Thank You, Vancouver.

• For being cheerful and fun while I was there. Keep this up, and that "No Fun City" label will disappear fast.
• For having a transit system that worked perfectly, and wasn't a pain in the ass to navigate.
• For cleaning up and shining - looking like a true International City.
• For having all those people in Blue Jackets around - who don't mind giving directions to a guy who's "got his buzz on".
• For a Tim Horton's, Starbucks, or other caffeinated beverage place available when I stopped drinking Gin.
• For being the Gateway to Poco, where the real party was.. hahaha.

I'll be back in a month, so don"t forget about me..



Later.

Swineful Behavior.

No, this isn't about swine flu - it's about me being a pig.

Sure, I got up and went to the gym today. Lifted weights, ran for a half hour, tanned - but then six hours later, I blow it all.

For some strange reason, I just demolished:

• A Peanut Butter sandwich
  
• Two sticks of pepperoni
• Chocolate Muffin
• Glass of Chocolate Milk

And that was after my lunch and hour ago - in which I had a healthy, fulfilling sandwich. (Mmm Turkey.) I think I know the culprit: boredom.

It's not that I'm bored, really - I'm hanging with my two Boys, so nothing is really boring. It's just that with the rain and wind we're inside - and even playing with them, there's some downtime, and they eat some snacks, and there's all this shitty food laying around, so...

I do it to myself.

It's easier when I can take them out and do something with them - it keeps me busy as well, and not being around all the shitty food is a plus.

But now I'm feeling guilty, and have already begun to plan my "revenge" workout for tomorrow in my head.

Yes, I know - I need help.

Don't worry about the binging - it's when I start purging that you can call in the shrinks...



Later.

Defeetist Attitude.

I'm at a loss for what to put on my feet.

You see, for years I only had two pairs of shoes: The ones I wore to work, and some sneakers I wore with everything else. No sandals or flip-flops for me - I wouldn't wear shorts unless I had to, so my summertime footwear was the same as my wintertime stuff.

But it's all changed now.

Since I started the whole gym/running thing, I've really become accustomed to wearing shorts. I'll wear shorts all day long now - if you'd let me. (With legs like mine, why not show them off?) I'm even hoping I can get away with shorts on a casual day at work - so you can see how the insanity has spread.

But when wearing "dressier" shorts, instead of gym ones, I realize that my choice of footwear really is - for lack of a better word - shitty. Scuffed sneakers just don't jive with the kakhi shorts.

So I'm looking to upgrade, and there's 3 ways I think I can go:

• The Boat Shoe: Looks good, comfortable, and classy. I actually used to wear this with jeans and a popped-collar polo shirt circa '87... which kinda scares me now.
• Flip Flops: I'd like to try flip flops, I really would - but my only problems are 1) I hate having something shoved in between my toes, and 2) can you run after a 3yr old in flip flops?
• Mocs: I like the look of these, and I've heard they are comfortable. But would they look good in shorts? And if I'm not wearing socks, would everything just get funky?

I'm at a crossroads in my decision making process. I'm not in a hurry - I've looked like a shlub for so long I don't think a couple of weeks more will make a difference - but I do want something I can break in and use before summer's over.

Please don't say Crocs - they are the most retarded thing to hit peoples feet in years. I don't care how comfortable they may be - I think they're stupid.


Help me, Internet - you're my only hope.




Later.

Enlightening Experience.

I am a bronzed God.

Not really; I'm still the pasty-white guy you all know and love - but I am a wee bit darker today.

I had my first fake-n-bake experience today.

I won a punch-pass for tanning as part of my Biggest Loser prize package. Since my normal skin tone is translucent, I figured I'd give the booth a try. I did tan a bit last year, due to all the running I did outside, and since I expect my mileage to go up this summer, I think a base coat is a must-have. So with some trepidation this morning, I stepped up and hit the bed.

It's an odd feeling for someone who's never seen the inside of a booth - it was like standing in a vertical coffin, naked, and then suddenly the eyes of God are upon you. For the first minute I kept my eyes closed, for fear of having my retinas singed. (Did I mention that I didn't get a very through walkthrough on this machine?) But eventually I did open them, and found that it's like playing with a blacklight when you were a teenager - the only difference being that my grey chest hairs didn't stand out quite so much as a teenager. (God, I'm old.)

