2010 - The Year of the Well Adjusted Madman Ass Kicking

I am back. This will be short and not too sweet. I have nothing to say so you can leave right now.

You did not leave, you mischievous little fools. It is holiday time. I will not get into the Powers That Be (way back when) co-opting a Pagan celebration of the Winter Solstice and "moving" the birth of Jesus from the summer to late December. I could go all "Bah! Humbug!" on your shit and all, but I will resist the urge to do that. I do want to extend my best wishes to one and all during this holiday and new year season. That is me being sincere. I will refrain from that crap from now on.

I do resolve to kick some ass this upcoming year. It is time for a good, societal ass kicking, if I am reading the tea leaves correctly. Take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself this, "Do I deserve a Well Adjusted Madman ass-kicking?". If you answer "no", then you are a liar and you ass will be kicked for lying. If you answer "yes", then you will be ass kicked. I think that I am going to enjoy 2010.

In fact, if I am correct, this upcoming Chinese New Year is the year of the Well Adjusted Madman Ass Kicking. Not as catchy as Year of the Dragon or Rat or Ox (we are currently in that year), but more fun.....for me.

Well, I do have to run, but you should continue to look behind you....I'm a coming and the kicking feels right. Ciao!

So, what's a little oral between friends?

I am back. As usual, I do not think that I have anything to say. As true as that may (the jury is still out on that one) be, it does not change the fact that Oral Roberts, the evangelist, is dead at 91. Oral Roberts University is his namesake.

I always was cracked up by his name, with spelling, and his role as tele-evangelist. There he is preaching and all that I can think about with that name is....well....oral, giving and getting, it does not matter.

Oral Fucking Roberts. Could have been named Sixty Nine Roberts and everyone would be happy. Hell, he could have been Blowjob Roberts, now that is a name that stands for something, but it is a bit male-centric. Of course, he was a male, so that should not have mattered. Deep Throat Roberts, well that may just be a nickname given to a girl I knew in high school. Believe it or not, she was VERY popular with the gentlemen.

Had he not followed his "calling", he could have been quite the porn star or at least have a great porn star name. Oral Does Oral. That would have been a popular title. Perhaps a bit less so in the recent past, since I do not want to see a 91 year old man getting a blown. I mean who wants to see his 91 year old nuts and scrotum hanging down the floor (damn, that gravity).

The thoughts go on and on. It is not enough to bring Oral back but he is in a better place. He is resting with his maker.....or burning in hell if his evangelism (and all of it) is/was "wrong". I guess I will find out soon enough. Then again, I have not seen anybody rising to heaven naked, so the Rapture has not yet occured. Though, there is a Raptors game tonight, so I have that going for me.

Ciao!

Curse of the frogs

I am back. I was thinking about this the other day. Witches, in the olden days, turning men into frogs as a form of a curse. Why frogs? Why an amphibian? Why not an invertebrate?

It does not make sense to me.

Why not a vole, that can easily be eaten by larger mammal or bird of prey? Why not a reptile, bird or fish? Why a fucking amphibian? I am becoming vexed by this thought.

Why not a fucking earthworm or useless earwig? That, to me, would be far worse a fate. I am sure that you can find some "frog kisser", licker, but what human, in their right mind, is going to kiss an earwig? That almost ensures that the spell will not be broken. In fact, chances are greater that the cursed earwig will be stepped upon and crushed.

Do you see where I am going with this? It is as if, the spell castor, actually WANTS the spell to be broken. It would be a thing of impermanence. I just do not buy it.

Then again, they could have always turned them into frogs in France. That way, when the spell was broken, they would be missing a couple of legs. I am not sure there was a long life span for crippled former frogs back in old French days.

Have an awesome weekend pondering that thought! Ciao!

Copenhagen, it is not just for porn anymore, apparently.

I am back. It is one week into December. Is this not the date of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor? I believe that this is the date that would live in infamy.

"All animals are created equal. Some are animals are more equal than others." George Orwell, Animal Farm.

Well, here is another infamous moment.....the "world" is meeting in Copenhagen, Denmark to decide what to do about Global Warming. Call me a cynic. Is this not the same bunch of yahoos who decided that the cure to a financial meltdown, caused by unprecidented, cheap credit, leverage and liquidity was MORE cheap credit?

I am at a loss in wondering who these people are. The Al Gores of the world, out to save the planet, line their pockets and have the rest of us sacrifice and foot the bill for their schemes. They get rich and we get poor.

We obviously need some "world government" that has been appointed or annointed by the United Nations to tell us all what to do and how to run our lives. Our freedom should be at their command. We freely chose those elites among us because they are so intelligent and all knowing. They would most certainly not lie about climate data. They would not disregard data that does not their ASSUMPTIONS and HYPOTHESES! They are too damn fine to do that. We can trust them. How can we not trust them?

Fly into Copenhagen by private jet and commercial airliner. Stay in the finest hotels. Eat the finest meals. Be driven, in limos, to and fro. Have somebody else, read, people through their taxes, foot the bill. Create a huge carbon footprint. Justify it all by actually deluding yourself that you are SAVING the planet. Do as I say, not as I do. We are all equal, I am just more equal than you.

I just had a thought, and I am not proud as it would destroy the beautiful city of Copenhagen. I do not want to cause any harm to my Danish friends (I did have a few of them back in the day). I think the greatest thing that could be done to save the planet may be to drop a hell of a lot of bombs, perhaps go nukes, on Cophenhagen right now and get rid of most of those, not counting the collateral damage to the Danes, free-loading climate fearing zealots.

They do not seem to be willing to debate the science. It is a religion to them. Cost means nothing, especially since they are trying to pass that on to anybody but themselves.

This "cap and trade" notion is so full of shit. Explain to me how sending money from over taxing fuel in developed nations to developing nations that subsidize their fuel, serves to reduce emissions. Explain why a person in Canada who buys a fuel efficient automobile should subsidize a person driving an emissions polluting clunker driven with subsidized fuel in Venezuela. Tell me why the Russians should benefit in a cap and trade system by virtue of the fact they denuded their own environment and the base year for emissions comes at a time when their economy was in a greater shitter than it is now (falling oil production and crumbling industry infrastructure should not be rewarded).

Funny, in this world, no deal is better than shit that is going to be proposed and agreed upon. The only saving grace is Kyoto and Rio before it failed and Copenhagen will, too. As my grandmother used to say, "Do the same thing and you will get the same result" or the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting the results to change.

Well, all I can say is heaven help and save us from the Copenhagen crowd of climate change idiots and let rational thought prevail. Fat chance of that happening, we live in a world with a surplus of one thing....stupidity.

Chew on that one. Ciao!

The digression King

I am back. Wow, 8 days since my last post. I am sure it was a good one. Then again, what do I know?

I do have to send out a birthday greeting to my neice in Dayton, Ohio. She may be the "dim" one. Seems to have been caught drinking underage and smoking reefer by her parents. Her parents (the Wife's sister and brother in law) are rather "uncool" and "nerdy" by my, and any right thinking individual's, standards. She could not go without getting caught (by police among others) and having to deal with her parents. I am not moralizing the fact that she has done it (I did at her age, too), I am more upset with the fact that she got caught (repeatedly). That is what bothers me.

I must also shout out a birthday greeting to my brother. It is his birthday, too, and he had it first. Anyway, I WILL call him later unlike my mother. It was her birthday two weeks ago. I did send a card and was going to call her in the evening. As luck would have it, once I arrived home with the Lad at around 8 that evening, I completely forgot to call. I did remember the next morning at 6:30. She did not care so I am still golden in her eyes. Of course, her vision is obviously impaired.

Apparently, in Hungary they are saying that Santa Claus should avoid kissing children. They say it is to avoid the spread of the flu, the MEXICAN SWINE flu (deal with it). I say it is avoid the notion of Santa as pedophile, which can be far worse than a little flu. Then again, I am not sure if a brush (strange choice of words0 with a pedophile will kill you (I am not advocating that at all, I am just saying). Then again, giving a pedophile Santa the flu and he dies, well that is just Karma. Then again, the kids at school may be pissed that you "killed" Santa, but you know what, he had it coming.

Did John Wayne Gacy ever dress up as Santa Claus? What kind of St. Nick was he? Well, little Billy, your present is under the floorboards. Why don't you go and have a look?

That was sick. Ciao!

"Quality Trim"

I am back. Saw something funny last night. Really, it was heard something that caught me as funny last night.

The Wife and I were watching television. It was Canada's Worst Driver 5, I just seem to love these shows. There are some very scary drivers out there. During a commercial, I flick on to HGTV and there is some house hunters type show on. I do not catch much but the husband, in looking at this house, says "that is some quality trim."

I repeat this to the Wife. I do not think she really "gets" it as I say it. All that I can think about is how true that statement really is. What man does not want or enjoy "quality trim". Well, gay guys, I guess.

We, as men, spend our whole lives in search of "quality trim". It is innate (or in Nate if you are gay, not that there's anything wrong with that).

Well, am I correct in that? Ciao!

Shut the fuck up and let's be on our way!

I am back. It has been a while. I missed Halloween, the outlaws anniversary, the anniversary of FIL and MIL's deaths, my mother's birthday and other shit. Well, I did not miss them, I just did not write about them. And I did not see any cards and letters from y'all.

I could have been dying from H1N1, fuck it, Mexican Swine flu and none of you cared enough to see that I was not knocking on death's door. I am not really sure if death actually has a door. I was under the assumption he had an open door policy. I would not think that there are too many meetings or private conversations in his business. Then again, I could be wrong. It could be just another piece of corporate hell with useless meetings allowing "managers" to justify their existence.

I am getting off topic there. Then again, I do not have a topic. This is not Bob and Doug MacKenzie's "Great White North". There are no topics here. It is one big ADD dream. Something shiny appears and I am side tracked. Of course, you do get to come along for the ride. I can hear your questions now.

"When are we going to get there?"
"Where are we going?"
"Why are we going there?"
"I gotta go to the bathroom."

Well, I have heard it all, and said it all, so the answer is "Shut the fuck up and let's get on our way!" That will be my motto for the remainder of....at least the day...Shut the fuck up and let's be on our way.

Ciao! Shut the fuck up and let's be on our way!

