Closet Hero.

As I've stated before, I'm on my way to Rock Stardom.

I'm rippin', shreddin', and rockin' out with the best of them. There's just one issue - I look like an idiot while I'm doing it.

This normally wouldn't be a problem, but my TV is in my living room, which is at the front of my house, which has a big-ass window that looks right out onto the street. Anyone walking by can look in and see me wailin' on my Whammy Bar. (That's not as dirty as it sounds.)

The only way around this?

I play Guitar Hero with the curtains closed - to hide my shame.

In time, I will emerge from my cocoon and take my rightful place in the pantheon of Guitar Gods. Until I can learn to hammer on without having my tongue clenched in-between my teeth, I'll have to wait. (It'll be a bit - I'm having trouble with a song by Slayer.)

So if you walk by a house and the curtains are closed, yet the grinding sounds of Rock N' Roll are impossible to ignore, just smile and nod - you'll know what's going on back there.




Later.

Can't Take No For An Answer.

I think I do pretty well as a parent. I can handle it all - sickness, injury, hunger, vampires - you name it. But the biggest enemy I have is Perceived Necessity.

Basically, it's sorting out the stuff my kids need from the stuff they just think they need. I can provide a peanut-butter sandwich no problem, but try to convince them they need that instead of the latest Optimus Prime Mega-super-set.

The oldest Boy is the worse. He just doesn't see "no" as being the end of the conversation. He will try to negotiate, stall, suggest, and outright bribe to get what he wants.

At worst, he just keeps asking every five minutes. (And that's the tactic that drives me nuts the most.) I just can't get him to understand that if I said "no" the last 12 times, what makes number 13 so special? He thinks that by asking me over and over it shows how much he "needs" to have what he wants.

That's twisted.

I've tried everything - time outs, time ins, listening to The Stones "You Can't Always Get What You Want" - and it slowly seems to be working. (He gets his tenacity from his Dad - if it was plain 'ol stubbornness, I'd point to the maternal side of the equation.) But every once in a while it pops up again, and the battle ensues once more.

The reassuring thing?


I win at least 45% of the time.




Later.

Bob Villa Can Lick My Balls.

(Not that I'd want him to - that beard would itch.)

Today I was a domestic machine.

I started the day off by fixing a toilet, edging the lawn, weed eating, mowing front and back yards, and finished of with pressure-washing my entryway and driveway.

Did I mention I had the kids with me the whole day? (Juggle that, bitches.) That's got to be worth extra points somehow.

Finish that off with cleaning the kitchen, doing the dishes, and cooking dinner - it means I don't feel guilty about not going to the gym tonight. (I still would have rather been there.) I have to go back to work tomorrow just to rest.

Yes, I'm that hardcore.

Aren't you proud of me?

I thought so.




Later.

And I Thought Jeans Guy Was Bad...

You'll all remember this guy.

Well, I think I found his Wife.


I was looking to change my cellphone account - upgrade from pay&talk to a shared plan - so I went down to my carrier's store to inquire about my options.

I go in with The Boys, and out from the back comes one of the surliest people I've ever met. She's about 25, very pregnant, and in the foulest of moods. I chalk up the irateness to the fetus within and tell her what I'm looking for and ask what my options are. I think I had interrupted her on her way to her break, so I figured that played a part in her demeanour as well.

She rolls her eyes at me and proceeds to point at the chart on the wall behind her, as if by some miracle I'm supposed to discover what I need amongst the formulaic writing crammed into a postage-stamp sized space. When I enquire if the term comes with a new phone, she slams two models on the counter and just looks at me.

(You have to understand - I'm not an annoying customer - I ask clear questions and am always polite - so her hostility has me somewhat surprised.)

I thanks her for her time and tell her I might be back later. She grunts and heads to the back room. The Boys and I leave.

I'm parked across from the store, and as I'm putting the youngest one in his carseat, I see Miss Sunshine come out the entrance. She's on a mission, and is moving mighty fast - to the smoking area. Yeah, that's right. I even see her light up and puff away as she's making the last few steps there.

I guess the break I was interrupting was the one her and her unborn child were going to have.


You know, if I don't understand the motivations of a guy who wears jeans to the gym, I'm sure as hell not going to understand the motivations behind a woman who smokes while pregnant. As a reformed smoker, I'm really lenient with those who do smoke, (It's your lungs, do what you want.) but even I know that there's sometimes when you just shouldn't smoke - and the nine months of pregnancy seems to fall in that category, right behind playing in a puddle of gas.


In case you were wondering, I didn't change my cell plan after all.




Later

Greased Lightin'

New shoes make a world of difference.

See those babies to the right? Those are what you'll see on my feet next time to catch me running. I shouldn't say see, precisely, because I'll be moving so fast you'll just see a blue/white blur.

Running in these on makes it seem like I was running with lead weights on my feet. Heated lead weights. The airflow and weight on them is remarkable. The extra cushioning is great. (That's to say that there is cushioning - my last pair had virtually none.)

When I ran today, the only thing that prevented me from going father and longer was myself, not my feet. That's the biggest change.

I can't wait to run some more in them - I'm sure that once I finish breaking them in, they'll be even better.



Catch me if you can.




Later.

Just Doing My Job.

The amount of praise and presents one gets for having unprotected sex is amazing.

Today I had waffles for breakfast, (Homemade, not toaster.) cards from the kids, and Guitar Hero 3 waiting in the Living Room when I got out of the shower. Did I also mention the kids let me sleep until 7:15? (That's almost a record.)

You know, all this really isn't necessary. I love being a Dad, no matter how much they may annoy or frustrate me. The presents are a plus, but the real cool part is knowing one of my kids can recite the entire membership of the Justice League, and the other one has almost stopped crapping in his pants. (I say almost 'cause it's a work in progress.)

