if I could change one thing about myself...

I think that if I could change one thing about myself I'd grow a tail. And not a stupid nub tail. But a functional tail. I hate it when I am making a snack like a glass of juice, some food, maybe a bowl of something else and I'm also trying to carry a DVD or something. It requires a stupid balancing act. I imagine if I had a functional tail I could probably take all that stuff from room to room without dropping anything, or needing to make multiple trips.

Fountain of Youth

Wanna feel young again? Here's a few techniques I came up with to make yourself feel youthful and carefree again.

Have a co-worker say Lettuce and then spell CUP. They'll inadvertently ask to see you urinate! Hilarious.

Have a friend pull the sides of their mouths out with their index fingers and say "I was born on a pirate ship!" They'll think they're bring all cool and piratey but what they'll actually be saying sounds a lot more like "I was born on a pile of shit!" Make sure no grown ups are around cause you could get in trouble with that one.

And last but not least, pick a person of the opposite sex, stare at them, and then start mouthing the words "Elephant Shoes". They'll become so embarrassed at the fact that it looks like you're saying "I love you" to them, that they might even shoot milk out of their nose! And to get really adventurous, stare at someone the same sex as you and hope that they don't beat you into a bloody pulp!

I hope you can all take the time to try one of my patented techniques out during the Christmas holidays. And I'm sure you'll all thank me for being able to transport you back to a simpler time in your life, a time when shit like this was funny.

The happiest time of year!

Christmas is only a week away and that can mean only one thing. World junior hockey is just over a week away. As a Canadian I love this, we all do, we're Canadians gall darn it!
The American team is looking to make a run and maybe topple the menacing giants to the north. The Russians are probably doing something sneaky, c'mon they're Russians.
The Swedes are all looking to regain some former glory, while the Fins are planning on building on some success. Yeah all of Scandinavia is pumped. Except Norway. They will no doubt continue to suck a hairy asshole. Surprising, since they are so close to so many good hockey playing nations.
So I will be nursing a hangover on Boxing Day watching Canada take to the ice. I'd guess most of you guys will do the same. Unless you're out "bargain shopping". In which case, I hope you get a nice dress to match your vaginas.

What job is right for me?

I, like many of you, don't know what I want to do with my life. And I, again like many of you, have parents who press the issue.
"What are you doing with your life Adam?"
"Have you found yourself a good job yet boy?"
"Don't let your Grandpa die thinking you're a loser Adam. Prove him wrong and validate my parenting skills to the old fart"
It's a lot of pressure as you know.
So since the holidays are fast approaching and I don't want to be the disappointment for yet another year I've been putting my nose to the grindstone. I've been looking high and low for that job that will give me the respect of my family. But, fuck that, I don't know what I want to do. This is tough.
That's why I was so happy when my buddy told me about how his Guidance Counsellor helped him out a lot on choosing his career path. So I made myself an appointment and went down to see one for myself.
I got into the office and said, "Hello Mr. Rubinski I need your help. I'm not sure what I'm doing with my life. I've heard you can help."
He then told me to call him Tom. Sure seemed like a nice approachable guy. Tom told me that it's really life and all the clutter and outside influences that mess a guy up and get him off that track that's right for them.
"Oh?" I replied. Then Tom told me to just think back to when I was a little boy and what did I want to be then.
I got it, I understood what he was getting at. I said, "Oh I see now. When you were growing up you wanted to be a Guidance Counsellor."
My meeting was ended abruptly. Tom kicked me out of the office, he said he had something in his eye and needed to wash it out real bad. It must have hurt a lot becuase I could hear his sobs as I walked out of the building.
Still no help though. When I was growing up I was a small kid and got pushed around a ton so I wanted to be gravity. Everyone has to obey gravity!
You want to test me? I'm gravity, you better grab on to a tree fucker, I'm gonna float your ass into space.

P.S. hang in there Gramps. I'll do ya proud one day.

What does this mean?

Everyone! We need help. We have no idea what this means. If it was your comment, thanks, but please translate to english if you can. Anyone else, if you can figure out what it means I might give you something free, even if you just come up with something funny that it could mean. From what I can tell it's some sort of money thing.

Oi, achei seu blog pelo google está bem interessante gostei desse post. Gostaria de falar sobre o CresceNet. O CresceNet é um provedor de internet discada que remunera seus usuários pelo tempo conectado. Exatamente isso que você leu, estão pagando para você conectar. O provedor paga 20 centavos por hora de conexão discada com ligação local para mais de 2100 cidades do Brasil. O CresceNet tem um acelerador de conexão, que deixa sua conexão até 10 vezes mais rápida. Quem utiliza banda larga pode lucrar também, basta se cadastrar no CresceNet e quando for dormir conectar por discada, é possível pagar a ADSL só com o dinheiro da discada. Nos horários de minuto único o gasto com telefone é mínimo e a remuneração do CresceNet generosa. Se você quiser linkar o Cresce.Net(www.provedorcrescenet.com) no seu blog eu ficaria agradecido, até mais e sucesso. If is possible add the CresceNet(www.provedorcrescenet.com) in your blogroll, I thank. Good bye friend.

Thirsty Nerds

I've been working in an Engineering office for a while now. I've always known that most people love coffee and drink it all day. You always see on tv and movies people walking around with their coffee cups all happy and what not. I hate coffee, so I drink water at work. I've noticed that the water hardly ever goes down over the period of a week, roughyl the amount I drink. And every few weeks it goes empty, so I change it, no big deal. I have however realized that I am the only person who has changed the water bottle since I've been here. This has all got me wondering, do the engineering nerds actually like coffee? Or are they just too weak to lift the water bottles onto the cooler?

Twofer-Tuesday

I was walking down the street yesterday when I passed a hair salon. It had a sign in the window that said "2-4-1 Tuesdays!".
That's a deal I can't pass up. So I went in and got my hair cut. When the hairdresser was done she got out the mirror to show me her work.
She said, "What do you think?"
I said, "Great, now do it again!"

Mans Best Friend.

One year when I was young my parents bought be a dog for my birthday. They said it was to teach me responsibility and some jazz like that. I didn't really care. I had a dog. That kicked ass, until the responsibility shit came into effect.
My parents expected me to clean up after the damn thing. It crapped a ton. After some hard work I managed to convince Rufus it was a good idea to do that outside.
Problem solved right?
Nope.
My Mom and Dad got mad at me and said that I'd have to go outside and clean all the dog turds up. I had to go pick them up and put them in the trash can. That is not a fun way for a young boy to pass his time.
That became a regular chore and it sucked. I hated it. So one day I had a brilliant idea. I was going to make my crappy job a little more enjoyable. I dumped a pack of crayons out into the dog dish. Lil'Rufus had tie died shits all week. Picking those colourful butt nuggets up made the job a little less unfun.
Rufus also died at the end of that week. I learned a valuable lesson about love and loss. My parents learned that I was not fit to care for another living creature.

GO RIDERS GO

I know I'm super funny. But this is my chance to say Saskatchewan Rules! The Riders won their first Gery Cup since '89 and it was beautiful. The game was ugly,. but as a fan since birth it was a sight to behold. I spent it with family. In a time when the whole province was looking for an excuse to get drunk off their asses i spent it with family and getting drunk off my ass.
Truly it is a time for sports fans to rejoice. They have been the underdog team for a generation and now we have the cup. Let us rejoice!

Jim, Jimmy, Jimbo, fuck them all!

A new guy started at work today. Jim. His name on his application is 'Jim'. He's Jim.
But at break we're all talking to new guy Jim and someone asks, "So what do you like to be called? Jimmy, or just Jim?".
And everyone leans in like the guy is going to reveal the mysteries of life.
Anyhow, Jim says, "Well it doesn't really matter to me much. I'll answer to either of them. But my friends call me Jimbo. You could call me that too if you'd like."
"OOOOhhhhh JIMBO!" A collective cry from the breakroom. These jerks acted like Jim gave us all trained penguins that we could have work as our personal butlers. Or like a hover board from Back to the Future II.
The rest of the day I had to listen to everyone walking by saying, "Hey Jimbo!" , "what's up Jimbo", "Jimbo, want a brewski after work?".
Why didn't they ask me what I'd like to be called when I started here?
Sure my name is Adam, but that doesn't mean I like it.
I didn't choose it. Maybe I want to be called Jesus, Zeus*, or even Dave. Nope. No options for Adam. And that's total bullshit.
Why do the Jims', Tims', Toms', Bobs' and Dicks' of the world get these name luxuries?

