The 80's Fight Back.

Thanks to Public Radio and my own twisted psyche, I have been unable to get these songs out of my head.

Will the madness ever stop?

Later.

Patience Rewarded.

Thank you, Dave Grohl.

I'm really enjoying the new album, Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace. I can't say that there is a track that I don't like. (The Beaconsfield Miners thing is different, but still great.)

My favorite so far? I'd have to say Summer's End.

I don't want to sound Gay or anything, but I really need to see you. It's at the point where I've even entered online contests just to get tickets to your Canadian tour shows. ( The prize also had a 52" TV and Playstation 3, but please don't think that had anything to do with it.) I'm getting that desperate, dude.

But I'd just like to say thanks again - and if you can hook me up with some tickets, it'd be great.
Don't worry - I wouldn't tell anyone.


Later.

Mr Clean

I've been a productive boy today.

Dishes, laundry, vacuuming, getting the kids fed and dressed... and it's early still.

Some days I get the cleaning bug - I'd love to not have to work today, because I'm in the mood to scrub and sterilize my house. It's not that it's dirty, but I just have the energy to accomplish all those little nagging tasks that have been hanging around.

It'll be a shame to waste that energy on work, don't you think?


Later.

One Beer, Two Beer...

Three Beer, Four.

Tonight wasn't a bad night at work, thanks to my friend pictured on the right.

You see, I had to close with one of the other managers. (To prep for our year-end inventory.) The great thing was, he brought beer in with him. Between the two of us, we were done everything early, and spent the last 45 minutes sitting in the office drinking.

How can you have a bad day at work when you have a cold beer in your hand?

The only problem is that after work I felt like continuing the binge. Thank God we ran out of beer - if it had been available, I would have been in real trouble. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but to get my attention you just have to pop the top. (Ladies - that is a double entendre - take it as you will.)

At least I'm looking forward to work tomorrow -

Maybe there'll be a keg.


Later.

Wish You Were Here

My Nephew's service is today.

If there is one song that conveys how I feel at this time, this would be it.

I played this for my Brother after his service, and for my Aunt after hers.

Lucas - this one's for you.


Later.

An Ounce Of Prevention Is Worth A Pound Of Curl.

I was at the Mall in Courtenay today.

(Yes, Courtenay - I was slumming.)

As I'm walking through the mall, a lady passes by, and I can't help but look. She's dressed in upscale stuff, and everything below her neck seems like it's all in order.

Yet she has this mound of curlers (covered with a hairnet) piled on top of her head. I was confused to say the least.

If you care enough about your appearance to resort to curlers, why would you go out in public with them still in? I mean, the fact that you are using styling tools means that you are aware that others look at you and may judge your presentation. So why on earth would you not take them out before you go anywhere in public?

(I might add that this mall doesn't have a barber shop or salon, so it's not like she was shopping while waiting for the 'do to set.)

Is it just one of those female things I might not understand? I'm also willing to accept that it's a Courtenay thing - what happens in Courtenay stays in Courtenay.

Or maybe I'm just missing out on the next big fad.

Has anyone seen my hairnet?


Later.

The Long And The Short of It.

It's not the size of your pencil, but whether or not you can write cursive.

Be it longhand or shorthand, how you write things is almost as important as what you write. Good punctuation, fluid rhythm and proper syntax always make for and enjoyable read - one that you'll bookmark and read over and over again.

Beware improper uses of the comma and always be conscious of the period. (It's very important - miss one and you're fucked.) Contractions are okay, but for elegance and charm I believe that you should always go with the longer from of the word - it sounds classier, not trashy.

As stated above - penmanship is key. Keep it neat and legible. Scribbling all over the place doesn't do anyone any good. You want to make your message clear. If someone struggles with your writing, they aren't going to enjoy what you are trying to say.

I hope this all makes sense somehow, and if it doesn't I guess that's my fault. It's hard to sharpen one's own pencil with just one hand.

Has anyone seen my eraser?


Later.

MSG is Not For Me.

Every time I eat Chinese Food I feel like shit.

I ask for no MSG, but there are some items (usually my favorites) that are prepared ahead of time and contain the dreaded ingredient. It doesn't matter what I order - I'm either going to get something I like that makes me feel horrible, or be left unfulfilled. It's a lose/lose situation.