That day can't come soon enough.


To all the Dads celebrating this day: Happy Father's Day. (That includes you, Pops.)

And to all the don't-wanna-be Dads: Wrap that shit up tight.


Later

No Time

It's Poker Night, I just got home from work, and people will be here in 20 minutes.


You're not really expecting a post, are you?


I didn't think so.


Thanks - I'll make it up, I swear.



Later.

Camera Shy.

So yesterday I bought a webcam.

I need it so that the kids can talk to their Grandparents when they go on their trek across Canada. I'll be cool that they'll be able to see them, and not just have to get by with regular phone conversations.

I hate it.

I'm not a real fan of having my picture taken. I was at one time, but not anymore. You will probably never see a profile picture in the upper right of the blog. (Unless I lose another ten or fifteen pounds - then it'll be a picture of my six-pack.)

I just never look good in pictures. You know that guy, who in every photo is either blinking, yawning, sneezing, has his neck angled weirdly, or is looking anywhere but the camera? That's me. I may think I'm taking a good picture, but it doesn't ever turn out that way.

(The picture in my mind? Chiseled good looks. The reality? I look like a polar bear slathered in bacon fat.)

I look drunk in every picture - even when I'm sober.
(And contrary to popular belief, I'm not a pretty drunk.)

Using the webcam will be a cinch - I'll place the kids in front, and hide behind them while it's in use. That's all it'll be used for. It's not like I'm going to host streaming video on YouTube of me blogging at my desk. (Riveting as that may be.)

And the day I break down and post my face on the web? You'll know that's a sad day indeed.





Later.

Fashionista.

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

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



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




Later.

Horticulturally Inadequate

Your Lawn is more than just grass.

The way your lawn looks, and is kept, says a lot about who you are and how you present yourself to the world.

Right now, my lawn says that I'm a lazy-ass piece of shit who couldn't care what the rest of the neighborhood had to say.

(Actually, it's not that bad.)

I haven't really had the time to devote to my lawn like I have in past years. I've only been able to mow and weed-whack, and that's about it. No fertilizer, no weed& feed, and I haven't even touched my side lot where the weeds are getting nasty.

So basically it looks the shits.

It's still about average for my area, it's just that I have high expectations. Thank God for the rental house down the street, and the scuzzy house across from them. If they weren't around, I'd feel even guiltier about my lawn. But next to four foot high grass and toys strewn all over, my lawn looks like something the PGA should be playing on.

Tomorrow's my day off, so some portion of the day will be devoted to the yard. I'll do what I can, and just keep plugging away at it. (I'm thinking about going for a Rock Lawn, or maybe Astro turf - whaddaya think?




Later.

Teeing Up My Balls.

By the time you read this, I'll be on the links.

One of the Reps we deal with is taking me and a couple of guys out golfing at one of the swankier courses around here. Everything is included - carts, booze, dinner - you name it.

I like it when I get to go out like this. It allows me to play courses I wouldn't normally be able to afford. And anytime someone is feeding me free booze, it's a good thing.

So I'll have to change my previous statement:

By the time you read this, i'll be on the links, and hammered out of my mind.

There, that's better.

Wish me luck - I just might need it.



Later.

One Thousand.

One Thousand.

That's a pretty big number.

It's taken me just over three years to reach a Thousand posts. That's a lot of words pouring out of my brain. (Let me tell you, the Google spellchecker's been working overtime lately.)

I always envisioned reaching this milestone. I thought that once I hit it, I would have an epiphany, and the Blogging heavens would open up before me and show me the way.

As I type this, I can tell you my monitor still looks the same.

Maybe post 1001 .......


Later.

Child's Play.

Skipping Rope is hard.

Not the act itself (I'm coordinated enough to pull it off), but the energy it takes to do it continually over a given length of time.

I was looking to get some cardio in today, and I thought I'd try jumping rope. The Sidekick and I have tried it a couple of times at the gym, and it gives you a good increase in your heart rate between sets.

I headed out to the garage and started spinning. As a kid, I remember jumping rope and still being able to play on the monkey bars, run some plays in touch football, and still have a little left over for pulling the pigtails of cute little girls. Of course you never count how many times you skipped, you just did it until it got boring. (Which for me was probably less than 5 minutes.)

I skipped 1100 times tonight, and I'm exhausted. My calves are burning. I don't remember sweating while jumping rope as a child, but there's a small puddle in my garage that says it happens.

I guess it goes to show that even though I still feel like a kid, I can't really preform like one anymore. (But I'll give it my best shot.)

Next time I see some kids doing Double Dutch, I'm going to stop and ask for tips.




Later.

I Feel....

1. That the guy on the Radio is a complete idiot. If you say that "Touch of Grey" is your favorite Grateful Dead song, it really means it's the only Grateful Dead song you know.



2. Forget the protein shakes and supplements - the greatest thing after a hard workout is a Timmy's XL 2 Cream, 2 Sweetener. Start your day off right, dammit.


3. That my ideal job would be just walking around the store and bulshitting with people. Either that or Porn.



4. That sometimes I don't eat enough roughage.
5. That pretty soon I'll be taking a gas can and siphon tube with me on my morning jog. Stealing other peoples gas reduces my carbon footprint, right?



6. That when I wake up feeling like I've slept in late, only to see that it's actually 7am, means I'm either getting up way too early on my gym days, or else I'm still asleep and soon my dream will involve clowns dancing naked.



7. That the less I physically look like Mike Matusow, the more my Poker luck seems to echo his. (How many rivers can one man take?)