I did find it oddly refreshing, which makes sense if you figure I compressed a half-day's sun into less than 10 minutes. All that melatonin coursing through your system has to make you feel a bit giddy.

I do have nine more times inside this thing, so hopefully at the end of it I come out looking ready for outdoor fun, and not like some orangeish-leathery-freak.


See you in the booth - next time: Lotions!!




Later.

Clean As A Whistle.

There's something about a fresh operating system that just makes a pseudo-geek like me all tingly.

We got an new (to us) office computer at work today, and as the untitled-but-knows-what-he's-doing tech guy, it was up to me to format and set up the system.

Looking at the screen after you've done all the updates and installed all the proper security programs is enticing; here's a virgin (for a second time) piece of equipment, ready to be used and enjoyed. Anything is possible - it responds quickly and crisply, no lag or stuttering - the response time is in milliseconds, not minutes.

Makes me want to take my home machine and nuke it from orbit.
(I'll need something to do if this winter keeps up, eh?)

But the sad thing is that it won't stay that way for long - somehow, someway, within a couple of weeks someone will be calling me and saying that the 'puters not working. I'll recall this time when everything was new and shiny and smile fondly, then set forth fixing what they've fucked up, again.


I hope that moment never comes.



Later.

XBox vs. Wii.

With the XBox out of commission, I went to my backup console - the Wii.

Although I liked the Wii when I first purchased it, I really haven't used it all that much - it just doesn't have the games, look, and feel that I enjoy. And lets just face it: the graphics are what keep you playing, and the Wii just doesn't have the same shine.

The XBox is like a hot girl that does nasty things and talks dirty to you while looking back over her shoulder. (Wink wink, nudge nudge.) By comparison, the Wii is a chick who gives great head - you just don't want to look at her while she's doing it.

Their both fun, but it's no contest which one I'd rather be playing.

I haven't even had a chance to ship it oout yet and I already miss it. No games, no streaming video, no nothin'.


This sucks.




Later.

Of Playgrounds & Panty Lines.

(As much as the above title sounds Pedo, it's not - no children were harmed in the following post.)


Even though I felt like shit today, I had promised my kids I'd take them to the park. If there's one thing I've learned since the little tykes came along, it's that when you promise them something, you have to deliver.

So we head to the playground. When we arrive, it's overrun with kids from a daycare next door. My kids are thrilled because there are tons of other children for them to play with, and I'm thrilled because the 3 guardians of these little angels are all wearing my all-time favorite outfit on women aged 21-40, yoga pants.

So I sat at the playground, watching my kids run around and play, and also made some small talk with the ladies. The sun was shining, there was a nice breeze, my coffee was just right, and I was surrounded by God's wonderful creations wrapped in Man's greatest fashion accomplishment.

I knew it had to end sometime.

After a while, the daycare kids had to go back inside, and my kids were wiped from all the running around and playing. As I was getting our stuff together, The Boy asked "Can we come back and play with the daycare kids on your next day off, Daddy?". I looked over my shoulder at the lycra-enveloped wonders exiting the playground and replied:

"Absolutely, son - My days off can't come fast enough."





Later.

Ink'd

I have a fascination with women who have tattoos.

I'll be honest - I think it's hot.

Forget the Tramp Stamp ones, they are a dime a dozen. I'm talking about the girls who have something different, not just some random tribal thing slapped above their ass. (Not that there's anything really wrong with that..)

I like to think the woman who has a tattoo is showing a bit of an edgier side, something that breaks away from the pack, but still stays within the realm of the "normal" people. Thank God for the rise in popularity and acceptance of women with tats - it makes my life much more pleasurable. (While I'm at it, I'd like to thank God for summer time and the clothing (and lack of said clothing) that goes with it.

Sure, there are exceptions to every rule, as there are some women and some tattoos that I find downright disgusting, but when done right and displayed accordingly, there is nothing sexier than ink on skin.


Later.

Vicious Cycle.

You know what I hate?

I hate it when you go into the washroom to wash your hands - tonight I was handling some dusty stuff - and halfway through washing your hands, you suddenly have to pee.

