:: Time limit ::

Twice this morning, people I've been talking to on the phone have wished me a "Happy New Year."

Granted, today was the first time I've talked to them this calendar year, but still, isn't it a little late? At some point you've just got to cut your losses and move on.

:: 1999-2009: A Decade of Debauchery ::

"You know, this year really hasn't been a good one for me." - Christene, about 10 hours into 2010, and about 20 minutes after she finally stopping throwing up.

I have a terrible memory. Whereas there are people out there who can remember all sorts of days, event and altercations from their elementary school days, I cannot. Can't even remember much of high school, truth be told. I wish this was not the case – especially because there aren't a whole ton of photos to document these days, either – but such is life.

And though my memory is often hazy, I do tend to think of my life as having four parts: The first being all the elementary school (and earlier) days that I barely remember. The second would be high school – with most memories I'd rather forget – and the third epoch in my life is actually the shortest – the two year college period, from 2001-2003, when I lived in Kamloops. (My college experience was actually four years, but the first two were at Kwantlen and largely uneventful).

The fourth era, the one I currently find myself in, is, of course, post-college. Real Life. And as Era Three is left further and further in the rearview mirrow, it is still is a very large, important part of the last 10 years. The seven after that, of course, are big too. Lots of changes. Lots of mistakes. Lots of bad, lots of good.

Lots of booze.

In note form, here is a brief summation of the past 10 years, best as can be remembered. I know I'm skipping out on a lot, but by the time I got to the end of the list, I was pretty exhausted.

Jan. 1, 2000: I ring in the New Millenium at a house party in Burnaby. I know only two people at the party, and 10 years later I have no idea how we ended up there. Just one of those things... Even the two people I went with are now but names on a Facebook page – I haven't seen either in about eight years.

Jan. 1, 2000: Y2k is a bigger bust than an Eddie Murphy movie. No computers explode, break down or otherwise cause trouble. The world does not come to an end.

Early spring, 2001: I am accepted into the University College of the Cariboo (now Thompson Rivers University).

Summer, 2001: I change my mind about moving to Kamloops and back out of UCC, and am accepted at UBC instead.

Late summer, 2001: I change my mind again. I un-enroll (de-roll?) at UBC and beg and plead my way, at the last minute, back into the program in Kamloops.

Sept. 2001: I move to Kamloops for my final two years of university. My first year, I room in a quad with two volleyball players from Alberta and a Korean exchange student none of us ever see. We only know he's in there because the smell of his weird, Korean cigarettes wafts under the door.

Sept. 2001-April 2002: I decide that I hate Kamloops and all the people in it. I spend every single weekend in Langley, thus single-handedly subsidizing the Coquihalla Highway and it's tollbooth system.

Sept. 11, 2001: Some towers fall down, or something.

Nov. 2001: My one quad-mate, Jay, accidently burns his chest during a Nair-related, chest-hair-removal accident.

April 2002: I move home, relieved to have survived Year 3 of university.

June, 2002: Chris, Ian, Bucholtz (barely) and Jeremy and company graduate high school, and are released into an unsuspecting world. At the same time, Kwantlen college's average GPA plummets, while local beer sales increase expontentially. The two are not unrelated.

Sept. 2002: I move back to Kamloops for my final year of school. Instead of the shitty dorms, I move into a basement suite in Aberdeen.

Sept. 2002-Dec. 2002: Lots of booze. Lots of memory loss. Check the archives for the details.

Fall, 2002: I "help" Chris write a couple essays for one of his Kwantlen classes. He gets better grades than Tara, who is in the same class. Seven years later, she has still not let it go.

Dec. 31, 2002: Instead of spending New Years' back in Kamloops, as originally planned (because most out-of-towners decided at the last minute against coming back to the 'Loops in time) I end up at a party in Langley, at a now-demolished-for-townhouses house in behind the Wal-Mart. It's the house of an old high-school buddy I happened to run into the night before, and it is not my scene. Not at all. Fights in the driveway. Coke all over the counter. Spray-painted walls. Entire cedar chest full of weed (for selling). I was home by 10:30. Good times.
January, 2003: We throw a Christmas tree off a second-floor balcony, over a fence, and down a muddy hill. Years later, I admit to sneaking out, thus avoiding a landlord-directive to go pick it up.

