U-U-U-UPDATE!!!!

Holy smokes Robert what happened to you? Yes, yes I fell off the blogging bandwagon.
(Asking and then answering your own questions is a sure-fire mark of insanity. Down with normal cognition! Up with crazed thoughts!)

February 8, 2007 at 11:24 it is. I'm currently overcoming a cold, and sitting here at my computer wondering what the hell I should write about, out of what has happened in the last 5 months since I last updated. Dinner is always a good place to start. Tonight I dined on some red meat (a steak) with mushroo -- ahhh hell, it's been FIVE MONTHS. Forget the eats. I really do think that the Buckley's cold pills have made me looney though. Focus.

Alright, here is my entry topic: Time. Five months have passed, and many things have happened. But nothing ground-breaking or extraordinarily exciting. You would think in roughly 150 days something crazy/insane/newsworthy would have occured. And that is why time is a bitch. It steals your life away. One day you realize it's been five months and nothing life-changing has happened, the next day you wake up and you are 50 and not much has changed. So I say 'eff you' time! You will get me, I know, but I don't have to like it. And now, my time has come to an end. (No, I am not going to off myself, but it is time for bed).

Tick-tock.

Smitten for GFG

There is a new love of my life, and it is made up of hot metal and teflon. That is right, I have much amour these days for my new George Foreman grill. This 'Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine' is the stuff of legend. Honestly, where have I been without it all of this time?

Living in an apartment sans BBQ, and being a lover of all things meat, I was usually forced to cook my chicken/fish/steak in a frying pan or the oven. Then I pick up a Foreman and I can throw the meat and also veggies in that sucker, set the digital timer, and come back when it beeps to find my food cooked just right.
Since I've bought it, I've had so many people say, "Oh yes! I love mine!". Which makes me think, since everyone else already seems to have one, why were all you bastids holding out on me before, and keeping this kitchen-marvel a secret? Not one person recommended it to me prior. Now I get one and the love fest is on.
Fine, I get it. The next time I uncover a golden find none of you selfish people are hearing about it. That's right, it will be locked in the vault. Don't worry though, once I dig into this delicious medley of salmon, yams, green pepper and mushroom sitting before me (all cooked on the GFG of course) I'll be over my bitterness.
Until nezzzt time dear reader, keep on swaggerin' and k-k-knocking out that fat.

In the still of the night

It is 3am, I have class in 5 hours and I can't sleep. As good a time as any for my first entry in what seems like a million years.
So what did you miss? In the "whirlwind" that has become my life: not much.
School is back and running: ick, yuck, boo.
I did go and see Phantom of the Opera here in Edmonton with Jess & Co. It was an entertaining show, and I was mightily impressed. Jess & Co. are also both an entertaining show and mightily impressive. As my Compton friends say, "props yo'!".
And a big 'congrats!' go out to best friend 1b Tyler, and his wife Dusty, on the birth of their first baby: little Kyra who was born at a whopping 8 pounds, 6 ounces. Hoping I can make it back home sometime soon to see her.
Hoping you all have well cut jibs and are currently walking with a swagger.
And to bed......

My Best Man Speech

I just flew in last night from the wedding of my best friend. It was an amazing time.
I was quite nervous for the best man speech/toast, but it went over fabulously. Here is the speech that I gave as I had it written down on the paper (read: not grammatically correct), in its entirety:

Good Evening everyone, for those of you who don’t know me, my name is _________. I want to thank Graham for giving me the honour of being his best man. And I was quite excited after Graham asked me to be his best man, but then excitement turned to horror as I realized I would have to give a speech. But then the horror turned to excitement again after I was told that the point of a best man speech is to embarrass the groom.
But still I wasn’t really sure what to talk about in my speech, so I asked around and got advice from a few people. And one wise man gave me some good advice. He told me that the length of the best man's speech should be no longer than the time it takes the groom to make love ...(pause)...(Look at watch) oh, it looks like I’ve already gone about 30 seconds over…. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you. (sit down)
In all seriousness folks…back to the job at hand, like I said my job today is to embarrass Graham. Now this is where my dilemma starts. It’s not that I don’t have any stories to tell, I’ve been best friends with Graham since we were in grade 7 so I’ve got tons of good stories. But I have a dilemma because: A: When I started writing down stories, most of them I had to edit, throw away, burn, or hand over to the police to help them with their enquiries. And what little that was left over may not be suitable for the dinner table, and B: Graham is going to be my best man one day and also has too much dirt on me!!
So I decided that I won’t tell any embarrassing stories…Nope, I’m not going to say anything. So I wont’ even mention all of those nights at 3am stealing garden gnomes off of peoples lawns or driving over people’s garbage cans in Graham’s Chevette.
Or how we got the bright idea one night of “borrowing” detour signs and pilons from a construction site and completely blocking off the entrance to our friend Jamie’s cul-de-sac.
And I probably shouldn’t tell you about the time that Graham lost the sunroof to his first car only a day or two after having it installed…how we were taking the car over some big jumps, and after one particular jump we looked up and noticed that the sky looked that much clearer, and then we realized that was because there was no sunroof in the way…it had flown off the car during the jump and was lying in a million pieces on the ground behind us. For months after that Graham drove around in his Chevette with a black garbage bag taped to the roof where the sunroof used to be.
And I surely won’t bring up the fact that Graham holds the eating record out of anyone I know, having eaten 7 Burger King burgers in the space of one hour. Incidentally, if anyone here didn’t get enough food to eat tonight, we all know who to blame for that.
And I’m sure that Graham would be completely embarrassed if I told you about what happened the one night several years ago that we both were working as cooks at Smitty’s restaurant. Graham got bored, so he decided to go and snoop around the attic in the restaurant to see what was up there. Well, he missed a step on one of the attic beams and ended up falling through the roof. And leave it to Graham to not only fall through the attic, but to fall through the attic and land in the boss’s office, right on top of his desk. Luckily, the boss wasn’t there, and we were able to call a friend in and patch the roof up, and Graham was able to live another day.
So I won’t mention any of these stories. So Graham, just remember when it comes time to talk about me one day, just remember how easy I went on you, and how I kept all those stories a secret okay?
One other thing I was told about the best man speech is that in my speech I should include somewhere how the bride has supposedly tamed the groom from his past youthful indiscretions and settled him down…and you know, in this case I think that is totally true. Jen has done a great job so far: as far as I know since Graham and Jen have been together Graham has yet to fall through a roof, block off a cul-de-sac, or smash any sunroofs. They are still working on his eating thing though.
In all seriousness, Graham has been a great friend to me and I’m very lucky that I’ve got to know Jenn over the last few years – and I just hope they know that I’ve always been extremely proud of both of them and honoured to call them my friends.Having got to know both of them I know they’ll always be happy together. And I look forward to the days well in the future when we all have kids and I can bring mine over to the Wood’s for a Barbecue and we can watch them play in the backyard together.
And so the last thing I was told about my best man speech is to finish it off with a quote. Someone has usually already said it, and probably said it better. So I will go out with the words of the philosopher Aristotle, who said simply "Love is a single soul inhabiting two bodies".
Graham and Jen....I wish you all the best on your journey together.
To Graham and Jen.

Admit One Mistake Volume II

My mistake was signing up this semester for the craptastic course known as Legal History. Taught by a professor who is a meat-headed, maladroit, misanthropic malcontent made of merde.
Fortunately, this is one mistake that I CAN rectify, and I have, by dropping it like a bad habit. Today.

Embarrassment x2

Not once but twice this week I was incredibly close to exposing myself. Not the most socially acceptable act out there. Here is the story...

First I was at the gym doing squats. For the lazy asses out there, a squat is when you place a weighted barbell on the back of your neck/upper back and bend at the knees, lowering your torso to a 'squatting' position, then reversing the direction to stand up again. So I'm performing a few sets of these, and then I see something in the mirror. Yes, on the descent portion of one of the repetitions of my squats I had managed to split my shorts on the inside upper thigh. The rip didn't go all the way around, but it was sufficient to see my undergarments. And as luck would have it, that was the day I chose to wear decidedly unfashionable white grandpa briefs. Fantastic.
Since the rip was on the inside of the leg, if I walked with my legs pretty close together you couldn't see it. So that is how I walked on out of the gym, and the rest of the way home to change into new shorts. It might have looked funny, but much less funny than the alternative of showing off my tighty-whitey's to the world.

