The Show Still Goes On...

I'm tired of Anna Nicole.

I feel bad that she passed away, and the tragic circumstances of her death and what she has left behind is saddening.

But enough already.

We (the General Public) don't need to know every single detail or every single moment. What is going on with her body? Let me know when they bury her. The paternity scandal in regards to her new baby? Put out a blurb in the paper when it's all said and done.

I don't need to see this shit, or have to sit through it to see some real news. (I'm looking at you CNN.) I get home tonight and flip the news on to see what is happening in the world, and CNN has some guy on explaining how they are going to embalm Anna's body. Why do we as a people need to know this?

I'm sure that James Brown's will, estate and history were just as fucked up as Anna Nicole's. It wasn't all over the news on a 24-hour basis, though. I theorize that there are a few different reasons for this:

• James Brown didn't have 38"DD tits.

Okay, I only came up with the one.

But the world as we know it loves a train wreck, and from what I glimpse while trying to find real news, this one is a doozy. The media is going to drag this one out for a long time.

Wake me when it's over.

Later.

Needs More Riboflavin.

I've been trying to (somewhat) watch what I put into my body lately. I've been avoiding the more refined and processed foods and trying to watch the sugars and stuff that I ingest.

(Don't even talk to me about Donuts. They are a once-in-a-while treat that I have to have. They are what prevents me from going mad and stabbing people. It's either them or smoking again.)

Have you ever really looked at an ingredients list?

Working where I do, I get to see them all the time.

It scares me how some people are oblivious to serving sizes when reading ingredients. They seem shocked when they see a can of soup with 1009 grams of sodium per serving. Tell them that a can is two servings and then you see their jaw drop.

They actually believe that the numbers the company is showing them is the whole truth. The numbers are right, but check out the average serving size. That bag of chips? About 12 servings.
(Once again - Donuts are above the law when it comes to serving size. )

Take a look at a Hungry-Man Dinner - boasting "Over a pound of food!" it's 455 grams - 1 gram over a pound. They aren't technically lying, but they are counting on people's ignorance and gullibility.

Thank God I haven't been eating any of that crap.

So I take a little longer to pick stuff up at the store now, and I'm usually seen squinting at some can or package. But in the end (and around the waist) it's all worth it.

Later.

All You Need Is Love...

Valentine's Day.

When you are to take the feelings you are supposed to have all year and cram it into one day of whatever you can come up with.

It's 50% creativity and 50% desperation.

Ever see that episode of The Simpsons when Apu goes apeshit for Manjula and makes every other guy in Springfield look like a schlub?

That's what Valentine's Day is.
It's all about overcompensation.

I always preferred Homer's way of thinking: "Marge, we're getting some drive-thru and we're doin' it twice!"

That bald Casanova...
He's my inspiration.

Later.

The Tragic Demise Of The Double Folded Bag.

When I was doing my Front Counter Service training at The Arches (oh so many years ago) there was one thing that was relentlessly drilled into our young teen-aged minds.

It's all about Presentation, baby.

When you handed that bag to the customer, be it over the counter or through the window, it had better be double folded and the logo should face the customer. Not only were you handing them their food, you were presenting them a branded package that was also going to keep whatever they had ordered in it's best shape for the journey. The double fold was like a magic insulator that helped to keep the burger warm and the fries golden brown.

Ah, The good 'ol days.

I wonder what happened to them.

Standards must have slipped, because whatever food service place I go to now they just seem to crumple the bag and hand it to you. They no longer care about the final look of the product. Once they have your cash they forget about closing the deal. They don't even care if the food stays hot - I've had food handed to me in a wide open bag, with all the precious heat and moisture venting out the top. (The meal would have been lost if it wasn't for my considerable folding skills.)

I long for the days when presentation mattered and people had pride in the product they served. The loss of the Double Fold may not seem like much, but it's a fearsome harbinger of what is to come.

- And it has to be a fold.
Rolling the top of the bag? That's just fucking lazy.

Later.

Old Reliable

In this world of FoodTv, haut cuisine and celebrity chefs, I'm astounded to see how many people still get down with the ol' Mac & Cheese.

At Work I witness it's power on a daily basis. It doesn't matter if it's frozen, deli made, or straight from the box, people eat the stuff like it's the food of the Gods.

I can't stand it myself.

I have eaten it in the past, but only as a means of last resort. Believe it or not, the few times I have had to eat it, I prefer the box stuff over any-one's homemade. (I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings Mom, but it's the truth.) People add strange shit to their homemade stuff, and that makes it even more unbearable.

I've seen people try to camouflage it's taste as well. Dump ketchup on it, add diced tomatoes to it, put cut up hot dog in there, whatever works. My question is: Why? If it tastes so shitty, why are you eating it in the first place? And suck it up, it's a box of macaroni, not filet mignon. Don't bother trying to dress it up.

And I can say that it's not a class thing, either. I've seen poor people holding a box and looking at it like it was the finest meal they are going to have, and right behind them is an obviously loaded guy buying half a case. It takes all kinds.

I'm sure it must just be a matter of convenience. A quick and easy meal that you can just choke down.
Please don't tell me people eat it for the taste.

I don't think I can take the thought of that.

Later.

Justification.

I can smell a donut from 150 yards away.

They are my greatest nemesis.

They are an enemy, a lover, an abusive relationship with mindblowing make-up sex.

I can't seem to stay away.

I think the whole basis I have for repeatedly going to the gym is so that I'm able to periodically eat Donuts and not weigh 350 pounds. That's it. Forget the health benefits and the fact that it's just good for you. I do it so I can eat sugary glazed crullery goodness. It's on par with smoking while you play sports. ( I used to do that too. Ask the Sidekick.)

I have Trivia for mental masturbation.
I have Poker for competitive masturbation.
I have Donuts for appetite masturbation.

And we all know what the right hand is for...


Holding Donuts.
(With a firm grip.)

Later.

Laughing My Ass Off.

The Sidekick mentioned a show called Robot Chicken the other night.
I was curious and bored (a dangerous combination) so I decided to check it out.

Funny Shit.

Some of my Favorites:

• Calvin and Hobbes.
• Grand Theft Mario.
• Star Wars - (If you will only watch one, make it this!)
• Transformers.

Thanks Buddy, I'll be watching YouTube all night now.

Later.

No Parking.

Let's give Rats the credit they deserve.

Put those little fuckers in a maze with a piece of cheese and sooner or later you are going to have a happy, well fed Rat.

Maybe Rats should be parking our cars.