February, 2003: In a magazine writing course, in which we produce a real magazine to be inserted into the local paper, prof announces that due to space, some people's stories won't make it into the magazine. All four of my stories are cut. Cue serious complaining to my friends and fellow students. One class later, prof pulls me into the hallway to tell me I can't complain, it makes him look bad, it's not appropriate, etc etc etc. I tell him that I paid thousands of dollars to take the course, and therefore it's my right to complain as I see fit. I walk away. He never brings it up again.

April, 2003: After skipping three out of every four classes of a two-semester, six-credit art histoy/photography course because it was taught by some hippy burnout, full of prententious art students and was fucking brutal, I stay awake for about 60 hours straight to finish the required course work. I read three books, write two papers, build a pinhole camera out of wood, take and develop about 20 pictures with it, and write another report about said camera. The worst two-and-a-half days of my life, bar none. I finish in time, sleep for 17 hours, wake up and drink for about two days non-stop. I ended up with a C- in that class. Lowest mark of my post-secondary career, but it works for me.

May, 2003: I graduate from UCC with a bachelor's degree in journalism, with a 3.2 GPA, or somewhere thereabouts. My two proudest achievements: that I went through four years of school without a single Friday class; and that my GPA dropped all eight semesters I was enrolled (first year at Kwantlen: 4.2; fourth year at UCC: 3.1).

Summer, 2003: Unemployed, I spent the summer blowing through the rest of my student line-of-credit. Highlights include going to Merritt for our first musicfests. It is a gongshow, and requires three posts to fully explain. (Links at left, in the Hall of Fame).

Oct. 2003: I run out of money, forcing my move to Peace River, Alberta, where I suck it up and take a job at the Peace River Record-Gazette where the annual salary is a whopping $25,000.

Dec. 23, 2003: I come home for Christmas, and find a strange, unknown blonde girl sitting at my parent's dining room table. Turns out her name is Jenna, but at the time, I had no idea who the hell she was. "Oh, we're just friends," says Chris. He continues to say this for oh, about a year.

Oct. 2003-April 2004: I spent nine months in the north, experiencing up to -50 temperatures, blizzards the likes of which I've never seen. No snow tires on the Civic the whole time. I piss off or fight with the following people in town: the alcoholic general manager of the local senior hockey team; the coach of the Catholic school's girls volleyball team; a drunken native guy in the McNamara Hotel; football parents; football coach. I apologize for nothing.

Feb. 4, 2003: Chris comes for a visit.

April 4, 2004: The Cannons take the field.

late-April 2004: I take a new job back home, and say "sayonara bitches!" to the Great White North.

Sometime later in 2004: Kelsey moves here from Enderby. Our text messaging costs all go through the roof. (Seriously, I didn't even know how to send a text message before she moved here. Now I sent about 300 a day).

January, 2005: For no real reason, I decide to go to Toronto for four days, along with my dad, who is headed there for a work conference. While he's there doing work, I spent my day aimlessly wandering around the downtown core in the snow. We go to the Hockey Hall of Fame, get a tour of the Air Canada Centre, and eat delicious hot dogs from street vendors. The Holiday Inn we stayed at is also the location of the coldest, best-tasting beer I've ever had. At the Mahogany Bar. Delicious. I also discovered a bar/restaurant called Fred's Not Here, so obviously I call from the hotel, asking for Fred. He wasn't there, so it's not just a clever name.

Feb. 20, 2005: I get in a fight during a hockey game.

June 19, 2005: Kelsey discovers the joys of potato salad, thus fulfilling her life.

November, 2005: Brad gets in a bad car accident. We all spent many hours and too much energy worrying about him, until he gets out of his coma a month later. One of the worst times of all our lives. In retrospect, it's nice to know none of our efforts were appreciated. Such is life.

April, 2006: I buy my townhouse, just a few days before my 25th birthday. My goal was to own something by the time I was 25, and I succeeded by the skin of my teeth.

Sept. 2006: Me, Chris and my cousins head to Bowen Island for the first annual MeatFest, in which disgusting amounts of animal flesh are consumed. Highlights include my team winning the golf tournament, and the 3 a.m. round of steaks.

Sept. 2007: MeatFest, round 2. This time, I win "The Show" award for being the drunkest during the golf tournament. I drink one beer per hole, and finish the round by tripping, falling, and sliding down the backside of an elevated green. I still have the grass stain on my white golf shirt. What a time to be alive.

