Things I Hated About The Eighties.

• Neon Apparel.
• Mullets (Even though I had one.)
• Tight-rolled Jeans.
• Those camo pants with pockets on the knees.
• The Calgary Flames. (1989)
• MC Hammer. (Those fuckin' pants)
• The Cosby Show. (Yet I love Jello Pudding Pops. Go figure.)
• Breakdancing. (Yes, I did this too.)
• That E.T. video game.
• Having to take out my Nintendo cartridge and blow on it six times just to get the goddamn thing to load Excitebike.
• Stryper. (If you don't know, I can't tell you.)
• Rock Stars all dressing up like girly hippies from the Roller Derby. (Seriously - shoulder pads? On Motley Crue?)
• Witness (Han Solo with the Amish? What's going on?)
• Howard The Duck.
• That guy's hair from Flock of Seagulls.
• Shoes with zippered pockets that didn't hold shit.
  
• Girls - If you wanted Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing you should put out like Jennifer Grey did. Then I'll dance for ya.
• Rubik's Cube.
• Puberty.

Later.

Just Run It.

I have a horrible habit when it comes to Poker.

If it ever happens that I fold a hand, (and I do, occasionally) I like to run the cards anyway and see how it turned out. Sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes it's not.

It's great when I see that I would not have hit anything or that I made a good fold to a possible stronger hand. This improves my confidence in my play and makes me feel good about the decision I made.

It's bad when I see that I folded a weak pocket pair and hit trips on the flop. It's worse when I see that I folded a straight or a flush. (Why do I want to question my reason for folding 2-3 suited to a raise that's four times the big blind?? I wonder sometimes too.)

When I see a lot of that, it starts to drive me crazy and makes me play more hands - therefore lessening my chances of going home with cash in my pocket. I start to play hands I previously would have folded, and sometimes end up paying the price.

I'm getting a bit better about controlling the urge, through - so hopefully my play will improve. (Not that I've been doing bad - I could just be doing better.)

So next time I get the urge to run it I'll try to distract myself somehow. Will people mind if I bring porn to the table? (C'mon, what else is going to take my mind off cards?)


Later.

Fish & Rice

I'm not one for eating fish.

I don't mind it, but it's not the first thing that is going to come to my mind when I look at a menu. (I'm usually looking for the steak and/or ribs section.)

It's the same with rice.

To me, rice is a side dish; not a meal. It's usually the stuff on the plate (beside the veggies) that tends to get ignored while I'm eating. When asked for rice or baked potato, I usually choose rice just because I don't want them ruining a perfectly good potato.

I've had sushi before.

I never really liked it - sometimes it was good and sometimes not. (It's all been store or deli bought) But I have enjoyed it more recently.

My Birthday's coming up soon, and for My Birthday Dinner I've decided that we are going to a sushi restaurant. I've been told by people that it's "10000 times better than anything you'll buy in a store." , so I hope they are not just talking it up.

I'm not sure what to expect - my only experience with a sushi restaurant is the couple of times I've seen that Simpsons episode where Homer eats the poison blowfish. (No "Fugu" for me!) I'm not a complete sushi virgin, I'm just inexperienced in the ways of fish and rice.

I'm sure that I'll enjoy the adventure - heck, I might even go crazy and try something new. But just in case I think I'll pack a steak to eat on the way home. (Is it bad form to ask them to heat it up for me?)


Later.

Do I Look Like Rick Astley?

I don't think so.

It's been said in the past by the Home Office and The Sidekick, but I think they are full of shit.

At the height of his popularity Rick Astley was a mad smooth pimp who was hounded by the ladies. From that point I can see a certain resemblance.

My singing voice is maybe not as good as Rick's - but only those who have been with me in the shower can testify to that. (The line forms to the left.)

I guess it could be worse. Rick's not a horrible guy, and I'm sure that he is nice enough in person. I'm probably funnier, but that's about all I can bring to the table. (That and the fact I never wore suits with shoulder pads in the Eighties.)

I leave it up to you, Internet.
Please be gentle.



Later.

Zen & The Art Of Cleaning One's Garage.

"A Place for Everything and Everything in it's Place."


What utter horseshit.


The modern attached garage isn't really made to house a car. It's meant as a last-stop for items you just haven't thrown out yet. We shouldn't even call it a garage. It should be known as "The Junk Room where we occasionally park the Car." I think that somehow items magically migrate out there during the Fall, and burrow themselves deep, fearing Spring's first light.

