Comic Shops & Rock Stardom.

God I love Victoria.

We just got back from the Big City and everything went great. The Twin is fine, the kids are great, and best of all - I got to hit the Comic Book Store.

I went a tad crazy - but what guy wouldn't when he's walking around with a built in 30% discount off the American cover price? I picked up 4 graphic novels and would have gone for more, but reason (and my Wife) stepped in.

It was great though - I could die happy in there. (I'm such a nerd.)

I went one step further with the Nerdiness, though.


You see, the Twin has Rock Band for his XBox 360.

In the evening, when the kids were tucked in their beds, we would go down to the basement and I would unleash my inner Rock God.

I'll tell you right now, that game is harder than it looks. I played bass to start, but tried the drums and guitar. I even rocked out on the microphone. (I didn't sing "Learning to Fly" as good as Dave, but it was close.) My skills aren't legendary - yet - but in time they will come. I didn't rush out and buy it, but my birthday is coming up, and if I don't get Rock Band, I'm at least expecting Guitar Hero.

Lets see.... Comic Shops,.... Video Games,.... If I would have fixed a computer I could have completed the Nerd Trifecta. (Alas, the Twin has a Mac, and has had no problems with it.)

As much as I love The City it's good to be home. We run at a breakneck speed down there trying to get everything accomplished in the two days we have, so finally being able to relax is great.

(And getting back on a regular blog schedule is nice too - I can tell you all missed me.)

Viva Holidays!




Later.

Leave Them Laughing.

I'm going to Victoria tomorrow - family trip to see The Twin.

I thought I'd leave you with something to chuckle at before I go.

Enjoy.






Later.

Scaling Back.

Today was the last official weigh-in for The Biggest Loser contest at my gym.

There's quite a few people who have to get measured, so we won't know the official results until later next week. (Friday) Most people I saw figured I'd be the winner, but I suspect my competition was right behind me.

I do know a couple of things, though:

• I lost 41.5 pounds - from 220 to 178.5. That's 19% weight loss right there.
• My waist shrunk almost 10 inches. (9.75 to be exact.)
• My BMI went from 30.2 to 24.2
• I used to run about 1.5 miles in 20 minutes on the treadmill - just yesterday I ran 5K (3.1 miles) in 25:25.
• I increased my muscle mass on my chest and arms by 1.5 inches.

I think I did pretty good. I'll know more (body fat %) later, but it's nice to see the changes. (Not that I can't see them when I look into the mirror.)

After my holidays I'm going to get back up on the horse and start on my new goals. I figure I'll just run outside this week, and then hit the gym once the awards are done. Some of the new goals:

• Hit 170 pounds. This is mostly to get rid of the love handles and show some more definition. It'll be harder than the previous weight loss because I'll be putting on more muscle while losing fat.
• Chin ups/Pull ups. I want to be able to bust out at least 10-12 with my own bodyweight.
• Keep improving on my 5K time. I'd even like to try a race this summer. Getting 23:00 or below would be great.
• Get The Sidekick to the gym. He says he wants to go, and I'll work him into the schedule as much as possible. I was even looking at training plans today.

I figure those are good ones to start with. I'll reassess in about a month and see where I'm at.

I'll tell you all how I did in the contest when I know. Like I said before - I don't care if I win, I just want free membership and any other benefits I can get . (The odd tanning session might help my pasty white skin.)



Later.

Dinner & A Movie.

I would rather be on the front lines of some war than have to pick out dinner & a movie. (Not really, but you get my point.)

For two or more people to try and come to a consensus on those two topics is nearly impossible. An easier task would be to convince Charles Darwin the validity of Creationism.

It doesn't matter what the food is - somebody's tired of it, or doesn't like it. And movies? It's almost worse. Picking a theater and a show to see is almost as frustrating.

Renting and take-out are just as bad. There are at least three people I refuse to walk into a rental place with - they've seen everything. As for take-out or delivery, where to go still rears it's ugly head, and if not, who delivers?

With my dietary changes, you'd think I'd be ready to go for eating out on a splurge night - but the truth is, I can't think of where I want to go.

Somebody order for me, and put me out of my misery.




Later.

Mah Twounge Hwurths.

Seriously, it does.

I was in a hurry this morning, and as such did not give my tea sufficient time to cool down before I took my first sip of the day. (For those of you guffawing about me drinking tea, you can just fuck off.)

The initial scalding feeling wasn't that bad. What's annoying me is that irritating feeling right on the tip of my tongue. It's affected the taste and texture of everything I've eaten today. It's hard enough to enjoy as salad as it is without your taste buds refusing to acknowledge anything other than their own discomfort. I might as well be eating pudding for all my tongue can tell. (Mmmm....pudding.)

I'll persevere, though. I'll tough it out.

Maybe I'll go over to my sister's for dinner. Not being able to taste anything might work out to my benefit after all. (Ohh - ice burn!)



Later.

Kirk Had The Coolest Chair...

Captain Kirk had a bitchin' chair.

I mean, c'mon - look at it. It has everything. Leather, wood, remote controls, built in phone, it swivels, and is parked in front of a big-ass T.V.

(I'm not sure about the stain on the floor, but I think that's love juice from some alien chick he was puttin' the moves on.)

I wish I had a chair like that.

My chair sucks compared to that one. Hell, I don't even have any interesting stains like that one does. (Contrary to popular belief, you sickos.)

I wonder if The Wife would notice if I got rid of the loveseat and had that instead.... It's worth a try, right?



Later.

Lost & Found.

Remember that video I was talking about, the one that never got posted?

YouTube sent me a message and told me why it didn't show up.

They said it was a "Bad Request." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What was bad about it? Couldn't YouTube handle what I was trying to convey?

Like I said before, I think they're scared of me. Maybe even jealous.

I think I'll take The Sidekick's advice and embed my videos from now on. That way "The Man" can't interfere with my message. Gots to get the word out there, right?