So you would think that would be enough embarrassment for at least a month? Nope, not even enough for that week.

Two days later I'm heading to class and due to too much water-drinking I head to the bathroom to relieve myself. I go to zip up afterwards, and the G.D. zipper gets stuck on the material of my shorts! I try to yank it up, and the sucker won't budge. Luckily, the bathroom was unoccupied at the time, so no one saw me vigorously tugging at my crotch-region. Anyhow, I'm contemplating how I am going to go to class with my zipper all the way down (though this time, I had much more fashionable light-blue boxers on). By this time I'm pretty flustered and frustrated. So I figure I'll give it one Herculean effort to see if the bastard won't come unstuck. I grab the zipper as hard as I can, and give it the hardest yank I can, and...YIPEE! it comes unstuck. Then I look down at my index finger, which had been tightly grasping the metal zipper, and it is now cut and bleeding from pulling on the zipper so hard. Again, fantastic.
Though I quickly decide that going to class with a bloody finger always outweighs going to class with an undone zipper, so I wrap up my digit with some paper towel and stroll off to class.
I tell you, some days!

Lunch

Today's installment of "What I had for lunch":


Grilled chicken, sweet potatoes, asparagus, brown rice, salad and sunflower seeds. Nutritious and delicious? You bet.

The land of the free

So the last week has been a crazy one filled with bachelor party frolicking in another city, and then back to school shenanigans. As such my poor little blog was feeling left out, so I'm here for a quick update.
......................................

Getting something for free is always a bonus. Getting two things for free is a really good day. And getting three things without paying for them means that people are starting to realize my God-like status, and as such are giving their offerings to me.
First, after getting off the plane in Kelowna and retrieving my luggage I head to the airport parking lot with the person who was picking me up. The driver hands the parking stub to the airport parking attendant as we are leaving, and I reach for my wallet to grab some money to pay the fare. Amazingly, the parking attendant says "Oh, you haven't been here that long, don't worry about it". I was quite astonished as it is usual practice to rape the wallets of patrons parking at airport parking lots. freebie #1!
So then an hour later I am in the grocery store picking up a few groceries for dinner that night. I've got less than the required amount to go through the express lane, so I proceed to that line up. The lady ringing my items through at the register comes upon a package of vegetables that appear to have no price on them. She looks over the bag and can't see any tag or bar code, so she gives me a quick wink, and says "I guess they are free today" and throws them in the bag. freebie #2!
Then later that evening I head to the gym for a workout. The usual drop-in fee is $10. I take out my interac card and go to hand it to the lady at the front desk. Even though they have an interac machine there, she waves her hand at my card and says "you know what? Don't worry about it today". freebie #3!
Afterwards, I was fully planning on heading to an exotic car dealership and test driving a brand new Ferrari, to see how far my luck would extend, but I just didn't get around to it. The next morning my spell was broken, and I was back to the status of the regular peons out there: paying for things. How unfair!

.............................................

I will post a few (PG) pictures shortly from the crazy bachelor party weekend in Kelowna.

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.

The (unmatched) sock is a lonely hunter

A note to all those lonely hearts out there:

Do not despair, for it could be worse. Consider the plight of the lonely sock.

The Corporation

Behind the scenes at "The Corporation":

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The interview:


*Disclaimer: The above cartoon should be considered fiction or hearsay and is presented solely for it's entertainment value to my readers. Any resemblance to any real people, companies, or events is purely coincidental.

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Tales of a Statistics Canada Enumerator...Part II

My days as an Enumator are now over. No, it was not a happy parting either; I quit the job. My reason was this: essentially many things I was told about the job in the interview were completely wrong/not true. Here is a sampling of the falsities that I encounterd:

Person interviewing me: the job will go until August 31, with the possibility that some employees may be retained later than that.
Subsequent truth: we are told during training that they are hoping to be entirely finished by August 1, and that the last possible day anyone would be working (i.e. it is over, pull the plug) would be August 15.

Interviewer: you will be working in the area that you live in.
Subsequent truth: all of my assignments were no where near where I live. My first assignment was a 15 minute drive from my place of residence.