*I would have chosen Zeus if they gave me the chance.

Bands you should listen to.

Here's a list of bands I've found on myspace or the internet in general that any fan of punk/hardcore/metal should check out. I sometimes forget about a lot of the quality bands I've found so hopefully this can help me remember as well. Hope you enjoy. I've added their "genres" and links for your ease of browsing.

Animosity Death Metal

Untimely Demise Metal

Poser Disposer Grindcore

Antagonist Metal

5 Victims 4 Graves Hardcore

Killola Rock

Graf orlock Grindcore

Mister Monster Horror punk

Send More Paramedics Zombie Hardcore

Nim Vind Horror Punk

Casey Jones Hardcore

Liferuiner Hardcore

If He Dies He Dies Metal

Zombeast Horror Punk

Greta Knights Death Metal

Ghostlimb Thrash Hardcore

The Fitzpatrick Incident Hardcore

The Ghost of Thousand Hardcore

UFC 78 Details

In an effort to expand our horizons, I'm going to start posting some "news" type stuff that might be interesting to anyone who may visit this site.

UFC 78 - Validation

Prelim Fights:

-Akihiro Gono def. Tamdan McCrory via Submission (armbar) at 3:19 of Round 2.
-Marcus Aurelio def. Luke Caudillo via TKO (strikes) at 4:29 of Round 1.
-Joe Lauzon def. Jason Reinhardt via Submission (rear naked choke) at 1:14 of Round 1.
-Thiago Alves def. Chris Lytle via TKO (cut stoppage) after 2 Rounds.

PPV Fights:

-Frank Edgar def. Spencer Fisher via Unanimous Decision (30-27, 30-27, 30-26) after 3 Rounds.
-Ed Herman def. Joe Doerksen via KO (punch) at 0:39 of Round 3.
-Karo Parisyan def. Ryo Chonan via Unanimous Decision (30-27, 30-27, 30-27) after 3 Rounds.
-Thiago Silva def. Houston Alexander via TKO (strikes) at 3:25 of Round 1.
-Rashad Evans def. Michael Bisping via Split Decision (29-28 Evans, 29-28 Bisping, 29-28 Evans) after 3 Rounds.

From "mmanews.com"

100 hits!!

So as you know, we've tried to spruce this place up a bit. We've tried to post at least something every week and we've been faithfully updating the video area as well. We've decided to add a hit counter to see how cool we are, and while I'm no genius, I'd say we've made it. Today marks the 100th hit on our blog. Maybe not a huge feat at all but her, it's something right? So everyone have a beer tonight and celebrate 100 hits on our shitty blog site!! It's just too bad that 90% of the hits are from Karps and Myself.

And for jesus' sake. If you enjoy anything you read or even if you hate it, leave comments!

Through thick and thin.

Well the weeks end is here and my pile of dirty clothes can be ignored no more. It is laundry day and as such I had to put on an old "ragged" pair of grundies. I thought nothing of this until my little lady began pointing and laughing (I'd never seen someone laugh in disgust until today).
She began to ridicule me for holding onto a pair of underwear so long that they had holes and hardly hung to my bony hips.
I tried in vain to explain to her that just because this pair did not look as good as the rest didn't mean they were unwearable. I honestly don't see why they should be taken out of rotation. I explained to her that in the world of sports an aged player may not be able to perform as well as they once did. But they offer experience and leadership. Often a veteran player is the captain of the team because they can provide so much more than just point production.
Then it occurred to me that this pair was more like an old friend than just the captain of my undie drawer. We have been through all sorts of adventures together. It has seen me at my best and my worst, it has put up with my shit and still comes back for more. You can't just throw that kind of history away.

Album Review: Dillinger Escape Plan - Ire Works

This album came as somewhat of a surprise to me. I hadn't listened to Dillinger Escape Plan really before this. I have the Error EP that Greg Puciato sings on, but that was my only prior knowledge of this band. I had heard from a few friends that their last one, Miss Machine, was pretty good and I should check it out... I didn't. But when I found out the entire new album was streamed on MySpace I decided to give it a whirl. Within the first 10-15 seconds of each of the first few songs I decided not even to listen to it. It sounded good enough that when it comes out I'm gonna buy it. It came out on Tuesday and here I am Thursday writing the "review".

The album starts out loud and erratic. The first song, Fix Your Face, reminds me somewhat of Refused in style, although harder and screamier(which is rarely ever a bad thing, if you're me). The next song, Lurch, has some really crazy guitar parts, ranging between blistering solo riffs and heavy breakdowns. It even features a little piano, very little. Black Bubblegum is the first song that resembles anything close to Greg's involvement in Error, and almost sounds like it could be a Nine Inch Nails song. Sick on a Sunday quickly follows suit as another heavily electronic song. After a brief musical interlude, When Acting as A Particle, they come back with a mash-up of hardcore and electronic in Nong Eye Gong and another musical, When Acting as a wave. Their most interesting song on the album might be Milk Lizard, with a southerny metal guitar riff, faint horn section and the most diverse singing heard so far. The album only gets better and better with an awesome appearance by Brett Hinds of Mastodon on Horse Hunter as an added little treat.

I left out describing a few songs because I don't want to ruin the album by misrepresenting anything Dillinger Escape Plan have done. This is an incredibly interesting album, and from what I've read and heard of their earlier works is a perfect natural progression for the band. Although not as captivating as a few of my recent purchases (Between the Buried and Me), this has something of an addictive nature to it, hence my 10 consecutive playings on iTunes in the last day. All in all, a very solid album, I'll be wasting some more money quite soon on the rest of their stuff.

Here's a little insight into their songwriting.

Jock Jams!

I was at a rather high profile sporting event recently and everything was as expected. Lines were long, seats were cold and beer was $5 a pop. But the icing on the cake could be heard over the P.A. system. They were still spinning ESPN Presents: Jock Jams.
Yeah that's right, they were pumping out mid 90's hip hop and dance music and sure not to forget the chorus to Queen's We Will Rock You. I'm not sure what happened to the YMCA, but I'll wager they were saving that gem for overtime. Nothing gets a team fired up for a stunning win than 30,000+ people singing about folks being down on their luck while miming out letters.
For the most part stadium music has been at a relative stand still for a little more than a decade and ESPN sure cashed in on that little fact. From 1995 to 1999 they released a Jock Jam album every year. Then in the new millennium they treated us with Jock Jams: The All-Star Jock Jams.
Why do we insist on playing this bullshit? Honestly, Jungle Boogie? In a time where most professional sports are dominated by African Americans is it really P.C. to be cranking Jungle Boogie to the max during a break in the play?
I don't know. Maybe those filthy Europeans are on to something with their "ole, ole, ole, ole". I mean it's easy to remember, it's not offensive, and its fun factor is directly tied to the number of beers consumed.
Folks it's time for a sporting music revolution here in North America.

Happy Way-to-go Day?!

Birthdays are a weird thing. Well, they are not so much weird but our custom of celebrating them is. I mean, why do we all get one day a year where we are "special" because we were born? None of us had any say in that matter, and we certainly did none of the work.
I find the real early birthdays most perplexing.
"Hey little one year old. Here is a toy you're not really going to like and you'll never remember."
Hooray! Lets celebrate the fact that you've been alive for a whole year. Why? What have you done all year?! You can't do anything. You shit, puke and piss all over yourself. You can't feed yourself, you can't even sit up or move. Way to go little one you've been a lump that requires a lot of attention for a whole 365 days. Lets trow a party.
I have no children of my own, but if I did I bet their second birthday would really be the one to chap my ass. Another year of the same really. Only now the little child is trying to speak. Emphasis on TRYING, because if you've ever heard a one year old "talking" it's not really words. It's just sounds that their parents insist are words. So now the kid is mobile and needs more attention than before. Once it starts moving around everything in a house is a potential killer for the kid. On top of that your precious child is still crapping itself, only now the dumps are bigger and more people-like. It's utterly disgusting if you ask me. So Happy Birthday 2 year old, you've been a gross headache for another 365 days.
I think we shouldn't recognize children's birthdays until they are about 5. By this time their memory has developed enough that they might recall it later on. Plus they may have done some things worth celebrating. Maybe your kid came in third in the kindergarten spelling bee? They lost out on the word "Tree", that's probably a real tough word for a 5 year old.
If we're going to do anything for years one through 4 or 5 it should probably be a day to celebrate the parents or caregivers efforts in keeping their little liability alive for another year. We could all draw straws and whoever gets the short one has to look after the kid for the night while the parents go out and get rip roaring drunk.
I'm just saying lets give credit where credit is due.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock....