(Who am I kidding - I'm a middle-aged white guy. I am The Man - whether I like it or not.)




Later

Cardoholic.

Poker Night again.

It'll be the last one for a bit, what with my wonky schedule and holidays coming up. I think The Sidekick will go into meltdown if we have to wait too long, but he'll be okay.

I did well at my neighbor's the other night, and I did rally from behind last week, so I'm hoping I can finish out strong. (But it's Poker, so you never know.)

Wish me luck.

(Worse case scenario: I go down to The Twin's place next week and try to get them hooked. It's worth a try, isn't it?)


Later.

Number One.

While I was closing up at work tonight, I was talking to some of my late-shift staff.

We were talking about working evenings, and the topic got around to who was the preferred manager to work late with. There's a lot of fun guys at work, so I figured the competition would be pretty steep.

I was told by not one, not two, but four employees that I was the best guy to work nights with. You're looking at Number One, right here. (Hey, out of six who were working, that's pretty good.)

Maybe it's because I'm laid back, yet I get things done. Maybe it's my witty sense of humor, and the positive outlook I bring to the job. Maybe it's my ability to relate to the people I work with, regardless of our age differences. Maybe it's the Tequila Body Shots we've all been doing.

(Strike that last one, I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.)

"But wait!", you say "Not everyone picked you". The other two? They chose the guy who doesn't make them do any work. How can you compete with that? The only way to top that would be to start handing out money and liquor. (I'm keeping all of that for myself.)

I know it's just an ego stroke and doesn't mean anything, but to know that you can do your job and not have to be an ass to the people around you is pretty rewarding. The confirmation is quite a nice thing to have.

But don't worry, I won't let it go to my head. What am I going to do, brag about it on the Internet or something?

Oh, wait.....




Later.

Mission Accomplished.

I did it.

With one week left to go in the contest, I hit my goal weight.

Since January 22nd, I've lost 40 pounds.

If I were to post a picture, and you were to see it, I'm a svelte 180 pounds. By any BMI calculator, I'm no longer classified as "Overweight." I feel great, I look damn good, and I'm setting new goals to reach. I don't even care if I win the contest anymore.

Yeah, you heard me right.

I don't want to win it all, (But I'll take it if I do win) I just want to win any extension on my membership. I'd like to continue to have the convenience of a gym right across the street from where I work. (And having it for free is the biggest bonus.) I just need it for strength training - I can do the cardio aspect outside now that it's warmer. (I'd even run in the rain if I had to. In fact, I'd welcome it.)

Once we're all said and done with the contest and I'm back from holidays, I'd like to re-establish my goals. A bit more weight loss, and most of the other ones have to do with 5 or 10k times and strength training stuff (pull-ups, etc.)

It'll be great to start the next chapter of this aspect of my life.

Yay me!



Later.

Uncomfortable Reading.

As my Weight-Loss contest is ending soon, I'm looking for new routines and workouts to try after it's all over. (Variety is the spice of life, right?) To that extent, I've been reviewing some of the fitness magazines we have at work - they seem to be full of information and tips.

Some of them, well - lets just say I'm not sure of which audience or demographic they are catering to.

I usually read Men's Health. It's got a little bit of everything, and seems to be the standard. I think (thought) that most of the other magazines would be like that as well.

I was wrong.

Take the magazine to your right -> Sure, it's got a ripped guy with his shirt off on the cover, but it is a fitness magazine, so why not?
But then you look inside.

Inside it gets a little weird right away. All of the guys in the magazine: the ads, the exercise instructions, the articles, even the guy writing editorials are all shirtless, buff, and wearing those ball-hugger boy shorts. It looks more like I'm flipping through a gay man's stroke catalog than an workout magazine.

I was prepared to chalk it up to a publisher who thought he could maybe get some gay fitness customers as well as regular readers, but then I flipped to the back page. The back page had a cowboy type guy in a horse trough, having a bubble bath.

That's just a bit much - even for me.

They say that becoming healthy is a lifestyle change. I thought they meant diet and routine - not sexuality. If that's what it's going to take, I'll live with a bit of a paunch and just tell people it's the gas tank for my sex machine. My hetro sex machine.

I'll stick with the Men's Health - all the guys are fully clothed, and I don't feel funny when it says I should "feel the burn in my Glutes."

Oh, by the way - I never looked anyone in the eye when I put that magazine back, either. I would hate to look at the guy next to me at the rack and have him give me a knowing wink. (Ewwww)


Later.

Where It Counts.

Since I started this blog in 2005 there have been almost 12,000 people who, at one time or another, read the words "Midlife Rambler" on their monitor.

While that's not YouTube-type numbers, I'm pretty impressed. It's even okay if you take out the six to twelve repeat visitors I have. (If I didn't have you guys, my numbers would be anywhere near as interesting.) And if you consider I've been screwed over by Blogs of Note, it's more than acceptable.

So - 12,000 visits, 942 posts.... that's almost 13 of you reading each post. Since I know that you can't possibly read every post, (I'll admit, some of them are kinda shitty) I'm willing to cut you some slack.

I could whore myself out for new readers, but is it really worth compromising my morals? (Quit laughing - I have morals.) What's the point? It's not like I'm getting paid for this. If I could make money off bitching and irreverent thoughts, it'd be a dream come true.

Whatever it is I'm trying to say, it all boils down to this: Thanks for reading. Thanks for listening. Thanks for not ratting me out to the Feds.

Tell your friends, I'm here all week.
(Like a lousy lounge act.)




Later.

16 Wins...

It all starts tomorrow.

The 2008 Stanley Cup Playoffs begin, and I'm much more excited about it than I was 365 days ago.

Why?

My team's in it this year.

See, last year the Avs missed making the playoffs by one point. I still enjoyed watching them, but my heart really wasn't in it. I was even forced to cheer for the Canucks during the playoffs last year. (Thank God that didn't last past the second round.)