Getting started is a daunting task. Where do I begin? I wonder how some of this stuff even got out here. Halfway through I feel like Sisyphus. I almost succumb to the melancholy of it all.

I'm lucky that I have a touch of OCD. I think in situations like this it becomes helpful. That and all the Tetris I played as a kid make me unbeatable in organizational arrangement. (And Mother said video games wouldn't teach me anything!) It's all about sorting and stacking.

When my garbage pile was bigger than I could handle, I decided to call it quits for the day. I can always tackle it again tomorrow. It'll sit until then. (At least I was smart enough to leave the car parked outside.) After all - we must remember my favorite Zen quote:

"Life is a waste of time; time is a waste of life; so why waste your time when you could be having the time of your life?"




Later.

Waiting Is The Hardest Part.

So I get to Poker Night and I'm the first guy there.
Why can't people just be on time?

My other frustration is the people who say they are going to be there, and then beg off saying they don't feel well. You should have thought of that when you said yes earlier, fuckhead. Did you take a dramatic turn for the worse in the last 45 minutes since we last spoke? Cancer flare up or something? We might have turned people down to hold a spot for you. I'm not going to call people and chase them around just to get a game going.

At least some people did show up and I did have a good time.

Fuck you if you couldn't hold it together to make it.

I would have taken all your money anyway.


Later.

Would The Real Betty Ross Please Stand Up?

Liv Tyler has been cast to play Bruce Banner's main squeeze Betty Ross in the upcoming Incredible Hulk movie.

I'm a bit conflicted.

Liv plays cute and intelligent, and she does it really well - But Jennifer nailed her preformance in the first Hulk film. (She was the best thing in it.)

I'd like to see them fight it out - in a pool of baby oil, if possible. (Now that's a movie worth my $10.)

Either way, I win.


Later.

iSolation.

I enjoy the iPod.

I use it while at the gym, mowing the lawn, or walking to work. The ability to have my music where I want it when I want it is a welcome relief.

But once again, I just don't understand people.

Three separate times today I witnessed people wearing headphones (ear buds, or whatever) in places that I didn't expect to see them.

• There was a lady at the Grocery Store today who was walking around, wearing her headphones while she pushed her cart around. I can understand not wanting to be disturbed while you are shopping, but she wasn't even able to hear anyone behind her trying to get by. I looked her in the eyes and said "Hello" and she didn't even begin to respond. That's just rude.
• I witnessed a guy driving on his motorcycle with his headphones on. I'm pretty sure that not only is it a violation of the motor vehicle code, but pretty stupid as well. How loud would that have to be to hear it over your bike engine? Bye bye hearing.
• Went out for dinner tonight. While at the restaurant, saw a busboy/dishwasher guy come out from the kitchen, clear some tables and head back. He had his headphones in the whole time. What kind of job is it that lets you do that? How can you have any interaction with your fellow employees when you can't hear them? What if a customer had asked hiim something while he's out on the service floor? "I'm sorry Ma'am - Jimmy can't hear you, he's rocking out to My Chemical Romance." Great excuse.

So like everything else, I think the iPod has it's time and place. I'm going to go out of my way to say hello to every person I see with earphones on. It seems as a society the art of face-to-face communication has been lost. We text, e-mail, and tune each other out. ( I do my best work face-to-face.) It has to stop.

Turn the volume down and say hello.


Later.

Highlight Of My Day:

At work today I accepted a resume from a young man who came in seeking gainful employment with our fine establishment.

Later on I glanced at the resume, and I noticed something.

Under "Qualifications" he had written, in big bold letters,

"I am a Socialist"

Why he would feel that's a qualification to work in a Grocery Store is beyond me. We deal in canned goods and perishables, my friend, not social reform and sit-ins.

Revolutions and Union Meetings?
They're in Aisle 9.


Later.

My Lawnmower.

My Lawnmower is a piece of shit,
It hurts my back when I push it.

It smokes and groans,
It stalls and dies.
I can cut grass,
But only 2 inches high.

The wheels? They wobble.
The throttle? It's stuck.
It looks like it's been hit by a truck.
I want to chuck it over a cliff -
I'd do it too, but my back is stiff.

I yank the cord to get it to start.
If I pull any harder I'll rupture my heart.
I curse and I swear,
I sound like a sailor.
In a sea of grass,
My lawnmower? Failure.