MSG never used to bother me, but I've found that as I've gotten older I just can't hack it anymore. Sometimes I feel so horrible that even the thought of Chinese Food is enough to make me gag.

Yet I keep going back, so who's the real idiot here, right?

Haven't you ever loved something, even when you knew it was bad for you?

I'm a whore for fortune cookies, I'll admit it.
Anyone seen the Pepto-Bismol?


Later.

A Night In.

Tonight was Movie Night.

We watched Monster House with the kids.

I have to admit, I was very impressed. Spielberg and company did a nice job with this one. I'll be honest - it was the first animated movie I've watched on the High-Def setup and it looked gorgeous. The characters and the lighting were awesome.

Oh, yeah - the kids liked it too.

The Youngest One isn't into movies like his older sibling - He would rather do anything else than sit still for 90 minutes. I like that he's not totally committed to the television, but it would be nice if he could enjoy the film , and we didn't have to stop and entertain him every 25 minutes. (I'm sure in 12 years I'll be curing him to get his lazy ass off the couch.)

The oldest one? I think he likes the DVD player more than he likes me. (If the DVD player fed him, I'm sure that would be the case.) I lid - he's great - he just enjoys movies so much because he knows I enjoy them too. I foresee many years of bonding over movies. I'll have him hooked on Kevin Smith - as soon as his Mom will let him watch it. (How old does a kid have to be for dick and fart jokes?)

It's been a pleasant night - we'll have to do it more often.

Now if I can maybe slip Kill Bill into the DVD Player.....we'll be set.


Later.

Dirge, Revisited.

I've found a new tune to add to the Funeral Dirge.

(I know it seems morbid, but bear with me.)

"Home" by the Foo Fighters.

It's such a sweet, haunting melody. Perfect for the occasion.
Dammit, Dave Grohl - did you have to be such a poet?

My man-crush grows deeper.


Later.

Jealousy Unleashed.

The Sidekick left for the Home Office today.

My envy knows no bounds.

It was about six years ago that He and I went East to visit friends. A simple trip that became a Life Experience. The Memories of drinks and laughter are ones that I recall fondly.

Waking in the Vinyl Lounge with a throbbing headache each day, tasting the beer and cigarettes from the night before. (Yes, that's a good memory.) The drive out to Bobcaygeon, the day in the T-Dot, and touring the "Ghetto" of Ontario.

He's got a condensed trip out there, but I still envy him.

The Fucker.

Hopefully I'll just take his money in Poker when he gets back. (That'll show him.)


Later.

A Thousand Words...

..ain't worth shit.

Today I didn't feel like talking much.

I went to work, and because my mind was elsewhere, I wasn't much for conversation. ( It wasn't that I was mopey or anything - I just wasn't chatty, that's all.) But some people feel like the best thing for me to do is talk.

I'm handling the death of my Nephew better than anyone else in the family. But that doesn't mean I'm going to be all sunshine and lollipops for every member of the general public I come across. Just because I'm like that 95% of the time doesn't mean I have to be like that today.

Someone made the comment that I must be really emotional because I'm quiet today. My emotions had little to do with it. Just because I don't feel like verbalizing my feelings to you doesn't mean I'm an emotional wreck - It means I don't want to talk to you.

I'm all good now - going to work and having to interact with people (even the general public) is good for you. And when all else fails I can always bitch on the Internet - that's what it's here for, right?

I'll get back to our regular programming soon, have no fear.


Later.

No Post.

I've had a Death in The Family.

My Nephew, Lucas, passed away this morning at 8am.

He was a sweet boy - he will be missed.

Later.

Somone Dig Up Johnnie Cochran..

..The Juice is in trouble again.


Later.

Creative Mess.

YouTube makes it way too easy to be a lazy Blogger.

Can't think of anything witty to say? Steal someone else's creative idea, post it and comment. Takes no thought and less brain power than eating Cheetos. Seems simple, right?

Wrong.

Eventually you'll stop using your brain, and just live off the funny shit that other people create - you'll be lifting all your lines from comedians and skits you saw on YouTube. Soon, as your brain rots inside your cranium, it'll leak out onto the floor and make a mess on your carpet.