I'd really like to see an Avalanche - Canadiens final.

The Sidekick and I would have some good wagering on that. (Yes, he's a Habs fan and yet I still hang out with him.) We'd wager in the only currancy that matters: DVDs.

I can't wait.



Later.

Old Men Smell Like Pee...

And 19 other things I've learned from the Grocery Business.

1. Nutrition Labels are the equivalent of modern-day Hieroglyphics. Some people claim they know how to read them, but they are just as clueless as the rest of us.


2. Sodium is to Food as Nitrogen is to the Atmosphere. That shit's everywhere.


3. It doesn't matter when you close or when you open, it's either not late enough or not early enough - take your pick.


4. The phrase "The Customer's always right" should be stricken from the public record. The Customer barely knows what they are talking about, and given free reign, would surely hurt themselves.


5. Just when you think you've got a job any idiot can do, you meet some of the fellows I work with.


6. Asparagus makes your pee smell awesome.


7. Repeated entrance and exit from the Main Freezer will make you have to pee. (Repeated snacking in the Produce cooler leads you to the previous statement.)
   


8. Cashiers know every aspect of the lives of Hollywood stars. They have to stare at those fucking magazines all day long.


9. Old women want two things from any Grocery store - Food & someone to talk to. Whether or not that talk is social or just bitching depends on the old woman.


10. Bread Drivers are the lowest rung on the delivery-truck ladder. Don't ask me why - they just are. If I die and come back as a lower form of life, it'll be as a Bread Driver. (Bad Karma, I guess.)


11. There's a wonderful symmetry to a wall of 12-pk cases of Coca-Cola. (Wait, no there isn't. I've been working here too long.)


12. The closer a child is to it's mother, and the more insignificant the item said child wants - the louder the child will scream.


13. ..And the more the mother will ignore it.


14. The more I see the lady who makes it, the less I want the potato salad from the Deli.


15. We all have one thing in common. It's not the belief in a higher power, or a common gene. It's that everyone, no matter who, wipes thier ass. Trust me, we have a whole aisle dedicated to toilet paper. It's a fact.


16. If you want to piss off an employee in a Grocery Store, push in all the cans on the bottom shelf of the canned food aisle. Just nudge them with your foot. They are such a pain in the ass to straighten up that they'll be cursing you for hours.


17. Eggos are now approximately the size of a loonie, and the price has gone nowhere but up. I figure at this rate you'll ask me for a box of Eggos, I'll punch you in the face, you'll say thank you and hand me $35.


18. Security cameras that always look down are great for cleavage shots, but horrible to review your breakdancing moves on.


19. There are people who pay with cash, and people who pay with debit. Those who want to combine the two in any way, shape, or form should be taken out to the loading bay and beaten with a Dairy Hook.

Later.

Liquor Up Front, Poker In The Rear.

It's Poker Night again.

I'm really hoping to do better than I did last time.

It's not that I did bad - I don't regret any of the calls I made, and was beat out by better hands. Since then, I've done really well wherever I've played, (online or in real life) so I hope it carries over. I just have to get a run going again at this game, and maybe change up my style a bit.

Wish me luck.

And wishing me Aces would help, too.


Later.

Hard Day's Night.

It's not going to be a pleasant weekend.

We're doing some spring cleaning at work, and it's a bit of a bitch. Tonight I had to dismantle and remove a bunch of (really heavy) stuff, and when I go back in the morning, I get the joy of putting it all back. (It's either Janitors or Leprechauns doing the cleaning, I forget which.)

Yay Me!

It's not a totally bad thing. The main complaint about tomorrow is that it's going to add to my already busy day. I can see myself skipping my coffee break, that's for sure.

I'll suck it up though, 'cause that's the type of guy I am.

And then I'll come here and bitch.

Isn't this arrangement wonderful?



Later.

Training Tools.

There's just over two weeks left in the weight-loss competition I'm in, and I've got a bit of a problem: I've hit a plateau. (And I'm not talking about a geological formation.)

I've gone from losing 4-6 pounds a week to only losing 1.5 to 2. Any progress is good progress, but to make sure I win this thing I'd like to ramp it up over the next couple of weeks.

I could tighten up on the diet a bit more, and maybe increase my intensity when doing weights - but I think I've stumbled upon the perfect way to get the results I want in the shortest amount of time: a montage.



If it worked for Gary, It'll work for me.




Later.

(And in case you are wondering - no, The Sidekick is not my real-life Spottswoode.)

Comeback

Remember yesterday, when I said I couldn't wait to get back to work?

Somebody slap me for saying that.

When I walked into my section today, I was astonished. It looked horrible . I liken it to the picture to your right. (Although I may be exaggerating a bit.) It took me about 3 hours just to get everything back to the way I like it.

Maybe I'm too picky. Maybe I should relax my standards just a bit. Maybe I should take my pen and stab it through the eye of the fucker who let it get this way. (I'm inclined to go with the third option.)

I'll take my frustrations out on the individual when I see them in a couple of days. I'll have cooled down by then, so I don't think we'll need a Doctor on standby. (Maybe just some gauze.)

Tomorrow all will be right with the world - and I can pretend it's my first day back.

Won't it be wonderful?



Later.

Housebound.

One of The Boys isn't feeling well.

It sucks, but what can you do?

He's taking it well enough, and his brother doesn't care where he is, (as long as he can demolish and build stuff, he's happy.) but it makes the day drag on when you are stuck in the house.

I've cleaned, started prepping for dinner, done laundry, and even watched more Transformer cartoons in one sitting than I thought possible.

And it sucks.

I'm looking forward to going back to work - just to get out of the house.



Later.

Scream.

I don't scare easily.

But when I sit down to play some Poker while The Boys are napping, and I feel a touch on my neck - it creeps me out.

When I go to scratch it, and it turns out to be a spider - I scream like a little girl.