Easy does not mean it is not fun

I am back. Once again, I had something funny to say, or sad and poetic. In any event, the thought passed without me writing it down. I am sure it will come to me.....of course, I will not write it down then, either. If nothing else, I am consistent or amnesiac/demented. Either way, it is hours of entertainment for the whole family.

Well, what is going on in the world? In some ways, it is the same old shit. I did have a funny exchange at Mayfair the other day and it was with a guy whose name I forget but I like the dude. They have renovated the lockers. Really, they have added more rental lockers and by removing some day "half" lockers. They painted and tore up the carpet and added new lockers (removed the green, wood locker fronts, circa 1994, and added gray, melamine fronts. They are also redoing the wet steam. Of course, they do not use proper wetproof materials so the tiles eventually bulge from the moisture so it has to be taken down and redone. Funny, it never occurs to them that in a wet steam there is a lot of moisture and proper materials should be used.

Anyway, they also replaced the shelves by the mirrors, but have yet to fix the baseboard/trim which was carpeted, so bare wood is exposed. It has a great finished look to it (he says rolling his eyes--yes, that is sarcasm, imagine that). Anyway, I am talking to this guy about the renovations/maintenance and he points out that could have put large mirrors at the end of each aisle of lockers (he is so correct, though it could mean a double shot of fat, naked dudes, so there is a downside. That does not include myself as I am not fat, so I figure I look quite good naked, as long as I am not naked and wearing socks, in which case, I look fucking ridiculous).

He mentions that issue and then says, "It is easy to complain." I have to answer him, "That is true but it does not make it any less fun." And that is the whole point here, and I do mean here, it is easy to criticize and complain and also a whole lot of fun. That appears to by my sole reason for being.

Man, am I cranky or what? Ciao!

Mexican Clown Conventions and other fun stuff

I am back. It was an interesting weekend but enough about that. I do recall what I had forgotten on Friday. There was a Clown Convention in Mexico City.

What a freak show that must have been. I mean clowns are creepy in singular but to gather a whole mess of them in the place where this Mexican flu, er H1N1, started, well, let the pandemic begin. I mean where is John Wayne Gacy now. He could be spreading the disease by doing is buggering best. Then again, he killed his victims and stuffed them underneath the floor boards (dead, buggered young men apparently are natures best insulation, who knew?) so maybe he would not be carrier of the great pandemic (unlike that French, I think he was French, gay steward, er flight attendant, who "brought" the AIDS virus back from Haiti and helped infect a whole generation, or two, of American gay males in the US and around the world).

I am wondering if the Mexican hosts used Canadian clowns as pinatas. It would seem fitting to do so.

That reminds me that a Mexican senator was here recently. She had words regarding Canada's visa restrictions on Mexicans and used some very strong language to describe it. She called it "humiliating".

Well, if you do not want to be "humiliated" then stop killing our fucking citizens for sport and clean up your corrupt justice system. Stop letting the drug king pins run the country, or ruin it. Get a handle on your domestic law and order and start seeing the big picture. Blame the victim or deny the crime so that tourism will not be hurt. Got news for you, tourism is hurting and will continue until YOU have the target taken off Canadians and get serious about the locals that commit crimes against tourists.

There, I said it. Ciao!

Happy Trails to Soupy Sales

I am back. It has only been 10 days since my last post. What can you do? I had some good stuff lined up for today but that has gone by the wayside.

I do have to mention that Soupy Sales is dead. Soupy Sales died the other day, or today, at age 83. The man may have taken more face shots than Jenna Jameson. Then again, his were pie shots and not jizz shots. There is a difference but both can leave your eyes glued shut.

There, how is that for a visual for you to ponder over the weekend. Ciao!

Government run by the television networks

I am back. Did y'all have a nice long weekend? Mine was just peachy. The weather was awful, rain all day Friday (though it was not a cold rain), a cold Saturday that was gray and a cold Sunday that was sunny. Yesterday it was cool and overcast. That is a great long weekend, weather wise.

Other than that, I have no complaints. The time off was nice and I did a lot of eating, which was pretty cool.

Now, back to the Obama Nobel Peace Prize nonsense. I am finding it funny that the Republicans, Glenn Beck/Rush Limbaugh wing-(nuts?) are on the same side as al Qaeda and Taliban in denouncing Obama's winning of the Nobel Peace Prize (I keep typing "Peach" by mistake...given past winners, and the current one, I am thinking that is more Freudian slip than mistyping). The Republicans are in bed with the "enemy". Will wonders never cease?

The biggest joke in US politics is that the Republicans are showing themselves devoid of ANY ideas or plans of action. It is opposition for oppositions sake. If the President proposes it, it must be "bad". If he says "black", they will say "white" (that would occur in any event, but you know what I mean). There is no fucking rational discourse. It has devolved into the playground (the same holds true here with the Liberals) which makes me wonder why we do not throw them ALL out...or lock them all in a room and deal with whomever comes out.

It is so childish, petty and unnecessary. Then again, people get the government they deserve. That does explain Poland post World War II. So my American friends are going to have stop supporting the shrill, loud and ignorant. Unfortunately, they do make for good television.

Welcome to North America! Ciao!

What the fuck!??

I am back. This will be short and sweet. Barack Obama.....winner of the Nobel Peace Prize! You read that correctly, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize.

Not a knock on the man, but what, exactly, has he done....? What has he done in the name of "peace"? By my count, he is still presiding over two, TWO, wars (Iraq and Afghanistan).

Perhaps, he will be worthy of this award in the future, but certainly not now. Of course, this august body conferred this same honor on Al Gore (another "what the fuck" given his big-ass carbon footprint, and ass print), Yassir Arafat and Kofe Annan and UN (presiders over genocide in Rwanda AND now in Darfur, could be a great book about how an African can REALLY fuck up Africa).

Wonders will never cease! I need a drink to wash down the bile that I keep spitting up. Have a great long weekend be it Thanksgiving (Canada) or Columbus Day (Ohio, er United States). Ciao!

The Mayfair Freak Show Continues

I am back. I guess that is kind of.....obvious. I do recall what I wanted to recount from yesterday. The memory is not soooooo bad (it is better than most, I think).

I was at Mayfair on Saturday. When I got into the changeroom area, a man asks if it was still raining. It was not at that moment, but could have started up again at any time. In any event, I recall a different encounter with this gentleman some months ago.

I was going to say that the guy looked like an Oompa Loompa, without the orange skin coloring, but that is not really true. He looked more like Tony Clifton. Tony Clifton was Andy Kaufman's alter ego. He was a short, fat, obnoxious dude with moustache and glasses. A really cheesy individual. He also looked like Rupert Pupkin, Robert DeNiro's character in the Scorcese classic "King of Comedy" (with Jerry Lewis). You can see them both in the pictures at the top of the post.

Anyway, a number of months back, after I had finished working out and had undressed to shower, I left my wet gym clothes on the floor in front of my locker. This joker who was using the locker beside mine, says that he does not want to smell my gym clothes. Originally, I thought he was joking. I mean he had to put his fucking shoes on, go work out (or do whatever it is he does), I would shower and those clothes would be gone before he was back and spending any time near his locker. Well, he was not joking and the conversation escalated. It ended with me telling him that it was not my fault he was so fucking fat, short and could not tie up his shoes without having to put his head, with triple chins, on the fucking ground. Then there was the old "go fuck yourself" and I went on my way. Fuck him!

I guess he did not recall that incident. He was rather pleasant when he asked me about the rain. I answered as nicely as I could. Again, I am not sure what difference it made to him about whether or not it was raining at present as he was getting in his white shorts and shirts to work out, swim or get a massage (I soon saw him in the gym area) so as he was not going to be outside, who the fuck cares what the weather is like.

I finish my workout and I am changing to go into the shower. I see said fat, moustache man in his tighty whities (picture that image) with a white tee shirt on. He sits down, bends over and puts on his sneakers. I figure he is going into the shower, which I find a little freaky. I mean, who goes into the shower in underwear, undershirt and sneakers....fucking freak.

Then I see him take his jeans (Levi's) and put them on....over his sneakers. What the fuck!!!!! I spent a couple of years training the Lad not to do that as it is always a pain in the ass to get your jeans on over your shoes. Why fight it? Then I see this Tony Clifton looking motherfucker doing just that! What kind of fucking crazy world am I living in?

I do see the freaky side of humanity at that club. I am thankful for that, which makes good sense since we, as Canadians, are coming up on Thanksgiving.

Ciao!

Returning to a blog post near you.

I am back. I am more sporadic than I wanted to be. What can you do? I am back now. I have been busy. That will not change, though the type of busy will, so I should be able to post more frequently. That, of course, assumes that muse speaks to me and I have something to go on about. No guarantees there.

Well, we have come through the holidays relatively unscathed. The basketball season is upon us. I am coaching the Lad's house-league team again. It should be fun, assuming my co-coach, or am I the ass. coach (which does not sound very good but the smell is worse), joins me this season. There are issues outside of his control that must be dealt with, so it is up in the air, like a tip-off.

Of course, "tip-off" would be right at home for a Moyel. A moyel, for those who do not know, is the person that presides and performs the bris, the ritual circumcision for 8 day old Jewish male babies. Now, that is funny.

Well, that about does it for now. I just do not have much to say and I am playing basketball tonight, so I am excited. Ciao!

Not sure where this is leading, so beware.

I am back. I am NOT Sam, though. I cannot, therefore, be Sam I am. I hope that I was clear on that one.





Ahhhh, a little, silly banter to begin this autumnal post. It is the first day of autumn. Of course, up in these parts, I could mention the fact that we did not have a summer and summer was rather spring/early autumn-like in terms of temperature and rainfall. We have been bone dry, but for yesterday and today, since late August, though. Apparently, we had our summer in early September.....with shortening days, so not as much sunlight, go figure.





The Lad is up at Camp White Pine with all of his middle school. It does now seem to be an awfully large facility for only grade 7 and 8. I recall middle school or junior high had grades 7 to 9, so there was a full extra grade and in my day it was a large cohort. Us grade 7s and the grade 8s had four classes of students each. The grade 9s had 5 and that was coming off 5 or 6 from the previous grade 9s. I could see the cohorts shrinking as the grade 7s when I was in grade 9 was down to 3 classes.