Nov. 1, 2007: Seven of us go to Cancun for a week (Guess who made it an odd number?!). It is glorious.

April 2008: I get a Facebook friend request from a woman I do not recognize, with the message "I think we went to high school and university together!" I add her. A week or so later, at my company's annual conference, a strange woman approaches me in the coffee lineup and says "Remember me from Facebook!?" It is the same woman.

We exchange awkward pleasantries, and that is that. As it turns out, she ends up getting a fulltime job in my office a short time later, and we not only went to the same high school and university, we have tons of the same university friends, and also live across the street from each other. This crazy mystery woman also is best friends with Christene, who I meet sometime later.

Late April, 2008: I go to Vegas for my birthday, with my dad. I quickly realize that Las Vegas is my favourite city on the planet.

Sept. 11, 2008: Kelsey announces she's moving to Fort McMurray, in an attempt to out-run her debt. She is roundly criticized, mostly by me. She is also mocked, also by me. "Ill be back by the spring - by your birthday at the latest," she says."

Oct. 2009: Back to Vegas.

New Year's Eve, 2008: I invite Christene to a New Year's Eve party at Brett and Tara's house. At the end of the night, in a drunken stupor, I slip and fall down the stairs. All part of my charm, apparently. Or maybe not. Either way, it impresses Christene.

May, 2009: Me, Chris, Jenna, TO and Carly head to Phoenix, then rent a car and drive to Vegas. Carly accidently leaves her wallet, complete with ID and hundreds of dollars, in an A@W washroom in Sun City, Ariz. We realize this hours later at some awesome trading post in the middle of the desert. Thankfully, it's still there - and with money in it - and the wallet it FedExed to our hotel. Because all's well that ends well, TO manages to avoid killing his wife. Close call though.

Spring, 2009: Kelsey, not exactly true to her word, is not home for ball season. Neither is Scott, as it turns out, because he's been suckered in by the lure of riches.

"We'll be back by the fall," says Kelsey. "Just a couple more months."

August, 2009: Me and Christene go to Vegas - my fourth time in less than two years, and Christene's first time ever. It is oustanding, except for the 40-degree heat.

Fall, 2009: "We're just gonna work through the winter," says Kelsey, in a text message. "But we'll be there by next ball season for sure. I promise."

Fall, 2009: I stop believing a damn thing Kelsey says.

Christmas, 2009: It is relieved Scott and Kelsey's lease in Fort Mac is not up until October, long long passed the end of baseball season. Not many people are surprised.

Dec. 25, 2009: A delightfully hilarious story regarding herpes is revealed, over a few beers on Christmas night. One of the holiday highlights.

New Year's Eve, 2009: At Davy and Colleen's for NYE this time, Christene and I are well on our way to intoxication before we even arrive, having stopped at a pub earlier in the evening. "I'm gonna try hard not say too much," says a drunk-but-hiding-it Christene.

2:30 a.m., Jan. 1, 2010: In a delightful twist of fate, exactly 365 days after I fall down some stairs, Christene bails while going up the stairs at her parents' house. The commotion wakes up her parents. Once I discover that there are no injuries, I laugh heartily.

So there you have it. A lot of changes from Jan. 1, 2000 until Jan. 1, 2010 - which is not all that surprising really, considering that 10 years is a long god damn time.

It was the decade I became legally allowed to drink; bought two different cars, a townhouse; travelled; somehow snared myself a girlfriend, and kept the same group of friends I had in the decade previous - the latter being a rare feat, I think.

And there's a ton of other people I met in this decade that I didn't know existed before - Christene, Kristyl, Sean, Kelsey, Meghan, Jenna, Katie, Dan, Davy, Colleen, TO, Carly, Melissa, Mike, Scotty to some extent (I knew he existed but we weren't friends).

I even managed to keep this blog alive for the last seven years.

And if it somehow manages to survive 10 more, I wonder, what will I be writing about then?

:: 365 ::

"If I get sick this year, I'm kicking God's ass." - Kelsey

"Rachel has some strange obsession with the gym. It's really weird, but I'm not complaining - it makes her ass tight." - Sean

"It looked like he washed his face with a dirtier face." - Jer, talking about some dirty guy who was fired from his company.