The other day I went out for drinks with some old high school friends. Some of whom I've been lucky enough to keep in touch with over the years since graduation, others were a welcome surprise. It was nice to see some of those faces after so many years. We shot the breeze for a while then it came out that we are 2 years away from a High School Reunion!
That is a scary thought!
Not that I'm afraid of getting older. Heck no! I'm embracing this aging process, it's treating me well. I'm making more money than I did when I was young. Sure I have bills to pay, but I have the freedom I dreamed of all those long hours in classes back at the ol'school.
But what gets me is the conversations that will be held at the reunion, "What have you been up to lately?", "Did you hear so-and-so has a wife and kids now?", "What are you doing these days?" and so on....
That kept me up at night. I kept trying to think of answers for what I've been doing since we graduated, and I've come up with jack-shit!
So now I need to do something remarkable. I want to, nay, I need to impress the hell out of these assholes I didn't like back then and don't keep in touch with now.
So far I haven't found anything that'll wow the crowd. I've got to kick this in high gear, or I'm going to rob a liquor store. They'll never see that coming.

Line-ups

Why is that every time a person is forced to wait in a line -- at the grocery store, liquor store, the 7-11, a public washroom, an amusement park ride, or whatever -- the person behind you is within your comfort zone at all times? For those of you who are oblivious to this concept, a comfort zone is the diameter around a person (usual 4 feet to less than a foot) which should only be breached for the purpose of sexual intercourse.

When I'm in line at a store buying some cigarettes, I'm anxious to get my cigarettes -- the last thing I wanted was to start an intimate relationship with the burly bitch behind me. Let's put it this way -- when I can feel your breath or smell your genitals, you're TOO FUCKING CLOSE. Step the fuck back! I don't know you well enough to tolerate you rubbing up against my ass... in time, maybe, but not right now. Most people seem to be oblivious to the message that is sent by entering someones comfort zone -- this is an issue that needs to be addressed by everyone who has been (and constantly finds themselves in) this same situation. Next time someone is riding your ass in a lineup, ask them to give you a reach-around -- they'll either turn red with embarrassment and step out of your comfort zone, or they might actually start giving you a reach-around. Either way, problem solved.

Or maybe I just smell nice.

30 Days of Night

First statement: Fucking awesome movie. One of the best vampire movies I've ever seen (and I've watched a buttload). From start to finish it was truly entertaining, the type of movie that sucks you into it's reality and you forget you're watching a movie.

What I like about it.

1. The Vampires: They looked awesome, totally creepy, but still really human looking. The way they fed on humans was interesting. I think it's open to interpretation but it seems like they actually eat humans instead of just sucking blood.
2. 
   
3. The Actors: They really only used one big actor (Josh Hartnett) which was cool because he's a pretty good actor and didn't ruin the movie. One of the worst things about modern horror movies is that they put big name actors in them and I can never see past the fact that they're that actor and they aren't the character in the movie.
4. The Plot: Vampires invading an Alaskan town that has no sunrise for 30 days. The head vampire put it best "We should have come here ages ago."

What I didn't like.

1. There's a love story throughout. I just hated that.
   
2. The ending. Could have been done better in my opinion.

I'm not giving too much away in this review since I'm hoping whoever might read this will go see it for themselves.

1. 
   

Damn the Man!

I didn't think I'd see it in my lifetime. But I guess the world is going crazy, it's all topsey-turvey, and I don't believe we're really that far off from a true Orwellian society.
In these chaotic times actions must be taken. But I don't think the government really needs to control all of the actions of their citizens. An opressive government is not a form of security. Sure, beef up your border security if that'll make you sleep at night. But leave our rights, our social liberties. Let us live!
Did you know that phone sex is illegal now?
It's true. I was having a pleasant conversation with a ladyfriend of mine. And well, things got a little heated. One thing led to another, "What are you wearing?" and so on.
Then all of a sudden the door busts open and the coppers slap the cuffs on me. I tried to tell them I'd clean the booth when I was done, but they weren't having any of that.

Damn Evolution!

Let's face it guys, for whatever insane reason, genetics and evolution gave us butt hair. Always making wiping the most unfavorable part of taking a "dump". For a while I've wondered how to minimalize the amount of crap that gets in contact with the hair itself. After years of gruelling scientific research I've decided that it is literally impossible. Then I wondered "What if I used facecloths? They would have the strength and rigidity needed to cleanse the butt hairs of the crap!". Deciding that there was really no totally sanitary way of actually using facecloths, I gave into a world of total despair and endless wiping to achieve "white flags".

Gentlemen, I have found the solution. The researchers at Charmin (obviously male ones) have figured out what we need in a toilet paper and created Charmin Extra Strong with Flex Weave! This shit is the best! Not only does it hold together like a cloth, meaning you don't have to use a handful to ensure you don't get crap on your hands, its smooth yet contoured weaving pattern makes cleaning the butt hairs extremely easy and at least 75% more enjoyable than before. Go out and buy a pack of these wonder papers and you'll see for yourself.

Rejoice! No longer will we suffer through wiping till we bleed. No longer will we risk the chance of stragglers making their way from butt hair to underwear. And no longer will we ever again have to worry about flimsy toilet paper balling up and getting stuck in the butt hairs. Never again, because thanks to Charmin Extra Strength with Flex Weave, we have won the war on butt hair!

Hi there, How's it going?

Can someone please tell me when the handshake became so fucking complicated?
When did this simple greeting turn into this ridiculous choreographed ballet, or in my case a confusing and scary hand raping?
These days I never know. I reach in, hoping for the good old grab-up-down-up-release. If that happens I'm a happy camper. But for some reason that is not enough for people. They've got to twist my hand around. I'm commonly caught in some strange thumb embrace. I've had a guy slide his hand away, as if I were "giving him some skin" at the end he snapped his fingers.
Once these maroons finally let my hand go I think "finally that awkward embrace is over". But that can be a premature thought. The release is often just a part of the dance, they want you to come back in for more. Typically a bump, or to "pound it".
So I say to all those whose hands I may shake, "You are not the Fresh Prince and I am not your DJ Jazzy Jeff! Up-Down-Up-Release! Have some class."

Between the Buried and Me - Colors

I figured fuck it! This isn't solely a comedy blog is it? And if it is so fucking what, I feel like writing an album review.

Being somewhat of an obsessive compulsive music buyer, I end up a lot of times just grabbing something that catches my eye, or something that I've heard or downloaded before just so that I can have the actual cd. Case in point; I'm in West Edmonton Mall a few weeks ago. They have this GIANT HMV so I know I need to find a bunch of music to buy, problem is nothing new or exciting has come out so I just end up buying a bunch of mid 90's hardcore cd's. They kick ass but ultimately aren't what i really needed to buy.

I've been looking at Between the Buried and Me for a while now, thinking about getting Alaska after hearing how musically ridiculous it is and that every metal/metalcore/whatever the fuck band should not even bother writing music because this album is so good. I had just put off buying this cd for whatever reason. Then I find out they just released their newest, Colors. After reading a few reviews of people mentioning that it is in fact better than Alaska I figure I have to get this and find out about this band.

The second I started listening to this cd I was uncontrollably drawn to it. The piano backed soft vocal intro was unique enough to know that this wasn't typical metal(insert your own label). The thing is, this album just keeps throwing things like that at you the whole way through, from African inspired drums on Informal Gluttony to the Nightmare Before Christmas style mini interlude on Sun of Nothing. It's all unexpected, kind of wierd, but it all works, really really really well. Some songs are in excess of 10 minutes long but it doesn't matter since the thing plays like one long orchestra of awesome.