Interviewer: your group leader will pick up your assignments and drop off new ones from your place of residence each day.
Subsequent truth: our group leader informs us that we are to meet him in the Wal Mart parking lot to exchange these materials (a 15 minute drive for me).

Interviewer: while you may have more success in catching people at home during some hours, the times that you work are set by you, as long as you work a minimum of 30 hours each week.
Subsequent truth: our group leader informs us that we are all to meet up with him at said Wal Mart parking lot each night at 5pm to start work, and then meet back there with him at 9:30pm.
So instead of individually determining our hours, we are to work 5-9:30 everyday.

I was not the only person misled in these things; the 11 people that I had training with were all told the same things during their interviews. Ones that I talked to were not happy about being misled.

On my first day when myself and about 15 others met our group leader in the Wal Mart parking lot some of us expressed dismay to him that we didn't feel properly trained to complete our tasks. Our training was about 2.5 hours long, a good portion of which consisted in filling out employment forms and our banking information so that we could be paid. He informed us that the regular training for our job is 2 days long, but since Statistics Canada was behind and in a rush to finish collecting all of the outstanding census forms, they did a mass-hiring of people, followed by a brief and extremely condensed training. WONDERFUL.

If this governmental organization is so disorganized in regards to their hiring and handling of their employees, how can I be sure that they will not do the same with my confidential and personal information that I filled out on my census form?

And it looks like my district is not the only one with problems:

This Vancouver Sun article talks about the opinions of some people that the census collection was disorganized and a 'screw-up'.

This former census enumerator talks about the abysmal pay system and how she was shorted on her pay.

Hmmm, could this be the same government that 'handled' the gun registry?

*Disclaimer: In regards to the above comments, I should point out that truth is a complete defence to liability in defamation. A person is always permitted to speak the truth about another, and that is what I have done above.

Mikeondolences on your heat stroke

In another post I previously documented last weekend, a.k.a. 'The Weekend of Fun'. However, not quite everything that weekend was full of jolly and merriment. The following is one grievance I had:

Imagine me on Friday at the Capital Ex fair. Then imagine temperatures in the low to mid 30's, and being outside for hours with not much shade. In this crazy flatland known as Edmonton, the sun doesn't set until quite late, and it really doesn't cool off much at night.
So in such temperature you can surmise that water would be an important asset to have. Anyone knows that on hot days when partaking in outdoor activities, it is essential to drink plenty of fluids.
So logically vendors at Capital Ex are charging $3.00 for one 500ml bottle of water (at least double the regular price).
Whatever. I know that as demand or need for something increases prices rise. And I also know that when you are a 'captive audience' in a closed off space such as a fair or a movie theatre to expect exorbitant prices for food and drinks. Going to such places, most everyone knows these things and can plan ahead for them.
However, I definitely did not expect the following circumstances...

During the day I was there the rock band Default was playing a concert. I decided to attend said concert. At this time temperatures are close to mid 30's and I am almost reduced to a puddle of sweat. A day in the direct sunshine had me feeling quite dehydrated. So I shell out my $3 to the vendor for a bottle of liquid gold (a.k.a. water) and get in line for the concert which is in a fenced off portion in one area of the Capital Ex fair. When I get to the front of the line and ready to enter the proceedings a security guard informs me that "you can't take any bottles in with you!"
Excuse me? Mid-30 temps in the scorching sun, and you are telling me that I can't bring the overpriced water that I just paid for from a Capital Ex vendor into a Capital Ex event?
She won't budge, so I take a few gulps of water and throw the remainder into the trash bucket near the entrance.
I walk through the entrance and what do I see immediately to my left? Yes, a Capital Ex vendor selling beverages, including $3 bottled water. So let me see, Capital Ex gates off an area so they can have a fair, within which they sell overpriced water. But then inside of this fenced-off area they have another fenced-off area within which you can't bring your overpriced water from the previous area, but you can buy a whole new bottle of overpriced water. To me that sounds crazier than snakes on a plane.
I would think on such a hot day the fair would be wanting to encourage hydration and drinking as many fluids as possible, in order to avoid dehydration or even sunstroke of their patrons. Yet instead it appears their only concern is squeezing as much money as possible out of the attendees to their fair.