"A girl throwing something to another girl, what did you think was going to happen? There were only two things wrong with that - throwing ability and catching ability." - Bucholtz, after two of our friends apparently failed to connect when passing each other something (I can't remember what or who)

Bucholtz: Why does everybody think I'm such a dick?
Me: Well I like you, but I've known you since you were 12 so I've gotten used to you.
Bucholtz: And by "used to me" you mean "adjusted to my wickedness."

"My mom's talking about pearl necklaces!" Kristyl, New Year's Eve at the Greek restaurant a bunch of us went to for dinner, talking a little too loud in a public place.

"I wear shorts in the summer because it's hot." - Sean, auditioning for the role of Captain Obvious.

Ian: Heeeey Nick, whadda you think about Rachel's tits?
Me: Uhhh...what?
Rachel: It's OK, they are pretty nice. And I get to touch them every day.
Ian: I get to touch them every day in my mind.

"I never say anything funny!" - Katie, aka The Wet Blanket aka WB, sad that she doesn't make enough appearances on this blog.

"I'm having an affair with your wife!" - unknown. I can't remember who said this, as I was in the other room at the time, but it obviously came after somebody obviously kissed somebody else's wife when the clock struck midnight. I heard it in the background and just thought it was funny at the time.

"I smell like vomit and maple syrup." - Christene, after hangover breakfast at Ricky's.

Bucholtz: It's about time stupid, ol' 2008 was over. I was getting pretty tired of that year.
Me: Yeah, it's old news.
Bucholtz: Straight up. Fuck 2008.

So...that was 2008.

I don't have too much to write about the past year, to be honest. It was a pretty good year for all intents and purposes. Nothing earthshattering happened to me personally - there were no groundbreaking moments or anything, but all in all, it was just a solid, entertaining 12 months. Maybe the best in recent memory.

Went to a couple weddings. Made two trips to Vegas (with a third booked for March!). The Cannons finally won Funtastic (editor's note: Fuck ya we did!). I got to spent some serious time watching my favourite hockey team from the press box, which checked off one of my life goals.

I got to be there in person to see Trevor Linden's number raised to the rafters, I went rafting, camping, curling for the first time and did plenty of golfing, too. Even bought some sweet new clubs.

And I expanded my social circle considerably as well, which is probably the part of the year I'm happiest about. As lovable as I am, I don't always meet a lot of new people that I like or that like me, and now between all my pals at the office and the patrons of the WGP, well, I have quite a few more friends than I did at this time last year, and that's good.

There was the odd shitty thing, of course. We had to put poor old Digby down, and now, for the first time since I was about seven years old, I don't have any dogs. I miss that little guy, and every time I go to my parent's house, I still open the front door slowly and carefully because I expect him to be curled up against it on the inside (that's where he slept). Old habits, I guess.

And more recently, my aunt passed away, causing immeasurably sadness, stress and grief for all of us. And though it obviously (obviously) pales in comparison, last Monday I blew two tires out on my car when I couldn't swerve to miss a pothole on my way into work.

So, no, it hasn't all been good things. But mostly it has.

As for what I expect from 2009, I don't really know, although I expect a good year. I think I'll have a bit more money to blow this year than last (thanks to the aforementioned second job, covering the Canucks), and I may end up with a new townhouse or a new truck, although I'd bet less on the first thing than the second.

And I'm planning on dropping a few pounds before we head on vacation in March, and though I know I sound like a broken record when I say it, I think 10-15 pounds is reasonable. Am I going to lose 50 or 60 like I've sometimes stated I would?

No, probably not. But that's OK. 10-15 is a good enough start.

As for the rest of the year, it has promise. Like I mentioned, a few of us are going to Phoenix and then Las Vegas in the spring to watch a Canucks game against the Coyotes, soak up some sun, drink some beers and watch some spring training baseball in the desert, which allows me for the second straight year to check off another item in my life-long goals to-do list.

Of course, there's more to that list than just baseball and hockey games, and maybe I'll check off a few of those other things too, we'll see.

Whatever happens, happens.

Should be good times.

2008: A Good Start, or something like it

Close your eyes.

Now, I want you to imagine 12 people shoehorned tightly into a two-room ski condo in Whistler. There are clothes, booze, and food strewn about. Some people have been up since 8 a.m. Others have been up since 8:03, when the people (person) who awoke at 8 started making a lot of uneccessary fucking noise.