There are 4 or 5 grade seven classes for the Lad. He is also from a large cohort. That was apparent at his elementary school. The student number bulged for his year from kindergarten all through elementary school. He is in extended French, so there are 2 classes of 20 kids. His friends in the regular program have close to 40 kids in their class.

Enough about that shit. What is going on the larger world? Well, apparently, the world is supposed to come to an end on December 21, 2012. In some ways, I would like to plan on that. You can live really well for the next two and half or so years, then we are gone, so what is the point in leaving anything behind. Then again, I would hate to rely on an ancient civilization's notion of large change and then find out they were wrong, and I would have to start all over with nothing. I mean, if the Mayan's were so damn smart, where the fuck are they now? They ended up "extinct" before their calendar ended.

They, the Mayans, were also silent as to how things ended or changed. It could be a positive, spiritual rebirth or something rather apocalyptical and negative. Nobody can seem to find an ancient Mayan to explain it or how they "know". Was it aliens? Did somebody go back in time, Marty McFly or Professor Frink perhaps, and screw around with the space-time continuum and warn the Mayans (before being hurled into a volcano as a human sacrifice--better than boiling and eating missionaries, though). Sorry, that was really a value judgement, perhaps boiled missionary and missionary soup is quite tasty, if not a rather bland way of doing things, then again, the ending is the same.

I am not so sure what that last thought was all about, but that is for future generations to interpret, of course, that ain't going to occur after December 21, 2012. Man, that could be one cold winter!

Think about it. Ciao!

The end of a year

I am back. Let this final post of....whatever the year is on the Hebrew calendar be done in Italics. It is classing this shit up. How y'all doing out there in reader land? I am peachy keen.

I could go into the deaths of Patrick Swayze or Henry Gibson, but will not. Enjoyed their work, sometimes, they are dead. Pretty much end of story.

Jimmy Carter is coming off like a jerk. He was a shitty, weak president. He seemed to be able to garner greater respect as an ex-president and then he opens his mouth again. I am sure there may be many in the US that does not like the notion of a black president (fuck 'em, so what) and I still think that Joe Wilson's "You lie!" outburst, though rather childish, was not racially motivated. It was motivated by politics and disagreement for disagreements sake. There really is little actual debate going on there, or here for that matter, about health care.

I do like many Republicans citing Canada's health care problems as a reason to avoid a government pay/administered health care system. Let us look at those who use Canada as an example of poor health care. Let's look at the facts in the US, more money is spent per capita on health care, 40 million Americans are uninsured and have little to no access to medical care, and the mortality rate in the US is higher than in Canada.

Where is the bang for the buck there? How is it superior to Canada? Yes, innovation is greater there. Is there greater efficacy in the new, innovative treatments? Only time will bear that out, but given the mortality rate, which could be skewed by the untimely deaths of the uninsured. So the statements and assertions of Republican congressmen are somewhat assinine.

I won't get into their ignorance of all things that are not American, hell their ignorance of all this American, too. Sound bites are great but uninformative. Partisanship is great but does not help the debate and construction of where America wants to go and be in the future. It is much ado about nothing. A show of partisanship that tries to maintain a status quo that cannot be contained. You cannot stop change.

That is not to say that I am all for the Democrats solution. It is that they have put forth a proposal, at least, that challenges the status quo. Where are the Republicans on that one?

Further, the Democrats are not innocent in this game of misinformation. The Republicans are trying to play on the fears of Americans (Death squads, get fucking real!!) and Democrats have not been honest either as they underplay the costs, cost savings and their love of bloated administrative costs. Where it lands, I do not know.

Well, Shana Tova to those celebrating Rosh Hashanah and a great weekend to one and all. Ciao!

Another world's oldest person dies

I am back. It has happened again. The world's oldest person has died. Again, I would say that getting that "title" is really an imminent death sentence. So the prophecy comes true again. All I know is that, and my genes tell me that it really is not an issue, if that title passes anywhere near me, I will turn it down. I am figuring that is the way to cheat death. Or getting that title is somebody's way of saying `You`re next`.

Now, I have to say fucking Toshiba keyboard is causing me some grief here. I fucking hate this computer and Vista. I am thinking that my next computer will have to be another HP. Apple and Macs are too cool for me.

With that said, going to run. Have a great weekend, one and all! Ciao!

Back to School with no Rodney Dangerfield

I am back. It is the day after Labour Day up here in Canada. It can only mean one thing, back to school. The Lad started middle school today. Back in the day, it was called junior high school and consisted of grades 7, 8 & 9. Of course, we had a grade 13 back then. Today, there is no grade 13 or OACs, so high school goes up to grade 12 and begins at grade 9. There is no junior high, just middle school which is just grades 7 & 8.

Anyway, I can only look back to when I started junior high back in 1976. Like the Lad, I was in the same school and class as most of my elementary school friends. It provided a level of comfort as I became friends with the people who had gone to the other area public school. The funny thing is that among my friends from high school, most became my friends in junior high. In fact, I only really speak to one person from elementary school. Two, perhaps, but one was a friend from nursery school and we were never in any classes in elementary school. In fact, we only really reconnected as friends in grade 9, in you guessed it, junior high.

I get to relive, through the Lad, those awkward pre-puberty into puberty years, that lead into the gawky teen years. I saw one of the Lad's friend's older brother recently. The kid is 14 or 15 and is in complete teen-geek mode. He has the cheek acne (I hope that the Lad can avoid that but there is no guarantee given my skin, my brother's, my father's and the Wife's), the long, gawky limbs and the mono-syllabic grunt responses as a Neanderthal (without the full on body hair, at least that I witnessed). Then again, this particular teen, was a geeky, very bright, obnoxious pre-teen, so some of the geeky teen traits are not necessarily a teen thing but go much deeper in terms of socialization and empathy.

I know I was obnoxious and the Lad is especially so. He fucking thinks he knows it all, yet when quizzed cannot come up with the answers. That is where I have him beat, I have been there and I feel what he feels. I can also question him and will press for him to answer the questions. It usually forces him to hear how inane his questions or positions can be. When he is correct, I will be the first to admit it and let him go. It is all about taking responsibility for his thoughts and actions. He does that and I have no issues. He makes a mess and expects somebody else to clean it up, we have a problem.

Well, that is all for today. We have finally had a run of great, sunny, dry weather. Where the fuck was this in July? Oh well, what can I do? Shit all. Ciao!

August 31

I am back. This will be my last post......for August of 2009. My posting has been sporadic and I have been busy in a good and productive way. All is good and getting better, that is what really matters.

What is new over the last 11 days? We are in the summer break homestrech. The Lad starts school in about a week. He starts middle school. Where did the time go? I just do not understand it. It is all good though.

It makes me remember when I started in grade 7 back in 1976. It is so similar and yet so different. I worry for the Lad, yet I find that I do not have much to worry about with him, so far. He is a good kid and that was born out when he was at camp. He is a glue kid. He is obviously sticky and as he runs through puberty that will only get worse, or stickier.

The Wife wants me to have the "masturbation" conversation with him. I am still waiting for my father to have that one with me. My mother tossed me a book on puberty and that was pretty much it. I mean, my dick is attached to me. It got hard, I played with it and ............ bang, I shot my load. A little strange, but it felt great, so I continued with it......to this day.....right now.....shit, the keys are getting stuck.

Well, I guess this is what passes for witty thought in my life. Pretty sad, huh? Well, it is time to celebrate the end of August with some drinking, so if you will excuse me, I will be back in September. Ciao!

Asshole? C'est moi?

I am back. The sky is presently a sickly shade of grey-green. It is storming out there and the sky color, though not as ominous as that purple-grey sky, is still rather foreboding. There, I got "foreboding" in a sentence.

Well, the Wife's cousins and their kids are in from LA this month. The parents went off to Monte Carlo, so we were at the Wife's aunt's for dinner on Saturday and she was with her two granddaughters (ages 5 and 2). So I tell the girls that their parents might not come home. (It is true when you think about it)

Well, the screaming and the crying that began from there. I did say, "Jokes! Jokes!". Man, you would think that they would all get a sense of humor. Who knew they would react that way. If only they had listened to the whole story......or if I did not wait 2 minutes before telling them that I was only joking.

The funny part was that everybody was pissed at me for the rest of the evening. It was not as if it was my screaming and crying that ruined the evening. I did not shed a tear.

Ciao!

John Hughes, I did not realize that you disappeared until you were dead.

I am back. Sad news today, well, John Hughes died today of a heart attack in New York. He was 59. We all remember him in the early 80s to the early 90s, writing and directing such classic comedies and films such as National Lampoon's Vacation, Sixteen Candles, Weird Science, The Breakfast Club, Uncle Buck, Only the Lonely, Home Alone and Ferris Beuller's Day Off. These were the films that broke John Cusack, Judd Nelson, Anthony Michael Hall and Molly Ringwald. In fact, I think that it was John Hughes who invented Molly Ringwald.

His roots in comedy and comedy writing go back to the National Lampoon magazine in the 70s. He wrote such classics as Vacation '59 (on which National Lampoon's Vacation was based), Christmas '59 (aka NatLamp's Christmas Vacation), My Penis (the story of a teenage girl who wakes up one morning to find that she has a penis..October 1978) and of course, My Vagina (the story of a teenage boy who wakes up to find that he has a vagina...April 1979). He also wrote many other things in the magazine, most of which were rather funny, not Chris Miller funny but funny nonetheless.

The odd thing is that he had not directed a film since 1991's "Curly Sue" with Jim Belushi. In some ways, that is the saddest swan song as a director. He did not write that much since then either. It was like he disappeared about 18 years ago. Then again, my life moved on, so I did not give him much thought, unless I was watching Weird Science, Sixteen Candles or a Home Alone movie.

It is sad that he is gone and then again, it is like Michael Jackson. The things that I enjoyed about him live on his work, both movies and magazines. They still exist in that format. I do not long for the present him as that really did not exist in my life, so it all works for me and that is all that really matters.

Ciao, bitches!

Boy George? Am I a sick fuck or what!

I am back. It is August. I would say that summer is coming to an end (can I be more early on that call?) but we really have not had a traditional summer around these parts. I have not had the air conditioner on for very long this summer. It has been cooler than normal and certainly wetter. It is not so much the amount of rain but the fact that there seems to be a shower at least every other day. At least, with the dry summers, the grass dries out, stops growing and I do not have to mow it. Now, the green stuff grows and I have to mow. It is all the worse because I am mowing moist grass, too. Then again, I am not kicking up as much dirt.

I forgot to mention something last week. I am, again, into to some bad television. I have been watching "Dating in the Dark" on ABC. They have 3 guys and 3 girls and they get to know each other in a dark room. Eventually, after forming some form of a relationship, they reveal what the people look like to the other. They then can choose to meet the other for another date or leave. It is a stupid premise but I like gawking at the folks.

Anyway, I watched the first episode last week (there were two on yesterday, but I could only stand to watch one, I do have some standards, low they may be) and was struck by something. One of the girls looked a bit like Boy George. The funny thing is that she looked like Boy George cross-dressing or dressed in a more male fashion. I am sorry but that right there is a deal breaker for me. I COULD NOT date any woman that looks like Boy George.

Think about it. If she was blowing me, I could only think that I was getting blown by Boy George (not a turn on in my world, if that is how you roll, more power to you). If I was fucking her vaginally, it would like fucking Boy George (see above for the same comment), fucking her anally would, of course, be like fucking Boy George up the ass, well except for the fact that I believe (they did not show it) she has lady "parts". Of course, the final act of depravity would be having her put on the strap-on and then it would really like I was getting fucked by Boy George. Not EVER going to happen.

You see what I mean about that being a deal-breaker? Now, run along and keep that mental image in your head of fucking, or being fucked if you are so inclined, by Boy George. Ciao!

A return, a departure, some rain and more mouse tales

I am back. Wow, almost two whole weeks since my last post. I am just getting worse and worse. Oh well, the mind has been somewhat fertile and I have been too busy to take the time to post. Bad me! Then again, I do not know how many people this is actually reaching, so in the end, who really cares?

The Lad arrived home from camp last week, July 21st. It was a good experience for him. It is also great to have him back. We were up at a friends' rented cottage over the weekend. Well, it was really drive up to the Bancroft area on Saturday morning and come back Sunday afternoon. It was a rustic cottage with dry wall up, ready to be taped, primed and painted. It also rained, on and off, more on than off, really, so that put a damper on our day. The Lad did catch some fish though.

We were fishing on a platform on Saturday. It was cloudy, but the rain did not start until we made it back to the cottage (just in time for dinner and it was a wonderful way to ruin the planned bonfire, oh well). I caught nothing on the platform, though I got a few nibbles. We used the plastic lures. On Sunday, we got the boys worms to use as bait. The Lad caught five fish from the dock and I had a nice kayak journey around the lake before lunch (and after going into Bancroft with our host).

Well, I have another mouse tail, er tale, to tell. I am on my way home on Monday, when I get a call from the Lad. He was putting something in the garbage and saw a mouse in our garbage drawer/compartment thing. I get home and figure that I am smart. I take the bin and bag outside. As I am tying up the bag, I feel something moving. This fucking mouse jumps up and out of the bag and scurries under the deck. The Wife asks if it is gone. I give her the good news, it is out of the house and the bad, it is not dead. Oh yeah, to make matters worse, the fucker left a shit calling card for me. It was soft and fresh, which meant I was cleaning out the bin, too.

We jump ahead to yesterday. We are having dinner and the power goes out around quarter to seven. No worries. Finish dinner and play a little baseball. We come home around 8 and the power still has not been restored. At some point, I go into the kitchen and hear a rustling sound. It is coming from the cupboard, beside the garbage compartment, where we keep our potatoes and onions/shallots/garlic. I could guess what was going on. I open up the door and see a mouse.

Now, we do not have power and I do not have any traps handy. What to do? We get some power back around 9:20 and I figure I need traps. I will try and put one in the cupboard with the mouse, hoping that it does not escape when I open the door. I make a quick trip to Lowe's (it is a little closer than the Home Depot), get a couple of traps and make my home. I get near the house and see that the power is gone, again.

At that point, I am not going to try to deal with the mouse. I mean, the thing is faster than I am, and I need my sight for this one. I did decide to bait and set the traps while I was there, though. All done by flashlight, no less. I figure I will try and get one in the cupboard with the mouse, close the door and let nature take its course. I also set one on the kitchen floor along the kickplate to the cabinets. Again, that door was not going to be opened until the lights came back on.

At about 10, the power is restored for good. I now have to go and deal with that fucking mouse. I put on my work gloves (used for all my critter disposal, poison baiting, garbage hauling and lumberjack needs), grab the broom (I need some kind of weapon in case it tries to escape) and realize that I have the second baited trap, set, on the counter. For some reason, I open the door and the thing squeals and jumps out. I smack the fucker with the broom and it runs towards the kickplate but away from the trap. I swing at it again, and in its sheer panic, it starts to run, along the kickplate, towards the trap.

I know from experience (see March of 2007 and my post regarding my hunting of the mouse in the Lad's room) that it will run into and set off the trap, though not because of the bait. The trap snaps and catches the fucker's neck. It's head is caught, legs are moving and tail is up in the air. Now, I have to taunt it and taunt it I do. I am telling it to lower its tail and just die, give it up and enjoy death, all that sort of shit. The tail eventually drops and it dies.

I now have to clean up its mess. I pull out the onions, etc. and throw them all out (I guess dinner will be less than flavorful tonight without the onions, garlic and shallots) along with the mouse in the trap. I clean the droppings (all fresh) and go back upstairs where The Wife and Lad sat playing cards. I am the Killer!

So, let that be a lesson to all you mice out there....I will kill you.

Ciao!

Mexicans--killing Canadians in Mexico and now coming up to Canada to do it there

I am back. I had a bit of a quick thought. Yesterday was the funeral of a Toronto woman who was killed. Her body was found in the trunk of her car and her credit card was used in Mexico. It has been alleged that she was killed by two Mexicans.

What the Fuck!!!!!? It is not bad enough that the Mexicans are murdering Canadian tourists in Mexico. That was obviously not enough for them. Now, they have to come up to Canada to kill Canadians?!!!!

Did the Mexican Flu, fuck that H1N1 bullshit, it is Mexican Flu (though the Mexicans did a good job of containing the outbreak) stop the flow of Canadian tourists to be hunted and perhaps killed by Mexicans. Maybe, that is why they coming up to hunt Canadians in Canada?

Just a twisted "Mexican" thought! Ciao!

We had a Lad sighting

I am back, again. I had a lot to say but have forgotten it all. Did get to see the Lad on Sunday for Visitor's Day at camp. He looked great and was doing just fine. He seemed well liked by his fellow campers and counsellors. Playing for that is not good, but if it comes to you, it is fine. And, it is fine.

We did stop in Orrville for a coffee. It was at that point I remembered walking to town, Orrville, when I went to that camp 35 years ago. It was a different camp, but it was on the same location. The camp is near Parry Sound, hence Orrville, named for Parry Sound's favorite son, Bobby Orr.

The Lad will be home in a week, so that should be cool. I do miss, I would like to say "little guy" but he is not so little anymore. I noticed that he has humongous feet. They are narrow, too. It is like he has two planks for feet. When I watched him walking with his skinny legs and clown shoes, it reminded me of an old friend. In junior high, he was smaller than me, still is, and had size 12 feet, which looked really oversized when compared to the rest of his body, except his natural afro.

I did see an old dude today, while getting some blood work done, and he was in all green. Mint green slacks, green and white stripped shirt and a darker green jacket (like he won the fucking Masters). Something about matching and matching ugly when you become an old man, I think. At least, he was not wearing shorts with white legs.

That is going to be all for today. Just wanted to mention about the Lad. Oh yeah, where were my birthday greetings and presents last week?!!!!

Ciao!

Oh where have I been?

I am back after a long absence. Happy July to one and all! The Lad was sent to camp on the 28th. It is very, really too quiet, around these parts without him here. We have received about 4 letters, all dated differently and arriving in a bit of a bizarre order.

The first letter was dated June 30th and told of him getting over his homesickness and getting on with camp. We knew about that due to a conversation with the Unit head. He had been sad the first two days or so, but was fully engaged in activities and was playing softball with a smile (that is how he plays). The second letter also arrived on the same day was dated July 5th. In that one he was telling us how he wanted to come home and was hating camp. Yet, he did go on to say that he water skiied, did well and loved it. This had us concerned.

The biggest concern was that he was moping, crying and garnering a cabin reputation as a suck. Another call to the Unit head, which was returned upon her return from a day off, put that notion to bed for us. She had spoken with him earlier and said that if he wrote his feelings down, it may help him. She did not intend for him to send the letter to us. I thought that he could just be venting and was having a less than good day, but still the concern lingered until I heard that.

Then yesterday, we received another two letters, one from the 28th and the other dated July 2nd. In both, he did not seem bad at all. He mentioned sailing and getting hit in the head by the boom (and apparently how the "boom" got its name, which I can really understand as I recall sailing at camp, 33 years ago, and getting hit in the head by the boom too many times to count).

There you have it. Visitors day is on Sunday. I look forward to seeing him but the parting is not going to be good for any of us. Then again, I know that the camp knows this and it is the same for most of the campers & parents.

He did get off okay. There were no tears. He does travel like me. Wants to be left alone and not have somebody asking questions or in his face. Unfortunately, it was raining, he had the umbrella and I had his backpack, so I had to be in his face. Poor him, but there was no other way.

That is all for today. Ciao!

Parallel Lives or Deaths

I am back. Well, it was a sad day in the world of entertainment today. Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson died. The funniest thing is that there is actually a connection. I used to whack off to the Farrah poster when I hit puberty and that is exactly what Michael Jackson would have done to me at that time.

It is amazing how it all fits together in the cosmic puzzle that is life. Just thought I would share that thought. Ciao!

It was 20 years ago today....that I last saw John Entwhistle, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townsend play

I am back. It is another walk down memory lane for me today. It was 20 years ago today that I saw The Who in concert at Exhibition Stadium. That is the real highlight of the memory. The trouble with that show, where I was the only to wear earplugs (we had front row floor seats) and before the show my friends made fun of me. Afterward, as their ears were ringing, I was commended on being so prescient. I learned my lesson a year earlier at the Pink Floyd show. It was a Friday and my ears were still ringing come the Tuesday.

As I said, that was the highlight. The lowlight was my pals picked me up from in front of Women's College Hospital. I had gone there from work to visit my father. Two days earlier, June 21, 1989, he received a preliminary diagnosis of leukemia (acute myologenous leukemia, to be exact), was admitted to the hospital on the 22nd (where the diagnosis was confirmed) and received his first chemo treatment on the 23rd.

It was not a fun day, to say the least. It would make for a less than fun summer. Between articling (in the litigation rotation, blah), ball hockey and visiting my father in the hospital each evening after work and on weekends, there was not much time to "enjoy" the weather or what were typical, for me anyway, summertime activities.

He did make it through the summer and so did I, so that was good. Now, 20 years later and I still have not forgotten. Then again, I have dredged up 25 and 30+ year old recollections, so 20 years is really a short time in my mind.

Just wanted to share that with y'all. I hope you are all keeping cool and tomorrow promises to be a real scorcher. Ciao!

This just in.....

I am back. It is a quick and special Saturday post. I heard something very odd last evening. I kept hearing the term "beauty shop" used. I heard a woman saying that she goes to the "beauty shop" once a week. I looked at the whole situation. I thought multiply that by 52 (number of weeks in a year) and multiply that by 25 (as in years this has been done). All I can say, given my observation of the present, is that the "beauty shop" has OBVIOUSLY been misnamed. After a good, and that is debatable, 1300 trips to the "beauty shop", I cannot see the "beauty".

That may be just me.

Also, what do you make of a person who cannot spell the Lad's name correctly? This is a person who has known the Lad since birth. That is 12 fucking years of attempting to spell his name and 12 fucking years of being corrected. It is 5, count 'em, 5, fucking letters. What is the problem there? Actually, that is a rhetorical question, I know the problem, nobody else wants to admit it or see it for what it is.

I mean FIL got the Lad's name wrong. He called him all sorts of names that were similar, but wrong. He even got him a birthday cake with his name misspelled. It was funny. Of course, the dementia had taken root (again with nobody else acknowledging, or wanting to acknowledge, it). He gets special dispensation for that. I cannot give that here.

Going to run. Ciao!

He's just a singer in a rock 'n roll band

I am back and no two week layoff, though you may wish it had been so. I just had one thought and wanted to mention that the Lad's "graduation" was quite nice. Those grade 6s had their party afterward. All the girls were dolled or tarted up. It was kind of insane.

I do not know much about women, let alone those about to or just hitting puberty, so I am not sure if any of that was normal. All I have to go on was my younger sister and even then I was to into my own shit/life to really take much notice or care. Here, it was in my face.

Apparently, the Lad is the singer in a rock and roll band. He has buddies who play drums, bass and guitar and they needed a singer. The chose the right dude. The Lad could always sing (so says our music producer cousin who has had him record in his studio). I only heard them jam.

The only time they performed for me was when I was picking the Lad up from practice (they were doing it twice a week for a good month there) and I asked them to play for me. They had been working all afternoon so the energy level was low and they were not as tight as it probably was earlier. I took it in that vein.

A couple of the parents, quietly, hung around to see their son and the band. They said it was amazing. The Lad was working the stage and sounded great, apparently. We are going to a performance on Tuesday at another parent's house. I am looking forward to that.

Well, that is it for now, just wanted to rave about the Lad (in case I do not do that enough, I want it in writing, just to show him if need be). Have a good one. Ciao!

Just checking in once again

I am back. I apologize for the long delay. I did not intend to not post for two weeks. It just happened. I owe a happy birthday shout out to the Willmeister, though I have NEVER referred to him as that before and probably never will again. It is late (by about 9 days) but I did speak to him on his special day.

Tomorrow is the Lad's "graduation". I am not sure why anybody is making a big deal about this one. It is only grade fucking 6. If I thought that this was something special, as opposed to expected, then it would be ballgame over as far as I am concerned. Just thought I would clarify that for y'all.

Now, I could go on into the fun in Iran. The chickens may be coming home to roost after 30 years. Potentially rigged elections and the Ayatollahs in an uproar. The shoe is definitely on the other foot. When the shooting begins, what will be the real difference between SAVAK and the Revolutionary Guard? Not much.

The best part is that Iran is "blaming" the US for fomenting the demonstrations. In this case, I see the US is hands off and letting the Iranian theocracy stew in its own juices. This is their mess, 30 years in the making, and now they will have to lie in it.

I am done for now, AND I will be back soon. Ciao!

The Return

I am back and it has been a while. I was busy and then exhausted. Now, I am better, not that I was too bad to begin with. Where was I from when we lasted chatted, er when I lasted dictated?

I must have gone on about barbecues, frozen burgers and alcohol not mixing. I mean there were no fireworks issues there.

I am quite sure that I had something to say, and it may have been funny, but the exhaustion took it away.....well away. Now, all I see are dead people, or is that death and grief and sorrow and murder.....or is that just North Korea.

It appears that Kim Jong Il has taken leave of his senses, or what ever senses he had. He is now playing a dangerous game of chicken with the world. Testing nukes, launching missiles, it is as if he had one hell of a stroke and part of his brain was damaged. That is the part that made him realize he could get more by being annoying with his nukes and then launching his country into a clear oblivion. Somehow, and it could be due to brain damage from his stroke, he has taken a more belicose path.

The problem is that his is a tiny nation and could be easily taken out. There would be collateral damage, mainly refugees overrunning the Chinese border, not to mention the threat to South Korea and an assured North Korean scorched earth policy. As I have said before, the people of North Korea, notwithstanding their lives, do not have much of anything to lose, as they have nothing and barely enough food. The real losers would be the North Korean powerbrokers and regime as they would be hunted down and the party would be over fairly quickly. They would leave a shit load of damage in their wake, human and otherwise.

You are looking at War Crimes trials, too. I cannot see them wanting to go there. They have too much to lose. They live a good life at the expense of the general population. People who had the misfortune of being born above the 38th parallel so they lost that little geography lottery. They got the prize of some sort of indentured servitude to a State and the family Kim.

I guess that there is nothing funny about that.

Enough of this screed, I hope to be back real soon, like tomorrow. Ciao!

Cryptographic thought

I am back. I have had the opportunity to watch a fascinating sight. I have watched a person, who after a good 65 years of life, try to come to terms with the fact that she is going to be alone. This is a person, female, as you can tell by the pronoun, who is an adult in name only. She has been dependent on so many others to help her and do for her in life. She has never provided for herself or lived independently.

Siblings who basically raised her, treated her with kindness, hospitality and cash, no doubt, are moving on to the afterlife. That relationship is done. Children are moving away. The circle gets smaller. Significant other is really getting on in years. What will she do?

The interesting thing is watching her get hit with that realization and still she seems to avoid speaking the truth. It is the unwinding of a fantasy. A bewildering story of short term gain paid for with long term pain.....pain she is just beginning to feel as it has become reality.

So sad...so avoidable.....so predictable and boring.

Ciao!

Cut fingers and the Middle Ages

I am back. Not much to say but I thought that I would check in. I did learn something this holiday weekend. Whereas the notion of drinking and fireworks not mixing made sense, nobody told me about drinking, trying to separate frozen hamburger patties and bbqs not mixing.

Suffice to say, I learned that the hard way........with a long gash on my finger. It is still oozing as we speak. It is as if my finger is having its period. Oh well, as long as it does not get infected, I will survive. Of course, if this were the Middle Ages, it would be fatal. Then again, at my age, if it were the Middle Ages, I would already have been dead....for a while, let alone not be able to blog about it. Well, I guess I could blog but then I would be labeled a heretic and burned at the stake. Though, that would kill off any infection, so there is an upside to all of this.

Ciao!

I am back

I am back. Have I not posted since April 28th, two weeks ago? What is up with that? In the mean time, I should give a belated shout out to the Wife, who had a birthday two weeks ago, or so and my now 3 year old nephew whose birthday was on the 1st.

Funny thing. I am having dinner at my mother's on Sunday with the family, including the aforementioned nephew. We had brought his gift to my mother's house the previous week but there was illness in the family, so they did not come. My mother took the gift over to them during the week and he, well his mother, my sister in law, called to thank us and get him to thank us, which he did. Anyway, on Sunday I am sitting beside him after dinner. We had the group cake and he and the Wife blew out the candles.

As we are sitting side by side, he turns to me and asks if I brought him a present. I laughed at the greedy little weasel. The kid does not share and he wants another present. I have to give him credit.

On another note, yesterday, May 11th, has some strange signficance in my life. It was 30 years ago, yes, 1979, that I missed school that Friday to be allergy tested. Scratched and pricked with needles, I think school would have been preferable. I did find out that I was allergic to apples, though, so that was kind of cool. I remember the nurse saying that I should not tense up my forearms as that only makes it worse. To which I shot back, "let me stab you and see how you react." There was silence after that one.

25 years ago, yes, 1984, a good friend and I had a "date" to celebrate the end of exams. We were both finally finshed, so the evening was planned. We started with a little "bar in the car" outside a school with Southern Comfort (I bet you know where this is heading). We polished off the 12 0zer, no sweat. Then we decided that I would drive us to the Keg Mansion. I know, I know the drinking and driving thing, but you have to put it into the context of the mid 80s where it was not as heavily condemned. It does not make it any better and I/we were young and stupid. We did live to tell and nobody got killed or hurt.

Anyway, I am winding my way through the city and we made it to around the area of University of Toronto by Robards Library, where we both had studied. I was told to pull over by my friend. Then before I know it, there is puking going on outside the open passenger door. I figured that the evil had been done and asked if we should head to our original destination. I was not too upset when asked to head home.

I wound through the side streets and whip around turns. We hit Casa Loma and I was told to pull over. I pulled into Casa Loma's parking lot. Again, the passenger side door opens and there is a whole lot of puking going on. I am watching the back arch. That wave passes and we sit.

I ask, "Are you okay?" I hear, "yes, yes", then a loud belch and "NO!". Let the next wave begin. Anyway, long story short, I get her home and it is before 11. There is more puking on her driveway. By this time, I am fucking sober. I go home, find that a cassette is stuck in my car deck and I cannot get it out.

That was the celebration. Funny that I remember it so vividly after all these years. Hope you enjoyed another puke story. Ciao!

More Swine Flu Funnies

I am back. Well, one of my questions that I asked yesterday regarding swine flu has been answered. Check out the link.

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1081546.html

The basic gist of it is this. A member of the Israeli Knesset, Israel's Parliament, thinks the name of the flu strain, which has cases in Israel, should be called "Mexican Flu" (or Montezuma's Revenge, The Return) and not swine flu as pigs are not kosher.

This reprint from the article sums it all up for me:
"This attempted rebranding of swine flu raises another issue about the dangers of Israel's lack of separation of synagogue and state, albeit one less important or divisive than the monopoly held by the religious over marriage, death, circumcision, public transport, and dietary laws. This danger is the constant ability of the religious, when put in charge of government ministries, to make a mockery of a modern, would-be sophisticated western country that sees itself as a beacon of pluralism and modernity in a region darkened by religious fundamentalism and political extremism. "

I do not think that I need to say more about this one. Oh yeah, tomorrow is the Wife's birthday, so do not forget to give her a call! Ciao!

Mexico puts lipstick on that pig

I am back. What a weekend it was. We had dinner here on Friday with the Wife's family (brother, aunt, uncle and cousin). It was my brother in law's 50th birthday on Saturday. He does not look like he is 30, let alone 50. Then again, he does not act as if he has the accumulated knowledge of a 50 year old. He really does settle in around the common sense of a 10 year old. It is too bad, but rather okay that he has no children and is unmarried.

As if I needed any reason not to go to Mexico, they provide another one........SWINE FLU, with the option on a pandemic. It is bad enough that Mexico had declared open season on Canadian tourists and kept the problems quiet so as not to rock the tourism boat/money. Then they have brought wicked drug wars, where the criminals are killing the authorities and going into the US to kidnap and kill people, drug and gang related, in the US. It appears to be becoming a failed state, but now they give us swine flu.

It is crazy but like SARS back in 2003, it has to start somewhere.

My only question is this, can an Orthodox Jew get swine flu? Would that create a problem with his rabbi? Not sure of that one.

Do you get swine flu by fucking a pig? I mean we have all been there, done that. It is like a disgusting rite of passage. Fuck a pig, regret it, but then think dropping a load is still dropping a load. Man, I will be a great father some day....just not today, of course.

Pity, the Lad who has to live with mind. All adult like one second and all juvenile, but true, the next. Living with me is like living on a roller coaster.....without being strapped down.

If you put lipstick on a pig, which can make her more fuckable, can you get swine flu? Or does it only transmit if you kiss the pig? Again, who has not kissed a pig in their day, or at least is willing to admit it now?

I would like some answers here, so please drop me a line. Ciao!

Memo to Paula Abdul - Move the marbles from your mouth to your brain

I am back. Okay, so what the fuck is Paula Abdul on anyway? I catch the highlights, or lowlights, of American Idol on Tuesday and she is talking and I cannot figure out the what the fuck she is saying or trying to say. Then yesterday, all she has to do is introduce the contestants and the song they will be performing and she mumbled some sort of gibberish.

Paula, take the marbles out of your fucking mouth before you try to speak. You may want to consider replacing them in your head. That way, you can articulate a cogent thought or idea. As opposed to the present situation where you mumble a garbled thought.

Just a suggestion. Ciao!

Of Cleaning Closets

I am back, bitches! I am just sitting here listening to the sounds of the '80s. It is funny that when I hear a song or sound how it can take me right back to when I heard it. It is kind of cool and kind of depressing all at the same time.

Well, I did not post yesterday, obviously. My last post dealt with a dude licking his fingers and smearing his caulk (which makes me laugh every time I say it). I was telling it to my brother and sister on Sunday and my mother, just like that. It cracked my brother up, too.

Speaking of the 80s, I cleaned out my closet over the weekend. There was actually a shirt or two from the 80s. At least one shirt for sure. I still have some of my father's shirts hanging there. Those are definitely from the 80s, but I would not consider wearing them. They would be too tight, but then again may appear to be fitted. There is a sentimentality to them. I guess I am not ready to toss them, maybe one day.

I did get rid of a lot of shit that I wore in the 90s, though. It is not as if I will wear those HUGE shirts again. Those button up shirts were HUGE. I have a tee shirt that I take to basketball. It is a size XXL. It is fucking huge on me now and was when I bought it in the 90s. I put it on and wonder what the fuck I was thinking when I bought it. It makes me look like Tom Hanks in big when he turns back into a kid while wearing his adult suit.

Then again, I have had that feeling lately while watching "Seinfeld". I look at what Jerry is wearing and laugh. That is about the only thing dated about the show. Well, that and the fact that there is no scene of anybody using cell phones or IMing on their Blackberrys. It is funny to think how ubiquitous these gadgets have become in a short time. That is the result of competition and price deflation for both handsets and time plans (in the US, in Canada we get screwed by the oligarchs that control the market. Of course, these are the same companies that had monopolies in their utilities and had to learn how to compete, complete with customer service, so let's see how the future plays out for them in this market....much like the past, I am betting).

Back to the 80s, again, I said it then and I will say it now. Why is that every time I hear a song by Air Supply, I feel this intense need to jump in front of a moving bus? Anybody else out there have a similar reaction? I guess it is just me.

Now, I am listening to Corey Hart. I did not like it then and the feeling still remains, but it does take me back to 1984. That is 25 years ago for those of you playing along at home. We were in the midst of Reaganmania. Things were good and weird. The weird has stayed with us, or at least me. I would be "safely" ensconced in exams at this point in time. It would have been a Saturday, so it was study mode without the pressure of writing. I wrote five exams over 3 weeks. I would have finished 2 with 2 more slated for the upcoming week and one on the 2nd of May. Then my summer would have began and it did.

Violent Femmes now. I can still listen to that disc, though I cannot say that I have. I may have to bring that into the car for me. I do have to take out a couple of mixed 80s CDs in the Wife's car so that I can rip some of those tunes to my computer.

Well, now I am giving you the minutae of shit that I am doing right now. That is the sign to end this post. Ciao!

Caulk Licking Good Time?

I am back. We just had some windows replaced. The guy who did the work was kind of skiddly but he did good work. He did do something that has me wondering as I say it out loud. Here is the drill. I will write out what he did, say it out loud to yourself and see how you react or what comes to mind.

The guy licked his finger and smeared his caulk. Or perhaps, he smeared the caulk, well it was his caulk, and then licked his finger.

How does that sound to you?

If he used his mouth to get the caulk started would that make him a caulk sucker?

Have a great weekend! Ciao!

Another dead old porn star

I am back. It is another sad post. Well, sad in the sense that somebody died. That somebody I did not know personally, but like Farrah Fawcett I did "spank" to her on occasion. Oh to be a teenager again.

I got a call yesterday that Marilyn Chambers died. Marilyn Chambers was a one time Ivory Snow baby model who became a big name in porn in the 70s and early 80s. She had one hell of a hot, natural body. She was the first woman that I can recall seeing (on screen and in print only) who shaved her pubic hair. She seemed to shave her lips and her bush was shaped, often in the shape of a heart (awwww....how romantic).

She was the star of such classics as "Behind the Green Door" and "Insatiable". I saw a lot of "Insatiable" in the early 80s (saw it more than I saw "Debbie Does Dallas", another classic before the days of the DVD and Internet). The final scene has her being fucked by John Holmes, another star from the classic or golden era of porn. Classic or hirsute, same difference.

Marilyn Chambers had great blow job lips. They were not the fullest but their shape seemed perfect to be wrapped around my, or anybody else's, dick, which they often were. She was hot at that time.

Apparently, she was 56 and found dead by her 17 year old daughter. The father was a porn producer, who produced her early hits and was once married to Linda Lovelace of Deep Throat fame (which he produced, too).

I do not know what she was doing lately. I am pretty sure she has/had a website and was selling old and possibly new shots of her work.

I am most amazed that she did not die younger of some sort of AIDS related disease as so many porn stars of that vintage, including John Holmes, did. Her hey day and the genesis of AIDS did coincide. That is just a bit of cultural history, about 25 to 30 years later.

I will have to talk the Wife into giving me blow job to honor the memory of Marilyn Chambers (again, only a fantasy or the memory of a fantasy, how ephemeral is that?). How do you think that will go over? Me, too.

Ciao!

Phil Spector and the Fish Taco

I am back. I have two very different thoughts and both are brief.

In the news today, Phil Spector was found guilty of murdering that actress whom he picked up. It was his second trial, but first conviction. It does disprove my theory, after OJ Simpson and Robert Blake, that in California, if you are a famous male, that murdering a spouse, former spouse, common law spouse or female pick/hook up is legal (that is only in California, apparently). I am glad to say the theory has been disproved, though I was thinking of moving to California....that is now on hold.

I was thinking, am I the only one that finds the term and food "fish taco" funny? Think about it, I know I am so fucking juvenile, but really think about it. A woman's nether regions, okay I will say it...vulva, is or can be referred to as a "pink taco" (I will not get into the explanation, if you are a female you can figure it out and if your are a hetero male, you can see what it means. If you are gay, just skip this post). Add to that, the waft of a female with a touch of vaginosis, that "fishy" smell. There I have put it together for you. Am I sitll the only one?

Ciao!

Farrah, Farrah on my Wall

I am back. Usually, around this time of year, Passover, my mind wanders back about 30 years. It was about this time that in our family, the location of the Seder(s) migrated to our house. Before that, we would have them at my paternal grandmother's house, before she sold and moved, and then her apartment.

In the early 1970s, she started showing signs of dementia. By the late 1970s (1976 or 77), she was admitted to Baycrest (I last visited in 1978, she was out of it, like a coma, it was far too depressing for me, she would pass away in late 1991) so the Seders moved to my aunt's for a year or two. She was a bit insane so they moved to our house with my mother and grandmother (maternal) doing the cooking and preparing.

It was always cool seeing my cousins and extended family in this way. In fact, the first time I got drunk was at the Seder in 1979 and I did not know what the cause was. It took me a little bit of drinking to get that "feeling" back and realize it was the alcohol.

The reason I bring all this up is this, as I look back on that period of time, I recall that I had that Farrah Fawcett poster up in my room. I must have whacked off to Farrah numerous times. She was good until I found the airbrushed nudes of Playboy and Penthouse. Her admission to hospital with a recurrence of her anal (ass) cancer has me a bit sad.

That poster, and she herself with Charlie's Angels, were iconic for teenage males of my generation. She was an adolescent fantasy to me. I mean, Cheryl Tiegs was sexier with her biking, but Farrah was Farrah. I even enjoyed her "insanity" on Letterman. There was her painting by using the paint on her body and rubbing herself on the canvas. Crazy, but given her looks, it was something that I would like to have seen and participated in with her.

Alas, that was an adolescent fantasy and the reality is that she is over 60 with terminal ass cancer. She is dying and, I would think, very "dry" so the fantasy ended when my adolescence ended (of course, some may say it never really has, which could be evidenced by some of the things that I have posted on this blog, I cannot argue that). That is the sad part, her cancer, etc. is sad for her and those that know her. I do not and she was more of a concept or something abstract than a real flesh and blood human being. Her illness is sad but rather meaningless to me as the fantasy will live on without the reality of aging (and sagging).

Well, that be all for today. Ciao!

A tree hugger, I am

I am back. Well, with the snowy and slick yesterday, I have a story to tell. Understand, we live on a crescent right by the curve. There is a concrete light standard in the center of the curve. My neighbour has hit that pole. Then again, my neighbour seems to hit a lot of things with his cars, so that could be an isolated incident.

During the winter, in the snow, I saw a pick up truck take the curve to quickly and skid....into a snowbank in front of our house. It was snowy, no harm done. Doofus should learn how to drive according to the road conditions that is for sure.

Well, I open the blind in our room before I take a shower yesterday. I come out of the shower at around 7:30 and take a quick peek out the window. I continue on my way then realize that there are two brown lines on the lawn. I take another look and realize that those brown lines are skid marks of a car that has obviously taken the curve to quickly given the wet and icy conditions and rode up my lawn. I look again and notice that the bird house in the 8 year old Ohio Buckeye tree on our lawn is on the ground.

The asshole who drove on my lawn...hit my fucking tree. There is chunk of bark taken out of its trunk. Too bad that it was not my neighbour's old, old maple tree (the one that was struck by lightning last spring) and the car would have been wrecked. It would have served the smackweed right.

As it is, this white Mustang and the half wit driver who ran off has got some good damage to his car's front end and is missing some paint.....as it is on my fucking tree. The tree is also on a bit of a slant now.

I am pissed that this useless piece of human flotsam hit an innocent tree and drove off. Not to mention the fact that the motherfucker drove on my lawn without nary a word of apology. If you know who this is let me know. I would love to hook a car batter and jumper cables to his nipples for shits and giggles.

Revenge for the tree! Fuck, somehow I have become a tree hugger! Ciao!

What is it with April 6th and wet snow in Toronto?

I am back. Wow, first post for April. What can I say? History seems to repeat.

We have received a beautiful April wet snow/rain storm. It really is not unusual. Apparently, the record for snowfall on this date (April 6 for those playing at home) was 10.5 cm. That was set in 1994. I remember where I was living but do not remember that snowfall on that day. I do recall that being a VERY cold winter (it got that way just after my grandmother died just after Christmas of 1993).

That was 15 years ago. I do recall 25 years ago, 1984, it was the same thing. It was my last day of classes in my first year of university. I actually showed up to class, I think that we had to write a psychology exam. I recall the wet snow as I headed downtown. I figured that with the start of study week and the fact that I was meeting some friends to begin to study that evening, that a "day off" would not hurt. I did buy some jeans and a New Order LP.

Funny, how things like that work. Then again, it is early April and this is the unsettled nature of the early part of this month. I do recall that back in 1975, in April, we had a heavy snowfall. They had set up a small midway at our local strip mall (they seemed to do that with some regularity back in the day). It started snowing while I was on the Zipper. Come the next morning, I think it was a Thursday because I recall watching Carol Burnett, then again, I could be mixing up my memories, I thought we would have had a Friday snow day. That would have been cool. Then again, the 5 minute walk to school, through the snow, was not a hardship.

The weekend was pretty......uneventful. We were to have dinner here on Friday but I arrived home after five to a power failure. We took all our food to the Wife's cousin's place. It was all good.

I hope you have not missed me in my week long absence. I will try to be more regular with my posts. Keep coming back! Ciao!

Cut off by a scooter?

I am back. I know that I have been rather sporadic with my posts lately. Too bad. Besides, I have an email from over a month ago from a friend that I have yet to respond. It is Facebook-y so that may explain my reticence. That, and I do like to use the word "reticence".

I do have to say that we had a beautiful weekend around these parts. Well, it was beautiful if you ignore the deluge of cold, hard rain through the Saturday overnight and into early Sunday afternoon. After that it was Saul Goode. Friday and Saturday were just fantastic.

I was coming home on Friday, around six, coming down a residential street with a sidewalk, I might add, when I was cut off by a woman on a scooter. Not a vespa-type scooter, mind you, one of those for people with trouble walking (or too fat to have their joints carry around their obese frame as they try to hit the "all you can eat" buffet). She was covered in a blanket with just her head exposed to air, like she was just a head. The sidewalk is clear and she is on the road with a parked car in front of her. I am about to pass the parked car, parked illegally too, when she darts, if you can call that "super-sonic" speed a "dart", into my lane and in front of my car.

It is not enough that able bodied pedestrians seem to feel that they can "count" on me protecting them from harm as they jaywalk or dart out from in between parked cars, now those less able bodied are thinking that way???!!!!! This woman obviously does not know me. I feel no need to be her saviour or anything approximating that. If you cannot obey the rules of the road, or at least those necessary for self-preservation, fuck you, I have no sympathy as to what befalls you. It is pure Darwinian evolution.

If you can, or better if the stupid do their stupidity before they breed, then the stupid genes do not get passed on, or at least one set of them. We would all be better off with that. Of course, that is not how our nanny-state society works. We make laws to protect the stupid, so that they my create more stupid people, who go on to elect even more stupid, but clever (it really is not a contradiction) politicians. They are smart enough to have a sense of self-interest and to put it above all else, yet cloak it in terms of "public interest". The funny part, is that they do not want any debate on those issues and do not countenance any dissension. Does this sound like our windbag, dumb-ass mayor, David Miller? He is just a great example of this and the citizens of Toronto who voted for him (never have, never will) are great examples of the vapid leading the stupid.

I am digressing. The point of all this is to say....lady, if you are on your scooter and you feel the need to avoid the sidewalk and dart into on coming traffic without looking or even fucking signalling, then do not be upset if I send you flying. It would be inevitable accident and I would be doing the Lord's work--reuniting him with you.

Ciao!

Belinda Carlise and a case of Camel Toe

I am back. As you can tell, the muse has been silent lately. I did have something to say, though. It was about "Dancing with the Stars". You know how I feel about that show. Ever since they had Heather Mills on it, I could not go anywhere near it. I defy anybody to prove to me that she would meet the definition, regardless of how wide, of "star". As I said, she had a star in her, but that does not a star make. It just makes a receptacle for star splooge, but not much more.

I noticed that Belinda Carlise, ex lead singer of the Go-Gos, was on. She was something in the early 80s, in that California sort of way. She always seemed rather wholesome but she was anything but. Those Go-Gos chicks sure partied hard and she herself was a heroin addict.

Anyway, she gets voted off a couple of weeks ago. I saw part of the routine. Now, keep in mind that she is 50, which really is not all that old. However, she did this hand stand thing with her legs spread like a "V". There I saw it, 50 year old camel-toe. I did not need to see that.

Then again, I wonder if it were 20 or 30 year old camel-toe, would I have thought it just as funny. Then again, back in the Dominican, I did enjoy seeing the 20-something German girl and her camel-toe on the beach. Of course, I got to see her tits, too, unless she was going for a dip in the ocean, in which case her top was put on. I guess sea-water is abrasive to the nipples and other sensitive bits. What do I know?

That is it, just wanted to comment on Belinda Carlise's camel-toe. Ciao!

Post St. Patrick Day Rant

I am back. I have been remiss in posting this week. I should have posted on Tuesday with a St. Patrick's Day post. I should have posted yesterday with a post-St. Patrick's Day roundup. That is where we stand. The post St. Patrick's Day recap.

It was not pleasant. Well, it was pleasant enough on Tuesday. The green beer, the corned beef and cabbage, where was there to be a problem. It was all great going down. Why did I not see the consequences of all that? I was pretending to be Irish, and look what it got me.

It is no fun, I repeat no fun, to puke up piles of green. Fucking green beer and over drinking! So come Wednesday, we were assaulted by the sight and smell of piles of green puke. There was that stink to deal with, then the stink to come.

After trying to stir from the bed and catching a whiff and sight of what needed to be cleaned, the corned beef and cabbage started to stir. I am not sure there is anything worse than corned beef and cabbage farts...oh yeah, add that to the smell of puke (aged about 6 or 7 hours).

It was one big putrid reek-o-rama. The visual was bad enough but the olfactory was sublime. The only thing worse would have been crawling up my own ass with a dead and rotting goat. Do you get the picture....or at least the scent. If you find yourself with dry heaves, then you have got it. If not, you are missing something brilliant.

I am feeling better now, so obviously, that passed. It is all clean and the stink does not seem to be lingering, so maybe next year, I give up the notion that I am Irish and just sit St. Patrick's Day out. Then again, there is always next year.

Ciao!

Another March 13th thought

I am back. In my "head full of snot" ways at the end of last week, I also forgot WHAT I was going to post on Friday March 13th. I know I posted on the 14th with some symmetry of me being ill on the same date in 1987. That was true but it did not have the deeper meaning of what I am about to write. There may actually be no deeper meaning but what do I know.

March 13, 2009 would have been "DEd"'s 45th birthday. Now, "DEd" has been dead for just over 10 years. He took his own life at the age of 34, about 4 months shy of his 35th birthday. I know that I have written about "DEd" before. He was a guy with whom I was friends in high school. In our first year university, I was still friendly with him but by the end of that year, I had trouble being around him for any length of time.