I was about to buy Alaska yesterday, but I found myself saying "Now Way! You can't stop listening to Colors yet!". So I didn't, and I don't know how long this album will keep me on this high. I'm tempted to force a voluntary stop listen so I don't experience another Avenged Sevenfold type of overlistening situation, although I'm not sure that could happen in this case. Either way, I love this cd, I just wanted to shout it from on top of a mountain, But I didn't have a mountain, I had an internet blog and a computer.

Back after a lull.

Well. If anyone is reading this, it's back!
There was quite a bit of down time where nothing noteworthy happened. Still nothing exciting to report but it dawned on me, "Fuck it! If you're reading this you really have nothing better to do with your time."
With that said I would like to introduce my new tale based on real events:

My Trip to Costco & The Downward Spiral

Not long ago I borrowed a Costco family card and decided to pick up a few things. For the first little while I made my way through the aisles just taking in all the magnificent deals they had to offer, so very much for so very little. But after 15 minutes it became apparent that there wasn't a whole lot that would be useful to me. Myself and my roommates seldom eat at home due to food needing to be cooked and shit, so many of these deals became painfully useless to me.
Now it was a challenge. I got the card and I drove all the way out here. I wasn't going to go away empty handed. So I picked up a flat of house brand cola, hey we still mix our drinks right? Sweet. One down. Gotta find more items.
My next treasure was a giant tub of pickles. I don't eat a lot of pickles, but they do add a certain zip to a sandwich from time to time. Also, I don't think they can go bad, that's why they're pickled right?
I was stuck, I couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't rot in my house. There was nothing else I thought I needed. Then on my way to the checkout I saw a box of condoms. This was a massive box of condoms, 120 dubes in one package. This could be good. First off, my girlfriend is either too cheap or too selfish to go on the pill. Secondly, I'm going to look like a hell of a stud ringing that monstrous box of condoms through.
It wasn't the treasure trove I had anticipated, but I walked away feeling that I did alright. The day was good.
Later on that same evening my little lady came over and we ordered a pizza and watched a movie. It was getting near bed time and I went to go clean myself up a bit and my girl followed. I washed my face and started brushing my teeth. It was then I was asked to move out of the way. My gal then made her way into the bathroom and grabbed a toothbrush from the cup and began cleaning up. This seemed strange to me. I didn't know who's toothbrush she was using and I was a tad grossed out, but I figured I knew where the night was heading and I didn't mind the though of minty breath.
We made our way down to my bedroom and after a little talk we began getting a little frisky. But the whole toothbrush incident was weighing heavy on my mind. I just couldn't shake it. So I had to ask her,"who's toothbrush did you use up there?"
"Oh, that's mine silly" she replied.
"Wait a second! You have a toothbrush here?" I couldn't believe it. When did this happen. She never told me this. I didn't know that we were at that stage in the relationship.
This continued in the question and answer style for a few minutes and eventually grew into a small argument.
She began to get defensive, "I can't believe you don't want me to have a toothbrush here. You have serious commitment issues Adam!"
I don't know why, but that set me off. "Commitment issues? I have commitment issues? Take a look at this!"
That's where I busted out my new purchase. I thought this gigantic box of jimmy-hats would save the day.
She didn't see it that way. She figured I was just with her for the sex.
I tried to comfort her, "You're too cheap to go on the pill so I got these. 120 condoms, that's like 4 months of doin it if we do it every day, but with your headaches and shit this box is like a six month commitment!"
She didn't see it my way and I had to drive her home. She took her toothbrush and now I'm single.
Being single isn't the worst thing in the world, but now I've got this huge box of condoms sitting in my dresser drawer. And they expire eventually. So now every night it's like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story. It's hard to sleep, all I can hear is "TICK-TOCK" coming from my dresser. Each day is a reminder I'm not getting any. The box is now taunting me. It's hell.
Now I'm a little worried. Take this scenario for example. Say I get a cute little philly to come home with me and somehow convince her that it's a good idea to sleep with me. How is that girl going to react to this new fella in her life pulling out a monstrous box of condoms? No good can come from this.

Parenting For Dummies!

I recently had the misfortune of using a public washroom. No matter how clean it appears on the surface it still sends shivers up your spine; But that's another rant altogether.
What really struck me was the kids change table that was in this particular men's room. And I suppose it wasn't the table itself that was to blame but rather the instructional cartoon that accompanied it. Turns out the chubby silhouette that also informs me which restroom is appropriate for me is also the star of the "How To" series or comics on this table.
One of the little illustrations informs the parent that it is improper to try to fold the table back up into the wall before first removing your young one from the table top!
Now, I'd like to say that this sort of warning is completely unnecessary. However, I have encountered some rather inept people in my life. I think it is a sad state we've found ourselves in. Things that should go unsaid are now being said in the form of illustrations. Probably a good thing, words are snooty any way.
It's time to let the idiots fend for themselves. Thin out this gene pool already. Darwin would be spinning in his grave!

P.S. If any parent is really aided by those change table illustrations I do believe I'll owe you all $1.00 if their kid makes it to the age of 2.

You ain't cool unless you smoke.

I've been watching some classic movies lately and man, those guys were bad ass. They were the definition of cool. James Dean, Humphrey Bogart,all those dudes had a ciggy hanging from their lips. And they ALWAYS got the babes.
I've been trying to be more like those men. True manly men, heroes actually. But those cigarettes make me cough, they taste awful and I get dizzy and feel sick. All are counter productive when attempting to look cool. They are the opposite of bad ass.
Luckily I've found the patch. I'm going to ease into the world of Cool!

YAR!

Some of you may not know this about me, but I have a lazy eye. Have since I was real young. I was looking at that twirlymajigs parents hang above their kids cribs and ol'lefty said, "Damn man. This is too much work, I'm going on break".
Fuckers' been slacking off ever since.
So around the time I was three or so I have had to wear glasses. Then half way through kindergarten my folks took me to a new optometrist. And this guy was an out of the box thinker. He was cutting edge. Break trough ideas every day. He decided, "Well shit, we should put a patch over the right eye."
Yeah, smart dude. He figured that putting all the pressure on the lazy bastard in the left socket would fix the situation.
Back then I didn't know as much about being cool as I do today, but I knew that a 5 year old wearing an eye patch was not going to be the envy of the school yard.
My mom tried to help out. She told me,"Don't worry Adam. You're like a pirate. The kids will like your patch."
The children at school were not convinced of my new found coolness. Apparently pirates did not wear fleshy coloured eye patches. Thus, I looked nothing like a bad ass pirate. I looked like a disfigured cyclops. A fucking lazy-eyed cyclops.
Looking back on it. I think the optometrist was a sadist. He was a twisted asshole. Good thing he wasn't a real doctor.
What would he have done if I had asthma. "Oh don't worry Mrs. Karppinen, just tickle him." "Hey little guy, looks like you broke your arm..." BOOM! Kick in the balls.
I hate that man.

It's all in how you look at it.

May long weekend has passed and I learned something new.
Weed does funny things to a person. It does not make you smarter as I was led to believe through some conversations with pot-heads (note: If a pot-head has taken one post-secondary course in their lifetime they believe that they are the smartest kid on the block).
I realized that pot doesn't make you smarter, it just makes you easily impressed. I spent an entire afternoon absorbed by the amazingness of plants.
"Whoa man! Plants are crazy. They like, take the sun. And then they use it as food. Then you know what man? They get indigestion from eating the sun, and they fart out oxygen! Can you believe it? Plant farts keep us alive!" And so on.
The plant fart thing was pretty cool. But I still spent half of that afternoon being astounded by photosynthesis. Something we all learned about in elementary school.
Then I'm not sure if I was still high or not, but I started thinking of how cool it would be if people could photosynthesize... yeah, I was probably still high.
But that would be quite awesome. Just imagine how that would change the world.
"Hey fatty, get an umbrella!"
It'd be so crazy. All those starving kids in poor nations would be disgustingly fat. They'd probably still have those guilt-trip commercials. "For the price of a cup of coffee YOU can provide a ball cap and a treadmill for these tubs of lard."
PETA would probably be pretty happy too. "Never before have the lions of the world ate so good. These fat little children make for easy and delicious prey for the majestic beasts."
It's probably a good thing I don't smoke on a regular basis.