And nobody wants that, do they?

Later.

(I'd like to be able to do the chip shuffle, though.)

5 Reasons Why I Love Harvey Birdman.

The Video says it all.

I can't get enough of this show - I've talked about it before, but every time I watch it, it just gets funnier and funnier. It really fits my sense of humor.

I still have yet to pick up the Third season, but payday's coming up, and I might need to treat myself.

Later.

In The Still Of The Night.

At 5 am this morning, I was awoken by a beeping sound.

I shrugged it off, rolled over and went back to sleep.

The beeping sound came back.

Half-awake, I try to stay conscious long enough to figure out where the sound is coming from. Turns out it's my cell phone, and the battery is dying.

My cell is in my pants pocket, and they are on the chair in the corner. The simple thing to do would be to take the phone out of the pants, turn it off and deal with it in the morning.

But no. At 5am, I'm just not that smart.

My solution was to throw my pants on the floor, and then throw my housecoat on the pants. (I must have thought the housecoat contained a cone of silence.) Seemingly triumphant, I stagger back into bed.

And then it beeps again.

I crawl out of bed and take my phone out of my pocket. I turn it off, and then hurl it (with great force) upon my crumpled housecoat. I proceed back to bed, to close my eyes until dawn's early light.

Or, an hour an a half later when the alarm goes off.

Fuckin' technology - keeps me awake at night.


Later.


(P.S. I'm blaming the 9 bucks I lost at Poker on my phone.)

Size Matters.

Toronto now has the world's worst case of Shrinkage.

Yes, the T-Dot, once proudly flailing Canada's most public phallic symbol, has been relegated to #2 on the ol' size-o-meter.

The Burj Dubai has surpassed it, and I can see Toronto suddenly questioning it's masculinity.

I'm sure that they'll soon pass bylaws ensuring that people drive more Hummers and Corvettes in Toronto, and that they'll say it's "not how tall your building is, but what you do with it." They'll start to scorn size altogether, and instead focus on how great their sports teams are doing ....oh wait.

I know that this must be a crushing blow for Toronto and it's people. But they'll get by - they always have the memories. No-body's laughing and pointing at the little twig of a building they got there, right? (At least not yet.)

And remember Toronto, it could be worse.

You could be Port Alberni.


Later.

The Coolest Fucking Toilet I've Ever Seen.

It's a given that Starbucks has some cool shit going on.

Hip music, trendy lighting, hot coffee. But I didn't think it extended into the bathrooms.

I was wrong.

As I walked into the Starbucks washroom last night after Poker, I noticed the sleek, racecar-like lines of this porcelain wonder. I was perplexed - it didn't have a visible handle - just two buttons on top, but I had to go, and the bladder waits for no one. (A moment of panic crossed my mind - it was almost like the three seashells in Demolition Man.) While I stood there looking about I saw there were instructions on the wall about how to flush the toilet.

I read them while conducting my business. (Yes I can read and pee at the same time, and don't worry - I didn't splash the seat.) Each button corresponds to a bodily function. If all you are doing is Number One - press Button One - and just enough water comes out to rinse the bowl clear. If you're making a deposit (Number Two) - press Button Two and a torrent of water releases, whisking away that concentrated evil you left behind.

What a great way to save water and be ecologically pro-active, don't you think?

Except for people like me who will stand there for five minutes pressing the buttons to see if they can tell there's a difference, and seeing what kind of tsunami they can create by pushing both buttons at once.

Next to that - it's a great fucking idea.


Later.

Night Out.

Tonight I'll be playing in my first ever Poker tournament.

(I know it's not the Ripple Rock, but I'll take what I can get.)

It's a free tourney with a potential cash prize. I'm not expecting to cream the competition, but I hope to do well. The best result would be if the group I'm going with all make the final table. (The chances of that happening are astronomical.)

I'll need some help from lady luck - not much, but the odd Pocket Aces or runner-runner flushes would be nice.

I've been good - I think luck owes me that much.

Later.



Update: Made it to heads up at my table, and was doing well. Busted out when my Full House got beat by Quads. That's right bitches - Quads. I was happy with my performance though, and will go again next time I'm able.