As a contrast, the next day I attended a 54/40 concert on the grounds of the Edmonton Grand Prix. It had a similar setup, in that there was a fenced-off area within which the concert was taking place. The only difference was that there was no inane restrictions on bringing water into the event. I had a bottle of water in each hand upon entering the concert. In fact, the lead singer of 54/40 reminded the crowd a few times to make sure and have something to drink because of the heat.
See the difference? The coordinators of one event seem to be more concerned with the well-being of their customers, while the other seems to be concerned only with making another buck.

And if you are still left with any doubt as to what I say, 7 out of 9 scienticians agree with the above statements.

Help, please, for the love of god. Help me. This blogger has trapped me within his blog. This is not a joke, I am in dire need of assistance!
~ Man Trapped In Blog

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are...in my head.

Greetings readers!
It has been awhile since I have updated. It was a busy but extremely enjoyable weekend, meaning I haven't been near a computer. Here is a brief synopsis of my Friday, Saturday and Sunday:

Friday
I went to Edmonton's Capital Ex fair, which is similar to the Calgary Stampede. There was all the usual fair fare (ha!) here, such as rides, midway, entertainers, exhibits and such. I indulged in ice cream and mini donuts, which seem to be a requisite at fairs (much to the chagrin of my diet). Happily I was able to pass by the elephant ears and corn dogs (gross).
One of my favourite exhibits was put on by the Art Gallery of Alberta who had some amazing art displays. Later I tried my hand at a couple midway games (you know the ones where you end up spending $35 on a $2 stuffed animal). Near the end of the night I went to see the rock band Default play. I'm not the hugest fan of the whole Theory of a NickelDefault sound, but they put on a suprisingly good show. The night was finished off with a fireworks display. I don't care how old I get, I still appreciate fireworks as if I was 8.

Saturday
Up early at 8am to go to the Edmonton Grand Prix, featuring the Champ car racing circuit. The track was set up at the Edmonton airport and is quite a major event; attendance was 170,391 people for the three days at the JAGflo speedway. Things were quite expensive here, examples: $3 for water, $10 for programs, $6 for beer. Luckily I scored a corporate pass from a friend, and got to sit in the Rexall corporate suite where all drinks (including alcohol), programs, and food (put on by Sawmill, one of the nicer restaurants in Edmonton) were free. Seeing as how a normal ticket in the grandstands was $235 for the 3-day event, I shudder to think how much my ticket cost.
Friday was a hot day and Saturday was a scorcher as well, with the temperature at 35 degrees Celsius in the stands and hovering between 40 and 46 at points on the track. I consumed copious amounts of water, and am now sporting a nice red lobster "tan".
As for the specs on the actual Champ cars themselves: these amazing machines sport a turbocharged 2.65 L V8 engine putting out around 750 horsepower in a chassis that comes in at just over 1500lbs. The result is top speeds of approximately 240mph (390km). The price tag on these setups? It takes about $2 million to get into the Champ Car World Series, however many top flight teams spend from $5 million to $10 million annually. They put on a great show, and are one of those things that might seem boring on TV, but are extremely interesting/entertaining in person.
Another highlight was getting to finally see 54/40, who played at the Grand Prix. They are one of those bands that have been around forever, and you recognize almost all of their songs when you hear them on the radio. They put off some great energy and charisma and seem to have the live concert down pat.

Sunday
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"
"Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't."
"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions".

This is the event that I have been looking forward to all summer: Shakespeare in the Park. The festival takes place in the 1,100 seat Heritage Amphitheatre in Hawrelak Park, and this year they were performing Taming of the Shrew and Hamlet (I was attending the showing of the latter). The design of the stage and the venue means that the audience is in close proximity to the performers, who at times used the areas surrounding the audience. I thought this gave those of us watching a feeling of being contiguous with the play. These were all professional actors, and it showed, as everything was top notch. If you ever want the chance to enjoy some wholesome Elizabethan jokes or gruesome killings under the stars, I would highly recommend catching this next year.

As for me, I'm thoroughly worn out from all of this excitement. Off to bed...

Tender is the night

I took these last night from my patio.