I find that anytime I go into any parking lot in town, it's a clusterfuck. People are going the wrong way, trying to put a F-350 into a "small car" zone, and generally just causing mass chaos. My blood pressure rises just watching these assholes at work.

It's because people are fucking lazy.

Is it really that troubling to have to walk a little bit farther to get to the store you want to go to? Do you feel it's imperative to hold up all the traffic behind you so you can wait for that person to give up their spot? It's okay if they were just backing out, but to sit there and wait while they put their belongings away, put their kids in the car, find the keys and eventually back out just so you don't have to park one lane back is retarded. (Oh, sorry - if you were retarded you'd have that primo spot already, right?) Just let the spot go and move on. You'll get it another time, cowboy.

And don't get me started on entrances and exits. With the amount of people I see entering through the exit, I'm amazed anyone gets pregnant anymore. (You see what I did there? The parking/sex analogy? God I'm good.) I guess that big white arrow painted on the ground just isn't direction enough.

We should leave it to the Rats.
A bit of cheese in each parking spot, and all the cars would be lined up neatly.

Probably be a bitch on the upholstery though.

Later.

Overload.

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Out Of Sync.

Sometimes it only takes a little thing to throw my day out of whack.

On my days off, I have a routine. It varies slightly, but basically I do the same things each day in regards to domestic chores and things I have to take care of.

When something comes in and throws that routine out the window, it takes me a bit of time to recover. Not long, because I'm adjustable, but it really pisses me off. Then I get mad because the routine was ruined.

When it comes to work, I'm flexible and easy going. It seems that it's only in the home life that I am so rigid. I guess I just like to have everything a certain way. (Trust me, I know this makes me a joy to be with.)

Does everyone get like this?
I can't be the only one.

Obsessive-Compulsives Unite!

Later.

"Caught A Bolt Of Lightning..."

"Cursed the day he let it go." - Nothingman - Pearl Jam.

Last week the Sidekick had a present for me.

It was only right that he would give me a gift. I had just lost to him at Poker (a rare occurrence), and by my accounting, he owed me something.

He had just purchased the Official Bootleg of the Pearl Jam concert we went to on September 2, 2005. All 29 songs in glorious digital sound.

I hadn't really had time to listen to it until tonight.

It brought me back to the moment that converted me. The raw sound, the energy and intensity - it was all there. I could almost taste the beer. The only way I could replicate the exact moment would be to find the highest seats as far away from my stereo as possible. (The Sidekick knows what I'm talking about.)

If anyone else has a chance I suggest they go and purchase it right away. (Yes, I said purchase - who'd a thunk it?) If you listen closely, I think you can hear the Hetro-Life-Mate and I screaming our heads off.

Good Times.

Later.

Yer Not The Ocean

It amazes me how there are some people out there in the world who believe that the universe revolves around them.

(They should know better, it revolves around me.)

To work with these types of people is a very infuriating experience. No matter how your day is going, their day is always worse, or better, or whatever. They have absolutely no interest in anyone but themselves. They don't care about any situation except how it impacts them.

I'd like to stab them in the eye with a pencil.

Would that be selfish of me?
(But then the ambulance and police would be all about them, and they would just be doing it all over again, wouldn't they?)

Maybe I'll make it a dull pencil.

Later.

Things I've Learned...

1. The more that I have to say, the harder time I have saying it.
2. Being beat by a higher kicker is like being slapped in the mouth with a handful of pork fat.
3. No matter how well you prepare, if you have children, eventually one of them will throw up on you. Twice.
4. When Spongebob starts to make sense, it's time to turn the T.V. off.
5. The Internet may seem infinite and vast - but there's only 10 sites I like to go to. The rest is either encyclopedic or a car wreck. You decide.
6. I'm tired of laundry. I want the futuristic disposable zippered jumpsuit. Now.
7. The more I want to see a Super Bowl game is inversely proportionate to my ability to be able to watch said game. (Had to work, missed it all.)
8. That just seeing a picture of a Starbuck's cup will make me want to have a Grande White Chocolate Mocha. Guess what I'd like for a topping.
9. The more work that I have to do - the more people want to talk to me about nothing.
   
10. That thanks to the Sidekick making me attend a Hip concert, I can now pick out Gord Downie's whiny voice whenever it hiots the radio. (Damn Canadian Content laws!)
    

Spring Cleaning

I'm aching for warmer weather.

For those who know me and my pasty white flesh, that is a telling statement.

But I'm not in it for the tan. I don't relish the thought of the sun scorching me - I tend to go up in smoke like a Vampire in the movie Blade. ( Is it acceptable to reference a movie from that long ago? Whatever - it's the truth.) It's just that I'm aching for my Spring Cleaning.

The random accumulation of crap from November to February has driven me insane. My self-declared OCD can't handle the disarray. I look longingly to the time when I can going into my garage and just start throwing shit into the back of the truck for a recycling/dump run. As is, I found myself scrubbing the laundry room floor yesterday, periodically stopping to survey the garage and mentally prepare my plan. (Let me get something straight. Most people don't consider my garage that messy. I can get the vehicle in there with lots of room to spare. But I like to have a place for everything and everything in it's place.)

I'm tackling small tasks to get warmed up. Today I went through my bookcases and cleaned and sorted any untidy areas. I found myself at the DVD rack individually wiping DVD's and decided I was being silly. (I'll finish them later.)

I can feel the itch begin.
Spring can't come fast enough.
Someone hand me a broom.

Later.

From Hero To Zero.

I used to be fat for a reason.

It's not like I'm skinny as a rail now, but I'm way less than I used to be.

When I lost all that weight (about 3 years ago) the main thing I did was change my diet. The biggest change to my eating and drinking habits was to stop drinking pop. I was a mass consumer of Vanilla Coke. (Fuck all you haters - Vanilla Coke was Good.) All that sugar went straight to my chubby ass.

As soon as I cut out the pop, I started dropping the pounds.

I enjoyed pop, and I did miss it. The worst thing was to have to drink Diet Coke. It was the only available sugar free cola at the time, (Don't you dare call Pepsi a cola - that's just wrong.) but drinking Diet Coke was like having someone piss in your mouth while stealing your money. I hated the aftertaste. When they released Diet Coke with Lime I was able to stomach a little bit, mainly because the Lime taste covered up that horrible flavor.

But there was no alternative to "real" pop. I would watch people chug down gallons of Coke with a strange mix of lust and rage. I just couldn't go back to that sugary syrup, no matter how awesome it looked.

