Locking horns with the lemon drop…

Been a while between posts, and anything of substance with those I did do. So here’s the low-down, I don’t have an iphone like SOME of the people who do these things, I sit in front of my computer and give it some good thought before I write, call me old fashioned but that’s the way it should be done. So little bit of a catch-up.

Went to Alberta for a little under a week, visited Lissette and her boyfriend which I at first thought was going to be awkward, seeing as I have never met either and I was crashing at their place. However, they turned out to be incredibly awesome people and very welcoming, I feel more enriched by knowing them. My time with them was short, as the main reason for my trip, to visit my father, loomed ahead. Off to redcliff I went. Good times, met some of his friends, drank a lot of beers (who else can say he got drunk with 3 rcmp officers, one retired army colonel and a guy who works on the oil rigs by 3 o’clock in the afternoon?) and did some visiting. After that it was back to calgary to pick up the retard (james) and head to edmonton for the mall. The mall is one of those things that you end up having fond memories of but when you’re there you’re just like ‘wow…this is just a large mall’ not exactly as fun as you remembered. Afterwards we jetted to van and made the ferries the following day. And now, here I sit between running around to get ready for the next trip tomorrow for seattle. Fantastic as I’m sure it’ll be, I feel drained from the road trip and not as stoked for it as I was beforehand.

Hmm usually I have a funny story well let’s see…ah yes. While en route to Redcliff, I encountered a rarity to the prairies, the elusive jackalope. Not many have seen this animal and not a one has been captured alive. Go to any small town and a pub will have a mounted jackalope head on their wall from hunters that were able to down one. As for me, well it’s a tale of tradgedy and a lesson in humility. As I drove down the highway I noticed an animal travelling alongside the road, I stopped to photograph it, that’s when I realized what it was. The chance to capture one of these amazing animals was just too tempting to pass up, so I exited my car and chased down the critter. After a harrowing chase I managed to nab the little guy, and that’s when I was jumped by ten wildlife rangers, they demanded the immediate release of my furry captive to which I responded “come get some”. The ensuing battle is like a blur in my mind but at some point during my backflips and bicycle kicks, the jackalope escaped and ran towards the highway. By the time I caught up with him it was too late, a convoy of 18-wheelers were crushing the poor bastard to non-existance. The rangers and I spent a tearful moment in silence, each having lost something very dear to them. I decided to make things right, I scooped up the remains and put them in my cooler and then proceeded to buy the rangers a beer and a lapdance at the local institute  of single moms and starving students. Here’s a pic of the remains of the poor beastie.

You and me and the dingo make three…

On holidays right now, and my sense of humor has failed me at this time. HOWEVER, I will leave it to others to use humor for me.

I never knew the count was such a dirty old man….

And nothing says ‘thank-you’ like dollars in the waist band…

Nothing to say, really. Watch this video, very enlightening.

Bei Mir Bist Du Schon

If I have two faults it’s that I’m way too awesome and I over-think things way too much. For the latter, an example, I have been up now for hmm let’s say an hour and a half and I’m STILL contemplating breakfast. Where a normal person would march into the kitchen and pick out SOMETHING and eat it and move on, I have to analyze whether I’m really that hungry, what I would eat if I were to eat it, how long it would take to make, etc, etc. Breakfast is just an example, this applies to the rest of my life too, on the occassions I have been impulsive it’s turned out rather well, but for some reason it’s not something I can incorporate into my everyday life. You remember the show “The Wonder Years”? yeah, I’m Kevin except my internal monologue doesn’t sound like a 40 year old pedophile with abandonment issues. It’s just me hashing things out in the here and now. As for the former as to why I’m so awesome, well, what can I say? If there is a creator, he’s got good taste.

 

We’re jumping right into Jerry’s backyard, chaps! What ho!

When I was a boy growing up in the Fatherland, we had an old war veteran working as a hand on the farm. He was an embittered and vicious old man, with a heart of gold. He used to chase us kids around the farm with a pitch fork shouting “I’m going to kill you!” Of course he was drunk on turpentine and we had just set fire to his overalls, so he may well have been justified. One day in particular will stick with me till the day I die. We had been playing a riveting game of axis and allies, when Japan did a faceplant into an abandoned mine shaft. Time was of the essence, we couldn’t get our parents involved that would be a suicide mission, so we enlisted the help of Reimund “Heil to the chef” Burman. Or “Ol’ Pee pants” as we kids used to call him. Anyway, as usual he came stumbling out of his shack drunker than a sailor on leave and with his pants around his ankles, his luger in hand and his pith helmet upside down. He was ready for anything. As he gracefully fell down the mineshaft to rescue Japan, his language got all the more colorful including some words I don’t think have been recognized by any literary organization of standing. As he hauled Japan back up, he gave us a dirty glare, probably because his glass eye had fallen in a cow pie. He looked us up and down and said, “The sausages are blooming in March, bannanas hate it when you poke em in the rear!” and marched smartly back to his shack. I’ll remember that day forever, mainly because it’s the day that Ol Pee Pants had a stroke and spent the rest of his days believing everytime  he went to the bathroom he was supporting communism.

