All your planes are belong to snakes

Tomorrow I am faced with the displeasure of flying. Ranking right up there with unanesthetized surgery, final exams, kidney stones, and mom's lumpy gravy is having to fly. So as I board the plane with trepidation, I will be reciting the following prayer to God, or alternatively, to the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky:

"Dear G-O-D (or F-S-M), if it is your will to smite down the sinners upon this plane with your heavy hand, and to wash away the sins of man by releasing dozens of deadly and venomous snakes - gone crazy by the release of pheromones - upon this plane, at least send an angel to protect the innocent and pure among those passengers. Please let Samuel L. Jackson be on this plane to protect us from evil.

....Oh, and if you are feeling particularly generous today, please seat me next to Kiera Knightly on the plane. Thank-you."

Admit One Mistake

Welcome to the first (and possibly last?) installment of "Admit One Mistake".

The mistake that I am coming clean about is the following:

I was sitting in the backyard at the age of 2, with our family dog "Laddie". It was a really hot day outside, and with his full coat of fur Laddie looked pretty warm. To my 2 year old logic it was imperative that I try to cool him down by any means necessary. So I admit that I made the mistake of peeing on Laddie, in an effort to keep him cool on that hot summer day.
And yes, my parents weren't much impressed, nor did they appreciate my thoughtfulness for the well-being of our family pet.

A portrait of the lunch by the chef

Here was my lunch today:

Spicy salmon filet with asparagus accompanied by spinach salad, garlic herb dressing and vegetables. That's right ladies, you can add the kitchen as one of the many rooms in the house where this single young bachelor displays prowess.

It's a small world after all...

Everyone feels like this now and again (if only for a day or two):

I concur...

A selected postcard from this week's selection at Postsecret

Little Miss Sunshine

I just saw the movie 'Little Miss Sunshine' and I have to say it is the best movie I've seen so far this year. It does such a great job of blending humour, drama, reality, and absurdity.
I would even go as far as to say that 'Sunshine' is this year's 'Sideways' which I am also a huge fan of (both movies seem to have cornered the market on deriving humour from desperate characters who are lovable, despite their multitude of character flaws).
As I can't stand it when people give away parts of a movie in a review, that is all I will say about the actual movie (I loathe having a movie spoiled, so much so that I actually avoid reading any reviews before I see a movie).

Additional fun facts: The independent low-budget film was done by husband-and-wife directing team Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris. It first appeared at the Sundance Film Festival, and after meeting with rave reviews, it was acquired by the studio Fox Searchlight (the distributor for 'Sideways' and 'Garden State') for a record $10.5 million.

Woolves

More geniosity from PBF

Rules of the Gym

I see so many dipsticks at my local gym everyday that it is a small miracle the dubious combination of machines, heavy weights and small brain-power hasn't led to more tragic accidents. It is truly by the grace of the Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky that I don't see daily bone-breaking, decapitations, and impalements. And that fact that I don't see these happening in my gym on a regular basis is probably also the single greatest argument against natural selection.
Rather than allowing my blood pressue to skyrocket as I watch this circus unfold in front of my eyes, I am putting finger to keyboard and creating a list of "dont's" for the gym, otherwise knows as etiquette for those taking part in exercise at MY gym (yes, the strong emphasis of the word 'my' denotes that I do in fact own the gym. Not in reality, but solely in my own mind. And self-appointed ownership in a person's own mind is actually the highest form of ownership in the world. Honest. Here, try it today: walk up to a local bank and BELIEVE in your mind that you own it. Then to test the results, go in and tell the bank teller that all the money there is yours, and you want it 'RIGHT NOW!'. They might be a bit confused, so it is best to use the most aggressive and assertive tone possible to properly convey your message. You will thank me later).
After I am done compiling this list, I will hit my print button, take all the copies and pin them to the foreheads of each individual at my gym. An optional tattoo booth will be set up outside, so the rules can be more permanently affixed to the person's person (tee hee).
Ready for them? Good, here we go:

-DON'T THROW THE WEIGHTS AFTER YOUR SET
I always see some goof ball doing dumbbell presses or another similar exercise, and then after his last set he will toss the weights to the side, making a huge racket, and generally annoying everyone within a radius of 5 kilometers. Does he really need to "shot-put" the dumbbells after he finishes his set? If you still have the energy to turn the weights into projectiles, chances are you didn't work hard enough that last set.
-NO, IT IS NOT A SPRINT
Last week I am on the elliptical machine chugging along, and this super-cool awesome guy hops onto the machine and starts thrashing as fast as he possibly can on it - for oh, maybe a little over a minute - and then hops off.
You know the scene from Lost in Translation, where Bill Murray's character is stuck on the elliptical machine and going Mach-10? Where he is calling for help and then finally manages to half-jump off of it before injuring himself? That was this guy down to a tee.
Unless he was training for the 100-meter spring in the Elliptical Olympics, I'm pretty sure that super-cool awesome guy at my gym was accomplishing nothing other than making himself look silly. No sorry, the girls weren't impressed.
-NO, YOU ARE NOT AT A NIGHTCLUB
Don't be the loud girl! Everyone knows of the loud girl. The one who goes out and due to a need for attention has to talk several decibels above acceptable conversation volume; the one who has to laugh hysterically at everything, even if it isn't funny; and the one who generally hoots and hollers and makes a huge deal out of anything she can come across (again, because this sad individual craves attention, and feels that as the volume of her voice rises, the favourable attention directed her way increases). Well the loud girl is barely acceptable at a loud party, and at a gym is just downright a disaster.
Yet the other day there is a group of three people working out together, one of whom is 'the loud girl'. I immediately turned up the volume on my Ipod in an effort to avoid the grating and unpleasant excessive noise that was coming from her direction. It was no use, I could still hear loud laughter and cackling, so I turn up the Ipod more. At 3/4 volume on the Ipod I can still make out an inharmonious dissonance, and then I look over to see her dancing and prancing about.
Would dropping a 100lb. Dumbbell on someone's throat be deemed an accident?
-DON'T LEAVE EQUIPMENT LYING AROUND AFTER YOU ARE DONE WITH IT
If I have to trip over one more dumbbell that was left out, or unload another machine in order to use it because the last person decided it wasn't worth their time, I am going to go Snakes on a Plane. However, I have come up with a plan to combat this nonsense. Next time I see someone not putting away their workout equipment I will make note of it. Next I will find out where they live. Then I will sneak into their house, do some cooking (oops! I burnt something to the frying pan), and leave every ingredient and kitchen utensil out for them to clean up when they get home.
-GOD MADE FIG LEAFS TO COVER UP YOUR NAKEDNESS
Naked grandpas are not appealing to the eyes. In fact, recent studies show that observing naked grandpas has led to a loss of eyesight in some patients. It is with this in mind that I make a plea to all you naked grandpas out there to cover the hell up when you are in the change room. Nothing horrifies me more than washing my hands in the bathroom and seeing a trio of 65-year old naked grandpas walking towards the shower. The wrinkles, the sag, the leathery craggy skin....COVER THAT UP!
New rule for the Men's locker room: Unless you are between the ages of 19 and 27 and are a female, I want to see at least a towel around your waist until you get to the shower.
Yesterday I am in the locker room splashing some cold water on my face after a good workout when 70 year old overweight and naked grandpa comes strolling over to use the urinal. Of course like any senior citizen he has to finish up his use of the public urinal with a loud bout of flautlence. So not only has he assaulted my retinas, he is now going to commit atrocities to my sense of smell. And let me tell you, that he did. I would rate the magnitude of his intestinal release as something that could double for the scene at the end of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' where the souls come pouring out of the ark and melt all the Nazis' faces off. ("DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES!")

Another cup of awkward please.

Well there are many other guidelines and broken rules I could talk about (the infrequent use of deodorant, illegal fashion, the lubrication of gym equipment from those with over-active sweat glands) but I think this is a good start.

And in case any of you are still in doubt about what I have said, know that 8 out of 9 scienticians agree with the above comments.

SOAP

I know I promised an update, but something much more important has come up:

I am going tonight, to see the blockbuster movie event of the summer...

Snakes + Plane =

Snakes on a Plane. Snakes on a mother#$!@ing plane!

I will be back tomorrow, if I don't die of excitement first.

Peace.

Ghost on the Machine and The Urinal Code

Ghost on the Machine


So I'm at the gym the other day, and about to go do some cardio on the elliptical trainer (some call this piece of equipment a cardio glider, some call it a gazelle. Since I am always right, of course, these names are incorrect). The cardio section at my gym is on a second level above the weight section. As I'm climbing the stairs I look over at the row of ellipticals, and see one girl on one of them, and the rest empty. But the empty elliptical next to her is moving! I'm like, "whuh...what is going on here? Is there a friggin' ghost driving that elliptical? Did I 'accidentally' put acid in my water bottle again?"
Then I get closer, and it looks like someone let their little 5-year old kid on the cardio machine. And then I look harder, and I realize it is a midget. She could barely reach the bottom parts of the handles, but she was just going hard onthe machine; her little arms and legs pumping up and down like pistons.
Now I'm normally not so insensitive, but I truly had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. It just looked so...cute.
I bet God/ Allah/ TheOne/ BigGuyUpstairs/ FlyingSpaghettiMonster* is now wishing they had struck me down during the rainstorm yesterday.

*




The Urinal Code

Today comes along and I get even more drama and excitement on the elliptical. I walk up the stairs, half expecting to see Elvis or Xeno on one of the cardio machines, but instead I am greeted by an empty row of machines. Thus I have the happy prospect of selecting any machine I want to use. I hop on an elliptical at the far end of the rows and start chugging away.
Not two minutes later an older gentleman, who I will refer to as The Hairy and Smelly Beast (named, no doubt, after his appearance and his unfavourable aroma) walks up the stairs to the cardio section. Instead of choosing any of the other of the dozens of machines that are not situated directly beside me, The H&SB hops onto the machine closest to myself.

I think now would be a good time to refresh ourselves on the "urinal code". You see, in men's public washrooms there is an unwritten code. It goes something like this: if there is someone peeing at a urinal, you - if all possible - use a urinal that is not directly beside this person. For example, picture your local tavern. You've had one too many Dr. Pepper soda pops (because we know my responsible readers shun alcoholic beverages and any tomfoolery associated with their consumption), so you decide to head to the washroom. In the particular men's washroom at this tavern there is four urinals in a row. However, urinal #1 is being occupied by another gentleman (who coincidentally, is another responsible person and has been consuming Ginger Ale). So what options does that leave you with? The situation quickly prompts your memory to recall the urinal code, and you realize that it would be impolite to pee at the urinal directly beside this gentleman. So therefore, urinal #2 is not an option. Since urinal #3 and #4 are both available, then either one of those would be a fine choice to use.
Now exceptions to this rule are situations where there is only 2 urinals available, or there is no 'buffer' available because there are two or more other gentleman peeing (using the above example to illustrate this scenario: urinal #1 and #3 would be taken, so you would have no choice but to pee beside someone else). Do not fret, when one of these exceptions arise, it is perfectly acceptable to break the urinal code. BUT ONLY IN THESE SITUATIONS.

Now back to my story. The same "urinal code" applies at the gym when dealing with two males. If there is another open cardio machine, you take that one instead of using the one directly beside me.
*Note that this rule does not apply to females. Females are always welcome to work out or pee directly beside me.
So when H&SB gets onto the machine directly beside me, when he has a choice of any other cardio machine in the entire gym, he is not only breaking "the code" he is causing a Grand Canyon-sized rupture in "the code".
So as a result, I had to handle 15 minutes of direct proximity to hairy, sweaty beast, who thought it would be good practice to cough and clear his throat every few moments. Tomorrow I'll be back with a gym do's and don't list for you to print and hand out to all patrons at your local gym, so you never have to be a victim to The H&SB.

The great mud flap quandary: An objective analysis.

I am back in E-town after holidays in beautiful BC (I know, my whole summer has been a holiday, but you get the idea...). During the 3 hour drive from Calgary to Edmonton I got to experience first hand a prairie rainstorm.
Not the most enjoyable experience to drive in: going 110km/h with rain so hard that your windshield wipers are on maximum and still can't keep up, while you get spray and mist coming off of other cars and blocking your vision so it is a chore just to keep the g.d. car between the painted lines.
Which reminds me...if you are going to drive on the highways, get some flippin' mud flaps on your vehicle! Do you think the other drivers like having their visibility reduced to 0% while your stupid ass drives by in your redneck truck/RV/trailer - without mud flaps - spraying water and debris all over my windshield?