8. That running on the Treadmill comes in three stages: Why the hell am I doing this; This feels great, I should do it more often; and When the fuck can I get off this thing?



9. That Peanut Butter should be it's own food group. Healthy or unhealthy, that shit's amazing.



10. That trying to come up with Ten interesting things to say is harder than it looks. Try it sometime. (And yes, complaining about my lack of roughage is interesting. You're reading about it, right?)
    

Later.

Time Flies.

Whoever said "Time flies when you're having fun" was obviously full of shit.

I was having a shitty day today and it still flew by.

I always find that if I have to have everything done by a certain time ( say a half hour earlier than usual), then time seems to run away from me. Things that would normally take 20 minutes to do suddenly take 45. Delays and needless interruptions continually pop up.

(What's that? You want to send a fax? Too bad - the lines tied up. Oh - now the paper's jammed - and there's a busy signal....sucks to be you.)

That's pretty much how my day at work went today.

It would be easier to accept if I was off work tomorrow, but I have to go in and cover the afternoon for someone who is sick. (I'm going to quote my good friend Mr. Hicks - "I'm not even supposed to be here today!") At least I won't be rushed to go anywhere.

I'm sure because I don't really want to be there that time will be a bitch and crawl forward, every second stretching out into eternity...

Oh yeah, it'll be great.




Later.

Dr. Tran, Again.

Because I have Poker tonight, you get to enjoy the magic of Dr. Tran once more.

Although not as funny as my previous posting, this one did cause me to shoot milk out my nose.

Enjoy.





Wish me luck with the cards tonight.



Later.

Shia LeBeouf Is Living My Dream.

Just got back from seeing Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull with The Sidekick - good movie - I'd rate it above Temple, but below Raiders and Last Crusade. For a child of my generation, it was great just to see Indy one last time.

Speaking of my generation, how unfair is it that some kid who's 15 years younger than me gets to be in all the movies I ever dreamed of being a part of? I would have jumped at a chance to be in Transformers, and I certainly would have made a better sidekick than Short Round. ("No worries, Doctor Jones - there's always time for Love.")

This punk LeBeouf is getting all the dream jobs.

And it gets worse.

I checked out IMDB, and it turns out that he's been in stuff that I would have given my left testicle to be in. (And that was even before the surgery.) Check it out:

• Animated Movie: Surf's Up - sure, it sucked, but hey- cartoons.
• Hitchcock Remake: Disturbia
• Comic Book Movie: Constantine
• Asimov Future Movie: I, Robot
• Mindless Action Movie: Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle
• Sci Fi TV Show: The X Files (One episode, but that's one more than I've been in.)

Just to be fair, he's also been in a lot of crap I wouldn't be caught dead watching, never mind being in.

Still, he's the guy living out my childhood fantasies. Thank God he's not cast for a role in The G.I. Joe movie - I would have to eat my liver out of jealousy. (Really I would make a great General Hawk or Duke.)

Now if I could only super-impose me over him when Crystal Skull comes out on DVD - then I just might have to rate it above Raiders.

We'll see.



Later

Welcome Back, Dr. Tran.

I recently found this at a forum I visit, and fell in love all over again.

Dr. Tran is the shit.

There's more at YouTube, but I just thought I'd post the one I liked the most.

Enjoy.







Later.

Dis-Connected.

Blogger was pissing me off this morning.

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

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

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

Nope.

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

Blame Blogger for your loss.

I know I am.




Later.

Whackin' My Weeds.

Today I armed myself and kicked Mother Nature right in the.... well, you know where.

I've been meaning to tackle some yard work recently, and I've finally gotten my shit together and just done it. I had to pick up some line for my whacker, but once that was done, I was set.

I jumped into the backyard and charged at that bush with everything I had. I flailed my whacker around like a man with a purpose. I wasn't going to stop 'till the job was done or I collapsed from exhaustion, whichever came first. At first I thought I couldn't handle it, but then I got my whacker under control and things fell into place. You know, once you get into a rhythm, it pretty much takes care of itself.

(Please try to ignore all of the obvious sexual innuendo in the previous paragraph. You didn't see it? What the hell are you reading this for?!)

After I was done I cleaned up my whacker, put it away in my garage, and went about with the rest of my day. I'll have to whack it again later in the week, but it's good to get it done anyway - gives one a sense of accomplishment.

I'm enjoying the yard work a lot more - I try to view it as exercise for my weight loss, and not as a chore to be dreaded. Seems to work for me. (It beats doing Squats, that's for sure.)

Who knows - this year I may even get a tan.

(Lets not push it - I'm still whiter than Casper.)




Later.

Overkill.

Yesterday I was mildly retarded.

You see, I went to the gym with The Sidekick, as per usual, and for the warm up we ran about 1.5 miles. We then proceeded to kill ourselves doing our upper body set.

(As we were leaving the gym, I had a guy I work with ask me if I want to come back at lunch and do some more running. Since I now think I'm immortal - I said yes.)

I go to work, and it's a total clusterfuck - the order for my section was inadvertently doubled, and I had to work and stack it all in an organized manner. (Picture lifting 16 pounds from the floor to about 6 feet high - now picture doing it 250 times.) Needless to say, my arms and calves were sore from the lifting and such.

What's a guy to do to relax after that? Oh yeah - go to the gym for lunch, where I proceed to run just over 4 miles in 35 minutes. (Did I mention I was immortal now?) My calf started to cramp a bit near the end, but I'm tough and slugged it out.

Work was okay when I got back, just a lot of running around and restocking- nothing I can't handle. I'm already thinking about relaxing when I get home. I could hear my couch calling to me....

Nope.

After dinner I come up with the great idea of taking the kids to the park - where we proceed to play soccer and try to fly a kite. What do those to things have in common? Right - running. (Yay calves!)