So you finish washing your hands, dry them off, and then relieve yourself. What do you do then? Wash your hands again, of course. What was the point of washing my hands in the first place if I was just going to have to wash them again? Couldn't my bladder have gotten it's act together sooner, so I wouldn't have to repeat the hand-wash portion of the routine?

Just think of the time I would have saved.

If cleanliness is next to Godliness, I'm something like Jesus's half-step-brother now.
(At least my hands are.)



Later.

Too Hot To Post.

It's 11:15pm right now, and it's still 25° outside.

That's too fuckin' hot.

Right now my ass cheeks are sticking to the chair, thus breaking my concentration and preventing me from forming any coherent thought.

It's not pleasant.

I didn't remember it being this hot last year - but then I went and looked at a couple of posts from around this time - this is when I was sitting with bags of frozen peas in my crotch, shortly after my vasectomy.

Funny how I look back fondly on that, now. (The peas, not the surgery.)

Ahhhh - Good Times.



Later.

Downtime.

After a day like today, nothing is better than chilling with the Sidekick to vent and relax.

Coffee is my fuel, and the release of frustrations and irritations from dealing with the general public is the dangerous by-product. (I don't think it's harmful to the ozone, but who knows.)

But that's why this post is short: I'm not really here, but at Timmy's - you'll be able to see the steam from when I vent.


Later.

The Juice-Box Uncertainty Principle.

As a parent, I find that there's one moment when your child holds complete power over you. The next ten minutes of your life are in their hands, and the outcome can be pleasant or disastrous.

When does this happen?

Anytime you hand a toddler a juice-box.

You see, when ever you give a kid anything, you always tell them to "Hold on tight." - this works great for everything in life except for juice-boxes and kittens. The moment of uncertinty is when you hand them the box and see how they grab it. One of two things can happen:

1. Child grabs box, takes a sip, enjoys tasty beverage, happiness abounds.
2. Child squeezes box, juices shoots out straw - covering child, child's clothes, and any carpet within 500 meters. - the next ten minutes are spent cleaning up and changing clothes. And the kid's still thirsty.

And it can go either way - there's a different outcome each time.

I think I'd almost rather play Russian Roulette with a nail gun. It'd be less stressful. (And messy.)


Later.

Fashionista.

Thank God I never took clothing tips from 80's cartoons.

I did own a pink polo once, but it was 1986 - they were as common as tight-rolled jeans and high-tops.



Now that I think about it, maybe I'll go as Destro for Halloween. Does anyone know where I can get a badass medallion?




Later.

Dis-Connected.

Blogger was pissing me off this morning.

It was my plan to talk about the song that was going through my head in the shower, but when I went to post, I kept getting a "time out - unable to connect" from Blogger. Oh, I could get to Google just fine, but any other Google site wouldn't work for me.

I even went so far as to reset my modem and router - on the off chance that it might have something to do with it. (It didn't.)

So when I finally get home from work and am able to connect, do you think I can remember the big epiphany I had?

Nope.

(I know it had something to do with the song "Raspberry Beret", but I can't remember anything past that.)

Blame Blogger for your loss.

I know I am.




Later.

Mountains & Molehills.

It's not that I hate laundry.

It's a pain- that's for sure, but it'll always be there no matter how much we try to ignore it. (Especially if you have kids - believe me.)

I'm trying to get a routine going - just throw a couple of loads in each day, fold and put away. It doesn't take that long, and it seems like less of a task.

My wife, however, prefers the pile-it-up-and-attack-it-all-in-one-day plan. That's okay I guess, if you want to waste a whole day. What if you get called away? Laundry is never ending - it'll pile up the moment you turn your back on it.

With the amount The Sidekick and I have been going to the Gym, my need for non-sweaty clothes has increased exponentially, and going with the old method just means I'm scrambling for clean gym shorts at 5:30 in the morning.

But I can't get my wife to see the benefits of trying out my way ( even for a bit) .

I'll keep fighting the good fight, and I know she'll come around. ( I might have to take the Bounce Sheets hostage, but eventually, she'll listen.)

Until then, I'll keep tackling it my way.

I'm off to scale the southern face of the whites & towels - I hope I can hit the summit before dawn.

Someone send a Sherpa.




Later.