Every day is an adventure.

Summer is near, that's right, the beer drinking season is nearly upon us. So with that in mind I paid a visit to my physician. And folks, he gave me some earth shattering news. Something that forced me to reevaluate my life.
Beer alone cannot sustain a person. Apparently there are not enough nutrients and crap in there to keep a person alive. He even claimed that if I attempted to consume beer and only beer through the summer months I'd surely die. And when I tried to argue the value of the protein in a bottle of beer he told me to stop being an idiot and read a book.
This prompted me to go out and buy a bottle of those multi-vitamins. It has only been a week, but the results have been far better than I could have ever imagined! Now when I take a leak it looks like I'm shooting a neon laser beam out my wang!
I love taking a piss now. It's like an adventure every time. It's like I'm in Star Wars every time I go to the bathroom now.
I pretend I'm a bad ass Jedi and I go into battle with my yellow lightsaber. I like to imagine the toilet as Darth Vader and I have a great time making up battle scenes.

...my bathroom is disgusting.

How funny are we?

My friends and I have had a habit of using the phrase "big whoop" for nearly anything that happens to us. Everything from "Hey, I just cleaned that!" "Big whoop!" to "Jesus guys, I think it might be broke!?" "Big Whoop!". Now I know it's hard for an outsider to really understand why we do things and why they're ridiculously funny, but I do try to get my girlfriend in on most of our jokes, including this one. I've been back for about 3 weeks now and she knows this is now just a default response to anything said to me. Last night she has the audacity to tell me "Ok you can give that up now, I don't think it's funny" to which I reply, "Well I know 7 people who think it is". "Well I know about 100 people who would think saying 'big whoop' to everything that's said to you is dumb" and to really illustrate the hilarity of using the phrase I respond... "Big whoop!"

Brutal Irony

You know what's awesome? Drinking your dumbass face off all night and getting completely hammered drunk. And what's even awesomer? Waking up the next morning and feeling like a million bucks. Those are the best days, you can get up, not feel queezy, not have to puke and not have a raging headache. I had one of those days this weekend. I even felt good enough to eat some food right away, had a huge bottle of water as well and none of it upset my stomach. I was having the greatest day of not being hungover. I was ready to go out and face the world. I had a shower, brushed my teeth put on some clean clothes. Yeah I checked myself out in the mirror for a few minutes cause I just felt so good. Nothing could have ruined my day, or so I thought. The worst thing that can happen to a guy who feels healthy and clean... I had to shit. Not a little "oh yeah I'll hold it for a bit cause I feel so good right now" no. It was a "get the shit outta my way I need to kill a toilet!" So I shit, and then I felt so dirty that it ruined my perfect day.

Tweeta-lee-diddly-dee tweet tweet.

So you're having a good day. The sun is shining, and things just seem to be going your way. Hell, you're walking on sunshine. So what do you do?
You start whistling, because you feel so damn good you think the world should know just how happy you are.
And it is a scientific fact that it's impossible to whistle when you're feeling blue.
So you're strolling around whistling a tune, showing your happiness off to the world. Now unless you are whistling the tune to Walk like an Egyptian, or The Andy Griffith Show you are a grade 'A' asshole.
These songs engage the general public. They transform this annoying high pitched noise into an invitation into your blessed world of bliss. People know the tunes once they hear them, and they are infectious.
But, if you're thinking you're some sort of Whistling-Mozart and you're making up your own respiratory symphony then you're effectively pissing off anyone and everyone within ear shot. We, as humans, quickly learn to hate you. You are definitely far to happy, and you're a greedy S.O.B.
______________________________________________________
Other Acceptable Tunes:
- Don't Worry Be Happy (Bobby McFerrin)
- Always Look on the Bright Side of Life (Monty Python)
- Joyride (Roxette)

Just remember, your whistling is less of a cunty move the more popular and catchy the tune.

Titles are for those that have a point.

I write ads for a radio station. It is not glamorous but it is fun. There are boundaries. I am not allowed to mock religious folk, nor can I do anything overly sexual or crude which, according to some of our listeners, are one and the same. On the flip side, I get to sit and think up ways to make crappy things sound good, see what I can slip past the censors and be surrounded by interesting people all day long. Also, because of the nature of the job I pay more attention to advertising that I used to. It's interesting if you think about the images and tag lines companies use.
One that really makes me laugh is Royal. The toilet paper has kittens on their package and claims their product is kitten soft. I agree that most kittens are soft but I have never thought of wiping my ass with one. Now that I have thought of this, the thought makes me giggle with glee.
Other packages that make me smile are ones for douches. They have these demure, motherly women who are still young but have some undefinable trait that makes them seem more mature than they should be. Perhaps the fact that they use a douche makes them more grown up. Anyway, the thing that makes me laugh is the stark contrast between those packages and ones for hair colour. Hair colour models are either wild and crazy, sultry, or radiant. Never demure. They radiate confidence and seem to say, "Fuck yeah! Change your colour! Don't be a slave to nature!" whereas the douche models expression seems to say, "Goodness, is that scent me? I hope no one sees me buying this."

Danger is my middle name

Any one who knows me will tell you that I crave excitement and I thrive on danger. They all know I aspire to a world of intrigue and/or espionage; They can tell because everything I own has no less that 3 secret pockets in or on it.
Lately, I've been feeling playful. Up for a challenge and not a small challenge. I want something to test my wits, my guts, my metal.
I think I would like to commit a robbery. And no, I don't mean knock over a convenience store at axe-point. I mean an intricate and classy job. Think jewel heist, or just rent the newer version of Oceans Eleven. I think I have enough secret pockets in my closet to make me Danny Ocean.
I would love to assemble a crack team, break into a secure building without being detected and make off with the loot like a ghost in the night.
I think that could near be the greatest thrill in my life.
I along with my team would steal all of the books in a large library. Save for the dictionary, which would be open to the page that contains the word "ironic".

Girls...

...make life rough for guys sometimes. Like for serious. Ill admit its happened to me, and Ive seen it happen. You go out with your buddies for a night of good times, good laughs, and yes, good drinks. You get home either that night or the next morning, and thats when the good times end! You come home that night only to find either 13 missed phone calls (from you know who) or and pile of messeges on your computer all saying..."where were you?" "who were you with?" "are you drunk?".....FUCK YOU! OF COURSE I'M DRUNK! "I went out with my friends and its 3:46 in the morning, I am hammered drunk." You tell them that, and then realize thats when you should have kept your mouth shut, then they just tear into you about how they were home alone all night or some bullshit like that, of course you dont remember what they said because you're hammered drunk. Then they call you, and ask you every 3 minutes if you're paying attention and listening to what they are saying, you tell them you are but really, all you want is to go to sleep. Then the next day, or maybe a few days after you gotta try to make it up to them somehow...which is dumb, yeah its just dumb. Because you shouldnt have to make up for anything, you went out with your friends, she didnt, big whoop! but it is a big whoop to her. Life seems like it might be easier with them, but for sure would suck without them at the same time.
Everyone knows this happens, and knows it will continue to happen, simply because guys like and want girls, and yes, i know my day will come again. I will fall for a girl again, and this whole cycle will start again, four five six!

This morning.

This morning I awoke to the sound of my alarm going off. At the same time I could smell an awful scent. The way i figure it, I must have farted in my sleep just moments before the alarm woke me up. This morning was terrible.

I'm a Secret Agent, man.