That's when I discovered Coke Zero. I've liked it since I've tried it, and it's a great alternative to drinking Diet Coke. No Sugar, no calories, but there is flavor. People either love it or hate it, so it's almost the same as when I drank Vanilla Coke.

The other thing I've noticed is that I always check out the sugar and calorie contents of everything I drink now. I never would have done that four years ago. If something looks good but is full of sugar, I'll stay away. I've even turned down Beer on the odd occasion, so it goes to show you that not only have I lost weight, but my mind as well.

Please don't talk to me about the caloric content of my Tim Horton's coffee. I don't want to know, and until they have a Tim Horton's Zero, I ain't giving it up.

Later.

Top Twenty

The Top Twenty songs on my iPod, as listed by times played.

1. Go -Pearl Jam
2. Uprising Down Under - Sam Roberts
3. Other Side - Pearl Jam
4. Hello, I'm in Delware - City & Colour
5. Comin' Home - City & Colour
6. In Your Honor - Foo Fighters
7. Dissident - Pearl Jam
8. One And The Same - Audioslave
9. Save Your Scissors - City & Colour
10. Dreaming With A Broken Heart - John Mayer
11. Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town - Pearl Jam
12. This Could Be Anywhere In The World - Alexisonfire
    
13. We Dreamed In Heist - Anberlin
14. Brighter Than Sunshine - Aqualung
15. A Bad Dream - Keane
16. Here It Goes Again - Ok Go
17. Nothingman - Pearl Jam
18. What If I Do - Foo Fighters
19. So She's Leaving - The Trews
20. I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor - Arctic Monkeys

That even surprised me in a couple of places.

Some of them I guarantee are because of my "Workout" playlist at the gym.
Others? Who knows?
I like what I like and I listen to it often.

Later.

(Can't wait to see the Sidekick's comments to some of these. Bring it on Bitch!)

Chatterbox.

I like Talk Radio.

Sports talk radio to be specific.

The only time I ever get to listen to it is when I'm in the car. If you take the amount of times I'm in the car and divide it by the number of times that they are talking about something I want to hear - you'll have yourself a very small number.

Which makes it all the more infuriating to have someone or something interrupt what I'm trying to listen to. They finally get to a point or topic that I've been waiting for and inevitably somehow someone else in the car starts talking to me. I can't just turn around and tell them to shut up; it's not in my nature. So I try and tough it out - listening to two conversations at once and not really catching anything substantial from either.

It's a no-win situation.

I long for the day of the Universal Remote - when I can mute anyone I want.

Later.

Anger Management.

How do you deal with anger?

Some people scream and shout, others stay silent.

The way I react depends on exactly who I'm mad at and what I'm mad about. If it's someone at work and I have to use the social niceties that work requires I am polite but firm. If it's out in public I can be loud if it's called for.

And then there are the times that you just clamp down on the anger, form it into that hard little ball and swallow it down with copious amounts of our friend Jack to the right. Sometimes it's for the best, as blowing your stack at the wrong moment is not a pleasant experience for anyone.

But as long as you deal with it, everything is okay.

Until the next time some fucker pisses me off again.

Later.

From The Container...

"Imperial Cinnamon Spread"
"Delicious on Toast, Pancakes and Waffles"
"May be used as a Tart or Cake Filling"



Or injected straight into my veins.

This shit is like crack. Surgery sweet, flavorful crack.
Forget cocaine. I would do lines of this stuff off the stripper's ass instead.

The containers are tiny. Like a dime bag of tasty delight. They are airtight, but I swear I can smell that stuff from a mile away. Ladies? Forget whatever shit Calvin Klein has pumped out for perfume. Dab a bit of this behind your ears (and knees) and it'll drive all the guys crazy.

I'm going to stop now, I'm starting to scare myself.

Later.

Overtime.

There are some days that I think I'll never understand people.

We had someone phone in sick at work today. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

It's my job (as the man in charge at the time) to fill the shift. I looked at my options and I was going to have to move some people around and extend some hours to ensure adequate coverage. (We normally schedule six-hour shifts for most employees - extending them to eight would cover all my needs and still keep them in regular time.)

As it's January and business is a bit slow, we have been cutting back the staff hours a bit. Nothing too serious, but we do have staff asking for extra hours or shifts. (It's a good problem to have.) I thought that it would be easy to fill this shift - I wasn't calling anyone in from their day off, I was just giving people who were already working longer hours.

I started phoning.

I only had to make three calls. What blew me away was that each person I called acted like I was totally ruining their day. What's the big deal? You were coming to work anyway. I'm just asking you to stay two extra hours. It's not like I'm asking you to come down and blow me. (For that, the line forms to the left.)

The frustrating thing was that each of the people I talked to are ones that had been bugging me for hours. I called them because they had asked before. The response I got was akin to "I know I asked for more hours, but I didn't mean today." I could have happily slapped someone.

Maybe it's just me. It seems that most people seem to treat a job as a right instead of a privilege. They make it seem like they are doing you a favor just by showing up. I do appreciate them being here, but they do have to recall that they are being paid for their time. If the two extra hours was only going towards paying more taxes to the government I might understand the reluctance - but that wasn't the case here.

Don't saddle me with 37 employees who would rather be somewhere else. Give me 5 who want to work and do a good job and I'll work miracles.

Miracles, I tell you.

Later.

ReCharge.

I like my coffee break.

I don't normally drink coffee on it; by that time of the day I've usually downed at least a couple of cups of java, so I use that time to have a snack so I can go to the gym on my lunch.

It's also great just to step back and relax for a bit. Read the paper, check my horoscope, maybe even scratch a testicle or two if nobody else is in the break-room. Whatever I want to do for fifteen minutes.

But I work with a couple of guys who think coffee breaks are for "pussies". These are big manly men who don't want people to think that they even relax. They must be important and busy if they can't even step away for a quarter of an hour. It's not like I'm taking a nap or something, I'm eating, dammit.

I'm not going to be hypocritical - I normally skip my last coffee break. By that time of the day I'm trying to make sure I have everything done so I can go home on time. Add to that the fact that if I did go and sit down I probably wouldn't get up again. The gravitational pull between my ass and a chair is at it's apex at that time of the day. It's best not to mess with things beyond our control.

The coffee break is a sacred time when a man (or woman) can stop, recharge, re- focus and get going again. It is not to be trifled with or frowned upon.

So if you see me in the coffee room, (scratching or not) just give me my space, and no one will get hurt.