So of course my calves ache today.

Luckily it's my day off from the gym.

I'll just do a little bit of yard work, and if the kids move faster than a brisk walk I'll tell em to slow down.

However Sunday I'm immortal again, so of course I'll be back at the gym. I think all this testosterone is affecting my brain.

But it's worth it - Oh God is it worth it.



Later.

Page Turner.

What does it say about me, that I look forward to the new issues of Men's Health like I used to look forward to new issues of Maxim?

(In a totally non-gay way of course.)

I find that Men's Health is tailored more towards guys my age, maybe a bit younger. Maxim is just focused on guys who want to get pussy. (Yes, I do still glance at Maxim - old habits are hard to break.)

The tips and routines in MH are things that I've actually used - different things to eat, exercises to try at the gym, and other stuff. It's a good read and I enjoy it.

Plus, I don't' feel like a scuzzball when I take it up to the register.

That's probably the biggest change of all.




Later.

Mountains & Molehills.

It's not that I hate laundry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone send a Sherpa.




Later.

Lounge Lizards & Lat Pulldowns.

The hardest part of my morning wasn't the Treadmill.

The hardest part of my morning wasn't doing Ab workouts on the mats..

The hardest part of my morning wasn't the fifteen sets of Leg exercises The Sidekick and I did.

The hardest part of my morning wasn't listening to the guy beside us grunt like a mule while he was doing Deadlifts.


The hardest part of my morning was listening to the same guy sing along to whatever Nickelback or Default song was playing on the Gym's satellite radio. Seriously, dude, I can take the grunts and all (it is a gym) but singing along? Really?

I hope this guy isn't going to be one of the morning regulars - if he is I'm going to have to look into some type of ear protection.

At my old gym I had the visual disturbance of Jeans Guy - this one has the audible distraction of the guy I'm now going to call The Crooner.

Can't a guy just work out in peace?





Later.

Bless You, uTorrent.

I just downloaded an entire album in less than nine minutes.

(Of course I own the psychical CD, and this is only a backup copy - fair use, right?) Wink wink, nudge nudge.

Talk about instant gratification.

If only life were as reliable as uTorrent - I would have had six-pack abs ages ago.



Later.

Great As A Cup Size...

Lousy for an age.

Thirty-Six.

Today is my Thirty-Sixth Birthday.

I'm officially closer to Forty than I am to Thirty. Sad, right? (Inside I feel 25, and always will, I guess.) The weird thing is that right now, at this age, I'm in better shape than I have been since my younger years. So technically, like a fine wine, I've improved with age.

I'm going to try and enjoy this one. I work today, which isn't bad, and dinner followed by Poker tonight will round out my evening nicely. (I haven't mastered The Sidekick's ability to turn a Birthday into a three-day weekend - I'm not sure how he does it, but I'll give it a shot next year.)

I'd like to say I'm wiser now, but you'd all know that that's a lie, so I won't even try. I'm something, that's for sure, but I don't know what.


Oh yeah, older - I forgot.




Later.

A Steaming Cup Of Tranquility.

I didn't go home for lunch today.

Instead I strolled next door, got a coffee (Venti Skinny No-Sugar Vanilla Latte)and a newspaper, stepped onto the patio area, and read my paper in the sun.

It's the most awesome thing ever.

(For those of you who think drinking coffee in this weather is crazy, you can kiss my ass - I'll drink coffee when I'm in the burning pits of hell.)

There is something inherently relaxing about coffee & the paper - a sense that all is right with the world. (Even though you are reading something that tells you everything is clearly not right at all.)

Whatever - it was the most relaxing part of my week I think.

I should schedule coffe-paper-sunlit patio-days more often.

It'll be good for me.




Later.

God Damn Kids.

Canadian Talent and Ingenuity at it's finest.

I've been a fan of Sam Roberts since I first stumbled across them. They have a unique sound, and one of the only times I've listened to French in song and liked it. (Listen to "No Sleep" if you don't know what I'm talking about.)

I really liked the follow-up album, Chemical City, but I don't think that people were ready for the more experimental sound that album had. With the new release, Love At The End Of The World, they get back to the sounds and energy of the first outing, and it's all good.

The Video for Them Kids is great - I've played The Sims (albeit briefly) and it was never as cool as this. (Was Canadian Rock Star even an available profession?) My Sims usually went swimming and died when I removed the ladder from the pool - either that or perished in a house fire while cooking dinner.)

Check out the video and the album - they're both great.



Later.

Female Problems

Work tonight was a joy. (Sarcastically speaking.)

Almost half the way through the evening, one of my cashiers starts crying uncontrollably in the coffee room. One of the other girls calls me , and I go to see what's wrong - she's doubled over, bawling and it's hard to understand her.

I'm expecting a medical emergency, something akin to a ruptured appendix or gunshot wound.


- She tells me she has cramps. Really, really, really bad cramps.


As a man, it's hard for me wrap my head around that. If it was a guy, I'd tell him to do another lap and walk it off - but obviously that won't work in this case.

What's the proper way to deal with that? I can't say I understand her pain as I've never ovulated before. The only thing I can do is say "Okay" and ask her what I can do.

I did the best I could for her, and had someone cover for her for the rest of the night. I called back later and her mom had taken her to the Doctor to get her checked out. It's not all good, but she's better now.

I still think jogging a lap and maybe icing it down was the way to go, but hey - I'm no Doctor.




Later.

Running With The Devil.

The Sidekick and I had our first day at the gym together.

Did some cardio, hit the weights for a while, and still made it to Timmy's for coffee after. (What? You've got to have some reward at the end, right?)