Imagine still that at least a few of these people in the two-room house have volatile tempers, especially while drinking. Now, imagine these people beginning to drink at 4 p.m.

Imagine now that it's 11:58 p.m.

On the small TV in the corner of the room, Carson Daly is counting down the minutes to midnight, while thousands of New York City revellers yell and scream like idiots in the background. In the kitchen, visualize Sean and Ian yelling and screaming like idiots, because Ian grabbed Rachel's ass. Imagine Sean yelling some more.

Then picture drunken Ian making things worse: "If I'd known you were gonna get this mad about it, I'd have grabbed her cooch."

Keep your eyes closed. Now visualize Sean charging Ian, grabbing his collar, and throwing him up against the fridge. Queue shock and laughter from most in the rest of the room. Queue tears and yelling from the two girlfriends.

See Carson's countdown hit 11:59.

Now, in the final 60 seconds, I want you to picture the following things:

Ian and Sean screaming at each other in the hallway.

Brad falling down between the couch and the kitchen island for the second time that evening (conservative estimate).

Rachel trying to break up Sean and Ian's fight.

Bre trying her best to hold back the booze-induced tears, and then apologizing for crying in the first place.

Derrick's beard.

The veneer on Jenna's front tooth breaking off.

A half-finished game of Memory, sitting on the counter.

Kelsey's nose beginning to unexplainably bleed.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is how we rang in 2008 - with a little extra Kung Pao! than usual.

Happy Fucking New Year. (Surprisingly enough, however, it was a fantastic trip. Go figure.)

And now, for some quotes:

Derrick, shitfaced: I'm going nowhere but up!
Scotty: At best, sideways would be good.

Chris: Hey Sean, wanna play memory?
Sean: I honestly don't know how.
Chris: Are you serious?
Sean: You've got to remember, I had no friends as a kid. I had one friend - myself - and I played masturbation.

"The reason nobody is doing it right is because nobody is doing it right." - Scott

"What did one snowman say to the other snowman? Do you smell carrots." - Scott

Derrick: I'd take it in the ass for $50,000.
Sean: I'd do it for a million.
Rachel: Only a million?!
Sean: That's 2 million Euros, Rachel!!

Sean, lowering his price....
"I'd let David Bowie have a go at me for free."

"A penis is shaped like a cock." - Derrick

Chris: Molson Dry is fucking terrible.
Ian: Oh yeah? Well you should hear what it's been saying about you!

Then, a few new post-New Year's ones...

"Don't you hate when you sit on an old couch, and the old farts jump out of it and punch you right in the face?" - Bucholtz, asking one of life's eternal questions.

"A slow cooker is like having a wife - you come home from work, and dinner's already made!" - Kristyl, a girl I work with. (Yes, a girl said this. Not Bucholtz. Not Jeremy. A girl.)

:: Holidays ::

Mom: When do Chris and Jenna get back from church?
Me: Well, it's only an hour and it started at 11:00, so I guess they'll be back just after midnight, unless church goes into overtime.

"I went out to go to the bathroom before the service started, but when I came back they'd already started singing Christmas songs. I didn't know if I was allowed to just go sit down, or wait for a stoppage in play." - Chris, on his Christmas Eve church experience.

"If you ever get the chance, I reccommend dating Amanda, just for the presents." - Bucholtz.

"How come if you pinch me, I can't just hit you right in the face? God Damn society - they've taken all the fun out of abuse." - Matt

"I bet you that TV makeup artists are a lot busier these days because of all the HD channels now," - Buchs, after seeing some less-than-attractive people on TV.

After a Bucholtz burp...
Amanda: Just say excuse me!
Buchs: Why? It's not going to unstink it.
Amanda: Well, it's just polite!
Buchs: OK, well when I'm having tea with the queen, I'll say excuse me.

:: The Ballad for the Single Guy ::

For far too long, I have been the single guy amongst groups of couples. Of course, there are a few other single stragglers as well, who appear from time to time, but by and large, it's me surrounded by pairs. And over the years it's only gotten worse.

Now, except if I'm clearly joking around about it, this strange phenomenon has never really bothered me. Sure, there are times when you feel like the 3rd (or 7th) wheel, but most of the guys in these couples I've known for a hundred years, so it really never feels weird. Mostly, it's just me hanging out with the boys, and the girls are around, they're around. It's cool.