I'll get a new one,
I will, someday.
But until then,
This piece of shit stays.



Later.

Calling All Cars....

Lately I find music a bit frustrating.

There's not much out there that intrigues me, and when I do find something, I'm too late and public radio starts to destroy it just weeks after I've discovered it.

I have to either get way ahead of the radio in terms of finding new music, or just give in and fall beneath the behemoth that is Top 40 radio. (Most of the music I'm finding is Canadian, so it's not popularity that screws me so much as Canadian Content laws.) Keep in mind I'm forced to listen to local radio eight hours a day.

I've tried downloading free stuff off iTunes, but the mediocre tends to outweigh the good. I'm stuck waiting until those bands I do love put out some new material. It's driving me mad.

What I need are suggestions.

Let me know about a band so ahead of it's time that to hear of them will make me disbelieve that you are sane. So groundbreaking that I'll be able to enjoy their stuff even after the local radio gets done with it.

(You can't say the Foo, because I already know about them.)

Help me Obi-Wan, you're my only hope.


Later.

Nachos.

Homemade Nachos and a movie, right as I get home from work?

Now you're talkin'.

I had grand things to say today, but as you can tell my mind is giving up and my stomach is taking over. If you think that I can compete against a plate of cheesy goodness - well, the only thing I would have less trouble resisting is a plate of donuts or a plate of p****y.

I'm off to dig in.

I'll let you know when the heartburn kicks in.


Later.

Hung Over.

I feel like shit.

Oh, I had a good time, but I'm paying for it now.

(I now recall why I only drink once a year.)

I can't deal with the vast quantities of alcohol anymore.

In my prime, I could drink all night and be bright-eyed the next morning. (I could do a lot of things in my prime that I don't do now.)
Today I feel like I've been kicked in the head and punched in the stomach at the same time.

Needless to say, this calls for a nap.


Later.

Mentor.

Tonight is the Annual Celebration of The Sidekick's Birthday.

He's turning 30.

Having been there myself already, I feel his pain and it is my duty to guide him through this rough time in his life. I'll use my Five more years of life experience to make sure he has an easier time of it than I did. (Remember, I was already done shitting my pants when he was born.)

I've been passing on kernels of wisdom since I've met him, but there are some that I don't want him to forget.

• Check your zipper before leaving the washroom- otherwise it looks like you are fondling your junk.
• See that spark of interest in a woman's eye? Watch it disappear when you talk about how much you love Star Wars and Neil Young. (It's okay to love them, just break the news gently.)
• Chicken Soup is good for the soul, but Tomato Soup is good for what ails you.
• Karma is a bitch. I know. I used to Date her.
• Keep your head up and your stick on the ice.

Oh, I've got more, but I'll dole those out as he progresses well into middle age. He'll fight it at first, but then he'll relent and come to accept that his "youthful enthusiasm" is now "childish immaturity".


Come on in buddy, the water's fine.


Later.

James Franco's Lazy Eye.

There were 3 things that bugged me about my movie-going experience tonight.

But I'm just going to focus on one of them.

James Franco's lazy eye.

Shit, son!

See an optometrist, opthamologist, whatever. Just see someone. Everytime that fucker was on-screen it was all I could do not to stare at it. The credits should read "Harry Osbourne---James Franco. Lazy Eye --- As Itself." The goddamn eye should get secondary billing. (Do I smell a possible Best Supporting Oscar? Hmm?)

I suspended my disbelief enough to accommodate all the stuff I expected from Spider-Man 3; it didn't include that ocular monstrosity appearing on screen.

Aside from that - it was a great movie. A little slow in parts, but good.

Except for that fucking eye.
I can still see it in my mind, and I left the theater 3 hours ago.
I'm not going to get any sleep tonight.


Later.

Tonight's the Night...

As soon as I am off work, I'm going to see Spider-Man 3.

My Spider-sense is tingling...

(My Spider-sense is located right below my belt buckle, in case you are wondering.)



Later.

Hang Up Your Towel.

(Non-Hockey Fans will not get the above reference.)

I just got home from work tonight in time to watch the Vancouver Canucks lose their playoff series to the Anaheim Ducks.

I've stated before that I'm an Avs fan, but the Canucks are the local team I see on T.V. all the time. So it is hard not to feel a little sad when they don't get to move on to the next round. (It was a shitty loss too. I hope Luongo doesn't get the grief that Cloutier got for letting in a blue-line wrister.) I guess the team that worked the hardest for it ended up winning.