It's good to have someone there who understands a Kevin Smith punchline when they hear it.

He did well for a first timer. It is easy to forget how difficult it is to get something like this started, but amazing how fast your body can adapt. It'll be good for me as well - to have another person to keep me on track and focused on my goals. (There's no way in hell I'm going to let him be able to do more pull-ups than me.)

We're going to do cardio tomorrow, and then hit legs on Sunday.

I'll make sure he can still walk after, don't worry.

You know, we should try to get Tim Hortons to carry a protein shake - they are right across the street from the gym after all. Could you imagine a Honey Cruller - flavored protein shake?

I know it's sad - but I think I can.



Later.

Who's The Ugly Guy In Your Wallet?

I have to renew my Driver's Licence .

My Birthday is coming up soon, and it's been five years since I last renewed, meaning the plastic card I carry now will no longer be valid. (It also means the Government gets to take $75 of my hard-earned money, but that's another story.)

I actually can't wait to get an new licence - I hate the one I have now.

Driver's photos are never the most glamorous ones - but mine's nasty. I look like I just finished eating a small child and there appears to be at least one extra chin that I didn't know was there. On top of that, my hair's the shits 'cause I wore my hat, and you have to take it off for the photo.

Oh yeah - I'm a looker - that's for sure.

This time I'm around 20-25 pounds lighter, the chin appears to be gone, and I'll make sure not to wear the hat until after the picture. I want a licence I'm proud to show people - not one that's likely to get me charged with assaulting an officer if I hand it over at a traffic stop. (My gnarly photo being the weapon in question.)

Think they let me pose for a couple?

Or should I bring in my own - Glamour Shots, maybe?

Doesn't really matter, it'll be better than what I have now.




Later.

Spam Boy Must Die.

Thank you, Sumarno.

Thanks for being the type of tool that would spam my blog. I go through all the trouble of pouring my feelings out on the keyboard, and you go and use it as an introduction to your crappy porn blog.

It's not even good porn - I only looked through six or seven pages, not even 25 minutes worth, really. Is that the kind of traffic you want? Sure - you probably get more hits than me - but what would people rather see, supple, tanned young women exposing themselves or the ramblings of a man in mid-midlife crisis?


I think we all know the question to that.

I'll be nice and leave your link in the comment section - just to show no hard feelings. (I mean, you had to take the time to bypass Bloggers Word Verification - the strongest fail-safe known to man - you at least deserve something, right?)


But seriously, go peddle your smut somewhere else. I don't need your help finding porn.




Later.

Easy Like Monday Morning.

This morning was great.

I got up at 6:15, and had my shoes on and was out the door in five minutes flat. The sky was overcast, it was a little cool, and the moisture from last night's rains hung in the air like a curtain.

Great running weather.

I headed out down the road, avoiding the scattered piles of dog shit by my neighbor's lawn, and wound my way towards my destination: The Sportsplex. (It's a fair distance from my place, and is a good middle point in my circuit.)

As I rounded into the parking lot, everything was as I wanted it - no people, no cars, not a soul in sight. I pulled a note from the Rocky handbook, and sprinted up and down the stairs ten times as fast as I could. (I looked like an idiot - hence my desire for no one to be around.)

When I was done, I casually retraced my steps home, getting a little sprint in now and then.

I like running in the morning, be it at the gym or outside. I wish my area was a little more rural, as right now I have to drive to get to any wooded areas to run, and I'd really like to try some trail running.

But I'll take what I can get, and enjoy my time in the morning.

It was a shame that I had to ruin such as positive moment by going into work. Ah well, what can you do?



Later.

Lack Of Motivation.

I have a problem.

Some days I'm just lazy.

Case in Point:

Last night, after playing some Hockey on the 'ol Xbox 360, I flick through the channels and check out what's on. What do I see? Sin City. It's a favorite, and just started, so I think I'll watch for a bit.

It was good, but I kept getting annoyed with the commercials and the quality of the picture (Non HD). So What did I do?

Nothing.

I could have got off the couch, walked the 4 feet to the DVD rack, pulled out my copy of Sin City and put it in my upconverting DVD player - I would have had an excellent movie, commercial-free and in great quality.

But nope - I kept my lazy ass glued to the couch and suffered through pointless commercials. How sad is that?


It's not that that's a one-time occurrence - this has happened before. I'll suffer through shitty edits, commercial breaks, censored dubbing, whatever - even if I have a perfectly good copy right there.

It's a conundrum - that's for sure - and I should do something about it.

But maybe later - I think The Matrix is starting on TBS.
This should be good.




Later.

Shameful 80's

Oh my God.

The Radio station at work is having a "All 80's" Long Weekend. As painful as it sounds, I've found myself humming along and tapping my foot to the beat as I go about my day.

You see, in between all the shitty 80's tracks they are playing, (Don't Worry - Be Happy, Girls Just Want To Have Fun, etc.) They're playing some of the music that I actually grew up with and listened to at the time. It's hard not to rock out when you get to listen to this:



Or this:



And I'll admit, I even choked up when I heard this:




I know, me saying something positive about the radio at work is a sign of the Apocalypse or something, but it's not actually that bad. I daresay it's been enjoyable. There is one slight drawback though - I find myself yearning for big hair and tight leather pants. I think it'll pass after the weekend, right?

I hope so.

So if you are in the store, and see some guy rockin' out his air guitar down Aisle 4, don't worry - it's just me reliving my youth.




Later.

3 Things I Hate....

...About the May Long Weekend.

1. The Panic - It's the first nice long weekend of the year, and everybody and their dog is running around like mad, trying to get organized so they can charge out to a campsite with 200 other assholes who are also hurrying to get to the same campsite. The dazed, half-crazed look you see in some people's eyes? That just means they're enjoying their long weekend.



2. The Heat - Not that I don't like hot, but going from rainy and cool to scorching in one day seems a might odd. I hate breaking out in a sweat just from blinking.



3. Assholes - Assholes are two types of people - those who come up to me at work and ask me if I'm going away for the weekend, then feign insincerity when I tell them I'm working - And those who come up to me, ask "Hot enough for ya?" (when I'm indoors) and then tell me how great it is outside and start to describe what I'm missing. I'd like to stab those fuckers with a plastic spoon.

Thank God it's only a weekend - I think I can make it through without causing harm to myself or others.


But I'm not guaranteeing anything.




Later.

Late Nights & Early Mornings.

Yesterday was great.

I went to the gym, had a great day with the kids (That means no fighting and they listened), and got invited out for a for a free round of golf (and beers) at a great golf course.

After the round, we went to the pub for a bit, I enjoyed more beer and some yummy Yam Fries and headed home.

That's when all hell broke loose.

You see, I got home and everything was great. I played some Poker online - I was too wired to sleep - and then went to bed at about midnight. About 30 minutes later, The Boy started coughing.

He's had a slight nighttime cough for a couple of days - nothing a lozenge or some cough syrup doesn't rectify. I got up and checked on him, and his cough seemed worse than usual. I stayed with him and tried to comfort him and get him to sleep.

We were up until about 4:30 this morning. From then until 6:30 we got about 20-25 minutes of sleep at a time without him coughing.

And at 6:30? My other Boy woke up.

Bye-bye sleep, nice knowing you.

After numerous coffees for me, and a trip to the Doctor for The Boy, I find out he's got Pneumonia. (No need to panic, we caught it early.) I've been keeping him comfortable all day, but with the cough and just not feeling well, he hasn't rested or slept at all.

And I haven't either.

Tonight will be an early night for all of us, I think, and I'm hoping that The Boy (and Myself) can get the rest we need.


Must be God's way of punishing me for having a great golf game. (Karma's a bitch.)




Later.

New Gym.

My gym is moving, and will be closed for about a month or so.

For the last two days, I've been working out at a different place.

It's nice, and I do like the fact that they have about 4x the cardio equipment of my old gym. There are a bunch of new machines that I've never seen before, and it's cool to try something different.

This new place has the reputation of being the "Roid Ragers gym, but I've only seen one or two big guys and they seem alright to me. (Nobody's offered to inject anything into my ass, so I'm happy with that.)

I'll get a month pass, just until the old place is open again.

It's good to try something different, and to step out of the comfort zone that I had at my gym. It'll be good for me.


See you on the treadmill.





Later.

American Idol Must Die.

As I type this, American Idol is on in the other room.

I find it painful to overhear, forget about watching it.

Yes, I'll admit - I watched the first season, and have seen bits from season 2. After that I just couldn't stand to be around when it came on.

I don't like it's influence on music. That crap you hear on the radio? It's not like American Idol is doing anything to change that - they aren't looking for anyone new or different. They aren't even searching for the Next Big Thing - just the Next Thing. And talk about covering your bases. They had the Pop/Rock Girl win first, and then followed it with a Country Chick, Soulful Guy, Soulful White Guy, and countless other cookie-cutter personalities and talents.

And the public eats it up.

I don't blame the producers, they're milking this cash cow for as much and as long as they can. I blame the millions of people who watch and phone and keep this shit, and the crap that comes from it, on the air and on my TV. The fact that they take sometimes classic songs, butcher the arrangement and saccharinate it only adds to my displeasure.

I say we wait until the finale and nuke it from orbit. Tell Dubya that Osama's in attendance and he'll gladly push the button. (Although a nuke is too quick for Ryan Seacrest. He should somehow suffer more, if possible.)



Later.

Tastefully Distracting.

I watched 1:51 of this video before I realized she was cooking halibut.




Could have sworn she had milkshakes goin' on.


Thank you Food Network - for making me fell dirty & hungry at the same time.




Later.

It's Your Day, Mom.

Moms are important, and on a day like today you can only ask one thing:

• What has she done for me lately?

Nothing against my Mom, but she's been milking this holiday from me for almost 36 years now. Talk about resting on your laurels. If she still wants to receive this kind of recognition, she'll have to step up and produce a bit more.

Yeah, yeah, scraped knees and boo-boos aside, she did that shit ages ago. Want to impress me now? Make one of my mortgage payments. (That's better than kissing my owwie better.) Still taking credit for all that other stuff is like me still bragging about that Home Run I got in T-Ball.

What you're doing now is what counts, not what you did in the past, right?

I'll tell her about the new guidelines, and if she doesn't meet expectations by next year, she can forget that card, flowers and phone call.

That'll show her.




Later.


(Please don't show this to my Mom - she'll kick my ass.)
Love you Mom, thanks for everything.

Fresh Meat.

So it's Poker Night again.

Should be different this week, as it looks like some of our regular players won't make it, and we might have some other ones.

New people at Poker are both a joy and a frustration.

On one hand, it's great to play against someone that you've never seen before - it challenges you to adapt your playing style, and trying to figure out what they are trying to do brings a little more spice to the game.

On the other hand, new people usually do very well at our game. I don't know why, but they always seem to come out big their first time. It's good because they usually want to come back, (giving me a chance to win some money) but bad because I have to give up that money in the first place.

However it works out, it'll be another great night, and I hope my pockets are heavier at the end of it.



Later.

Fighting Father Time.

One of the guys I work with is substantially older than me.

It's good in that we can all benefit from his years of experience in the business, his familiarity with the customers, and his loyalty to the company.