I am a man. A man through and through. A being forged in the fires of evolution. And thus, I do not enjoy shopping. I don't understand why the fairer sex likes this so. How can they go to a mall *shudder* and try on countless pairs of jeans/shirts/jackets and what have you and then not buy anything from that store?
A guy, by definition, does not try on clothes.
He may, on occasion, hold the item up to his body and size it up, eye-ball it if you will. Colours and cuts do not really come into play when a guy is making a purchase decision.
This is what we, as guys, want everyone to believe.
The truth of the matter is there is one aspect of shopping that we do enjoy.
Men love hidden/secret pockets! The more pockets something has, the cooler it is. That item becomes exponentially cooler if these pockets are hidden - out of sight from the general public.
The sad truth is, these secret pockets are as close as many of us will come to being James Bond. Why do you think we keep our wallets in breast pockets whenever possible? It's not comfort, fuck comfort - It looks way cooler to pull something out of a breast pocket.

Glory Never Fades

Every now and then I like to reminiss and think back to when I coached that underdog wheelchair basketball team. Nobody thought we'd last the whole season. But we proved them wrong. Those scrappy kids had hearts bigger than any other in the league. We made our way through the season, fought through injury, and just barely made the playoffs.
That's when the true test came. Each playoff game was a battle. But they fought hard, I simply organized the troops and they went out there and lived and died on the court. We made it to the final.
Oh I wish you all could have been there. It was no story book ending with a last second basket winning us the game. My boys, my MEN went out there and dominated the competition. They mopped the floor with the number one team.
I still remember the feeling of that cold Gatorade drenching me from the mid-back on down.

Germaphobes!

These days it seems everyone is a germaphobe. Every cleaning product out there boasts the "kills 99.9% of bacteria" label. Then there are those hand sanitizers, they kill the same, they even have anti-bacterial Kleenex!
People are now only coming in contact to 0.1% of the bacteria out there. And it's having consequences. Weak and lame consequences.
Why do you think all those kids are deathly allergic to peanuts?
How lame is that? I mean how would you feel if you could die from a snack food?
I know if I was allergic to peanuts, and someone gave me a delicious Snickers bar, and like, if I took a bite without thinking. Oh man, I would run as fast as I could straight into the woods. Then I would punch a Grizzly Bear right in the face!
That way when people asked how I died they'd be like, "wow, that's fucking awesome! Really dumb, but awesome." Compare that to the laughter that would follow after they heard a candy-bar took me down.
What's that other thing that was taking people out???
...SARS! Yeah, remember SARS? What were the symptoms? Riiight, flu-like.
You know what else has flu-like symptoms?
THE FLU!
Basically, the flu nearly stopped the world from turning. Cities shut down, people panicked, they even had a benefit concert! For the flu.
I swear it wouldn't be this way if people weren't so afraid of germs. You know what a vaccination is? They put a couple germs in you and your body builds antibodies.
That's why I like to go to the mall once a week and stand at the top of the escalator and press my tongue to the hand rail and just let it roll.
Sure I get some funny looks, but I could go to Africa and fuck every-dam-thing and come home without AIDS. I guarantee.

Commality smells like Bounce sheets.

Since I moved to Saskatoon I have always lived in apartments. I'm very antisocial so I don't ever really get to know my neighbors. I don't care to have people popping in on me to borrow a cup of sugar or a condom or, God forbid, just to visit. I enjoy my privacy and, while I will offer a greeting if I see someone in the hall, it's always non-committal and I quickly hightail it out of there before it becomes more. This tactic has a high success rate unless you are in the one place that is a majour problem with apartments: the laundry room.

There are a few places in an apartment building that are shared by the tenants but most of the time it's just a place for a nod-and-run if you see someone. The hallways and exits are prime examples, as is the mailbox area. You're always coming and going through these places, not lingering. No, the lingerers always make their way downstairs. The laundry room is an antisocial person's worst nightmare for a few simple reasons.

1) No matter what, there's always at least one weirdo in the building who you try your hardest to avoid. These people are generally the lingerers and the law of averages dictates that you'll see them in the laundry room.

2) It's an enclosed area and you need to be down there so it's not like you can just make a quick getaway with a shitty excuse.

3) People seem to feel the need to talk in the laundry room. Just because it's a common area doesn't mean we have anything in common as people. This doesn't mean that I am completely against chit chat. Far from it. I like interesting conversations but if you open with, "Doing some laundry, hey?" I can't be held responsible for whatever sarcastic reply comes out of my mouth.

I'll leave off with a story about one of the weirder laundry related things to happen to me. It occurred in my old apartment. I went downstairs to put my stuff in the dryer and in the room was one of the ladies who lived in my apartment. She was creepy. I had thought so even before this day. I'd peg her to be in her late 40's to early 50's. She looked like the kind of lady who'd put on fake leather pants, a leopard print top and lots of blue eye shadow, head out to get shit-faced, do dirty things with dirty people, then top off the evening with a 5 am breakfast at the Olympia to get the taste of cigarettes, vomit, and dirty people out of her mouth.

Did I mention that she was sitting on the dryer? Yep, just sitting there on a running dryer, all by herself. I came in, did a hello nod then quickly broke eye contact. While I proceeded to transfer my socks and undies from the washer to the dryer she proceeded to stare at me. Hard. It was a stare that was straddling the Darwinian brink before becoming a straight up leer. Needless to say I got my stuff going then quickly exited the room, leaving her to do whatever it was she was doing on that dryer. When I came back down later she was gone but I noticed something strange with my clothes: I was missing a pair of underwear! I had been given a two-set of undies. One pair was black with little white skulls and the other pair was the negative image of those. Well the white-with-black-skulls pair was gone. Both pairs had been in that washer and had gone in the dryer. One pair came out. Creepy dryer riding lady stole my underwear.

Chinese People are the Nicest People

I know that they are not all Chinese. But since I am an ignorant white-guy it's the easiest way to group ALL the people from Asian countries. And the fact that the majority of these non-Chinese Chinese people rarely correct me on their country of origin really makes me think they are nice and accepting of my ignorance.
And that is why I don't care when they talk about me behind my back. That's right, me and the other ignorant white people know that when we're walking in front of a group of Chinese people in the mall, we know they're talking about us. We don't know what they're saying exactly. It's probably something like, "Ha-ha-ha, look at that white guy. Check out his shoes. He calls those super-shiney? They aren't even a really bright citrus colour!" But they're so nice that we don't even care.
And the real kicker, the thing that makes them nicer than the rest of the other nationalities out there is their names. I know that Ricky, Tim, Jimmy, Johnny, and Steve are not typical Chinese names. But when they move to a North American country they always name their kids typical white-guy easy to pronounce names.
So a tip of the hat to Chinese people.

Potty Confusion.

Have you ever been to someones house and you have to take a wizz. Then you go to the bathroom and they've got it set up where along one wall there is the counter with the sink, then beside that the toilet, then all along that wall there is a big mirror?
Like, they actually run the mirror past the edge of the counter and carry it on all the way to the toilet!
Isn't that a bit strange?
I have a hard time believing that during the design and build process of that shitter the woman of the house said, "hey, lets run this mirror even further than it has to go. I'll never be able to see myself in it, but we should buy 3 more feet of mirror any way."
That is a move that has to be the guys decision. He's got to be thinking, "I wonder what it looks like while I'm pissing?"
I don't know how he convinced the little lady, but there it was. And I always feel awkward in this situation. You know, you take it out and then it's that strange encounter. Like running into an ex girlfriend, you try to avoid eye contact with it at all costs. Looking around the room in search of something of any interest. But it always happens. You sneak a peak down there and have to look at your member spewing piss. It's gross, I'm not proud of it, but it's hypnotic. And I always feel a little dirty after I'm done.
Seeing as how society is going further and further down the morality ladder I think it'll only be 5-10 years before I need to take a dump at this dudes house and notice a screen on the adjacent wall hooked up to a closed circuit camera.

I meant for this one to be educational.

I like reading about space. It's vast, all encompassing and mysterious. When you look up into the night sky and gaze upon billions and billions of stars twinkling above you can't help but be in awe of it's beauty and contemplate what strides we are making to break free of our home planet and see what's really out there.

Recently I was reading about a NASA space craft that was destroyed because it crashed into a dead satellite. Why did it do this? Because a sensor inside was confused and thought it was moving away from satellite instead of towards it. This craft cost $110 million to design, build and launch. $110 million down the tube because a computer couldn't tell the difference between forward and backward. It's like when old people forget whether they were coming or going to a place but on a much grander scale.

Anyway, I started thinking about our attempts to get into space and how much ingenuity and courage it took to get there. You hear all about the manned space expeditions but you don't hear much about the sacrifices it took to get to that point. I'm talking about space monkeys. In my mind I like to imagine these monkeys as brave and bold, true leaders of their species, perhaps puffing on a cigarette before happily climbing into a rocket knowing that adventure is just around the corner. In reality they were pretty much just strapped in and launched. This also conjures images of a monkey screaming while it flies upwards at 11.2 kilometres per second and, if you're not a member of PETA, this is also kind of funny.

Ham the chimp was the first higher primate (better than a monkey!) to be launched into outer space and he made it back safely. He lived to be 27 and was in a movie with Evel Knievel. He's buried in New Mexico. This is all I know about Ham and some might say that is far too much to know about a chimp's life anyway. For all of Ham's success, there's also a dark side to the monkeys in space concept. Many of these animals died during their missions. Which leads me to another thought: How friggin' intimidating would it be for an alien to fly to our planet only to be greeted by the corpses of several dead monkeys floating around in orbit? No wonder there's no conclusive evidence of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. They're all avoiding us! Dead monkeys in orbit, satellite debris floating around like car parts spread out on a trailer park lawn, an atmosphere that's depleted and steadily growing dirtier by the minute... we are the white trash of the galaxy. All we need now are some giant speakers at the poles blaring out Whitesnake's greatest hits and perhaps the holographic projection of a monster truck rally on the surface of the moon.

MARCH

ITS MARCH

The 80's had some awesome toys

I grew up in the 80's and people always talk about how dangerous some of the toys were. Yes, there were snap bracelets that lacerated wrists. Sure the pogo ball was a ticking time bomb just waiting to snap a supple young ankle. And I'll grant you trampolines destroyed many a summer for us young pups.
But there were also some good wholesome toys that really lived it up in the 80's. We had Lite-Brite, Operation, and Monopoly to name a few. It surely was a great time to be a youngster.
On a seemingly unrelated note. I went to the doctor with a tummy-ache the other day and to my surprise was rushed to the hospital for an emergency surgery.
I think the procedure looked somewhat like the scene when Australian fishermen catch a shark, then hang it upside down and cut the stomach open to reveal the contents. Only in this case the shark was a rather stupid 8 year old boy. They pulled out two greens and a red, an X and a triangle, a small metal top hat, and what appears to be two packs of Big League Chew.

whats in a name.....VIOLENCE!

Lately i've been having a lot of violent urges against people who have violent urges.  Like the time I wanted to destroy dereks face when he wanted to destroy my tv with a basketball.  I always wonder what it is that stops me from doing these things, then I realize it's the fact that it never happened, but it could have.

Violence

Lately I've had a lot of sudden violent urges. Like the time I felt like crushing that old lady's legs between my car and the one in front of me. Or a couple of days ago when I was thinking about how fun it would be to dropkick this group of teenagers down the escalator. And even yesterday when I felt like throwing Kent's basketball through his TV. I wondered what it is that keeps stopping me from doing all of these things. It's not a fear of jail, or punishment of any kind. No, what I think it is, is that in the back of my mind, I'm sure I'll fuck it up and it won't be as fun or funny as I thought it would be.

I hate your friends!

I hate meeting new people, especially new people who other people hope are going to be a new friend. I have friends already, I look at my friend spots kind of like a baseball team, and I got all the roster spots filled. It took me 25 years but I finally got a full team I like, I feel like my team could go all the way this year. I look at my friends friends who aren't friends with my like there in my minor-league system. They're close, still gotta work on some fundementals but they won't get a shot at the big leagues unless a starter gets hurt. It's not like there is a constant barage of people wanting to be my friends, but I'm put in the situation enough that I just want to wear a hat that says "you'll never be my friend", does that make me a bad guy?

Bucket #6 wins your freedom.

As a child I hated waking up early unless it was for cartoons. Waking up at the crack of nine o'clock on a Saturday morning was a weekly ritual for me. I had my favorites. The Transformers and Ghostbusters still affect my moral decisions to this day, but there was one program that really warped my little mind in so many ways: The Bozo the Clown show.

I wasn't a huge fan and rarely made it through a whole show. I don't like clowns at all and, while Bozo and his sidekick Cookie were on the low end of the terror-ometer, my phobia wasn't the reason I couldn't sit through an entire episode. The real reason is that it was fucking boring. Bozo would throw pies and try not to get hit with things propped up on doorways. Kids would scream with glee, there'd be a cartoon, more screaming, blah blah blah. The set looked like it took place in an old auditorium on the bad side of town. I'm sure there were used needles and condoms under the bleachers where the kids sat. If you were raised in the 50's, the production values would have been acceptable but I'm from the generation of Lazer Tag; I needed a little bit more

Even though I was bored out of my skull there was one part of the show that captivated me. I'd flip through the channels until this part came on then I'd shut out all distractions around me and glue myself to the screen. If you watched the show then you probably know the part I'm talking about: the bucket toss. Oh how I loved the bucket toss. The premise of the game (which will now officially be known hereafter as The Toss) was that a kid was picked out of the audience and taken over to Bozo who was standing in front of six buckets lined in a row. There was a line at one end and the kid took his or her place there. Then Bozo would give them a ping pong ball and they'd have to toss the ball into the first bucket. If they made it, Bozo would get Cookie to show them what they'd won and then make them toss another ball into the second bucket. Repeat cycle. The further you progressed, the better the prizes got. By the sixth bucket you were winning bikes, candy, board games, all sorts of crap. The best part was you got to keep all the previous prizes too!

I loved it and hated it at the same time. I loved the concept of prizes. I hated that I would never be able to do The Toss. Why? Was it because I'd never be in Chicago? Nope. Theoretically I could convince my parents to take me there. Was it because I was too old? Hell no. When this was going on I was right in my prime Toss years. The reason I couldn't do The Toss was because I was Canadian. That's right. Canadian. At the beginning of the show (or the end, I can't remember) it said anyone could be a contestant but then had a sub-clause that you had to be an American to play.

Come to think of it, this is probably where my dislike of Americans began. I was already pissed at the prejudice being hurled my way due to being born in the wrong country but, on top of that, I had to watch these kids, these American kids win? I remember what they were like. Have you ever watched the movie "A Christmas Story"? They remind me of the kid who stands in line behind Ralphie at the Santa line up. The one who wore the goggles and smelled of tapioca. Bozo's audience was filled with kids just like that. They were winning bikes while I sat and ate cereal. Or, even worse, they weren't winning bikes while I ate my cereal. I used to get so irritated watching these kids screw up. I remember being absolutely livid when one of them couldn't even get the ball in the first bucket. I literally got up and screamed at the screen with anguish, "You didn't even try!!!"

It was so frustrating seeing these kids fail, especially when I knew I could do better. I have a hard time watching someone else do something and do it badly and that's when nothing is at stake. You put a bike up for grabs, phone in your effort, then march around in Bozo's Grand Parade smiling like nothing happened? Fuck you, you're now my enemy.

As a weird aside, I think I attached a bizarre stigma to the kids who participated in The Toss. To this day I still feel that the kids that made it to bucket #6 went on to lead successful lives and are vastly superior to the majority of the population. The ones that failed miserably are either dead, burn-outs, or on third rate reality TV shows. Perhaps that's why it was so upsetting to know I would never get to play: it was my barometer for future success and I was denied knowing my future simply because I was Canadian. Later in life I would learn that not being an American is far better than being one but at the time it seemed unfair. Health Care? Screw that, I wanted a bike.

Super Freaking Smart.

The other day I got my first look at what the Apple iPhone can do for me.
Lets just say, I was blown away. That thing is amazing. It can do nearly everything. I couldn't stop thinking how smart those people who made it must be. I'll bet they wear pretty big hats.
I was lost in thought of Steven Jobs and his crew of brilliant wizards when my mind began to wander. I thought of the geniuses through time. There is this new Apple-gang, Einstein, Newton, Edison and so on. Then I thought back and back, who is the smartest of them all? Who would I most like to meet?
And it hit me!
I don't know who it is or when it happened. But, I would like to shake the hand of the individual who first looked at a cow and said, "I'm going to eat that!".
I'm sure that must have been a long time ago, long before guns and slaughter houses. So that only makes it even more impressive. I know if you plunked me back X-million years I'd certainly be a vegetarian, simply because I wouldn't know how to kill anything. Small things would be too quick, and large ones too dangerous.
I'm not sure how "he" killed that first cow. But in my mind it looks a little like Rocky II. Only at the end of the fight Rocky doesn't win the Heavyweight Belt, he eats Apollo Creed.

My cereals may be dull but my shoes are flamboyant!

I turned 25 a few days ago and, since I've been home all week with a bum ankle, I started doing a little self introspection. I wouldn't go so far as to call it soul searching though I do plan to continue doing that. I'll find that damn soul someday. No, what I was doing wasn't serious enough to be considered much of anything.
It did have a serious start, what with me trying to figure out what the Hell I'm doing with my life but quickly devolved (de-evolved?) into the usual brand of "entertaining only to me and maybe Adam" style of thought. I could see the cereal stash from the couch and started studying it. Let's see: Raisin Bran, Fibre One, Shreddies, All-Bran, Multi-grain Cheerios, and, the wild child of the gang, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios. That's a health conscious bunch. At least 3 of those could be found in the cupboards of old people concerned with prolonging their life. Looking at them, all I can think is, "When the fuck did I get so boring?"

Suspending reality for a minute, if you cut me in half, you would see a series of concentric rings similar to those you would find in the trunk of a tree. Rather than the usual procession of light brown/dark brown, these rings would be a harmony of pastel and primary colours from all the cereals I've eaten whilst growing up. There's your standard shades of Fruit Loops or rather, Froot Loops seeing as proper spelling was tossed to the side once they added a fourth colour. There are miscellaneous blue rings from all those times Kellogg's and General Mills got riske (French hat over the e) and hauled out the forbidden blue food colouring. I realize blue isn't so forbidden now but I am a child of the 80's and back then blue foods were considered taboo. I have another rant about this and blue Kool-Aid but I'll save that for another day. Also in this veritable rainbow are bright red Crunchberry rings and bright purple ones from Frosted Flakes. I realize that technically those should be brown but I've always imagined it turning purple in my stomach so that's how it's going to be. Remember, we left reality's well beaten path and started blazing our own a while back.

Those are not healthy cereals. I'm surprised I didn't get diabetes from eating all that crap. My pancreas would take yours in a Death Match. I guess that's only if the pancreas is responsible for insulin. Which it might not be. I forget. Anyway, You could look at these rings and as they got further from the centre, the colours would start fading until it was looking just like a tree. Our study done, we may now put me back together with no ill effects and slide down to reality again.

"When the fuck did I get so boring?" I know those cereal choices are much better for me than the sugar frosted death crunchies of old but they're so dull! So grown up! And you can't put a cartoon character on a box of Fibre One because it makes other people uncomfortable. What would you even put? A poop with racing stripes and a watch? That's just irregular (yes that's some pun-like wordplay). Even the Honey-nut Cheerio Bee can't go on other boxes of Cheerios. People with no imagination would call him on it. "Hey... bees have nothing to do with apples or cinnamon... what the Hell are you doing here? Get out of here Honey-nut Cheerio Bee!" and then he walks away slowly, lonely, and probably having suicidal thoughts.

I guess we weren't quite back to reality.

Don't get me wrong, these cereals do taste kind of good but it's a different kind of good. I'm just lamenting the lack of fun they suffer from. In the end, I suppose I have to accept the fact that, while I am an adult and I can eat whatever I want, I am an adult and will die a young death unless I start following the lead of seniors everywhere and eat dull, earthy, and healthy cereals.

I refuse to start stealing Senokot though.

Moustaches are good for camoflauge.

Today I was thinking about job security. I'm probably getting bumped out of my position at FCL. I am fine with this and am actually quite happy. I may be the first person there to ever crack a grin after being told they were getting laid off. I started thinking about what I was going to do after and then a thought popped into my head. I began to think about what Saddam Hussein's body doubles migh be doing for work now. His capture and execution must have really been rough on them. Sure it was a dangerous job but I like to think that they reaped some sort of sweet palatial benefits from it back when Saddam was in power. Now? Not only are they out of a job, they're probably hated more than the average Iraqi citzen. At least when I'm done with my job there won't be mobs wanting to string me up.

Well, maybe one or two.

Where's the button that says, "I'm feeling hesitant about this."

There is a new development in my life that has started to worry me. I recently had the hard drive on my computer crash and needed a replacement. Because I am cheap and impatient I had the guy who fixed it only do a partial install and I figured I would do the rest. I brought it home and started the long process of reinstalling programs and trying to get a set up similiar to what I had before. It was during this process that my latest cause for worry reared it's head: I am a "yes man" when it comes to computers.
If you're familiar with installation procedures you'll know that you're often presented with many screens asking you what to do. These do not bother me. It's their little siblings that get on my nerves. These are the ones that are written in some sort of esoteric computer jargon (I know jack shit about computers) that tell you something and then you are presented with the options of "Ok" and "Cancel". At first I was hesitant to choose but not out of fear. I simply wanted more information. This is not usually an option or, if it is, there's more lingo that I don't understand. After some hesitation I just chose "Ok". Then another screen popped up.
Ok.
Restart.
More screens.
Ok. Ok. Ok.
Restart. Restart. Restart.
For the most part I didn't even know what I was agreeing to, I was just doing it because it seemed like that's what the computer wanted. If the computer was happy, I was happy. Just saying yes made everything that much easier. When I realized this I felt dirty. The computer was having it's way with me and I was just sitting there happily clicking away. Now, feeling unhappy, I timidly chose the "Cancel" option on the next one and waited to see what would happen. Another screen popped up telling me that I should have chosen "Ok" and more or less asked whether I really wanted to cancel it. Given the tone of the message it felt like one of those last chance kind of moments and I ended up taking the computer's suggestion.
After I'd consented to every single one of the computer's wishes I sat back and comtemplated what had just occured. I was this computer's bitch and not only that, I was choosing to be victimized. For all I know it had been mocking me and asking me if I was stupid and if I liked what it was doing to me in it's computer-y way and I had been agreeing with it the whole while. This bothered me because I am not a yes man in real life, nor do I just agree to things to make it easier for everyone. Quite the opposite, actually. But here I was just slutting it up for the computer all because I was ill informed.
A greater man than I could have turned that story into a witty article that drew comparisons between the situation and the lack of sex education in public schools which leads to forced sexual situations. Or perhaps a politically themed one on how the parties force you into agreeing to things that you don't want for veiled promises of what you do want. Sadly, I am not a great man so all you're getting is a hastily typed blog entry. I quickly grew bored of feeling sullied by my computer and did something else, something which absolved me of my issues and made me feel clean: I checked the standings in my hockey pool then I unplugged the machine. As it's life slowly drained away I felt more in control. It had it's way with me for a little while but, left to my whims, it was living on borrowed time. With this knowledge secure, I shut it down for the night, went to bed, and dreamed assertive dreams.

Best fake names...

Alright, this post is open for anyone to add to in comments or edit and add your own -- best fake names (porn names, sports names, ironic names, screen names, wrestling names, whatever) we can come up with.

Richard Slippery
Jeremiah Uppercut
Slim McPunch
Scooter Twoply
Sammy Headfake

Free mail

Speaking of mail, here's how to beat the mail delivery system. Post offices have to return unstamped mail to the sender, right? So, don't put a stamp on it, simply switch the sender address and the address you're sending the mail to. Then the post office will return the mail to the address you want to deliver it to!

Avoiding the mailman

Why don't we go and get the mail right away when it gets dropped off? We see the mailman (mailperson, mail delivery person, what's the PC term, now?) coming, we hear them drop our mail in the box, yet we don't go out immediately. We wait... then when he/she is out of sight we crack the door and get the mail. Are we embarrassed that the mailman is going to think we're too anxious? That we're so bored we're waiting around for the mail? That we have no life?

Mr. Suave

So Dracula can't see his reflection in a mirror right?

Then why is it that that mother-fucker never has a cow-lick or some shit between his teeth?