Now I'm at a loss of who to cheer for in the West.

I've picked Buffalo in the East. (Not a Canadian team? Shocking!)
I think I'll hold off until the next round starts.

It's tough to stay interested in the playoffs when none of the teams I really like are in it. It's good Hockey, but I like having that personal connection to a team.

Maybe I'll get inspired.
Maybe I'll just drink beer every game.
Either way, I win.



Later.

When's My Time?

Today I have felt that time is my mortal enemy.

It seems like every time I looked at the clock, it had jumped forwards an hour and I was still stuck doing the stuff Iwas doing when I originally checked out the time.

Hell, I'm behind in what I'm supposed to be doing now. I just thought I'd take time out of my day to bitch about it. (Does that make "My time" right now? If so - it's a bit of a disappointment.)

I just feel like I need some time to zone out and not think about anything.

That would be a relief.



Later.

I'm Chandler!

which Friends character are you?

You're Chandler...when you're around there's never a quiet moment and no one is safe from your sarcasm.
Take this quiz!








Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Does this really surprise anybody?
(And just to be truthful, I haven't watched the show in years.)


Later.

Safe at Home.

Where do you start your Internet Day?

My Homepage is Google.com.

I like it because it's clean and blank. Having my browser open to Google is like stepping out the door on a sunny day - you can go anywhere you want.
(I should say now that I don't work for Google - heck, I'm not even running AdSense on my blog.)

I've worked on people's computers who use Yahoo or Msn as their homepage. It's just too much crap all crammed into one space. There are 15 different items trying to vie for your attentions. Not my cup of tea when I'm just looking to get my news in the morning. (Yeah, you guessed it - News.Google.ca)

Where does everyone else start?
What site do you like to see when your pull out onto the Information Superhighway?

I've shown you mine - you show me yours.


Later.

Five Things.

1. I will never understand how people can like Applesauce. It just seems wrong to me.
2. Having Trip Aces sucked out by a weak flush on the River is like stomping on my testicles while ripping out my heart. (Who stays in with 6-8 suited?)
3. It's been a long time since I read a Really Good Book. (I'm dyin' here!) I know there's nothing you can do about it, I just wanted to share.
   
4. It seems to me that every time I turn around, I see Ben Stiller. It's only in movies, but somehow I feel he is stalking me.
5. If you can't think of anything witty or funny to say - come up with a list. (It works for David Letterman, right? Is he still relevant?)

Later.


Song on My Mind - "Nothingman" By Pearl Jam.

Tired..

My eyes are burning and my brain is mush.

There are no coherent thoughts tonight, boys and girls...

Sleep Well, my vast readership.

Sleep Well.




Later.

Lunges.

So today as part of my exercise routine, I did some lunges.

Now, it's been a long time since I last did lunges. I figured I'd bust out a couple of sets, no big deal. Good for the body and soul, right?

Oh My God.
The pain.

It wasn't bad while I was doing them, but shortly afterwards my Hamstrings said "Fuck You" to the rest of my body and went on revolt. They refused to co-operate and spent the rest of the day shooting twinges of pain down my legs to remind me how mad they were.

I now bow to the Hamstring Gods and beg their forgiveness.
I shall soak them in hot water and rub them vigorously to pleasure them.
Just please let me walk again.

(I'll show them, next time I'll do three sets.
(Break out the wheelchair.)


Later.

"I'd Buy That For A Dollar!"

I can't believe the absolute shit that people will buy because it's cheap.

While Boy#1 was in Preschool today, Boy#2 and I went browsing around town.

The old mall has been taken over and is in the midst of being re-vamped with a brand new look. There's been some new stores opening in there, and I thought we'd take a gander at what's going on. (I don't go downtown that often anymore, so most of the shops in there are new to me.)

While we were checking out the area, I heard someone comment that the "Dollarama" is open at the other end of the mall. I still had an hour to kill, so I thought that Boy #2 and I would check it out. I might get him a new toy for a couple of bucks.

I walked into madness.

The place was jammed, and there were people with carts full of stuff. We walked around for a bit, just checking out the merchandise, and what I saw didn't leave me impressed.

It's all low-end, throw-away stuff. Not bad if you want to buy cards or wrapping paper, light bulbs and such. But there is food there. Canned items, (most of it either discontinued or outdated) and people were snatching it up like mad.