Quicksand takes you down slowly

Tales of a Statistics Canada Enumerator...Part I

This week I went for my training with Statistics Canada. Very little was told to me about the actual job when I was called to come in for training. So you would think that first thing they would give us a brief description of the job? Government organizations are known for clarity and organization, right?
Wrong.
They first usher the 11 of us into a boardroom, with two binders (one black, one white), writing implements (one pen and one sharpened pencil) and a legal-sized envelope sitting in each place. A lady comes in, and instructs us to remove a "2006 Census of Canada Form 28I safety pamphlet" out of the envelope and read it over. She then leaves the room.
I take out the 7 page pamphlet and begin to read it. In the pamphlet there are several headings, such as "Making your car safe", "Driving", "Parking", "Using Public Transportation", "Using Emotional Self-Defence", "If You Are Confronted", with safety tips included under the headings.

Some sample tips:
-"Lock all articles, including confidential material, in the trunk". (ohhh, so I will be handling confidential materials, will I? What sort of job is this?)

-"When walking to your car, hold your keys in your fist. When leaving your car, put the passenger seat forward. This allows you to see anyone in your back seat. Before you get into your car, circle it and look for any obvious problems with flat tires, damaged headlamps or missing wiper blades. Any of these could leave you stranded on the highway. In underground parking lots, however, time is of the essence. Walk to your car with your keys in your fist, get in and drive out as quickly as possible." (People hiding in my back seats? Time is of the essence? This is some serious confidential information. I wonder what it could be?)

-"If you are attacked by an individual who appears to be unarmed and is obviously determined to injure you, yell loudly. Aim for vital parts. Gouge with keys or thumb and scratch with fingernails. If attacked from behind, kick down onto the instep of the attacker, kick at the shins or grab any finger and bend it backwards." (Apparently it is serious enough to be attacked over)

-"Park in an unblocked lane or driveway which could provide a quick exit if necessary." (Confidential information, individuals determined to injure you, quick getaways. There could be only one explanation what type of job this is: international spy! That has to be it! An international spy, handling impossible missions maybe? Something like.....this:

Hmmm, wait. Not glamorous enough. Plus Tom Cruise has sullied the whole Mission Impossible franchise. I'm thinking something a bit more suave. Something with slick suits. And fast cars. Fast women. The Canadian Government must be hiring me for a job such as this:

Let's see what other safety tips they have for the new Canadian James Bond)

-"When stepping off a bus at night, check to see if you are being followed. If you think you are, cross the street, If you are still being followed, go to the nearest home, service station or store. Call the police." (BUS? Are you kidding me? James Bond rides on no bus. Even if his Aston Martin was in the shop, Q. would have him some other fancy wheels as a loaner. Okay, maybe some flunky in the Canadian government added in this tip in by accident. We'll let it pass)

-"Walk with an air of determination and authority and always look around you. Timid people make easier targets." (No one needs to remind 007 against being timid. Just ask the ladies. This tip must be another oversight)

-"If you are attacked, yell and run to the nearest lit residence or business. Cries for help have often discouraged attackers." (Running away? Cries for help? Okay definitely not a James Bond thing to do. Could I have been too quick to assume?)

At this point, the person in charge of training comes back, and I am snapped out of my dream. She quickly crushes my dreams of international espionage and informs us that we are training to become a "Non-response follow up enumerator" (can I call it a "Non-response? F.U.!!! Enumerator, for short?)

Basically, the job stems from the fact that Statistics Canada has list of all of the people that did not complete their census forms (from the May 16th Canada-wide census) for whatever reasons. And so they attempt to call these people to get them to complete the forms. If Stats Can do not have a phone number for the individual, or if they do not get an answer, next they send an NRFU to go to the house and complete the form with the individual. Or attempt to get them to complete the form. Though by law, all Canadian citizens are required to take part in the census. The maximum penalty for not filling out a census form, or for providing false information, is a $500 fine and/or three months in prison.
So basically, that is it. Scrap the Aston Martins, Martinis and British accents and bring on the clipboard and census forms.

And until next time dear reader, stay tuned for tales of a Statistics Canada Enumerator!....(fade to my theme music).
Yes, cue the cheesy theme-music. If I don't get to be a secret spy, I at the very least want some theme music.

FYI...

Today's installment of photographic levity: