Temptation.

There they were.

Sitting in a little white bag on the counter.

Might as well have been crack, smack, or some other illicit drug.

I could have sworn I heard it's whispering from across the room.
"C'mon - you know you want to. You've been eating healthy for too long." They just wouldn't stay out of my head. I was fighting the urge with every fiber of my being, yet the voices just wouldn't stop.

I only ate them to stop the voices.

It was the voices I just couldn't stand.

But I showed them.

Polished off the whole fucking bag.

That'll learn 'em.

Who's in charge now, you little round fuckers?

Later.

Snow Sucks.

(At least today it does.)

Snow is an amazing thing.

Crystals, each one unique, destined to fall from the sky in a white curtain and blanket the land.

Why does it turn people into such complete retards?

Why does the guy in the jacked-up pickup truck suddenly think he is invincible and able to turn and stop on a dime? Why do these people think that their need to be somewhere quickly outweighs other peoples need for safety?

When there is no snow, people park between the lines, in an orderly fashion. With snow, all resemblance of order is gone. It's like people forgot the their car is supposed to be parallel to the other ones.

Some people welcome the snow. Others make it seem like it's fecal matter falling from the sky. (If it's that white, I think it means God has had too much Dairy.)

The only thing that drives me nuts is the fact that I've had to shovel about 4 feet of it off my driveway. I don't mind doing it once a day, but three times is just too much.

So for today, Snow sucks.

Ask me tomorrow, after I've built (another) Snowman with The Boy; I'll probably have changed my mind.

Later.

Zoned Out.

Today was a day where my mind shut off.

It's a talent I have, but I think that most men have it.

We as a gender are able to shut off our brain and yet still go through the motions of everyday life. Today I had conversations, completed tasks, worked hard, communicated, and I can't recall a damned thing. I don't think I had one significant thought besides whatever task was at hand.

I'm sure on a subconscious level things were going on fine, as I dimly recall smiling or chuckling when different songs came on the radio.

Normally I have tons of random thoughts scrambling in my head, waiting to jump out in conversation or online. I don't usually type up any random thing that pops into my head last minute, but as I sat down tonight to recall what I had been thinking about, I noticed that I didn't really focus on anything at all today.

That is how we men think - or don't, as the case may be.

Just watch - now I'll wake up at 4am with a head full of thoughts.
It'll be like Blue Balls for the brain.

Ouch.

Later.

The Long and The Short Of It...

I'm not a B.C. native.

I wasn't born here.

I was born and raised in the tundra of the Frozen Arctic, in the land of the Midnight Sun, far away from where I am now. Even though I have lived in B.C far longer than any other place, I still find that there are things that people do around here that I just can't understand.

Right now, according to my computer, it's -7° Celsius (With the wind chill, probably closer to 11.) it's been below freezing all day, and even I am feeling the cold through my protective layer of donut fat.

It still doesn't explain why I saw four different people today wearing shorts. Seriously, shorts. There was another guy who was wearing those retarded "holeys" shoes, and yet another who I saw wearing sandals, without socks. At first I just chalked it up to eccentricity, but by the end of the day I'm convinced that maybe our Government is doing secret genetic experimentation to build the ultimate Winter Warrior.

I've never been able to accept how really fat guys wear shorts year round, but there was only one fat guy out of the four people I saw today. (The whole fat guy/ shorts thing is another blog entry at another time.) I can't think of a reasonable explanation. Even going from your car indoors would be a stretch because of the wind. And walking on the snowy ground in just flip flops? Sheer madness!

In some way I look at these people in envy. They are out and obviously comfortable in the snow, and I have to bundle myself up just to walk to work. And I was born in the North! I used to scoff at B.Cer's who used to wear parkas at -1°, laugh at those who fumbled to make the perfect snowball, and frown with disdain at anyone who dared say it was "Too cold out." I was comfortable with the snow, and was in my element when surrounded by it.

Not so comfortable that I would wear shorts though.

Do I look crazy?

I felt like yelling at every one of them to put on some pants.

Assholes.

Later.

Ego.

I was told by someone today that I have a big ego.

I told them that if by ego they mean penis, they are correct.

Seriously though, have you ever thought about it? I don't think I have a huge ego about myself, but I do try to present a confidant manner and style. If that comes across as self centered and egotistical, than so be it.

(Plus, if I don't tell people how great I am, how will they know?)

I don't think that there is anything wrong about pointing out the things that you are good at. I'm not saying I'm the best at any given task, but there are a few things I do that I do very well, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm tired of some people decrying the fact that I take pride in myself and the things that I am able to do.

You are damned if you do and damned if you don't. If I didn't say anything positive, and only complained about how I think I'm overweight and didn't like how the world has treated me, then I would be called a whiny bitch. But it seems to me that most people you see nowadays are "whiny bitches" so the fact that someone is out there being positive about themselves, must seem odd and out of character.

I'd like to clarify - I don't go around saying how great I think I am and talking about my penis all day long. I'm not from Port Alberni. All I do is show some self-confidence and throw some humor along with it when I do happen to mention something.

I think people need to inflate their own egos a little bit now and then. Instead of looking in the mirror and being depressed about yourself, think about that one thing that you do great, and tell the next person you see.

(Unless the one thing is Masturbating and the next person you see is a Nun, this should work great.)

Later.

Snowball Fight!

Just got in from a massive snowball fight in the front yard.

Okay, not really massive, just me and The Boy, but I really whooped his ass.
(Any four-year old who thinks he can take me is going to be in for a big surprise.)

It started out as shoveling the driveway, and then it escalated from there. Words were said, battle lines were drawn, and the warriors met over by the skinny tree on the front lawn.
He almost got the jump on me, but I told him Santa was standing behind him and tagged him good when he turned to look. That only phased him for a second. (He's quick - he has his Daddy's reflexes.) After he launched a barrage of snowballs at me, I realized that if I took one step back, I would be out of his throwing range. (The boys got accuracy, but not a lot of power - yet.)

Afterwards it was easy to pummel him into submission with a flurry of white doom. He accepted defeat gracefully, and the obligatory face-wash was punishment enough. I know he'll think twice before taking on the old man again.

As I walked back into the garage in Victory, he said he had a present for me. I turned to look, expecting a hug for World's Best Dad ™ and BAM! Snowball right in the face.

He's a crafty little bugger, I'll give him that.

Just like his Dad.

Later.

Geriatric Rock.

An Open Letter to The Rolling Stones:

Please, just hang it up already.

This letter is addressed to you because you guys are the figurehead band for aging rockers. Because of you, other bands who thankfully retired or disbanded years ago have decided that they are still relevant, and wish to tour and produce records.

I know that the touring is just a cash grab.
Don't tell me you are in it for the fans. If you were really in it for the fans, you would have stopped touring long ago. Does canceling tour dates to rest your voice sound like you are doing for the fans? How about missing other tour dates because one of you geriatric fucks thinks he's a monkey and climbs trees looking for coconuts?

And the performances aren't up to par.

You're resting on your laurels, and it shows. People only go to your concerts to say they've been there, not because it's an incredible rock experience. People are buying tickets for the memory of you, not for what you are now.
Mick, are you going to tell me that you can put on the same show with the same energy that you did when you were 25, or even 30? I'll bet the stage has non-skid floors so you don't slip and break a hip. When I saw Robert Plant, it was all he could do just to stand there and keep from dying. If that's what you think your fans want, I think you are sorely out of touch.

As for material, I don't think you guys have released anything good since maybe the early 80's.
Yet your continued release of albums, even ones that don't chart well, inspires other formerly great artists to give it another shot. I don't think the Eagles would have even tried to get back together except for the fact that they saw money to be made. I'm finding Aerosmith guilty of this as well. (Since Armageddon, they haven't made decent music at all.) And the list goes on: The Who, The Guess Who, Micheal Jackson, Hall and Oates, heck - even Duran Duran is in the studio right now. ( I would mention Guns and Roses, but they haven't released any albums, and barely tour.)

Won't any of you just die?

Collapse on stage. Mild stroke. Whatever. Just to show these other old fucks that there is a hazard involved in coming back. Then maybe they'll think twice before getting back on the bus or going into the studio again.
Is it too much for a guy to ask?

All the best on the last leg of the tour.

Sincerely,
Fuck You.

Later.

Snitch 2.0

I should invest in the stock market.

Almost a year ago I posted about how my son likes to tell everyone and anyone what he did that day, where he went and who he saw. I theorized that he would eventually say the wrong thing to my Wife and get me killed.

Close, but I'm not dead, so it's not as bad as you might think.

He's progressed from transcribing events to actually recalling what Bad Words Daddy might have said throughout the day. He's like a voice recorder, except I don't control the playback function.

I'm getting picked up from the gym tonight and once I'm in the car I'm asked about something I said two hours ago.
(There was a cop driving by with his lights flashing and a truck hadn't noticed - he kept on his way. Eventually he did see the police car, and pulled over, and I commented to myself that the guy was "Driving like a retard.")
The Boy had seen a cop car when he was with his Mom and told her that Daddy said a Bad Word about a cop. If he's going to squeal, I wish he'd get it right.
He then comments to her that I also said something bad about a car in the Tim Horton's Drive Thru. I'm left defending my actions (or trying to) and looking like a horrible Dad.

I think I'm going to have to get earmuffs for him or something.

I'm now waiting for the day when he confesses to me saying some woman has a nice rack.

I don't think I'll feel the knife slip through my ribs......

Later.

Five Things.....

1. Until last night, I've never come across anyone talking on their cell phone in a movie theater before. I think that this crime should be grounds for justifiable homicide. Seriously, can't you turn the fucking thing off for an hour and a half? Are you so fucking important that someone has to get in touch with you at 10:45pm on a Tuesday night?


2. I think I'm starting to develop gills. Not necessarily a bad thing. I'll be swimming (floating) around Waterworld-style, while the rest of you are paddling away trying to keep your head above water. (Seriously, what's with all the rain? If we were in New Orleans I could at least run around screaming "Make sure the Dykes don't crumble!" - if I did that here, a bunch of masculine women would kick the shit out of me. Or do my hair, I'm not sure which.)


3. How many cups of coffee is too much? I've had about four extra large today. I think I'm trying to hit the hundred-cup feeling Fry had in that episode of Futurama. I will either step out of the time stream or see God, I'm not sure which. (If it's God, I'll ask him if he can top me up.)


4. What is the difference between a burrito and a soft taco? Seems to me to only real change is the addition of lettuce. How does adding one condiment justify the addition of a whole new sector of a country's cuisine? (I will not except any answers unless they come from Mexico, or from someone who works at Taco Time.)


5. I've been debating on getting a Vasectomy. I think I'll do it, but the only stumbling block I have is the fact that afterwords, every time I masturbate it'll be like lying to myself. I'm sure I'll get results, but it'll be like going to the store for a bagfull of air. What to do, what to do....

Later.

Blond, James Blond.

The sidekick and I just got back from the show.
What did we see? Take a look at the picture.

Here's my thoughts.

There are things I expect in a James Bond Movie:

1. Good Bond - Check - Daniel Craig is spectacular, and covers both the action and serious parts well. He's great at switching from classy to kick-assy as the situation permits.
2. The Martini - Check - We even get to see the origin of it in this one.
3. The Car - Check - Aston Martin all the way. Both cars look equally phenomenal, and the homage to the original was a nice touch.
4. Gambling - Check - Changing the Game de Rigour from Baccarat to Poker was a great thing to do. I never understood Baccarat, but I'm all about the Poker.
5. Ladies - This one didn't disappoint on the ladies, either. Hotties? Oh Yeah.

But there are also things I didn't expect to see in a Bond movie.

1. A Story - Usually Bond is all shoot'em up and high-tech gadgets. This one actually had a plot. You could imagine my surprise.
2. Product Placement - Ford must have paid a bit, but I think Sony Ericsson must have sold their soul. According to this movie, there is only one cell phone manufacturer in the whole world.
3. Physical Harm - James normally comes out of every fight a bit ruffled but none the worse for wear. In this movie he takes a shit-kicking and he shows some scars. Refreshing, nice to see that they've shown him as human.

I really enjoyed the movie, and I have to rank it up there with some of my other Bond Favorites, Dr. No and Goldfinger. As the Sidekick stated afterwords, Daniel Craig is the perfect mix of Sean Connery and Perice Brosnan. They have revitalized the series and I can't wait for another one.

It's getting late now and I'm off to bed - I think I'll dream of Chilled Drinks, Hot Women and Flashing my Licence to Kill.

Later.

The Most Dangerous Word.

Michael Richards fucked up.

Is he a racist?
I don't think so, but now he's guilty until the social conscience sees fit to forgive him.

The root of the problem is that he's a white guy standing on a stage shouting "Nigger". Nobody is ever going to say that that is a good thing, but the fact is it's a word. And in this day and age, it's a common word.

I think it's unfair how black people can throw that word around like it's just any ol' thing, but scream and shout when a white guy does it. I know that each race has slurs for it's own, but it seems like the N-word is used more than any other, especially by blacks in almost any type of entertainment; comedy, movies, music, you name it. (With all of these negative connotations surrounding one word, why is it used so frequently by people who are so offended by it?)

The word has entered the common vernacular.
It's almost lost all sense of it's root meaning.
It's tossed around so glibly that it's only a shock when it's used from one race to another.
If you don't like the word, don't use it. Don't make it acceptable for anyone to use it. But making it's use acceptable to only a few and not for all is what causes shit like this.

I'm not defending Michael Richards.
I saw the video - the guy fucking lost it.
A professional comedian should be able to take a bit of heckling.
If he would have lashed out and said he was going to kill them, nobody would have cared.
But he used that word.
So now he's fucked.

As for my own usage of the word?
I'll admit, I've said it.
When quoting Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Eddie Murphy and Richard Pryor.
Do I use it in my everyday life?
No.

There's no way to solve this issue, and I'll admit I've re-read this post two or three times just to make sure I'm not coming off as a Neo-Nazi Hate Monger ™, but I just had to get this off my chest.

In the article I quoted, Comedian Paul Rodriguez said "Freedom of speech has limitations and I think Michael Richards found those limitations." So he's free to say anything he wants - almost.

That doesn't seem very free to me.

Later.

Not The Best Medicine.

I work with this lady, and she has a really annoying habit.

She laughs after everything she says.
Everything. It doesn't matter what it is.

It's not really a laugh; it's kind of a titter or a giggle. (It's not just around me, although I do have that effect on women.) I've even asked other people if they've noticed it and it seems to be universal.

I just don't understand it, and it drives me crazy. How do you function in life like that?

How do you tell anyone anything bad?

"Sorry to hear about your mom dying." (chuckle)
"It must be horrible" (Snicker)

What kind of message does that send?

I read it as an intelligence deficiency or just not being socially aware enough to know what's funny. This forces her to laugh at everything, just in case some thing actually is funny.
It's like packing her own laugh track with her. (A busted one of course.)

Sometimes I feel like just being deadpan with her.
Just give her the stone face and see if she knows what is going on.

She'd probably just laugh.

We'll see if she laughs with a pen in her eye.

Later.

Priorities.

I check Google News everyday.

I enjoy staying on top of world events and interesting things.

For each article they have they also list all the other relevant articles on that subject that have been published, so you may check another source and get a different point of view.

Pretty nifty.

The average report might have 200/300 other publishings.

Bomb attack? 600/700.

President Bush in Asia for Summit? 1500.
("Well I'll tell ya - I'd sure like the cream of sum yung guy." Heh, heh. "Get it? Cream..heheh.")

But the fact that Tom Cruise's wedding to Katie Holmes garnered 2592 articles just today is sad.
Forget war and famine. The couch-jumper is getting hitched.
I could care less about the celebrity weddings, especially this one.

Someone tell me, where did it all go wrong?

Later.

Private Time.

Listen buddy, I'm not here to make friends.

Why are you asking me questions?

Do my short, impolite answers not give you the hint you need?
The fact that I refuse to look at you? Is that not an unspoken gesture?

I don't care that you recognize me from where I work.
I don't have a clue who you are.
I don't care that you've been a customer of ours for years.
I don't want to talk to you right now.
I can't make it any clearer with out just telling you to fuck off.

I didn't come here to have a conversation with you.
I came here to work out.
Out there, on the gym floor, I might have a chat between sets.

But right now, when I just got out of the shower and I'm toweling my balls dry?

Not the best time to strike up a conversation with a random stranger.
Even if you do recognize me.

Later.

(And yes, I know they are impressive. Thanks.)

Wallpaper.

I'm a Wallpaper junkie.

Not that faggy stuff that actually goes on walls, fools.

I change my desktop wallpaper every couple of days. I usually favor the minimalistic styles, as I find that a busy wallpaper tends to distract my eyes away from what I'm doing.

(That's why I've never really had erotic images as my wallpaper. Hard to complete anything when you keep switching to your desktop with one hand.)

I peruse image sites and I hoard anything that I find.
I'll go with photography, fantasy, digital, whatever.
There have only been a couple that have stayed on the screen for longer than a week.

Because I like that clean look on the desktop it drives me nuts anytime I see someone with a shitload of icons on their screen. I understand they are shortcuts, but that's what the Toolbar at the bottom of the screen is for. What's the point of having an image on the screen if you can see it for the ass-ton of icons on there? (Ass-ton. Like it? I came up with it by myself.)

What do you like to have on your screen?
Is it full of icons? (Better not be, you lazy bastards.)
I need new image sources.
Tell me where you go.

Later.

Thoughts I Had Today...

1. Is it just me, or do I normally look this damn good?
2. Why did I just scramble to put pants on, when answering the door in my underwear would have been a perfectly acceptable alternative?
3. Boobies. Boobiesboobiesboobies.
   
4. How come my hands are warm and my feet are freezing cold?
5. Did Maury Povich just say "Fuck it" and decide to only do paternity shows?
6. Does this belt go with these pants?
7. What kind of sad individual actually buys Who's the Boss on DVD? Why not just stick your head in the oven and get it over with?
8. Now why did that start itching?
9. What would Shatner do?
10. Why do other peoples houses smell like cabbage? Do they think my house smells like cabbage? What the fuck is with all the cabbage?
11. Would an Oreo & Peanut Butter sandwich exceed my maximum caloric intake for the day?
12. Can I spell out my whole name while I pee?
13. Yep.

Later.

Space Pimp.

I've always admired James T. Kirk.

And who wouldn't?
The guy commanded a Starship, had the biggest fucking T.V. screen ever, and scored more chicks than anyone could ever comprehend.

I'm surprised the Enterprise didn't have to go back to Earth weekly just to get condoms. I bet you Kirk double wrapped it when he was banging the green hotties.

As much as he's a lover, Kirk is also a fighter. He's the only guy I've ever seen drop someone with a judo chop to the shoulder. I bet he kept in practice by beating the shit out of Chekhov every once in a while. (And why not? I bet that smarmy little Russkie deserved it too. "Nuclear Wessels" my ass.)

I guess that anyone who knows me may say that I have some Kirk-like tendencies. My gold sweaters and oiled up physique are two dead giveaways. Same with my habitual bossing around of minorities, telling Asian guys to steer my car and Black women to answer the phone. ( "Just pick the fucking thing UP!")

But I refuse to score with the green chicks, I don't know how he does it, but I don't think I could.
Unless she was hot.
And just green-tinted.
And I was drunk.

Then I'd hit it at Warp Speed.

Later.

Cramp.

I've got a cramp.

It's not a menstrual cramp. Or a Charlie horse.

I went to the gym today, and in my enthusiasm for rowing my ass off, I may have pulled something in my back. I didn't even know I had a muscle there. (I think my zeal on the ab machine might have had something to do with it as well.)

A hot shower really helped. (Is there anything a long, hot shower doesn't cure? Get out of here with your sick thoughts, people.)

I'm sure the pain will subside, but for now I'm just going to suck it up and deal with it. Sure, I could be a pansy and take actual medication, but why not add a few notches to my macho belt? Some lady may tell me about the pain of childbirth, but I can tell her I had a back cramp, and that will put me ahead, right?

If anyone is looking for me, I'll be the one wincing as I get up out of my chair.

Later.

Gone For Coffee.

I'm going for coffee, which is a good thing.
I don't really have anything to say right now, and coffee with the Sidekick is usually a great cure for Writer's Block.

We'll see, anyway.

Later.

174 Days.

That's how long it is until Spiderman 3 comes out.

I think that the Spiderman franchise is one of the few that seems to get better with every installment. After viewing the recently released trailer, I expect this one to be great for a multitude of reasons.

• Sandman is an interesting villain. They've done something to make him more personal to Peter, but the fact that they are taking a chance with a different style character shows that they aren't just stamping out cookie cutter sequels.
• Peter gets mean. As you can tell by the picture, Black Costume = Bad Ass. It's funny how in the movies the bad guys wear black, but in real life, they just wear wife beaters.
• I was never a big Venom fan, but if it's done right, he can be a great character and opposing force to Spiderman. If they even hint of a Carnage appearance, I'm throwing my coke at the screen and leaving.
• Mary Jane. Any movie with the sweet apperance of a slightly damp MJ is good enough for me.

Here's to hoping they don't fuck it up.

But as I said earlier, I don't think they will. The track record is good, and I think that it's the type of franchise the actors themselves care about.

Now I just have to find something to occupy my time for the next 174 days....
(And please don't suggest masturbating to visions of MJ in the alley. That only covers 157 days.)

Later.