Later.

Shuffle.

Sometimes surprises can be good things.

When I use my iPod, I tend to just go with the playlists that I have made. Depending on what I'm doing, I'm usually doing it to a playlist.

But today I hit "Shuffle" and was rewarded.

I tend to just throw music on the 'Pod and forget about it. There is a mishmash of songs on there that I forgot I had. With all the up-tempo stuff I have for my workout playlist on there, who would have thought that I'd stumble across some Counting Crows? (Don't roll your eyes Joe.) And to stumble across New Way Home by the Foo? I forgot that I had it on there!

It was nice to break out of the mold.

Don't get me wrong - Playlists are great and a wonderful part of the iPod experience. But it's great to be surprised with your own music. I recommend that people get their shuffle on maybe once a week.

I'm tempted to hit that button one more time....

Later.

And The Categories Are...

I just tried out for a game show.

Moments ago I finished taking an online quiz to see if I have what it takes to play Jeopardy on T.V. - I know I've got the looks, they just have to see if I have the brains.

If I did well enough, (they don't tell you) then I go into the pool of possible contestants who then tryout for actual tapings.

I've always been full of useless information, so I might as well try and make money at it. If I did make it on, I would hope that the categories would be "Star Wars", "80's Hair Metal", and "Chicks With Huge Racks" - I'd be the next Jeopardy Millionaire.

It's a tough test - 50 questions, 15 second time limit per question, typed response. Thank God spelling didn't count. I was a bit handicapped with the U.S. President questions, but I think I did okay.

Worse case scenario: They'll think a monkey somehow got online and banged away on the keyboard.

Best case scenario: "You think you're pretty smart, don't you, Trebek? What with your Dago mustache and your greasy hair! "

Later.

No Fortune Cookie For You!

So I attempted to make Wonton Soup tonight.

I've always wondered why I had to pay 8 bucks for soup. It seemed to be mostly broth, with the wontons just floating around. I thought I could make it for half the cost and probably do a better job of it.

Sometimes I seriously overestimate my culinary skills.

Those little fuckers are tough to make.

It's a pain in the ass folding them all up into their own little wrappers and then boiling them until they are just right. Mine turned out okay - not Iron Chef okay, more like Tin Chef or Pewter Chef. (They were pretty good, but I'll admit the restaurant ones are better.)

There has got to be some trick to wrapping those little buggers. Some Ancient Chinese Secret or something. I tried to use my ninja-like donut abilities, but pastry does not transfer well to soup.
My fingers are cramped from all the wrapping and folding. I'd rather wrap fourteen Christmas presents than fold up ten wontons again.

But like I said before, it all turned out well.

And if I learned anything,I at least came away with some different ideas for next time:

1. Try some shrimp mixed in with the pork. It should add to the flavor, give it a richness that this batch didn't seem to have.
2. Buck up and pay the eight fuckin' dollars for real soup.

Later.

Telecommunication Breakdown.

My phone hates me.

I think it's physic, psychotic, and out to get me.

It only seems to direct calls to me when I'm least able to get them. If I'm in the bathroom with my hands full (don't think dirty thoughts) it then chooses that time to ring. It can't wait until I'm done.

It doesn't want me to get any messages either. It seems to sometimes cut messages off just over halfway through. It waits until there is some pertinent information forthcoming, and then it shuts off.

I'm still it's slave though. I scamper and scramble every time I hear it ring. I dance and weave like a puppet to it's bell-like tones. It never occurs to me to make it wait - to come to it on my terms.

I'll break it's spell on me yet.
I need an old priest and a young priest....

Later.

2 Hawt 2 Handle.

How much heat can you take?

I used to hate eating spicy foods. I was one of those who would scream that the heat was unnecessary, that it covered up the flavor of the food. I avoided the hot stuff like a fat kid avoids exercise. (The only exception was Cappicola ham on a pizza - mmmm.)

But lately in my life I've been turning up the heat.

I find that I enjoy it more now. Be it marinades, curries, anything - I like it hot.

My digestive system? Well, I normally treat it pretty well, so it can take the hit every once in a while. A little rumble in the jungle is sometimes worth it for the flavor.

My main problem is that sometimes my version of hot differs from other peoples: I had a taco salad today (with hot salsa) that damn near burned my face off. After I finished breaking out in a sweat, the rest of the meal was fine. (The heat of the salsa was fine, it was the amount of salsa on the salad that killed me.)

I'm still not crazy like Dana in the Home Office - I don't put tabasco on my eggs. I think it must be an Ontario thing. But almost every other food can be spiced up. (Except Peanut Butter.)

So how hot do you like it?
Can you take the heat or do you stay out of the kitchen?

Later.

New Releases.

It used to be a chore for me to rent a movie.

(I'm about to use the term " Back in the day" - if you find this term offensive or boring, stop reading. I'm reliving my youth.)

Back in the day, my friends and I would go to the Video Store and try to find something that none of us had seen. Between my brother and I we had seen almost every movie in any store that we went to. Settling on something meant that one or two of the group would have to sit through something that they had already seen before. Remember, this was long before widespread use of the Internet and when buying a movie on VHS cost about $35. For guys who didn't even work at at theater or rental place, that's kind of an accomplishment.

Once I started owning and collecting DVD's it just got worse. I'd almost seen everything. Then, for some reason, I just stopped renting movies. I'd only watch them when I bought them, and I'd only buy them if it was something I really wanted.

I never realized until now how much this has put me out of the loop.

As I walked into the Video Store tonight I was surrounded by all these titles I've never seen. I knew about them, basic plots and such, but hadn't watched a single one.

Examples? You want examples? Here's some of the choice ones:

• Pirates of the Caribbean 2
• Da Vinci Code
• Chronicles of Narnia
• Jackass 2

I know that most of these aren't classic must-see movies, but they are ones that I would have at least expected to have seen by now, considering they have been out for a while. It somewhat bothers me that I'm falling behind on the pop culture highway.

I'm usually the guy who makes the witty pop culture references - if I fall behind, there will soon come a day when someone else makes a crack and I find that I'm the one who doesn't get the joke. That will be a sad day indeed.

I'm going to have to try and get back in touch with my movie-watching self. (I'm not talking porn, so don't even laugh at the "back in touch" comment.) It will take me some time to catch up - but if I sacrifice work, family, friends and health I should be able to do it.

I'm coming for you Blockbuster!

Later.

Place in line

People can't seem to understand the simple concept of a line.
How it works, where it starts, and their role in the line.