But tonight, well, tonight pissed me off.

Some/all/many of us are going to Whistler for New Year's. Derrick and Chris spearheaded a get-organized movement, and Derrick found a place to rent in Creekside. Wonderful. There are, however, limited beds, and two people will have to sleep on the floor. Sleeping on the floor isn't really a big deal, and I'm sure we'll work it out when the time comes. In the end, we'll likely be too drunk to give a shit anyway.

However, what I take issue with is the selection process. Derrick said him and Whitney get a bed because he organized it and booked. Absolutely fair. No problems there. Chris said him and Jenna get one because, well, because that's how he wants it. As for the remaining beds, I said I want one. The response?

"Well, I'm pretty sure the couples aren't gonna wanna sleep on the floor, so you might be screwed."

Oooooh, the poor couples don't wanna sleep on the floor? Who fucking cares.

Single guys don't wanna sleep there either, and just because there's one of me and two of them doesn't mean I should get jewed out of a hide-a-bed, especially when I was the very first person to say "Yes, I'm in" other than Chris and Derrick themselves.

Now, I realize that Derrick was half-kidding when he said it, and it was somewhat tongue in cheek (He also said I could have a bed if I paid him more), but there was a seriousness to it too.

What the couples want, the couples get. It's discrimination against single people, and for the first time it really aggravated me.

In the past, nobody's really seemed to single me out negatively (or any other single person) when it comes to any events, unless they're kidding. I remember Kyle pissing off Amanda once because he told me to meet him at the movies, so I did. Little did I know that I was ruining Date Night. Yes, it was funny, but ultimately nobody really cared because A-Scrams wasn't really mad; she's a good sport. And just the other day, Kels called to see if I wanted to be including in the Hemlock condo rental that ultimately fell apart. Yes, she called me because the condo had room for 5 people and two couples leaves only one extra space. However, at least she asked.

Whether it's pity, or friendship, I don't really care. I chose not to analyze it that closely. But if there's any more incidents like this Whistler business, or if I actually get screwed on this deal simply because I'm single, I'm so outta here.

:: So this is the New Year ::

So, it being a week since my last foray onto this blog, and it now being 2007, I guess I owe y'all a post. And what better place to begin than where the last post left off - New Year's.

Now, I like New Year's in as much as it's a reason to drink and have a good time, but I do fail to see why people tend to get so god-damn crazy about it. There are people who agree with me, I'm sure. Like Bucholtz said last night, New Year's is an "old person holiday" - an excuse for the 40+ crowd to get a little wild one night a year. Which is fine by me, but it can easily lose significance for people like us because it's a good bet that, nobody how hard we party on Dec. 31, we've probably partied just as hard on some previous non-descript Friday.

Or Tuesday, for that matter.

That being said, we did manage to take New Year's up a notch from our usual sitting around, drinking, and playing Fuck The Dealer. In fact, contrary to my previous buzz-kill paragraph, it was a downright kick-ass weekend.

Two days in Hemlock.

I could break it down for everyone, event by little event, beer by beer, but there's not a whole lot of point since you were all likely there. That may have been the best and more surprising part actually - that damn near everybody came. I think there were about 12-15 of us in total. And, in Coles Notes' form, here was the two day highlight reel: Drinking, discovering that I still know how to ski after a years-long absence, almost killing myself on the last run of the day, racking up a $381 bar tab as a group while watching the 'Nucks on Night 1, and Sean periodically leaping for second-storey windows into large snowbanks - one time sans footwear.

So that was our weekend. Our New Year's. A quality start to 2007, if I do say so myself. Pictures are here.

Then came the last week at work, which was pretty painful, pretty boring. It's tough after the holidays to get back into the swing of things, and today was a Case in Point.

I was working a late shift today - and since I'm there by myself nobody cares - so I rolled out of bed by 9:30, and was at work 'round 10:30. I was in a fine enough mood, I suppose, considering how much I hate working Sundays in the first place. But as soon as I stepped through the door I was in a worse mood. That's because of the note left for me.

It was my usual Sunday to-do list - a laundry list of menial tasks that I'm stuck with every weekend - with one exception.

"Also, please take ALL the papers out to the recycyling bin."

So now I'm the fucking janitor, too.