It could have been a radioactive spider, bent on giving me powers to fight crime with, but it didn't matter. I swatted that bastard to the floor and put the boot to it. (The fact that I had to run and get a boot makes me even less of a man.)

Fuck this shit - I'm going outside.
At least they can't sneak up on me out there.




Later

Just Wait....

Seriously, just wait.

I tried to post from YouTube about an hour ago, and my entry still hasn't shown up.

Someone over there hates me - or else they are just jealous.

Yeah, that's it... YouTube is jealous of me.

Bastards.



Later.

Green as Grass.

I'm jealous right now.

Not of any one individual, mind you. I'm not jealous that the new guy at work found $5 on the floor, or that someone brought a better lunch to work than me.

I'm jealous of the almost 21,000 people who get to see the Foo Fighters rock Gm Place tonight.

To see Dave and the boys live would be an amazing thing - and knowing that I'm not there (when it's so close yet so far away) is turning me green with envy.

Seriously, I'm almost Chartreuse over here.

I wish all those that could attend a good time. Know that I envy you, and that I'm counting on some form of Karmic retribution - it's what keeps me going.


Later.

Concrete Jungle.

Today I tried something new.

I wasn't able to go to the gym this morning, (not open until 10 on Saturdays) so I got my ass out of bed for a run before work.

As I stepped outside at 5:45 am, I looked at my options: I could run up to the track and do laps completely in the dark, or I could run around the neighborhood under the lovely glow of the streetlights.

I picked the lights. (Totally not scared of the dark.)

As I made my way around the block, one thing became clear to me - running on the sidewalk sucks. It seems much harder on the knees than running on the track or even just the road. I'd heard this from people, but until you experience 2 miles of it, you don't really believe them. I switched up to the road for the next 2 miles, and everything was great after that.

I also felt a moment of guilt.

I used to be one of those drivers who would get frustrated with people running or jogging on the road. I'd bitch and moan about how they had a perfectly good sidewalk right there. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, I'm a little remorseful about my (misplaced) ire.

I did enjoy the run though, and plan to do it again. I'll stick to the road rather than the sidewalk, but like others I've seen (and yelled at), I'll obey the rules of the road.

See you on the mean streets.


Later.

Smells Like Mean Spirits.

I'd like to suggest an invention.

(I say suggest because I think it's a great idea, but I don't want to waste my time and energy on developing and marketing it.)

Fabric Softeners for Guys.

I hate static cling, just like any good Canadian boy should. (Fact: Static cling helped the Nazis in WW2.) There's no place for it in my closet, that's for sure.

But using regular dryer sheets make me smell like a sissy. Can't a guy get a dryer sheet that isn't all crammed up with scents like Lavender, Daises and Outdoor Fresh. (How is Outdoor Fresh even a scent? What if you live out by the Sewage Treatment Plant? Does that mean your Outdoor Fresh Sheets smell like shit?)

I like to smell like a man, not like someone spilled a bag of potpourri down my drawers. And that's where I imagine Fabric Sheets for Guys would come in. Think about it:

• Manly guy smells - Bar-B-Que, Dirt, Fresh Cut Grass, Tequila.
  
• Tailored to different levels of activity - New iPod smell, Computer Case smell, Coffee & Newspaper smell.
• Never smell like a flower again!

I believe it's time that someone took this idea and ran with it.

I'd be your greatest customer.




Later.

A Nation Gone Mad.

Canadians as a whole have a pretty laid-back reputation.

We're known as easy-going, polite, and socially responsible.

They should meet us after we've Rolled up the Rim.

Gone is the generous, well-mannered Canadian. In their place lies a bitter, disappointed, ready-to-let-Quebec-take-over, foam-at-the-mouth individual. More Canadians complain about being fucked over by Tim Horton's than they do about our Government. (The two are very much alike - there's a 1:5.9 million chance you'll get something good out of them.)

I'll admit - I've fallen into this trap myself. I'm more pissed about not winning my free coffee than I am about the Foreign policies of the Harper Government. (How sad is that?)

But I still keep going there. I can't help it - and they know that.

Tim Horton's doesn't care. The entire province of B.C. could stop going and they'd still make a profit. (It's all those drones in Ontario who keep the Donut Machine moving along. There's something like a Tim's every 63.5 meters or something like that.) They shipped 17 million cups to B.C. for the contest, and Ontario got 152 million. Seems fair, right? I'm sure some shmuck from Oshawa is going to be happy winning a Toyota Matrix.

But once the contest is over, we can go back to being our lovable, patriotic, trusting selves. There will be no more anger and resentment, and the bitter taste in our mouths will be washed away by a Double Double. (Sweetener - not sugar.)

At least until next year - when our March Madness starts again.


Later.

UnDrafted.

I'll let you in on a secret.

Usually when I blog, it's from some half-baked idea or thought that I've had, and I try to jot it down as soon as possible. I'll even have things pop into my head while I'm writing about something else. (Don't worry, I only keep the good stuff - otherwise you'd just be reading about blowjobs, blowjobs, boobies, and blowjobs.) When that happens, I just set them up in "Draft" mode, and get them later when I can't think of anything to write about.

But I'm all out of drafts.

It's been a busy day - and working, doing the Family Dinner, finishing errands, and putting the kids to bed have left me with no time to formulate a thought worth repeating. I figured I was okay, and that I would reach into "the well" and post about some random thought I had 3 weeks ago.

The well was dry.

I panicked for a moment, and then contained myself.

So instead of wit and revelry, what you get is a post about how I'm unable to post. (Cheap, no?)

Luckily I have a bit of time tomorrow to let my mind wander and hopefully fill up the well again. Otherwise you'll be seeing a lot more posts like this one. ( I could always post the nasty, dirty thoughts - but who wants to read those?)



Later.

In & Out.

I find that there is a real difference between running Indoors and running Outdoors. (Other than the fact that the sun gets in your eyes.)