I had first met "DEd" when we all tried out for, and made, our high school basketball team. I had another friend who deserved to have made the team, but did not, more than "DEd". I cannot say that I ever held that against "DEd" but I was not over friendly with him that year. The next year, we had the same English teacher, the only one that I did not "get" me and the only one that I could not stand. He would torment her and I notice he had a quick a wit and was great with an insult. We started hanging out in grade 11.

After spending some time with him during the summer of 1981, I realized that I could only tolerate him in small doses. I could never pinpoint what it was that bothered me, but I did find that he nattered on and asked an incessant number of questions. At one point that summer, he, NG now NR, and I tried to "sneak" into a local seedy strip bar. He got carded and we had to leave. Jump ahead two weeks and NG and the good doctor tried again and were served, so we spent an evening among the ladies in their g-strings (there was no full nudity of strippers in Toronto in those days--for that you had to head to the airport or up to Vaughan, which was also done, but this place was so much more convenient).

By the end of the summer, I could not handle hanging with him and would do all that I could not to hang with him. The next two years of school and summers, we saw each other intermittently, but again, I could only handle small doses. By the end of high school, the summer of 1983, I did hang with him by going to parties with him and his neighbour (she was kind of hot and was about 5 years older than us, so that was cool and allure for me). Early in university, I did hang with him on weekends a bit, but then I joined the frat. I found a whole bunch of cool guys and was hanging with them where possible (did not have to deal with the endless and pointless chatter and questions).

I had also struck up a friendship with another person who had something that kept me coming back, like a moth to a flame. I always felt energized around this person. I always felt drained by "DEd" and not in a good way (which would be very gay, but considering the next part of the story makes that statement even more gay, so do not take it literally, it was drained in an emotional/energy sort of way). I suddenly found myself with the choice of hanging with somebody who made me feel energized or somebody who brought me down.....hmmmmm.....how do I make that choice.

The big problem, at the time, is that I would go to grab a sauna and shower on a Saturday and see "DEd", doing the same, at Mayfair. I am sure he could not understand why I would not spend time with him but had not trouble doing that with somebody else. Again, I was too sensitive to hurting him by telling him the truth, so I said nothing, which in retrospect was probably a worse way to go in terms of the hurt caused the dude. Anyway, I found myself putting off plans with him during the summer of 1984 and when I had, which was about once a month, I would choose a movie so that at least I would get about 2 hours of silence. I did not care if I had to see a movie again, good or bad, just to do my "duty" in the most cowardly way.

It was the choice of being around somebody who was positive and saw life as great by and large and somebody who was negative and just cast a pall over everything that life had to offer. To me there was no choice but no way to really verbalize it in a way that did not make me look shallow or an asshole. Then again, it was and is my life and I can choose how I want to feel.

Anyway, "DEd" comes out to me, but by this time, I realize that I want little to do with him because he is so damn negative. That he was gay made no difference to me. We jump ahead a number of years and "DEd" has a long time boyfriend. They get jumped in the gay area of town and have the crap beat out of them. To his credit, "DEd" was not the victim. He fought back and stood up to his cowardly, probably latent homosexuals from Hamilton, assailants in court.

"DEd" gave up his practice of dentistry to be a stand up comedian in the 1990s. It all made sense, considering how miserable that stand up comics tend to be (see Tom Hanks in "Punchline"). I am not sure how funny his material was, I never went to see him. I got a call in early November of 1998, from NG/R who had just gotten married and is now going through the divorce from hell, which makes sense as he made the psycho-hosebeast from hell, that "DEd" was dead and that he had killed himself.

Apparently, he and the boyfriend were in the midst of a messy break-up. As they were living together, the boyfriend went out. He came home to find "DEd" dead in front of the television with a camcorder on. The "sensitive" man taped himself taking his life (I think he injected air into his veins, though I am not too sure) so that his soon to be exboyfriend would find him, put on the machine and watch as he tries to lay on the guilt while he dies. His final moments were spent not taking responsibility for his own feelings and actions but trying to lay the responsibility of why he would no longer live at the feet of another.

Again, it merely proved my assertion that he was negative and a downer. What a sad way to prove me correct. I have said that I regret not telling him that and really letting him know how I felt. Again, I do not who would have been better for that exchange, I am pretty sure it would not have been him considering the circumstances of his suicide. No sense trying to learn from experience.

Well, that is it, I just wanted to at least acknowledge "DEd" on what would have been his 45th birthday. Not quite sure why I wanted to do that, but it did come to mind. Ciao!

It was another Friday the 13th

I am back. I actually forgot to post yesterday, so this is actually yesterday's intended post.

There must be something in the air on this (that) Friday the 13th of March. I have a fucking head cold. I am pissed off about it. On Wednesday, I had a shitty sleep. I pick up the Lad and he is complaining about not feeling well. The Wife has a similar issue. I am sitting with the two of them wondering if the achy feeling I have is illness or fatigue.

Thursday, it was apparent it was illness. I felt all stuffed up with a hint of achiness. The Lad went to school but if he was not feeling well, he did have those glassy eyes (I think he actually stole the one from either Sandy Duncan or Peter Falk, I am not sure how he did but I would not put it past him), so he went to school, but I was expecting the call to come get him. It did not arrive but he did look a bit pasty when I picked him up in the afternoon.

I did not feel so good yesterday. I am a bit better today. I did have a good night's sleep last night. That is not the funny thing. It is this. I recall that back in 1987, ancient times, we had back to back Friday the 13ths (also February and March). I was sick on both of those days with much that I have now. Go figure.

Back then, I did go out on the Friday but not before a stop at Mayfair and an attempt to clear my head and sweat out my illness in the sauna. I was back there yesterday in the steam hoping for at least some temporary relief, which I received.

I just find that it bookends nicely. Now March Break is upon us and the Lad will be about all this week. He has taken to lounging and I found that I did the same at his age (from about Junior High on I did not mind sleeping in and vegging during the holidays....I would do the same during Reading Week, too).

Well, enjoy the remainder of the weekend, it is supposed to be beautiful around these parts, so I may just take advantage of the mild temperatures and sunny days and enjoy the outdoors. Ciao!

What a douche!

I am back. I have noticed that the word "douche" seems to have made a comeback. Maybe it never went away, but there was a good twenty years there where I do not recall it being uttered. That is not fully true. I would use the word in the 80s but I am an exception and just insane. Besides, it was usually used for shock value.

Here is the context. During the 80s, I took a dislike to vinegar, especially white vinegar. I do not mind rice wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, sherry vinegar, champagne vinegar, etc., though I tend to use lemon or lime juice as my acid for a salad dressing (that is just me). Whenever somebody asked me, usually female, if I wanted vinegar, my reply would inevitably be "I refuse to eat something a woman would douche with". Yup, the old vinegar and water douche turned me off putting vinegar on my French fries.

It did offend many a person. That was a good enough reason to keep repeating it.

I have been watching television and keep hearing the word "douche" an awful lot in prime time. It has been used on "Family Guy" with Brian and Stewie saying it and "The Office" to name but two shows.

Again, I was brought back to the late 70s and early 80s, while working at the drug store. Do you recall the commercials, in primetime, for Massengill disposable douche. I sure do. It really was brought home to me when I was stocking the store shelf with Massengill disposable douche. Was it just a 70s thing?

Also on the shelf were a few cans of FDS-feminine deodorant spray. That was another vestige of the 70s. I am not sure what that says about the times. I am thinking there was a lot of so called "pussy stink" among the ladies during that time. Maybe it was caused by a combination of heavy pubic bush (see late 70s porn for that), nylons (they do not breathe or allow the pussy to breathe) and tight spandex or denim pants. Perhaps the 70s, the disco era, was an era of yeast infections, vaginosis and vaginitis leading to "feminine" odor that needed to be masked by FDS and the need to clean the cooze with some sort of douche.

For me it was a time of young adolescent sex and pussy. I was so happy to be feeling/petting one that odor was not a consideration for me.

Then again, perhaps, the products were designed by men who thought that the natural scent of a woman was offensive. Could be that the bright minds at Proctor and Gamble or other consumer product company had to move this crap, so the marketers set out to create the need by trying to convince women, and their men, that their pussies gave off some sort of offensive odor. It may have all been a plot perpetrated by the patriarchy to keep women down by making them think that their natural scents were something to be embarrassed about and that they should feel shame to have a pussy, especially one that had some sort of scent.

Again, I do not recall anybody buying either the FDS or the Massengill douches at the store. Then again, I would see them, think about what they were for, how they were used and giggle. Much the same way I would do with the condoms. (C'mon I was 13 or 14 at the time, so the concept of sexuality was being interpretted by an awkward teen going through puberty),

It is funny how times have changed. I do not recall seeing any ads for FDS or those douches in a long while. Women today have taken control of their sexuality, by and large, and will not have it dictated to them by older Mad Men. Their pussies smell like pussies and that is how they are supposed to smell. Unless of course, it is scent of the sea, well the sea where the fish are washing up dead, in which case it is get thee to the doctor for a swab and a prescription for some Flagyl or get some Monistat or Canesten. In which case, it is a quick trip to the "cunt cupboard".

At that point, it is a passing incident where the normal vaginal life is out of balance. Then again, if the woman in you life has burning "down there" and her only relief is repeatedly sliding down the bannister, then get thee to the "cunt cupboard" and get her some Canesten Cream. She will thank you.

Avoid the FDS, if they still make and market it, because at that point it is like a putting an airwick in a sewer.

I am not sure where I was going with this. It is funny that "douche" has taken me to the 70s and a marketer creating a "need" or problem of "feminine odor" that was really only a "problem" to sell shit that was really unnecessary. How feminine, and even manscaping, styles went from a celebration of pubic hair, groomed but abundant, to a cleaner look (shaving the lips if not the whole pubic area). And it brought me right back to the "cunt cupboard". I am not sure if I am profound, profane, cogent or just insane.

Maybe, television is my muse. Maybe, feminine products are my muse. Maybe, my muse lies at the point where feminine hygeine and television meet. Now, that is strange. Ciao!