Some of the other items like kitchenware and stuff looked good until you actually held onto it. Why by a shitty spatula 3 times for a dollar each when you can buy one that will last longer for about 4 bucks? I just don't see the logic.

It was the cartfulls of stuff that amazed me. I couldn't find one item that impressed me, (granted I wasn't looking very hard) and there were people with buggies filled to the brim.

The funny thing was that in talking to the staff at other stores in the mall, they said it's been busier for them since the Dollarama opened. (I guess saving that 3 dollars goes towards buying the latest Jeff Foxworthy DVD.)

To each their own, I guess.

Can anybody spare a Dollar?
I think I saw a Velvet Elvis Picture in there.... right next to the cinder block car jacks.


Later.


Song on My Mind - "Cigarette" By Jeremy Fisher.

Change Is Good..

I'm in the mood to change the look of my blog again.

I'm having trouble finding anything that interests me, and I don't have the talent to create it myself. I'm sure I could muscle it through, but I'd like it to look good and not like it was done my a chimp pounding on a keyboard.

If anyone knows of some good template sites, let me know.
I really don't like the standard blogger ones. I'm looking for something clean and functional, but with some colour.

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


Later.

Kryp-to-nite!

So we've found Kryptonite.

But it's White, not Green. (Wasn't White Kryptonite the one that killed plants? If so, we've found the shittiest version of Kryptonite available.)

Makes me wonder what other mythological elements we might stubble across. I'm hoping for Adamantium, Uru and the Female Orgasm. (What? They're all fake, right?)

So it seems that all those times I got in shit for reading comics I was just doing mineral research. Mom's going to owe me a big fucking apology.

I'm going to go read up on Vibranium now.
(The Savage Land variety, because then I can look at Shana the She-Devil. Rawr.)


Later.

Back to Normal.

When I got home from work tonight, there was a coffee waiting for me.

I was both elated and disappointed.

Elated that there was a coffee waiting for me (it was a shitty night) and disappointed that it was in a regular cup.
Roll Up the Rim is gone.

To be honest, I'm relieved. I'm not happy that I didn't win a Big Screen T.V, but it'll be nice to drink a coffee purely for the sake of enjoying the coffee. No bitter feelings when I see the phrase "Please Play Again." No compulsion to have that 4th Xtra Large coffee " because I'm due."

So I'm glad the madness is over, for at least another year.

But one day, my precious, one day....


Later.




Song on My Mind - "Learn to Fly" By the Foo Fighters.

Let Me Sleep.

All I want is 10 more minutes.

Can't I just get 10 more minutes?

Why is it so important that I get up now?

My bed is warm, the house is cold, and I'm tired.

I swear, I'll be a much more pleasant person 10 minutes from now.

Is it a deal?

Can I go back to sleep?


Shit.

Well, I'm up.



Later.

P.C. 101.

B.C. Ferries is changing the propeller symbols on it's new boats.

People called and complained that the symbols looked like swastikas. (The funny thing is the ships are manufactured in Germany.)

Now I've seen clouds that looked like swastikas, but you don't see me accusing God of being a Nazi.

If people just stopped and thought for a moment before getting all bent out of shape, stupid mistake like this wouldn't happen. If you think a company would blatantly put Nazi symbols on the vessels they use to serve the public, then you obviously have been huffing too many fumes.
It's a boat - it's obviously a propeller. If it was carved into the foreheads of the workers, then you may say it could be something else.

If my car had a smudge of tar on the front bumper, would you accuse me of pretending to be Hitler?

Get a life.



Later.

Uma.

Short post tonight.

Why?

I'm going to watch an Uma Thurman movie.

Which one?

It doesn't matter.
From Kill Bill to Gattaca, Henry & June to The Avengers, I could watch practically anything she's in. I could gaze all day long at her image on screen.

Reminds me of a joke pickup line I heard tonight:

"Your eyes are like crescent wrenches - whenever I look into them, my nuts tighten."


Later.

Cold Feet.

Around the house I prefer to wear boxers and a T-shirt.

Any time of year this is probably the most comfortable balance of clothing I can wear. (Yes, naked would be more comfortable, but not for anyone who came to the door.)

The only problem is my feet.

As soon as my feet hit the floor in the morning, they freeze.

Slippers, you say?

Good God, not slippers. I said my feet were cold, not that I was a homosexual.
I make do with throwing on a pair of low cut socks. I can't wear the knee-highs 'cause I am neither a 1970's NBA Star nor a Catholic Schoolgirl. The socks will do for now.