Having ran 2.5 miles outdoor yesterday and 3.1 (5K) indoors today, I noticed a couple of things:

• When Outside, I didn't have to wait for the fat lady to get off the track before I ran.


• When Inside, I didn't have to wear gloves on my cold hands.


• When Outside, I'm not distracted by the T.V.


• When Inside, I have the T.V to help distract me.


• Women bundle up way more for running Outside - this is not a good thing for a guy as visually-oriented as I am.

I also found that running Outside was much harder. There's such a variety in surfaces that you run on, and not all of them are flat. (When Outside there's no place to hold the water bottle.) Plus it can go from freezing cold to sunny and warm in 2 minutes, meaning that whatever I wore when I left the house is now completely irrelevant.

I like both - the variety of being able to switch between them is going to be great over the next month or so. Rainy days - run inside, great days - run outside. The only catch is that it's so convenient to run on my lunch as the gym is right across the street from work. (Do you think they would be offended if I ran outside and just used their showers?)

The big plus about running Outside is that I might actually get a tan. I hear if you run under the ball of fire in the sky your skin can gradually darken, and not come off in flaming strips like I was lead to believe. That'd be nice.

So the pasty-white guy sweating his sack off running next to the ocean?

Yeah, that would be me.




Later.

Temporarily Demoted.

Tonight I was just a regular guy.

We had doubled-scheduled two of us at work, and being the junior of the two Managers, I preformed the role of The Lackey for the evening.

It was great.

No pressure, no stress, nothing to worry about except doing the simple tasks that have to be done. I didn't have to deal with customers or other staff - no bullshit at all.

It's not like my job is hard -but it's a breeze when you take away any semblance of responsibility except completing assigned tasks. Sure, it's a bit more manual labor than normal, but I can handle that.

Tomorrow I'm back to being me again. It was nice to be one of the proles for a day, but you can't keep a man away from his destiny, right?

But I'll tell you one thing....
I'm going to look at whomever's the Lackey tomorrow night with just a bit of envy.



Later.

Sweet Zombie Jesus!

Today is the day we celebrate the rising of the Undead.

I never thought that one of our most important and ritually significant holidays would also be the one that inspires countess horror films. (Does that mean George Romero is just spreading the word of God?)

Sure, Lazarus was the first zombie, but Jesus helped him - 'ol JC rose from the grave all on his own when it was his time.

When I go, I'd like to come back Eric Draven style - but maybe easing up on the angst just a bit. (With the weight I've lost, I'll look dead sexy in black leather. Get it? Dead Sexy.)

So celebrate Easter any way you want - eat chocolate, go to Mass, or watch Shaun of The Dead (personally, I'd choose the latter) - whatever way you choose to remember a corpse rising from the grave and walking the land of the living is alright by me.

That's what it's all about, right?


Later.

Fleet of Foot.

I'm having an affair.

It's with the treadmill at the gym, and I'm head over heels for it.

In the last two days I've hit a couple of personal milestones on that machine. Yesterday I ran 5K - which I've never done before - with an average min/mile time of 9:13, and today I beat my old personal best average mile by clocking 2 miles at an average of 9:03!

I'm quite happy.

Tomorrow the gym is closed, and I won't be able to see my baby - so I'm going to try something I haven't done in a while. I'm going to run outside. I think I'll head up to the track at Southgate (an elementary school near where I live) and try to do a couple of miles there.

It'll be strange running with no T.V. to look at or no fat guy asking me how much time I have left. Might be nice after all.

I won't forget about my shiny metal baby at the gym, but she'll be there when the holidays are over. I'll take it easy on her once we're back together.

I'm sure she misses me already.


Later.

King Of The Night.

I've just had three days off.

To balance out that wonderment, I go back to work today and work 4 night shifts in 5 days. (I get Easter Sunday off - woo.) Needless to say, my sense of time is going to be all fucked up.

I don't mind the late shifts - I actually enjoy them. But working a bunch in a row just fucks up my internal clock. I find I'm groggy and ill-tempered for my first day shift afterwards.

I'll suck it up though. I'm not a bitch.

See you in the evening, kids.




Later.

Drive Me Crazy.

Today I replaced the busted DVD Burner in my computer.

As technological switch-overs go, it's almost as easy as installing RAM. (Although I know about 15 people who can't even do that.)

Opening up the case is always a joy. Since it's close to Easter, I expected to be attacked by Dust Bunnies as I removed the side panel.

I wasn't disappointed.

I like to think I keep a clean house. There can't possibly be that much dust in the world, let alone my bedroom. (If anyone says the dust in my bedroom is from lack of use, you get a punch in the eye.)

I'd never have one of those computers with the window on the side. Knowing the dust is in there is enough for me, I don't have to watch it pile up. Plus, with my reoccurring OCD, I'd be tying cables off and re-lining the RAM on the motherboard. ("Honey, does that video card look straight to you?")

So I got the drive swapped out, and even did some cleaning up while I was in there. It cracks me up to think that Staples or Future Shop would charge someone around $50 (and take over an hour) to do what took me less than twenty minutes - even with cleaning out all the shit in there.

But the new drive works great, and I can resume my relentless copying and pirating of movies and music backing up of my most important files.

Wink-wink.



Later.

Life Lessons From Charlie Brown.

As I sat and watched "It's The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown" with the kids the other night I realized that Charlie Brown wasn't just a entertaining show for kids - it readied you for life and fucked up your expectations all at the same time.

Preparation for Life:

• It doesn't matter if the football is physical, metaphysical, figurative or symbolic - whatever it is, it'll get yanked out from under you more times than you can imagine.
• Charlie Brown is a loner who is surrounded by friends who don't really like him, but rather pity him behind his back. They expect him to fail, and if by some chance he succeeds it's a "Christmas Miracle". Welcome to the adult workforce - enjoy your stay.
• First impressions are everything - if you look like a bald kid who has worn the same clothes for forty-five years, don't be surprised if people think you are a loser.
• Winning is everything - just ask your teammates when you fuck up at the ball game.
  
