitching about Blogs of Note are finally starting to push some buttons... I could probably force them to move me quite easily - a few full-frontal shots should get their attention.

I've got them just where I want them.





Later.

Change of Thanks.

We had Thanksgiving dinner last night - or, if you're an American reader, we had Columbus Day dinner - either way, turkey was consumed, gravy was treated like a beverage, and I slipped into a tryptophan-induced coma sometime around 9pm.

Good times.

As much as I like turkey in the first few weeks of October, I think that we should follow our American brethren and change the holiday to one that celebrates the discovery of our country. They can keep Columbus for themselves, because I think we should have a holiday to celebrate the first people to come to our shores - The Vikings.

(I know I'm totally skipping over the First Nations people here, but really - come up to Canada - they have lots of stuff named after/showing support of them, so I think they're covered -  the Vikings deserve a little something too.)

It's been documented that the Vikings were here around 1000 B.C. - waaay before Columbus came and carried Pocahontas off to Mount Doom (I'm a little fuzzy on American History) - so we should acknowledge that fact with a day dedicated to the Viking way. We could have parties, drink mead, go wenching, read Astrix books, and watch Thor on blue-ray - just the way our Viking ancestors would have celebrated.

We can still have our Thanksgiving Turkey Day, but we'll do it closer to Christmas like the Americans do, crushing the two holidays together into one big clusterfuck that lasts for a month. (Sounds good, right?)

I think it's time the Vikings got a day of their own - too long have they been cast aside for cooler stuff like Pirates and Ninjas, and suffered for it. They are pictured as ill-mannered barbarians, when in actuality they were quite well mannered barbarians who were known to use napkins and had doily's to rest the skulls of their victims on. (I get my Viking information from a lot of different places - who knew Martha Stewert was a big Viking Fan?)

I know that pushing something like this through on a national level will take years, but we can implement it ourselves one piece at a time. Have mead next year. The year after, roast a chunk of mutton. The third year, pillage your neighbors - it's a good way to get the whole community involved.

Just something to think about.





Later.

Half of a Half.

The Royal Victoria Marathon is today.

I'm supposed to be running the Half Marathon. (I'd be finishing as I type this, actually.)

But because of how my foot was this summer I wasn't able to train properly, and decided not to race. I could probably have gone down this weekend and muddled through the distance, but I wouldn't have finished with any time that I would be proud of.

But I still wanted to run.

So today I headed out - and while I didn't do the full distance, I did do a distance - 6.55 miles - exactly half the distance of a Half Marathon.

It was as good as I could do for just getting back in shape.

Have no fear, next year I'll be posting my actual finish time - and bragging my ass off,






Later.

Digital Competition

At my house we have an Xbox 360, a Wii, PVR, DVD player, and probably some other items that can be abbreviated in ALLCAPS.

And only one TV.

Sammy, my 42' Plasma that I've had since way back when such things were really expensive, certainly gets a lot of attention, and sometimes this can lead to problems.

I come home from work expecting to have some de-stress time blowing up Zombies/winning the Stanley Cup/ being Batman, and my Wife is catching up on watching her mind-bogglingly inane reality shows?

Problem.

There's a really sweet documentary coming on and it's the same time we promised the Boys they could watch Rio or some other kids crap show?

Problem.

I want to stream a movie on the Xbox and the Wife is playing Super Mario Bros Wii instead?

Problem.

We work through most of these issues with compromise and because I am the Greatest Husband/Father Ever, but it can be a pain in the ass. Sure, we could solve this particular dilemma by just getting another TV, but these same type of conflicts pop up even on other devices like laptops, computers and even phones. (As I type this now, the oldest Boy just asked if he could go on Club Penguin at least 3 times.) and there is no way in hell that I'm hooking everyone in the family up with their own digital paradise.

It always seems that whatever it is that I want to do, there is always someone else using the device that I want.

I think we need to get outside more.

Or maybe I should just send them outside, and that way I can enjoy myself.






Later.

iThink....

- I know I'm a nerd, but I'm amazed at the amount of people in my neck of the woods who don't know who Steve Jobs is.

- Best quote I heard about Steve's passing: "Looks like heaven is getting a design upgrade and will be more user friendly now."

- I'm on the first of my last two days in OR - (does that make any sense at all?) People keep telling me stuff for the weekend and I keep reminding them I'll be gone by then. The blank stare I get, followed by the "Already?" is amusing.

- Coffee and recording a podcast with the Sidekick was fun yesterday. I could totally see doing that for a living. If people would pay to listen to me ramble on about shit it would be a dream come true.

- It's the first day of the NHL season tonight - or as I like to call it, the one day my team has just a good a chance as anyone else of winning the Stanley Cup. (Go Avs!)

- Just noticed that I seem to be doing more list-type rants now. It's either that I can't hold on to a coherent thought longer than two minutes, or my mind shuts down if there hasn't been enough coffee consumed.

- Had a girl comment that the Ryan Kesler nude photo was going in her "spank bank" - not to be sexist, but isn't that a guy thing? Wouldn't girls call it the "Clit Pit" or the "Finger File"?

- I appreciate the fact that the initial baseball playoffs are a best of three -  but just because it means the whole thing is over that much sooner. I only find the last games of the NLCS and the ALCS, as well as the World Series, exciting - the entire season up to then means shit to me.

- ....which is exactly how most Americans feel about Hockey.

- Status update: Still creeped out by the overtly friendly, extremely gay guy at the gym. It's not me, it's him.

- Today someone was compelled to tell me a story about the horrible case of diarrhea they had last night. You need to understand that there is virtually NO social filter where I work. (Sometimes I long for one..)

- Only I can go from a comment about Female Masturbation to a shit story in the same blog post - isn't that why you're here?

Later.

Itinerant Thoughts.

Waiting around for the Sidekick to show up, (We're going to record another podcast today) so I thought I'd fire off some random thoughts:

1. I'm stuffed up (head cold) so I can't taste anything. Life sucks. However, lack of flavor just means you notice texture more. Somehow this is even less appetizing - Muffins lose all their appeal.
2. The gym is a funny place. We go there to be healthier and look better, but we get creeped out when someone looks at our new, improved form. (Ok, maybe the staring creeps me out.)
3. On that note, I'm assuming it's my new, improved form that's being checked out - could be that my underwear is showing, or I put my shorts on inside-out (again).
4. I think that people treat each new iPhone announcement like a proclamation from God - Pretty soon it will be Tim Cook coming down from the mountaintop in Cupertino with a tablet in each hand. The fanboy fervor will be the same.
5. It really bugs me when I'm out of the loop on something - I don't know much about the Amanda Knox thing or what's going on with Occupy Wall Street - that's what happens when you only watch the Sports channels for a week or so.
6. I'm curious to see how my voice sounds on today's podcast - will the head cold add to the deep richness of my voice, or will a nasally wheeze be all you hear?
7. I get a lot of traffic from a site called jobsforsmartpeople.com - I somehow find that incredibly ironic. (And that's actual irony, people - not the Alanis Morrissette definition.)
8. Just noticed that in that video, only Driver-Alanis is wearing her seatbelt - I guess clones deserve to die if there's a crash?
9. I start holidays in two days - you could be jealous, but it's October and it's raining, so you probably won't be. 
10. But right after Holidays is the Sam Roberts concert - you can definitely be jealous of that.

Later.

Criminal Geenius.

I got to witness a crime today.

In fact, I got to watch it over and over again.

The Liquor Store beside work was robbed last night, and since our security cameras cover the entire parking lot, it was my job to scan through our video footage and locate what I could for the Police.

What I saw made me realize that it doesn't take brains to be a criminal. The two gentleman who perpetrated the robbery were quick and efficient at what they did, but they got lucky a couple of times and it was hilarious to watch in a morbid sort of way.

They backed up to the door and used a pry bar to get it open. I give them credit for driving fast enough in the dark that our cameras couldn't make out the plate, but later events lead me to believe the truck was stolen anyway. They were smart enough to bring a chain as well, and their plan to hook up and drive away with the safe seemed to be going off without a hitch.

Until the chain broke, that is. (Comedy of Errors #1)

They were a little too eager on the gas, and the chain snapped in two. Unfortunately it had already done it's primary job and dislodged the safe from it's floor-bolts.

They then proceeded to struggle and roll the safe towards the truck. I guess the Redneck Adrenaline must have kicked in, because they were able to lift it and throw it into the back. (It's not like these guys were superhuman, it's kinda a small safe.)

And that's when the truck started to roll away. (Comedy of Errors #2)

These two geniuses had forgot to set the parking brake. (That's what makes me think the truck was stolen.)

Once they caught the truck and cleaned up the tools, they took off. Again, I admire their enthusiasm, but they were lucky because the video shows the safe allllmost bouncing out the back not once, but twice.

Looking at it over and over while I compiled the DVD made me realize that they were more lucky than smart. There were so many things that went wrong that it was more amazing that the crime succeeded.

Well, kinda succeeded - the safe they got wasn't the main one, and they only got enough to maybe buy an Xbox. (But no games.)

...and they didn't even grab a bottle on the way out,

Like I said - reeeaal smart.







Later.

Ramble On.

*This is the tired and hungry version today - don't expect it to make any sense.*

- Having just worked and warehoused an entire pallet of 2L pop by myself, I am perplexed as to why Pop merchandisers aren't the fittest people on the planet.

- Word to the wise : When sending an elderly person into the store to ask for directions, please don't send the one that doesn't speak English and has just had a stroke. I'm not very good at giving directions to "Saammmoonpount".

- Having someone go on about how good I'm looking now that I'm back running again is like the mental equivalent of Viagra.

- I have a impossible mission for you: Try calling a major telecommunication company's service line and get directly through to a person. I don't think they exist anymore. I swear the numbers I punched in were a Fibbonacci sequence, and I somehow helped unlock the mysteries of the Holy Grail.

- Why is Peanut Butter & Nutella acceptable on a bagel, but if you cram some Reeses cups in there instead, people look at you weird?

- I'm so tired right now that I would choose a nap over a full-body massage from the Swedish Bikini Team.

- The previous statement made me feel old not just because of the mention of needing a nap, but by the inclusion of such an.obvious 80's reference. Watch - next I'll start quoting "Mr. Belvedere."

- Someone shoot me if that happens.

Later.

Forewarned.

Dear Legs:

I'm writing this letter for a couple of reasons:

The first reason is to say thanks and offer congratulations for the nice run you did today. You haven't ran 10K in quite some time, and even though you were nowhere near your best time for that distance, you finished strong and looked good.
I'm almost tempted to say that I can see glimmers of your former greatness - but I don't want to gush to much. You've done well, you've made progress, and with some hard work and dedication you'll be churning out the miles in no time.

About those miles: They are the other reason I'm penning this letter to you. You better get ready to do a lot of them, because your crazy bastard of an owner has delusions of grandeur for beating his best time in the Comox Valley Half-Marathon. He's got a program ready to go in about 3 weeks, so that means you've got to keep up those steady runs you've been doing, because after that, shit's going to get hard.

He just wanted to make sure you knew so that you didn't think he was picking on you when he starts piling on the miles. You know him - Legs that bitch and moan after 10 or so miles really irk him, and we want to keep the big guy happy, right?

So keep up the good work, and for God's sake, get some rest - you're going to need it.

Thanks,
The Brain.

Later.

Beat-ing a Dead Horse.

I hate early Beatles songs.

Can't fucking stand them.

The radio at work is having a Beatles #1 weekend, and while I can appreciate hearing "Let it Be" and "Hey Jude", I want to switch the station the minute they play any of the early Beatles tunes.

Shit like "Please Please Me" and "I Wanna Hold Your Hand"? I'd like to go back in time and discourage Paul, John and the boys from ever recording that crap. The music and lyrics, while cutting edge at the time, really don't age well. Early Beatles are as painful to listen to as Justin Beiber.

(Yeah, I said it - I'll give you time to light torches and form a mob.)

I know that some music doesn't stand the test of time. Kid Rock's "Summertime", that everyone was singing 3 years ago, sounds crappy now. People can accept that. Why can't they acknowledge that there are Beatles songs that aged the same way?

Sometimes we have to accept that our heroes weren't great all the time. Musicians make music that doesn't age well, Artists paint things that lose relevance, and even awesome, cool, middle-aged bloggers produce the occasional shitty post now and then.

Just sayin'

Later.