When I win my millions, I'm going to have heated floors.
I'll be selfish though - the floors will only be heated where I am.

Everyone else can wear skates.



Later.

Frustration.

Have you ever just woken up pissed off?

That's me today.

Grumpy, cranky, and out of sorts.

I'm going to be a regular ball of sunshine to be around.

(I bet you all envy my co-workers now, eh?)

I'm sure that something at work will make me laugh.

Or else I just start poking people randomly with a plastic fork.


Later.



Song on My Mind - "Don't Fuck With Me" By Love/Hate.

Six Hundred.

Wow.

600 Posts.

That's a lot of shit I'm spreading around.
(And I'm doing it without steroids, Barry.)

Thanks for listening everyone.

My Random Thoughts and Musings aren't as well written as Thoreau's Walden, but a damn sight more entertaining, am I right?

(I only picked Thoreau 'cause I think he sucks.)




Later.




Song On My Mind - "Lazy Eye" By Silversun Pickups.
Reading - "Uncle John's World of Odd" By The Bathroom Readers Institute.

Hokies.

Like everyone else, I just want to offer my condolences to all those who have been affected by the Killings at Virginia Tech.

I have a real problem understanding events such as this. It completely baffles me how any single person can start themselves on the path where the only solution to their problems (or perceived problems) is the killing of others.

I could go on, but I don't think that bitching about gun culture and such is the way to go. It is a sad day and I'm sure every parent who has a son or daughter at any University can empathize with what the families of the victims are going through.

Hopefully they are in a better place now.


Later.

Visitation.

My Twin and his family are coming up for the next couple of days.

I may not be posting regularly due to work and visitors.

Oh, but the stories you'll hear...


Later.

New Pillow.

There is a new pillow on my bed.

It's right over there - just waiting to be tried out.

I'm not sure if I'm going to like it or not.

I have a love/hate relationship with pillows. I find that periodically throughout the night I'll wake up and find that I have either a) thrown the pillows across the room, or b) somehow have them under my feet. (Explain that one.) I'm not sure if it's because I'm restless or fighting demons in my dreams - but the pillows seem to take the brunt of it.

The only pillows I seem to take care of are pillows on hotel beds. I'm not sure why, but I never seem to chuck them around. I guess the ol' subconscious doesn't like to fuck around with other people's property.

But that pillow's calling my name.
It's a taunting, mocking sound.
I'm gonna beat that fucker down.



Later.

In My Bathroom...

• I never leave unscathed. I either cut myself shaving, or stub my toe on the scale. One of these days I'm sure I'll be in a horrendous accident.
  
• I never use the other towel. That one's off limits. (Next April Fools Day I'm dipping a corner of it in the toilet water.)
• I'm the only one who throws out empty shampoo bottles. Ever since I heard the song "At a Medium Pace" I don't want them laying around.
• The one thing that drives me crazy is seeing a toothpaste tube that's squeezed in the middle. Bottom to top, people! That's how it's made to come out!
• I sometimes sing. But not as well as this guy.
• I sometimes fake it. I just go in and read for a minute - to enjoy the solitude.... and the awesome new air freshener. (Mmm - Vanilla.)

Later.

Act of Faith.

What do you believe?

My philosophical beliefs are not set in stone. Do I believe in a higher power? Sometimes. Do I believe in fate and Karma? Sometimes. (Karma when I'm playing Poker.)

Faith is a crap-shoot. Roll the dice and see what you get. Is there a right or wrong? Nobody knows. I'd hate to see the end of the world come rolling along only to find out that The Hare Krishna's were the One True Religion. I don't want my last thoughts to be "I should have spent more time at the Airport."

I've read books, I've watched films. Very few of these ever dealt with religion. (Why did I type it then?) I think that whatever you decide for yourself is the way to go. But try to cover all your bases. It's all well and good to be a practicing Taoist, but who says you can't also go to Mass on Sundays? Religion is similar to a playoff pool. Hedge your bets and you'll be in for the long run.

The Atheists? They aren't even watching the game.

I'm going to try for the Trifecta - Christianity, Practicing Muslim, and Radical Cult Member.
(Does Tim Horton's have a cult?)

Come Armageddon - I'll be going somewhere.


Later.


Song on My Mind - "Battle of Who Could Care Less" By Ben Folds Five.
Reading - "The Bathroom reader Book of Odd" By Uncle John.