Still not sure?
Okay, then let's weigh the alternatives here for Mr. Redneck pickup truck driver:

A pair of $9.99 mud flaps from Canadian Tire vs. Causing fiery car crashes and highway deaths due to ignorance and not caring a fig about others.

Since this may be an overly complex and intricate calculation for your average Albertan pickup-truck driving redneck, I'll walk through the permutations of each choice.

Choice #1: Mud flaps from Canadian Tire.
Does redneck self-expression reach any higher of an art form than the different designs available for mud flaps? You can have mud flaps with flames on them, a skull and crossbones, or even the classic silhouette of a naked woman, among hundreds of other designs. When you add personalized mud flaps to your vehicle, you are adding more than a set of attractive automotive accessories. You are adorning your truck with a redneck status symbol. Take my advice: there is no quicker way to earn the respect and admiration of your fellow truck-driving peers than with a set of theme-mud flaps. No longer will you be persona non grata at monster truck rallies, Wrestlemania, or your local steakhouse. With mud flaps like these, your redneck social circle will broaden beyond your wildest dreams. Pilsner and Skoal will fall from the heavens and the world will be right again.

Choice #2: Thoughtlessness for the safety of fellow drivers on the road.
I know my truck-driving readers are about to email me and say "BUT KWAZER IF I HAVE MUDFLAPS ON MY TRUCK THEN THAT MEANS LESS CAR CRASH DEATHS, AND THEN I WILL HAVE MORE CARS ON THE ROAD AND IT WILL TAKE ME LONGER NEXT TIME I'M GOING TO THE MONSTER TRUCK RALLY LOL!"
This will be a strong consideration for our redneck brethren.

However, set such thoughts aside my neuron-challenged friends. More importantly, have you considered what happens when the rain stops? You roar past a car in your lifted truck with big tires, no exhaust, and Lynryd Skynyrd or AC/DC blaring out of the stereo and *Gasp!* your status as a redneck might not be fully confirmed by other drivers. That is right, they may still be unsure whether you are indeed of the genus Reddius Neckimus. Don't make this mistake. You NEED to affirm to the world your true standing and aspirations on this planet; you need to let all know that you are a redneck. And there is no better way to do this than the aforementioned mud flaps.

So as you can see, on first blush the cost/benefit analysis of $9.99 Canadian Tire mud flaps may appear to be a tricky calculation to make. But upon further inquiry the benefits derived from increases in prestige and the affirmation to the world of redneck status outweigh the detriments of the extra time it may take commuting to see Gravedigger and the other monster trucks.

Conclusion: Based on the cost/benefit analysis, dipstick should get the stupid flaps.

Notes from the underground

Much apologies for the lack of updates recently. I am currently on holidays in Kelowna, and my internet access has been sparse to non-existent.

Which makes a person realize how dependent they can become upon technology in their lives. How often do you use your cell phone or send an email? I can't remember the last time I had to do something as egregiously inconvenient as writing a letter, procuring a stamp, and taking it to a mailbox to be delivered (then to have to wait days or weeks for it to arrive to the sender).

Remember when you were a child and received a letter? It seemed like an exciting experience. Some important ones would be folded and unfolded numerous times, held in your hands, and read over and over. If it was a love letter you might smell it to see if you could pick up a scent from the person who sent it to you. Are the youth nowadays missing out on this? You would think that E-mail, like the Internet is fairly transient. Most people don't save messages for years, unlike how I probably still have some of those letters tucked away in my dresser somewhere.

Homework task for this week: take out a pen, a crisp sheet of paper, and write a letter to someone. They will most likely appreciate the gesture.

You can't touch this blog

Ahhh, think back to 1990-91. "Ice Ice Baby" and "U can't touch this" by Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer were topping the charts. The baggy parachute pants, the slick hair, the goony dancing...what was everyone thinking?
Now you can take yourself back to some of this glory with MC Hammer's blog! http://mchammer.blogspot.com/

Now you can keep up with the life and goings on of the Hammer and maybe pick up some dance tips along the way. I don't think my existence has ever felt so complete.