It it so hard for some to just keep pace and help the line move along?
There is always someone who is either not paying attention and not moving forwards when they should , or inversely, is so close to the person in front of them that they can achieve maximum anal penetration with minimal effort (if they so chose.)

I find this very frustrating and disruptive to my orderly world.

I think that if you can't use the line as it is supposed to work, you should be excluded from it. Cast out and made to fend on your own in whatever chaotic group you find yourself in. Have fun getting anything done then, assholes.

Really, it doesn't take all that much intelligence to figure out.

The next time some asswipe in the Tim Horton's drive-thru can't follow the simple yellow arrow on the ground, I'm going to yank them out of their vehicle and just tell them to go home. They obviously don't belong here.

And that cellphone he's been nattering on?
I'll shove it so far up his ass he'll have to check his voice-mail by means of his pancreas.

Follow the rules of the line.
Don't deter me from my coffee.
That is all.


Later.

Dodged A Bullet.

A long time ago, I made a bet.

A Co-Worker and I were debateing on weather or not you can drink 4 liters of milk in a hour and keep it down for another hour. I said you could, and he was telling me that it's not possible. He said your stomach cannot hold that much.

I bet him I could do it.

We had set up a date last week, but then my Poker Night was scheduled for the same evening. I told him we'd reschedule and do it another night. We picked today, but now Poker has been scheduled again.

I was going to try and do the bet and still make Poker. So I decided to use my friend The Internet to see how I can best accomplish this task.

After reading for an hour and checking many sites, I have come to this conclusion:
It can't be done. (Not without throwing up at some point.)
There are people who can drink it and keep it down, but eventually they do hurl.
I'm not going to spray the felt at the Sidekick's so I'm going to man up and call the bet off.

I just don't like puking all that much.
Oh the Co-Worker will razz me and try to get me to do it, but with the information I have, I'm not going to try the attempt.

The money I give up for not doing the bet?
I'll win it back at Poker, naturally.

Later.

Toe-tally Sucks.

Life is funny sometimes.

Today I was all over the place, driving around town, doing errands, basically being out and about in a world full of crappy weather and bad drivers.

No Issues.

Tonight I decide to run home from the gym after my workout. It's just over a kilometer, the road isn't well lit, I have to cross a busy intersection, and I'm wearing dark clothes. (I did mention the crappy drivers earlier, right?)

No Problems.

I make it home and have a shower. There's lots of fog, I'm lathered full of soap, and the stall is slippery like it's been wiped down with bacon fat. (Add to the fact that at times I'm only using one hand and the situation is quite precarious. Don't look at me like that - I was shaving.)

No Trouble.

So it's when I'm playing with The Boys, running around the living room that I cram my baby toe into the leg of the couch while running at top speed. (Top speed in the house that is. About as fast as I run to get a Donut.) Searing pain shoots up my leg, I grab my foot, and as I take my hand away I see the blood. Yup - I've mangled my toe.

It's not too bad. I don't think I've broken it, as I can walk and move it a bit. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but that's what drugs are for. I've got a band aid on it to stop the bleeding, and it seems to be holding back the rushing tide of red blood cells.

I believe I'm going to pull through.

It's just strange how I can go for so long doing so many things that are potentially more dangerous and then damage myself in my own home playing with the kids.

Go figure.

Later.

Laser Scanning Device.

I've got a new keyboard/mouse combo.

It has a LASER!, or so the packaging says.
I think it might have came from the Death Star office supply department.
The Dark Side is tempting with all it's extra features and wireless capabilities.

It's so much quieter than my previous keyboard. It's like ninja-stealth typing.
(If I type a paragraph, and no one hears it, did I really type it?)
I think it's also increased my typing speed.
It feels like I'm typing at warp velocity.
I'm busting out sentences in hyperspace. (Hit it Chewie!)

It's tough getting used to a new keyboard.
The keys are more sensitive than the previous one, so I find that I do a lot of double letters sometimes. I'm just such a hard typer I guess. Just pounding away on the keys. (I did say in a previous post that I type like I fuck, so I guess it still makes sense.)

With the mouse, the cordless part is great, I can move it anywhere and it still functions fine.
I have yet to see the true benefit of a wireless keyboard, as when I move more than three feet away from the screen, I can't see what I'm typing. There's nothing really wrong with that, if you don't mind a garbled mess instead of an actual blog. (If you don't mind that, can I direct you to the Sidekick's blog? You'll see what I mean.)

I could go on more, but I think I'll go see if I can type something coherent from the garage.
I'll either write the next great Canadian novel or inadvertently format my hard drive. We'll see how it goes.

Later.

Crack In The Armor.

So I'm at work and someone asks me an inane question.

"Who would win in a fight between Batman and Spiderman?"

The world seemed to go hazy and then I began to speak.

Not only did I explain who I thought would win, but I listed several plausible reasons for why they would win this imaginary contest.
I listed the balance of power, strategy vs. ability, and how terrain might impact the outcome.

After I finished speaking, I realized what I'd done.

Being caught unawares, I revealed my geekiness to people who never even suspected I could be as bad as I am. The suspicions would soon arise. (I almost feared Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds would pop out and start yelling "Nerd" at me.)

Let me set this straight. I've never totally hidden the fact that I'm a geek. The main difference between me and your regular geek was that I was getting laid as a teenager, and always chose the female species over playing D&D. ( I wasn't much of a D&D guy - not visual enough for me.)

I've always kept the geek part of me buried, and only exposed small bits to some people, with only a few knowing how deep the rabbit hole goes. I might let one person know that I'm handy with computers, and another would know that I used to collect comics. But that's all they knew - and I made sure to never reveal more than I had to, until today.

Why was I asked the question in the first place? Because the Twin owns a comic store. These people figured I might have some residual information. But I over exposed myself. I might have to take drastic steps to restore my image .

(I'm debating on either beating up a really nerdy guy or having sex in the middle of work - that should put of any doubts as to how manly I am.)

I'll build up the wall again. Never fear.

Later.

Poker Night.

I had my ass handed to me at Poker tonight.

Not really whooped or anything - I only lost half of what I came with.

The worst was the two bad beats I had.

Thought I had the hand down, and someone turned up that one better card.

It's kinda like a kick in the nuts, except involving money.

(Which I guess makes it hurt even more.)

It sounds like we might have a regular game going again soon - and that's a good thing.

Except when I'm losing.