Not At My Post.

Ignore the time of this post.

It's a lie.

It's not 11:59 pm. It's way beyond that.

With watching the Hockey game and playing Poker, time just ran away from me. I missed posting for a complete day. (Shock & Awe.)

I'll try harder next time.

(At least I won some money at Poker, that is some relief.)

Back on track tomorrow.


Later

STFU.

Doesn't anyone just listen anymore?

Nobody seems to appreciate silence of any kind.

I'm not one for long meditative pauses, but too much verbal diarrhea is just sickening. (Almost as much as the regular diarrhea I would imagine.) And there is one person in particular who is driving me nuts.

I'll call her Mrs. X. - I've spoken of her before, I think, and it wasn't favorable that time either.

Mrs. X. is the type of coworker who has to say something to you every time you pass by her at work. It doesn't matter if you crossed paths 5 minutes or 2 hours ago - she has to say something. Whether it's a comment about the weather or a random observation, ("Back so soon?") Mrs. X is compelled to say it to you. In a relatively small business like ours, it's quite maddening when you see each other repeatedly through out the day. But it doesn't deter her. She can't help herself.

I've tested it a couple of times.

Once, I walked by her every two minutes for about a half an hour. I made it a point to go out of my way and cross her path. Every Single Time she said something. I varied replies from cheerful to sullen, from lengthy to terse - it didn't matter. The last five times I didn't even say anything - I just glared at her. She didn't even flinch as she fired of yet another inane saying.

I had the joy of overlapping lunch with her in the break room. I walked in, sat down, and looked at my magazine while I played Poker on my cell phone. I made a point of not even looking up at her, and yet she still started chatting away to me. My only replies were grunts or silence. It didn't matter. She was on autopilot - rambling away to some conversation only she can understand or care about.


My results? - I think that somehow she must have a rare inner-ear infection that makes silence cause her actual physical pain. That's the only explanation I can have for the constant stream of shit that comes out of her face.
(The above findings are not scientific in any way, but I just liked calling them my "results".)

I've prescribed a muzzle for her or complete avoidance on my part.

(I'm working on the latter and hoping for the former.)



Later.



Song on My Mind - "Can't Kick the Habit" By The Spin Doctors.

Bloat.

Somebody slap me.

I do this almost every holiday.

I gorge myself silly on the festive dinner stuff, and now I feel like shit for the next couple of days. To make matters worse, my gym has been closed for the last two days - I feel slow and lethargic. The exercise would do me some good.

I should try and use my mind-boggling willpower to prevent myself from eating so much, but somewhere along the line I think my synaptic responses start to break down. (Usually at about the same time the gravy comes out.)

For now I think I'll just suck it up and try and burn it off.
I could use up some calories eating this donut...


Later.


Song on My Mind "The Other Man" By Sloan.
Reading - "The instructions on a packet of Eno." By Oh God My Stomach is Killing Me.

Rabbit Stew

Well, it's another Easter and my house is full of chocolate again.

For a chubby guy with a sweet tooth, it's like temptation smacking me in the face every time I turn around. (I have enough temptation in my life already, thankyouverymuch.) This I don't need.

Tonight's the Family Dinner.

I have suggested Rabbit, but nobody wants to take up the offer.

It's only fine to eat them if they are chocolate, I guess.

Put some gravy on it and no one will notice.


Later.


Song on My Mind - "Theme from Batman" (Don't Ask.)
Reading -"The Ingredients for a chocolate bunny" By Fat Bastard.

Communication Letdown.

I'm a bit disappointed in my e-mail.

I don't get any good spam anymore.

I'll chalk it up to good browsing habits and only giving out my address when absolutely necessary, but I am a bit nostalgic for the days of my first Hotmail account.

Nobody seems to care about my penis nowadays.

Back then, I was almost overcome with a deluge of mail inquiring as to my penis's length, girth and all around general well being.

Today's check of my e-mail revealed an advertising letter from a country-music radio station. (Trust me, I view this as spam. Whoever put my address on that mailing list needs to be shot.)
No one wants to help my penis, or let me see XXX photos of Britney's lesbian rehab love affair. (Not that I'd want too, but still...)

I feel like I'm out of the loop.

My penis feels like it's out of the loop.

It's all quite sad, really.


Later.



Song on My Mind - " Love Train" By Wolfmother.
Reading - "Hobbits - still with the Hobbits."

Blasphemy.