It's everything else I can't stand.


He just can't keep up. My job isn't as physically demanding as some, but there is a part of it where the ability to get things done - and done fast - comes in handy. He just can't do it anymore.

Between that and the fact that his organizational skills are non-existent (you think after all this time he'd at least have some sort of system, or ability to follow any system), make it really difficult when I come back from my days off.

I've done all I can - hints, suggestions, outright telling him what needs to be done, but it just goes back to the same ol' same ol'. Even mentioning it to my bosses does nothing, as they just hope he'll put in his time and leave in a year or so. Meanwhile, that leaves me to clean up and re-organize after someone else. (Not a pleasant thing.)

I think all I can do is try to make it less stressful on myself - and hope he breaks a hip.



Later.

Behind The Scenes.

After watching this video, I'd like to add John Mayer to the list of People I'd Like To Have Coffee With.

Funny Shit.





Later.

Your Efforts Are Appreciated.

Just a note to the guy who invented yoga pants:

Thank You.

From the deepest part of my heart (and even lower) I thank you for your contribution to society. During this lovely weather, not a day goes by that I don't see your incredible product in action - and each time I'm just a little bit more thankful.

Unlike regular spandex, the only women I see wearing your product are the people with the physique to do so. And the wonderful manufacturing that you do covers any flaws and only enhances the natural beauty of the area. I don't know how you did it, but keep up the good work.

You're my new hero.

Later.

Ferrum Personage

Just got back from seeing Iron Man with the Sidekick.

Well done, Marvel Studios.

I enjoyed every minute of it. The casting was spot-on and the story and pacing were great. It may not be the best comic-book movie ever, but it's at least in the top 5. Robert Downey Jr. is a perfect Tony Stark, and I'll bitch-slap anyone who says different.

Of course this will be an automatic DVD purchase - (can't wait for Christmas) even more so if it comes in a red & gold steelbook case.

If you haven't heard already, stay for the after-credits surprise. Nice to see that The Sidekick and I weren't the only Internet-connected geeks to attend tonight - although we were the best looking. (C'mon - have you seen the type of nerds that hang around to watch the credits?)





Later.

Nothing.

You know what?

I've got nothing to say.

After a long day at work, doing some yardwork, and mindlessly sitting and looking at the screen for 15 minutes, I've realized that I don't even have anything intersting to write about.

I'm not sure if it's a testimonity to my mundane-ness, or if it's just an off day.

Don't worry, I'll spring back tomorrow.

Later.

"Hole" Grains.

Somebody should remind me not to eat Granola cereal before I go to bed and Oatmeal when I wake up.

If I could harness the power of my flatulence this morning, I wouldn't have had to walk to work - I could have flown.

Don't you feel better knowing that?


Later.

Taste With The Eyes, Not With The Mouth.

The worst thing a fat guy can do is watch the Food Network.

There is one show, however, that I can't miss.

Alton Brown's Good Eats is the greatest foods show ever. It has the right combination of Tastiness and Nerdiness that just seems to strike the right note with me.

It's like watching the perfect balance of Science and Home Ec. (Except that there are no goggles involved.)

I PVR it, so I can watch whenever I have a chance. I try not to watch on an empty stomach though - that's just torture.



Later.

Rub My Nose In It.

One of the great things about being a Hockey fan is watching your team succeed.

(But since my team got knocked out of the playoffs last night, I'll talk about bitter disappointment instead.)

The other great thing about being a Hockey fan is laughing at other guy's teams when they blow it.

The guys at work had a great time with me today.

See, I work with mostly Canuck fans - (Yes, that alone should qualify me for a medal.) and nothing gave them greater joy than to remind me that not only did my team get knocked out, but they got swept in four games and shellacked in an 8-2 loss in the last game on home ice.

I guess it's only fair as I was pretty brutal on them when their team didn't make the playoffs.

Now the worst thing that can still happen would be for the Habs to make it to the third round - that'll cost me a DVD, and that would be the greatest disappointment of all.

Well, there's always next year.....




Later.

Piles Of Useless Crap.

I'm having an OCD day.

It's my day off - and later on today my Grandmother, Aunt, and Uncle are coming to visit. Needless to say, a little tidying is in order - just to straighten up the place. (I do have two kids, so you know it's not going to be immaculate.)

But for some reason, there's a couple of areas that are just driving me nuts.

• The top of the Fridge - Why does it seem like everything gets shoved here? It shouldn't take me a half hour to clear it up. (But it did.) There's crap from Easter, a Christmas bow, random photographs - just shit that should have been dealt with ages ago.
• My Bookcases - What the top of the Fridge is to the kitchen, my Bookcases are to the rest of the house. Small peices of the kid's toys, scraps of paper, random Poker chips - you name it, it's here. I was almost going to pull the books out, dust and re-organize but time and laziness got the better of me.
• The Shoe Rack - What's the point of having a rack if I'm the only guy who uses it? It's like the rack isn't a place to keep your shoes as much as it's a symbol of where the shoes are supposed to be. My kids seem to think as long as the shoes are in the same room as the rack, everything is okay.

With cleaning out those areas, doing the recycling, and just getting the regular cleaning done, I'm almost wiped. It'll look good for today, but I just know it'll pile up faster than I can throw it all out.

It drives me nuts......

Isn't there some sort of show on HGTV or TLC for shit like this?

Later.

This One's For the Sidekick..

Although after seeing the results of today's game, I think these guys should have switched shirts.






Just kidding bud, maybe they'll come back.

You know if both of our teams bow out in the 2nd round, that means a tie in the DVD bet, right? (Maybe we'll both get DVD's)



Later.

Auto Theft Most Grand.

I'm about 15 minutes away from playing Grand Theft Auto IV.

I'm not one of those people who rushed out and bought the game at 12:01 am last night. (I know three of the kids from work were going, and they did offer to get one for me.) I chose the safe route - I rented.

I know I'm going to like it, but I did want to give it a test run first. If it turns out to be harder and more involved than the last GTA, I'm going to wait to pick it up. I want to finish a couple of other things first before I devote more time to a video game. (All things being equal, I still have to guide my Colorado Avalanche to the cup in NHL 08 - it doesn't look like they are going to do it in real life.)

It should be fun though - I'm looking forward to wanton destruction on the mean streets of Liberty City. Jack some cars, bust some caps.... that's how I roll.


Later.

Pissing On My Childhood, Part 2

I get home from work tonight and scroll through the channels, looking for something to kill some time before bed, and I stumble across the most foul mash-up since Jay-Z met Linkin Park.

A Star Wars themed Deal or No Deal.

Thanks George, thanks NBC - you've pissed all over my childhood memories once again.

I don't care if there's 20-some models dressed up like slave-girl Leia - the fact that you've got some trailer-trash loser picking cases with Chewie and R2-D2 rooting him on just makes me sad.

You think George would have learned from the debacle that was The Star Wars Holiday Special.

I guess somethings never change, and 'ol Mr Lucas selling out for cash is one of them.

Later

Three Bottles

I know why I don't drink anymore.

The Sidekick and I split three bottles of wine last night at the retirement party we both attended.

He seemed to be holding his own. I however, was totally smashed.

I don't think I made a complete ass of myself, but I do tend to get rambunctious and talkative when I drink. I was told today that I was entertaining, but only to a point.

I really have trouble controlling my intake. You know that little voice inside that tells you that you've had too much to drink? Mine had laryngitis.

I think I'm done with the booze for a bit.

The Sidekick's birthday is coming up, so I'll have a gin or two then - but after that it's the wagon for me.

With my luck it'll be a delivery wagon, and it'll be stopping at the liquor store.



Later.

Unfettered

I'm having a crisis of the faith again.

We just got back from Naniamo, where I helped the In-laws pick out a new laptop, and I've realized 2 things:

1. Any trip over 1 hour is made so much easier with in-car DVD. I put in Teen Titans and the Kids just quiet right down. (I do look back and check that they are blinking every once in a while.)


2. God I want one of these things.

I'm typing on it right now. I said I'd do the initial setup on it, and couldn't resist surfing and blogging just a bit. The fact that I'm doing it from my couch is a bonus.

It's all I ever dreamed.

I know I could get something 3 times as powerful for half the price. I know that whatever I buy will be obsolete in 3 months. I know all of this, yet I still want one. I want to be unfettered.

(Imagine only having sex in one room of your house for the rest of your life. Shitty, right? Well it's almost the same thing.)

But it's all a moot point anyway. I don't have the cash for a new laptop. I don't even have the cash for a used one. So I will remain chained to my desk for the forseeable future.

But I yearn to be free. Do you hear me? I yearn.

Later.

Stop In The Name Of Love.

Everything stops when you have a sick kid.

Case in point - Today was to be my day to accomplish things. I was going to clean the garage, mow the backyard, do some errands downtown, and just get shit done. Everything was moving fine until The Boy started throwing up.

We were just about to leave to go out when all of a sudden he says he feels sick and starts to do the "huh-huh" sound. A quick dash for a bowl and it all comes out.

Right at that moment my whole day changed.

I didn't get the lawn mowed. I didn't touch the garage. The backyard? It's a jungle. My biggest challenge today was staying on the couch with The Boy and watching cartoons. He didn't want me to leave, and hey - someone had to hold the bowl, right?

I can get all that other stuff done tomorrow.

(In case you're wondering - he feels much better now.)



Later.

Cinematic Overload.

I should keep my mouth shut.

I bitch a lot about how Hollywood has run out of ideas, and that there is never anything coming out that I want to see. Now there's a deluge of movies coming my way, and I'll be scrambling just to keep up with them.

First there's the obvious ones:

• Iron Man - Hello? Comic Book Movie? I'm all over it.
• The Incredible Hulk - Read previous statement.
• Indiana Jones - Is there anyone under the age of 40 who isn't going to see this?
• The Dark Knight - See statement re: Iron Man.
• Hellboy 2 - I loved the first one, (Much to the Sidekick's dismay) so this is a must see.
• Hancock - There's just something about this movie that makes me want to watch it.
  

Those are the ones that I'm guaranteed to be at the theater for. If I have any glaring omissions, forgive me - I'm writing the list off the top of my head. (A real nerd would have that shit marked on a calender.)

And then there are the others - some are what you'd expext, others...not so much.

• Speed Racer - Reliving my childhood. Maybe I should get stoned and see this... Cool Beans indeed.
• Kung Fu Panda - I know the kids are going to drag me to see this, but the truth is I want to see it.
  
• Get Smart - See my statement about Indiana Jones.
• Wall-E - Of course I want to see this. It's Pixar.
• The Love Guru - The same old Mike Myers shit, but hey - I 'll laugh. (Mainly about the fact of the Leafs being in the Cup Finals.)
  
• Tropic of Thunder - This one looks fucking hilarious - and I don't say that often about Ben Stiller movies.
• Step Brothers - Can't talk - laughing too hard.

So that's thirteen movies in as many weeks. If I include popcorn and such, I'll have to take out a loan just to see all the movies I want to. There's probably about 5 or 6 movies I forgot about as well, so that will be even more.

Yes, Hollywood - I bitched about you before, and now you're going to take all my money.

I was right - I should have kept my mouth shut.


Later.