I've discovered that I'm the chatterbox at the table, which may be annoying for some, but since I'm funny, I can get away with it. (In Poker, funny guys are like chicks with big tits - you'll let them sit at the table because they are fun to have there.)

All in all a great night, I hope to do it again soon.

Later.

One Man's Trash...

What is one of the most disgusting things that you can think of?

Would eating garbage out of the trash Qualify?

If it doesn't, then you might want to look at becoming a Freegan.

Think about it: all the food you want, free of charge. All you have to do is dive into the dumpster to get it. Sure, that apple may be buried under a bunch of condoms and needles, but wipe it off and it probably tastes like it came straight from the tree. (You know, that tree with all the semen and drugs.)

I can understand saying it's for environmental or political reasons, but lets not kid ourselves, you are eating garbage. This isn't a case of the Long John sitting on the edge of the can, (Seinfeld reference) this is wading through the crap people throw out to get some food for free. If you really wanted to affect actual change you would be doing so, not raiding my trash in the hopes that I didn't eat all of my Butterfinger. If you feel justified in chowing down on that old pork chop, go ahead. (Just clear off the mold and cat hair.)

I hear that Freeganism is a growing movement. It's nice to see that someone is giving the Raccoons and stray Dogs a little competition. I guess the rock on top of the garbage can lid won't fool you guys like it does them.

It would be great to see a Freegan Convention. It could be catered by the City Dump, with the Garbage Men as your waiters. ("Hey, My name's Vinnie and this is Fat Joe - We'll be yer servers tonight, arright?") A Tarp, a fork, and napkin, that's all you'd need.

Don't try to convert me. I'm a lost cause. I prefer my foods sanitary and clean. I don't want to know what they did to it in the kitchen, but I know it didn't come out of the trash.


Later.

Helter Skelter.

I haven't really had a coherent thought all day.

It's not that I can't think of anything, it's just that for some reason I feel unable to articulate any of my thoughts. (When you are working in a written medium like this, articulation counts.) I know its not going to make much sense, but here's a brief synopsis of what's been going on in my mind:

Tiredcoffeehungryfoodtastyyumshowerhotwatercoldoutworkwhatnottodaydownaislethreehangou
tindairycoolernotthesameasitwaslunchtimefoodnogotogymsweatipodwhatsthatboobiesimpressiveb
ackworkkeepbusycheckphonenothingworkmoregohomeeatmailchecktypeblogthink.

See? Out of context with no back story, it doesn't make any sense. Hell I don't understand it, and I just wrote it.

So tomorrow I will attempt to have something that incorporates my fully functional brain.
But not today folks, not today.

Later.

With The Legs...

My Legs are killing me.

Not only are they sore because I've ran 2 miles on the treadmill each of the last two days, (In 20 minutes each time! Personal best.) but they are sore from all the lifting I've been doing at work.

We've been doing a lot of spring cleaning and reorganizing at work, and a lot of it is some heavy shit.

I'm one of those people who tries to take care of their back, and thus I do attempt to lift properly. But after running at the gym and then lifting/ moving a bunch of stuff, my legs feel like noodles.

I think I'll lay off the treadmill tomorrow, and give my legs time to recuperate. If I was really serious about recuperation, I'd call in sick and sit on my ass watching movies. I could say it's the WCB recommended way to safely avoid leg strain. (Think they'll buy it? Neither do I.)

Maybe I'll just rest these chiseled calves and tight quads for a bit; watch some Futurama or Harvey Birdman and chill. That'll do me good.

Lest this blog start sounding whiny and bitchy about my body, I'll tell you one good thing:

My Package looked great when I got out of the shower.

Too much information?

Later.

Really Fucking Cold.

If anyone from North of B.C. or back East is reading this, you might want to stop right now.

Good. Is it just us B.C.er's here?

My God - I'm cold.

You'd think a guy like me - who's got a little "extra" around the midsection (and down below too, ladies) wouldn't feel the cold so much. Hell - I work in the cold for large parts of my day.

But today I just couldn't get warm.

The only time I was warm at all today was at the gym. After working up a sweat, having a shower and stepping outside, I wasn't warm long.

It's tough being a guy in cold weather. I can complain about the cold, but I'm not supposed to show that it bothers me. So even though my testicles have retreated so high that they are sitting somewhere under my spleen, I can't show any discomfort. Worse yet, since I'm at work, I can't ask anyone to rub them until they are warm.

Life's little discomforts, eh?

I know it's going to be like this for the next month or so, (unless Global Warming fucks everything up more) so I'll try and get used to it and also dress a bit warmer. ( I can't snug the Boys up though, gotta let 'em swing - they need to breathe.)

Someone turn up the heat, okay?

Later.

Five Hundred.

If you had 500 Pennies, your pants would sag from the weight in your pockets.

If you had 500 Songs, you'd have half an iPod.

If you had 500 Friends, you'd be more popular than me.

If you had 500 Pounds, you'd be a fatty.

If you had 500 Cats, you'd be that old lady who lives at the end of the road.

If you had 500 DVD's , The Sidekick would be jealous.

If you had 500 Loonies, you could get me an Xbox 360.

If you had 500 Coffees, you'd really have to pee.

If you had 500 Pictures, you'd have quite the photo album.

If you had 500 Thoughts, you'd have this Blog.


Later.

Last Beer At The Save-On.

The Sidekick and I went to The Tragically Hip concert in Victoria last night. The concert was good. (I wasn't converted like he had hoped, but I do admit a grudging acceptance.) I guess I can't laugh and roll my eyes anymore when someone mentions their name.

The concert was the reason for being there, but it was nice to just get out.
I will admit the beer was flowing freely, and I did enjoy myself.

I was able to snag the last 2 beers at the Save-On Centre due to my quick thinking and previously mentioned ninja-like abilities.

The Sidekick and I downed our first two beers while the opening band, The Sadies, were playing. Then we heard about horrendous lineups at the concessions so decided to wait a bit to go. (We were amused by the antics of Drunk Native Guy 2 Rows In Front. He was jumping, leaping and waving his jersey in the air. I'll let the Sidekick post about DNG2RIF; he could sum it up better.)

Soon The Hip came out and we forgot about the beer for a moment. Or at least the Sidekick did. After a while, my bladder wouldn't let me forget about it. I headed to the can and thought about getting more beer. The concert had been going for a bit, so I figured the lines would be short.

They were short. They weren't selling beer anymore.

The Save-On's license for alcohol sales ends at 8:45. My watch said 9:10. They were just trying to serve the last of the people in the line, and had cut off the line by having an old guy hold the end of some police tape while the other end was tied to a post. (High Tech, eh?)