• That masculine girl you've met who likes to wear sandals? Yeah, she's gay. Her partner may or may not be named Marcie, but it's all irrelevant, isn't it?

Fucked Up Expectations:

• No pet - be it dog, cat, hamster or bird, will ever be as cool as Snoopy. They won't sleep on top of the dog house, nor will they get you out of trouble if you are stuck in France. Your dog won't understand you, but will tilt it's head quizzically and try to hump your leg.
• When you're eight you get to have adventures with your pet, travel overseas, make your own Christmas pageant, and compete in a river raft race. That shit doesn't happen to eight year-olds - shit, it doesn't even happen to Thirty-Five year olds. (I've always wanted my own pageant.)
• There will always be a security blanket to ease the pain and make it all better.
  
• All moral dilemmas can be cleared up in less than 45 minutes - not including commercials.
• If you don't like the holiday season, make up your own holiday or religious deity. It's okay - people won't think you're a nut. Really.
• Cartoons are able to teach us life lessons. (Charlie never preached this, but many parents believed it.)
  

With all that out there for the kids to absorb and learn from, it's amazing that my generation isn't more fucked up than it is.

Wait - my generation is the one that created Power Rangers & Captain Planet, the one whose general apathy allowed Dubya to be re-elected, and has taken the moral values that allowed our society to thrive and thrown them in the trash.

At least we get to yank the football out from the younger generation.

We got that going for us.




Later.

Retribution.

Last week I did shitty at Poker.

Shitty with a capital S.

Tonight is going to be different.

I've been getting sloppy, and playing an overly aggressive style isn't working for me. I've succumbed to the temptation of playing in a lot of hands instead of only the ones I should be in.

I'm hoping to correct these mistakes tonight.

Poker is a lot like golf - it's the fine tuning and little adjustments that make the biggest changes to your game. Any retard can swing a club or hold cards (I've seen some holding them at our table) but doing it consistently is the mark of a real competitor.

Until then, I'll be in the corner reading my copy of Poker for Dummies.

Wish me luck.



Later.

Disheveled.

I'm a lazy bastard.

I've been home now for three hours, and I'm still in my uniform from work.

After a very long and arduous day, (as Mondays usually are for me.) I just don't feel like expending the energy it would take to undress, pick something out, and wear it for two hours before I take it off to go to bed. What's the point? I'm just creating more laundry.

So my shirt is half undone, my top button is popped, and my belt is askew. If someone were to walk in right now, it would look like I've either just woken up or just finished having sex. ( You have no idea how much I wish it was the latter.)

I'll throw it all in the laundry when I go to bed.


Has anyone seen my tie?



Later.

Missed It By That Much....

I can't believe I missed it.

I totally forgot that March 14th was National Steak & a Blow Job Day. (Trust me, I don't know where my head was at.)

I'm sure I would have remembered had I received either the Steak or the Blow Job, but neither one turned up.

Sure, if I missed Valentine's there would be hell to pay, but when My holiday gets overlooked like it's a non-issue.

Something about that just isn't right.


I didn't even get a pity-steak either.



Later.

Technological Envy.

Today I spent most of my time dealing with computers.

I set up the Boss's new system at his place, transfered all his files over, and then wiped his old system and set it up at the store.

All in all, not a bad way to spend half my day. (I do enjoy the Nerdy stuff.)

But once again I find myself aching for a new system.

And Windows Vista kinda sealed the deal for me.

I liked it.

I know that lots of people hate it, and I myself would not upgrade my system to run it. But on a new machine, it works great. I find it more intuitive than XP, and some of the things just seem to make more sense. (I know that saying a Windows product is intuitive is heresy, but you have to understand, I've never used a Mac.) That, combined with the snappiness and quick response of a just-out-of-the-box machine make me crave newness.

I need to win the lottery - just to support my technological lust.

Is it tacky to have a sign that says "Will have sex with hot chicks for Future Shop cards"?

Maybe just a little....




Later.

No Goat.

My chin is cold.

After having some sort of facial hair for at least 2 years, and a full-on goatee (or van dyke - whatever you call it) for the last four months, my face is now hairless.

If you remember this post, you'll recall I said I was going to shave the goat when I lost Thirty pounds. As of this morning, I've officially lost Thirty-one pounds.

I shaved as soon as I got home.

I still have another 5-6 weeks in this contest, but it's all gravy now. (Figuratively speaking - no gravy for me.) Any more weight that I lose is just a bonus. My dream would be to tone up and lose another 10 to 15 pounds, but I'm happy with myself so far. (The dream will come true.) I still have to finish the contest, and I am "in it to win it".

I'd post a picture of the chin, but right now it's pasty white and cold. I don't want to expose it too much, for fear that it can't take the attention.

But just to let you know: It's as smooth as a baby's ass.




Later.

Dry and Witty.

When I was a young lad, one of the things I enjoyed doing the most was staying up late and watching Dave Allen. He was my introduction to British humor. (Yes, I know he was Irish, but didn't know it at the time.) His views and jokes on the Catholic Church made it impossible for me to ever attend Mass and take it seriously.

Tomorrow is the third anniversary of his death. If I still smoked, I'd light one in his honor.

Thanks for all the laughs, Dave.


Later.

(Attention People: This is the post that I spoke of 2 days ago! I go to check my posts, and Bam! - it's there. Weird.)

Expanded Wardrobe.

One of the benefits of my weight-loss program is that I can reach father back in my closet and wear clothes that I haven't been able to fit into for quite some time.

Sometimes this is a good thing : Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger stuff from years back, old favorite shirts and pants, even shorts from 3 summers ago!

And sometimes it's bad: Where the hell did I ever get Simpsons lounge pants?