Watch out, here he comes…

I know where I stand with most people. At the end of the day I can say I’m not surprised with the actions of most of the people I know. You know, if Heinrich says, “that’s it, I’m going to go out and kill hookers now, I mean it this time!” I know he’s just posturing to look like a big man, or if Manfred says, “hey guys, I just got arrested for waving my penis at traffic!” I know it’s a desperate cry for attention. My point is, there are very few people I know that keep me guessing. There are one or two in particular that keep me on my toes, and I’m never quite too sure where I stand with them. It’s frustrating, you almost want to just tie them up and torture them until they tell you what their damage is…er…aside from the beatings you just gave them. I’ve never been a good wordsmith, my communicating skills are sub-par, I’ll say, “hey, how’s it going?” and it comes out “phlegnaaarruup”. I like to think I’m obvious, but maybe I’m just oblivious.

You woke the baby!

If anyone ever asks “how are you doing?” it’s a trap, 9 times out of 10 they don’t care. Now, I’m not talking about your friends and family, I’m talking about people you might run into on the streets or casual aquaintences or people at work whether they be co-workers or clients/customers. It’s more of a rhetorical question, they don’t really want an answer but they’re doing it because they believe it’s appropriate. Here’s a challenge, take a day and (depending on the circumstances of course) unload on someone that asks you that, get like really graphic with them too, like “oh yeah I got this rash…” or for the ladies out there, “I’ve got a really heavy flow today…” Just really sock it to them, even if it’s not true like, “yeah I think I was abducted by aliens last night cause my ass really hurts today…” or “yeah I was with this prostitute last night and she gave me a little parting gift this morning, not sure what it is, mind taking a look?” ANYTHING, just as long as it’s ridiculous and makes them feel uncomfortable. Try to steer away from the serious ones like, “My parents died in a freak grenade-fight accident,” or  “I just got diagnosed with AIDs, how do you think I feel?” That just makes you look like an asshole instead of just a dick. C’mon, you know you wanna!

No bathroom! Only Khav Kalash!

There are horrible truths in this world. Howie Mandell is still popular, men’s underwear lasts no longer than a year but we continue to wear them, Americans deny they have an expansionist empire but they really do, some idiot came up with the concept of taking a CG kangaroo named ‘Jack’ and made a movie about him, and, of course, Bono is the end result of a giant piece of shit that became sentient and decided to write music. But the most horrible truth of all has nothing to do with any of the aforesaid attrocities. No, I’m talking about a deeper evil that plagues humanity and haunts our very steps, watching like big brother as we go about our petty, mortal lives. I am, of course, referring to women’s magazines. Today during a brain-numbing holiday shift, my co-worker brought in one of the offending periodicals (the name escapes me but it’s all the same crap) and in it, I found the most horroryfing article that clearly speaks highly of us as a species, “what his manscapes mean”. A ‘prominent’ psychologist who does this ‘interpretating men’ segment in the magazine, goes into detail as to the what the psychological rammifications are as to whether a man shaves his balls or not. Oh, it gets better, there’s different levels to it, you see. There’s ‘wild and hairy’, there’s balls only, there’s everything BUT balls, and then there’s fully shaven. Now, as a guy and reading the area that pertains to me (I leave that up to your imagination) I find that the complete dribble in this description reads like an astrologers reading. Broad generalizations which in no way shape or form fit everyone. I had half a mind to switch to one of the other categories just to spite her, in fact I think I will. I’m just blown away by crap like this. You know, if a highly developed race of aliens came down to the planet tomorrow, I’m sure glad we’d be able to find out what they’re planning to do just by knowing if they shave their balls or not. Keep up the great work! You’re doing a bang-up job keeping people stupid!

And now for the best incentive EVER.

No business like….snow business?

So it’s BC’s 150th b-day today and to celebrate, free concerts from crappy ‘artists’. I’m personally boycotting the celebrations because I do not see what we have to celebrate. Our province is in dire straits, so here, to celebrate have a 100$ cheque and some entertainment. Hmm maybe we should put our money towards, oh I dunno, better healthcare? The massive housing crisis? Or maybe tossing some towards the education ministry, from the looks of some of the scholars I see from day to day working near a high school it looks like it desperately needs it. But, I am a hypocrite, I went out and spent my 100$ cheque on DVDs and not bettering the enviornment in any way shape or form. In my defense though, I am protecting capitalism!

Your excuses are lamer than F.D.R’s legs. Too soon?

Just gotta ask, what kind of kid cries at a water park on a warm summer day for no reason? Was out playing tennis today and the courts are right beside a water park for kids. Now, my first gripe is the fact that adults are not allowed to partake in the watery fun. Secondly, what little twat of a child CRIES while at a water park? He wasn’t injured in any way shape or form, he just started balling his eyes out and he wasn’t a young kid either he looked seven or eight. Firstly, if you live in Victoria and live in the municipality of oak bay there should be nothing in your life that should be cry-worthy at your age. Suck it up! You’re parents are wealthy and you want for nothing, get over yourself. There are children in Africa with AIDs now there’s something to fucking cry about not “Jimmy won’t let me play on the monkey bars!” or “I want THAT toy, gimme gimme gimme!” try “oh I was born into poverty and my mother passed on the lovely gift of an incurable, and fatal disease that may not see me reach my 10th birthday.” God damnit…this is why parents should be able to smack their kids (note I said smack, not beat) I’m glad my parents did it to me when I was a kid, kept me from being a pretentious snot that figures the world owes me one later in life. That’s my rant for the day.

 In unrelated news it turns out my Nintendo communist ties theory is correct.