I was trying to be funny, dammit.

Today whenever I finished helping someone at work, I would say " Have a Good Friday." (Just a little play on words to entertain the customers.) Most people would respond with "Oh, Thanks." and walk away. They would stop about four steps later, understand what I was making a joke about, and smile.

I know today was the day that Christ died on the cross for all our sins, but it doesn't mean we can't joke about it. We all have our little hang ups, right?

What?

Too Soon?


Later.



Song On My Mind - "Misery" By Soul Asylum
Reading - "The Fellowship of The Ring" By J.R.R. Tolkien.

Broadcast Area.

Thanks, Mr. Cell Phone Guy.

I'm glad that I was able to learn all sorts of new and useful things from you today. Things I never would have known if you weren't talking so damn loud on your cell phone.

I never would have known:

• About that bar in Victoria that is off the hook - and how after that fly chick wants you to chill at her place. Good for you.
• That you didn't have a car. You were so excited when your friend called and told you they were going to Vic. You even said " I'll call my moms and let her know I don't need a ride". I'm sure she's glad she doesn't have to adjust your car seat for you either.
• That you can't put your leg straight. Somehow messed it up ballin', I believe you said. That's tragic in it's own right - the world should not be denied the awesome skills your 5'7 frame can bring to the court.

All this learned in less than 10 minutes while waiting to get my haircut. The sad fact is that I could hear you after I left the waiting area. I could hear you over the radio, the random chatter and even over the trimmers as they cleaned up my neckline. I'm sure that what you have going on is so important that everyone has to hear it.

The fact that you appeared to be in your mid-20's, yet spoke and sounded like a 15 year-old from the mean streets was the only mystery to me. Explain how that works, will ya?
I hope someone asks you the next time you take a call. And I hope I'm somewhere within a five-block radius, 'cause then I know I'll hear the response.


Later.



Song On My Mind - "Divine Intervention" By Matthew Sweet.
Reading - "Uncle John's Curiously Compelling Bathroom Reader" By The Bathroom Reader's Institute

Insensitive.

I have a bit of a problem.

You see, I really want to go play Poker tonight.

The plans have been made for over a week, and my schedule has been public. Everyone knows that this is Poker Night.

Yet a matter has come up on My Wife's side of the family, and it turns out that we are going to be having a Family Dinner here tonight. This was all last minute stuff, and I had even mentioned that I would leave later for Poker than I had originally intended. (I made it clear that I was still going, but that I would put it off for a bit.)

So my question is this: Is 15 minutes enough? Or can I cut and run as soon as my plate is clear?
Would that be too insensitive?

To be truthful, I'm not going to do that.
I'll end up being a hour and a half late. (Best guess.)
But I am a bit resentful that it's all being pushed aside at the last minute. I guess the selfish part of me has trouble letting go.

I'll take it out on the rest of the players at the table tonight.
All the chips will be MINE!


Later.



Song On My Mind - "Another Round" By the Foo Fighters
Reading - "My Local Newspaper" By Waste of Pulp.

Bad Karma.

Someone up above is pissed at me.

I'm not sure what I've done to provoke such divine outrage, but I'm feeling the pain in many little ways. Let me tell you of some of the random things that have happened in the past two days:

• I have suddenly developed a puffy eye. Not enough to become hideously disfigured, but enough to be annoying. I've tried the home remedies to no avail. After waiting at the Doctor's office for two hours - he tells me to continue what I've been doing and to take some eye drops. (Did I mention the kids were with me? Not fun making two kids wait for two hours.)
• I plop down on my bed last night to watch some T.V. before going to sleep. I turn the T.V. on, the picture looks funny, starts to get smaller and smaller, the speakers emit a loud screech and POP! sparks fly out the back. I unplug the T.V. and notice the smell of burnt wires. Oh Joy.
• At work the other day, I'm informed by a customer that a young man grabbed something and ran out. I see him running across the parking lot. I give chase, and as I'm about to say "Hey stop!", I trip and fall. Scrape myself up on the concrete pretty bad. Turns out the customer was wrong and the kid didn't take anything. I'm not only in pain, but embarrassed to boot.

That's only scratching the surface.
I hope the pendulum begins to swing the other way, because right now, I'm in need of some good tidings.

When you are this low, things can only look up.

Later.


Song On My Mind - "My Humps" By Alanis Morissette. (Awesome)
Reading - "Nothing at All" By Nobody.