It feels good to be able to wear this stuff again. (Not the lounge pants) There is even a pair of jeans (like new) from the Dark Ages that I can almost get in. I haven't worn a 33 or less since just after High School. That's a goal to strive for.

This time it feels better - the diet stuff I tried before didn't seem right. Now that I now how much I have to slog on the treadmill to lose a pound, I'll be thinking twice about that Honey Cruller. (I'll probably still eat it, but only one and I'll hit the gym the next day.)

I'm off to burn those lounge pants before anyone else sees them.

I'll deny they ever existed.




Later.

The Smell Of Commerce In The Morning.

Today the Sidekick and I (with the kids) traveled south and visited our personal mecca - Future Shop.

I could waste about 3 hours in that store and not buy a single thing. (That would drive the clerks crazy.) I just like to look, dream, and occasionally indulge in a new DVD or two.

Today was not to be that day.

You see, my kids aren't as enamored with the 'Shop as I am. They like looking at all the stuff, but with an attention span measured in nanoseconds they get bored easily. Thus most of my time is spent making sure they stay out of trouble and don't destroy anything Daddy can't afford to pay for. Needless to say, not much time is devoted to looking around.

After we left, The Sidekick and I remarked that we'd have to set up a day when we can go to the 'Shop sans kids and/or SO's. (I know it sounds like a date but it's not. - Two grown men setting up a time to go to an electronics store and maybe coffee isn't gay - it may look it, but it isn't. Mmkay?) That way we can devote a reasonable amount of time to browsing and not shortchange ourselves.

Trips to Mecca don't happen every day, right?


It'll be a bittersweet day if our town ever gets a Future Shop. I'll enjoy the convenience, but I think the magic and excitement will not be the same. It won't be a treat, and just be another common occurrence.


And that would be a shame.




Later.

MacGyver Of The Dairy.

There was a calamity in the Dairy Department today.

We had an important piece of equipment, necessary for the operation of the Dairy, break down. People were stunned - they didn't know what to do.

I walked on the scene, appraised the situation, and in 10 minutes had it working again.

What did I use?

2 Paperclips and some Duck Tape.


I'm a fucking genius.

Any Atomic bombs to disarm? All I need is tinfoil and chewing gum.


Anyone?

Hello?




Later.

Missing Post.

I had a post here, did anyone see it?

I blogged from YouTube - a great clip from Dave Allen - and normally it works like a charm.

Today was the Third Anniversary of Dave's Death, and I wanted to honor him by sharing his wit and wisdom with others.

But alas, Blogger fucked up and now you'll have to find it all on your own.


Sucks to be you.

Now I'm off to find that post.....




Later.

Olfactory Relief.

Update from my last post: My legs feel better now.

It's just the head cold that's a bitch.

I woke up this morning and for some reason I could only breathe out of one nostril. The other one was backed up like the Drive-Thru at McDonald's on Welfare Wednesday.

I can deal with a cough, but it's the runny, stuffed up nose that bugs me the most. I tilt my head and I can feel the gunk flowing around in my sinus cavities. (ewwww..)

I do have some slight relief. We got these new tissues with Vicks in them. That's correct people, we've achieved tissue perfection, right here. They work wonders to help open up the nasal passages and catch all the snot as well. Could you ask for anything more from a tissue?

I'm going to beat this cold into submission. I'm medicated, my tea is medicated, and even my fucking tissues are medicated. Between that and cardio tomorrow, I'm going to feel better by Monday - mark my words.

Now watch as I skyhook this tissue into the garbage, Kobe-style.



Later.

Painful Pound.

In an effort to secure my weight-loss contest lead, I pushed myself extra hard this week.

I was also fighting against the evening out that we had - (Thai food is worth the extra sweat.) so I jumped right into the new weight routine we were given. I busted though the upper body sections no problem, and the lower body stuff wasn't that hard either - except for lunges .

(Note: Lunges were invented by Satan as a form of punishment on the lowest level of Hell. They don't even make Hitler do lunges.)

My legs are in pretty good shape right now from all the running I've been doing, and I worked through the sets no problem. I even put some weight into the lunges, just to challenge myself a bit.

Big mistake - my legs were killing me yesterday.
Bigger mistake - I thought a run today would loosen them up, so I did 2.5 miles while I was on my lunch break. They felt really good - until after my run. Right now they feel like tight guitar strings, ready to snap. (Even stretches didn't help.)

The shitty part of all this: When I weighed in this week I only lost one pound. That's the least I've lost since starting this program. A loss is a loss, and I'll take it, but I'm going to bust my ass and make sure that I get better numbers next week. (Thank God almost everyone else tanked too - my lead is still secure.)

I'm taking tomorrow of from the gym, and just doing cardio on Sunday. Hoping the day off will give them a chance to get back to fighting shape.

Until then I'll be alternating between bags of ice and hot showers.

Or is that hot compresses and cold showers?

Whatever - I'll try both.




Later.

Slippery Situation.

All I want is a bar of soap.

I don't want one with lavender, strawberries, chamomile, exfoliates, apricots or whatever the hell else you stick in there. I don't want "essence" of anything - I just want soap.

When I get out of the shower, you know what I like to smell like? Me. I like to smell like me, but cleaner. If I want to smell different, I can always use cologne. Soap shouldn't be about smells - it should be about what gets the dirt off.

Why the hubbub about smells? Well, if my soap smells like lavander, my deodorant smells like "power ice" (whatever that is), and I wear Calvin Klein cologne, what does that make me?

Gay - that's what it makes me.

I just want a soap to make me clean - I can take care of the other smells myself.
(That's what burritos are for.)




Later.

Free The Hostage.

After recently having the opportunity to work on a couple of people's - I've decided I want a laptop.

Wanting and getting are two different things, though.

I'd like the freedom a laptop gives you. I wouldn't mind being able to play Poker & Blog while I'm in the living room. I seems a bit more social than being down the hall, secluded in my room. (If you have to ask how being on a computer is considered social, than you probably shouldn't be reading this Blog.)

I've also noticed that the measliest of laptops currently has more than twice the power of my desktop, even if they are shackled down by Vista. (I'm not a Vista hater, it just seems new and different.) It's not that I need tons of power to do what I do, but if it's there, I'd make use of it.

And darn it, they are just so pretty.

Problem is, every time I feel like spending money on myself, I choke. (This from the guy who waited two years to finally buy an HDTV.) I'm full of wants, but short on fulfilling those needs.

And so the scrimping and saving begins.

Oh look, I found a penny under the sofa.

Only 113,999 to go.




Later.

Dear Jeans Guy:

You're a mystery to me.

Almost every time I'm at the gym, you are there. Why do I notice you? Because of all the people in the place, you are the only one who works out in denim. Most others go for comfortable, breathable fabrics - but not you. You're a rebel.

At first I thought you were just some guy who was checking out the place to see if he likes it, but you kept showing up day after day to work out in your jeans. (If you can afford the membership, you can afford sweatpants.) As I run on the treadmill and see you pull up in your Trailer-Trash-busted-up 4x4, I wonder if today will be the day that you ditch the jeans. Then I see you work out, leave without showering, (ewww) and light up a smoke before you peel away from the parking lot.


I'll correct myself: You're not a mystery - you're an idiot.

And I feel dumber for having wasted my brain on pondering your existence.



Later.

Right Next To Godliness.

There's a guy in Toronto who has invented a device to remind Nurses and Doctors to wash their hands.

That scares me.

Not that the device was created, but that it's needed at all.

I don't know about you, but I expect my Nurses and Doctors to be clean and tidy. I don't want the woman who sponge-bathed Mr. Johnson's balls to forget to wash her hands and then hand me my oral thermometer. I hope that my Doctor wasn't just scratching his ass before he has to check anything involving mine.

Now I'm questioning past medical procedures. I don't recall seeing my Doctor wash up before he did my vasectomy. Mind you, I was freezing cold with my junk hanging out, so I wasn't paying attention. I'd just like to take it on faith that he did.

But from now on, I'll be watching, that's for sure.

"Turn my head and cough? Not until you've washed those grimy mitts, Doc."




Later.

Zzzzzzzzz......

I need sleep.

Between work and working out, I'm getting a little tired.

I think an early night will be what I need to recharge my batteries.

Tomorrow I shall bound out of bed, full of energy to start my day.

You all believe that, right?

I thought so.





Later.

Food For Thought.

This commercial is so funny and yet oddly disturbing.

I think that's why I like it.

Fancy a bite, anyone?



Later.

The Way I See It...

• Starbucks should go back to having witty, pithy sayings on their cups - rather than the self righteous, politically correct crap that I have to read when I'm enjoying my Skinny Latte.
• They should also hire Baristas who are able to stay away from the biscotti and macadamia cookies - the ones at my local Starbucks are obviously having trouble with this.
• Kids should not be allowed in Starbucks. Tonight the Sidekick and I had to listen to some kid screech it's head off while the parents sipped their Grande, 5-pump, no foam, no water, extra hot Tazo Chai Latte. I have kids, and even I wanted to smack them.
  

But damn, it's good coffee.



Later.

"Just One More Question..."

I'm not a huge fan of surveys.

I get invites from my phone company, my credit cards, my bank, and many others to participate in the picking of my brain, hoping they can glean out what makes me do the things that I do.

Good Fucking Luck.

I never answer phone surveys, but every once in a while I'll participate in an online one. Sometimes I like to fuck with the system and answer a survey like I was someone else.

I just answered a Telus survey like I was a young drag queen.

I told them I don't care what time of day the repairman comes by, as long as he's wearing those tight denim shorts. I said the most important scheduling aspect of any repair service was the astrological alignment of the plants Jupiter and Uranus. I also sid I made all my cellular choices based on what my cat says.

I hope they get a lot of useful information from all that.

Worse case scenario is that some gay guy from Telus looks me up for "follow up information."

Then I'll just give them The Sidekick's name.



Later.

CM

900 Posts.

That's got to work out to at least:

• 2250 spelling or grammatical errors. (Thanks Spellcheck, - and Bish)
• 536 shitty Posts.
• 63 mediocre Posts. (Talking about clouds, or shit like that.)
  
• 17 Posts where I was too lazy to come up with anything, so I threw up something from YouTube instead.
• 4 serious Posts. (Because the Internet is serious business.)
• 32 Posts about food, beverages, thoughts on food or beverages, wishing I had food or beverages... you get the idea.
• 11 Posts where I mention my penis. (Believe me, I checked.)
• 37 Posts where I bitch about work, working, the people at work, or any combination thereof.
• 29 Posts where it seems that the Hetro-Life Mate and I are more than just "friends."
• 14 Posts about Movies. It didn't have to be something spectacular - just fanboy gushing, mostly. Lord knows I wouldn't write about something cultural.
• 42 Posts that have suggestive sexual overtones, or I blatantly state how horny I am.
• 41 Posts that made sense at the time, but looking back I have no idea what I was talking about.
• 23 Posts that were complete in-jokes, and only two of you understood.
• 15 Posts that I've removed for sensitive, personal reasons.
  
• 8 Posts where I talked about hitting milestones. (100 posts, 200 Posts, etc.)
  
• 7 Posts that rambled nowhere and didn't make any sense.
• 6 Posts that made you laugh and chuckle.
• 5 Posts that were totally about bobbies - but didn't seem like it at the time.
• 4 Posts that were comedic gold, and overlooked by the Academy
• 3 Posts where I showed my charming, intellectual side.
• 2 Posts about something relevant - politics or news. It wasn't informed or opinionated, just what I thought at the time.
• This Post.
  
• .

That about sums it up, eh?



Later.