People were getting pissed and trying to sneak under the tape and get in line. There were two or three guys who were just there to deal with those people. I had a better solution: I wouldn't go under the tape - I'd go around the old guy.

I waited for my chance and when some drunk (more drunk than me, anyway) guy started yelling how much of an asshole the Security guys were - I skillfully sneaked around the old guy and took my place in line. I must have been like a ghost, because nobody even batted an eye.

The line moved along and by the time I got to the front it was just me and the 5 people on the other side of the counter. (Now that's customer service!) I ordered my beers, paid and turned around to see the same guy still freaking out that they wouldn't serve him booze.

As I walked passed him to the concert floor I took of the lid and had a sip. I looked him in the eye, smiled and said "God, that's cold beer!"

Then I went back to see the show.

God I'm an asshole sometimes.

I know the Hetro-Life Partner is going to post about the concert and his thoughts on it. I said it was a good concert, and I mean it. The bar afterwards was just insane, and I'm not even going to post about that. (I have not been so drunk since our Summer Staff party, that's all I can say.) My Hangover is testimony enough.

Later.

Scratch That Itch.

I'm off to see The Tragically Hip in Victoria tonight.

The Hetro-Life-Mate has been hounding me to see these guys play for ages. I finally broke down - if not only to end the constant whining.

(Plus the tickets were only 50 bucks.)

He's hoping to have a repeat conversion, (a-la Pearl Jam) but I'm not sure if it will happen or not.

Needless to say, you will either hear about the concert tomorrow, or My Adventures in Victoria.

A fair trade either way.

Later.

Hunter / Killer.

"To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women. " - Conan.

And all shall bow down before me - for I am the Slayer and the one from whom there is no escape. I am the Mighty Hunter, who strikes before he is seen.

Yep, I got my first confirmed kill the other day. Had to wait until now to tell all of you because I wanted to make sure I got credit for it and that I wouldn't have to "share" the Honor with someone else.

The Beast was somewhere in the compressor room at work. It had set off the alarms the previous night, and we knew that it was possibly still in the store. Quick thinking was needed. Action had to be taken, lest the element of surprise slip away from us.

I gathered my tools and crept ninja-like into the area. I was confidant that my graceful movements ensured I was not noticed. I laid out my carefully prepared trap, baited with things impossible for him to resist. I was going to wait and savor the moment of triumph, but I left the area to lull my opponent into a false sense of security. (Better to lure him into the trap.) He would be completely unaware of the fate which awaited him.

He was taken and snared while I was sleeping.
He died like any other who would dare to cross my path.

He will be remembered in the Halls of the Fallen.

Basically what it comes down to is this: There was a rat discovered where I work that had sneaked in from outside. It was setting off the motion sensors at night, triggering our alarms. Not Good.

Being the incredible "Doer" that I am, I got two Rat Traps, baited them, (With Goat Cheese - in case it was a Lactose Intolerant Hippy Rat.) and placed them in the compressor room. Sure enough, the next morning the sucker was dead.

End of Story.
(But it's so much better to tell it the other way.)

"Come to me, Son of Jor-El, kneel before Zod!"

Later.

Scapegoat.

Our society is always looking for someone to pin the blame on. There always has to be a scapegoat, someone to point the finger at, no matter what it is.

The roof of B.C. Place Stadium had to be deflated the other day because of a tear which soon became a Big Ass hole. No one was hurt, and the roof is going to be patched.

Immediately the media was all over it. Not only reporting what was happening, but looking for who's fault it was. Management, Building Personnel, Computers - someone is going to get their ass handed to them.

Funny how Mother Nature's name never came up. (That Bitch)

There are two or three human-error type things that could have caused the trouble they had, but everyone seems to forget the fact that the roof is over twenty-three years old, and has worked great for the other 8395 days.

But someone has to pay, right? The media will continue to probe and dig until someone loses their job. Can't we just admit that a twenty-three year old balloon roof finally popped? And maybe we can say that a roof held up by air is really just a dumb idea?

(If anyone is going to lose their job, it should be the guy who had that plan.)

But lets wait to blame someone until something substantial can actually be proven. Baseless speculation is just retarded. I'm impressed that it was handled so well, no one was hurt, and that they were able to minimize any other damage.

But blaming someone for doing a good job?

It'll never happen.

Later.

Call Me Slick.

I'm a Sweater.

I can't help it, I was born that way.
It's not bad in the Summer or if I'm warm, but when I work out I lose at least a litre in fluids.

I don't really care so much that I sweat, there's nothing wrong with it. But I do have a big problem that has to be rectified as soon as I am able.

You see, when I'm on the Treadmill, Elliptical, Rowing Machine or Bike I use my iPod. The problem is that when I get sweaty, the sweat runs into my ears, and oh-so-gently loosens the snug fit on the earbuds. They don't sit as well, it doesn't sound as good, and eventually they come flying out .

I'm left with two decisions.

1. Get the John McEnroe-like headband to wear while working out. This not only makes me look like a 70's Pornstar/Tennis Pro, but has the added value of having people stop and laugh at the fat guy in the headband. I'd become the center of attention at the gym, and people would flock to witness my chubby sweat get all soaked up. Sounds too good to be true, right?
2. Get some over-the-ear or behind-the-head earphones. They may not make me the center of attention, but I'll get to listen to my music and not worry about taking someones eye out with an errant earbud. I know there are many different types, but I'll take my time and try to decide what's going to work best for me.
3. Staple the currant earbuds to my head. The main drawback I can see to this is that I'd go through a lot of staples taking them out and putting them back in. Oh yeah, and the pain. Lets not forget the pain.

So there are my choices.

I would prefer to sweat a little less, but hey, it shows you I'm working hard. I also work up a bit of a sweat at other times, (if you know what I mean) but nobody's ever complained yet. (Shows I'm putting out the effort.) I don't need headphones for that workout.

The other options look good, but I think I'm going to go with the new headphones. Maybe pick some up when The Sidekick and I go to Victoria.

If not, I think I'll fall back to the headband.
Do you think Blue is my color?

Later.

Porn Stash.

Uncomfortable moment.

I'm working on a friend computer, trying to tidy it up and just doing the simple things that people tend to forget. (Spy-ware check, better antivirus, shit like that.)

As we are running a complete virus scan, one pops up and shows the source file as one that he had downloaded from Limewire or some such shit. His wife then mentions that she recognizes that file and then proceeds to accuse her husband of downloading Porn. She said she had checked it out, wondering what it was, and it was Porn.

Busted.

I don't care if he's got Porn on his computer, it's almost natural for every guy to have some on there. (I'd only worry if it was terabytes of the stuff or some of that really freaky shit.) Wasn't Porn the whole reason the Internet was invented? Maybe for e-mail too, but I'm pretty sure the backbone of the Internet is Porn.

In the end, she wasn't too upset about the stuff being there. My main question was why she felt the need to point out that it was Porn, (It wasn't obvious from the file name.) and why she did it right in front of me. What am I going to do? Tell him not to look at it?

So to all the people out there- if you've got a stash: make sure it's clean, make sure it's stashed, and make sure that there's an "understanding" between you and anyone you may stumble across it. (I reverted to Guy Rules - Don't comment on it, don't look at it, and NEVER bring it up in conversation.)

As long as I never stumble across Gran-dad's stash - I think I'll be okay.

Later.

Super Size Me.

I know I'm three years too late.

I think that by even speaking of a movie that's over six months old I'm breaking some sort of Internet Law. But please forgive me as my reasons for the delay will become apparent.

I refused to see this movie when it came out. I was no longer an employee of the Arches at that time, but I was still in the "defensive " mode, and argued against it like a Halliburton employee would rail against Fahrenheit 9/11.

After working in Management at McDonald's for so many years, you just get used to fielding criticisms about where you work. People have such a maligned image of the company, and are so ready to ponce on any rumors or innuendo that may come up. (Yet they all still eat there, even after saying how much they hate it.) It's second nature for almost any Manager to discount or discredit half of the bullshit they hear. So when this movie came out, I was picturing it as just another stab at the company that I used to work for. I did want to see it eventually, but just never got around to it.

It was on the CBC just the other night, and I wanted to make a point of watching it. I went into it open minded, yet cautious. I wanted to see if I could filter the information through the layers of expected bullshit and accusations.

I was pleasantly surprised.

The director doesn't attack McDonald's as much as uses them as a familiar backdrop to explain his case. He's saying Americans are getting fat, the kids are getting fat, the health-care system is unable to cope, and the Government refuses to do anything about it. He also points out how eating a diet compromised of fast food is essentially unhealthy. (I can't grasp the fact that there are people out there who don't understand this fact. If you eat high fat, highly refined foods and live a sedentary lifestyle, you are going to get fat. that's the way it works.) As everyone knows, he eats nothing but McDonald's for a month to prove this fact.

Why did he go after McDonald's? Because it's the biggest kid on the block. If he would have done the same thing with Arby's I don't think as many people would have paid attention. He does specify that McDonald's targets kids in their advertising, but so do all the other fast food places. It's a business model. If the kids want to eat there, Mom and Dad will follow.

In the end I have to agree with almost everything that was pointed out in the movie. He's not bashing the companies for serving a product, he's suggesting that people take personal responsibility for what goes into their bodies and what goes into their kids bodies as well. (The section on School lunches was an eye-opener. I think when the Boys get to that level I'll watch what's on the menu at school.)

I know urging people to see a three year-old movie is a little bit retarded, but I'll do it anyway.
If you are working or have worked for the Arches, I think you'll even like it.

Later.

Split Shift.

"I'm not even supposed to be here today!" - Dante (Hicks, that is.)

That's not quite true.

I was supposed to be off at 6pm tonight, but a co-worker of mine was not feeling well. Being the charitable son-of-a-bitch that I am, I offered to finish off his shift for him. So I cut my early shift short (just over halfway through) and came back later to lock up.

The only thing wrong with a split shift is coming back. After being away from work for a couple-three hours, it's a challenge to get back into the "work vibe" again.. I dragged my ass to the door, I'll tell you that. I even cursed my charitable inclinations just a bit.

But pulling off a split shift has it's benefits - I look like a hero, and I'm reimbursed in the best currency of all - favors. Having somebody owe you one is a great thing indeed.

So I sucked it up and persevered. (Not really that hard - it's a slow night and I'm about to go on days off.) I made it through and it's done.

Plus it gave me an excuse to use my third favorite Clerks Quote. Right behind "Chicks with Dicks" and "My Mom's been fucking a dead guy for thirty years - I call him Dad."

Later.

...Is What I Need Now.

Never has a musical lyric been more relevant.

For those who aren't sure what I'm talking about, here is a definition.

It's January 1st, and like everyone else before me, I'm making some resolutions for the coming year. I've said in the past that resolutions are a bunch of shit, and although what I'm doing now flies in the face of that, I'll ask your forgiveness. What I said before was that you shouldn't have to wait until January 1st to make a resolution. If you want to make a change in your life you should do it right away. I'm making this statement on New Years Day because that's the only day anyone pays any attention to shit like this.

My resolutions for the year are as follows:

• Lose 20-25 pounds - I'm already on my way on this one, which is why I'm doing it first. I'm not going crash diet, either. I'm going to the gym and eating better. I'd like to be at my goal weight before my birthday, which gives me plenty of time.
• Teach The Boy how to swim and skate - I'm going to need help, because I'm not the greatest teacher when it comes to these. They both came really naturally to me when I was younger, so I have a hard time showing him what to do. I'll put him in the programs, but I'd like to be his introduction to them. Skating is already done, we are working on it, but getting my lard ass up to the pool will be a challenge.
• Save More - I'm not just talkin' my personal stash. I'd like to save some cash towards something. We save set amounts each month into the kids college funds, but nothing in case of emergency or just for that big purchase down the road. (coughbigscreentvcough) I'd like to have some cash saved to do some renovations on the homestead (Hardwood floors) as well as the aforementioned big purchase.
• Get Out More - I do go outside, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'd like to get out more in the social sense. It's tough with kids and a budget, but you can't spend all your time in the house or just going to the same spots over and over.

That's it. I was kinda general on a couple of them, but I know the details, and that is what is important. They are more guidelines to work towards, and I'll try to keep checking them.

I think I'll make some selfish resolutions too. The other ones were for things that I'm trying to do to better myself. These are the things that I'm going to work my damnedest not to change.

• Keep my sense of humor - I'm still going to be a crude, funny, witty pervert. Nothing can change that.
  
• Blog - I haven't missed a post in God knows how long, and it's a streak I'd like to continue. (I will try to improve the quality, however. I'll admit, some of these posts are weak-ass shit.)
• Touch myself - When you look this good, how can you not?

Oh, these will be easy.

Later.