You may be thinking, 'Hey fuck off you lazy shit, just toss a few papers into the blue bin.' And you'd be right in thinking such things - I am lazy. But also understand this - we have at least three copies of each issue of our paper from 2006 stacked in the corner of my boss's office. That's a lot of god damn papers.

And I got to be the god-damn clearing house. Man did that piss me off.

So as I sat there, procrastinating by reading about fellow bloggers who suddenly get to write for Fox Sports Online, or have book deals or TV development contracts, all I could think of was, where the fuck did I go wrong?

I'm serious. Sure, I'm envious of the people linked above, but all they do is get loaded and write online, no different than me; no better.

So there I stewed, knee-deep in shitty newsprint. Then I left 4 hours early because I just didn't want to be there anymore. (although in my defence, I have a cold coming on, so that's my excuse.)

:: A Blog to send us off ::
12 months under the microscope

"I'm choking on my own delight." - Buchs (Jan. 8)

"You should beat up Jesus, I'll give you five bucks." - Amanda (Jan. 14)

playing a tough game of Chaser...
Me: Fuck this, I quit!
Amanda: Fine, you can't play anymore then!
(Jan. 28)

"My mohawk is better than Jesus." - Jer (Feb. 5)

"Do brown people go to Merritt?" - Kels, starting a comment-war (Feb. 7)

"I got Bre flowers and all that shit. Stupid girls - flowers die anyway. I should get her a fence, that'd last a lot longer." - Ian (Feb. 14)

"If it had been about a llama and a tranvestite It'd be a different story." - Buchs, after saying he wouldn't watch Brokeback Mountain (Feb. 26)

"You might as well break the law before it's illegal." - Buchs, trying to convince Ian to chuck a "mashed potato ball" at a street sign. Apparently when Ian's in the RCMP breaking the law will be doubly bad. (March 13)

"Ahh...that's good. It's like pissing in the mouth of God." - Buchs, peeing outside (March 26)

"To quote Aristotle: Fuck you guys." - Buchs (April 2)

"I'm just a farmboy who occasionally likes to get jiggy with it." - Buchs, wishing he lived in the sticks (Apr. 9)

"Let's go get stoned and play bingo!" - Tara (Apr. 16)

"I hate soup! I don't wanna eat food that I'm drinking!" - Sean (April 29)

"Kelsey, there's something about you that makes me want to shimmy." - Amanda (May 7)

Nick: Where's Buchs?
Bobby: He's probably asleep.
Nick: No, he was with Amanda when we left from playing ball.
Bobby: Oh. Well, there's still a good chance he could be laying
down still.

"Is a pap test like a massage? You know, you pay a little extra
for a happy ending?" - Buchs

"Japanese people don't dig. They just use their ingenuinity and
playstation it out." - Buchs again, unfortunately (May 13)

"This computer lacks the appropriate emoticons to express my
befuzzlement." - Mike, in an msn conversation, after reading over the latest post's comments and discovering that a certain someone is dating a certain someone else. (May 19)

Melissa: I'm talking to Lorne right now, and he says he's never once ate wedding cake. Isn't that bizarre?
Me: I'm talking to Lorne too. About how and where we'd go to both
become ninjas. (June 3)

"I think it's safe to say we finished off the Finishers." - Scott (June 23)

"Welcome to Enderby. Population: Losers." - Jer (July 6)

"I can't ever take it easy because I have no idea what excessive is. I just keep going and going." - Bucholtz (July 6)

"If I fold the seats down in the Cougar I could have sex with
like four people at once." - Kelsey (July 18)

"One (Beer)? Only one? This is MeatFest not a pussy convention!" - Dave (Sept. 20)

"Sometimes I think about the things that I say, and my brain's
like 'What? Are you fucking serious?'" - Buchs (Nov. 4)

2006 featured many a thing, right here on this blog even. There was the short-lived yet popular "Weekend Awards" which died a slow death because I stopped feeling like doing them, and also
because, for a stretch, people weren't doing anything I felt like rewarding them for.

But a number of things stayed constant - for one, my ever-changing moods. I ranted. I raved. I made fun of people and caused many a person to laugh. Made people cry, too. Twice.

In real life, away from the blog, it was a year with all kinds of happenings, yet was still largely familiar. We all agreed that 2005 was probably the worst year we could ask for - for a number
of reasons, so 2006 didn't really need to aim high to be better. I'd say it likely passed the test, if for no other reason than nobody almost died in car accidents or other less-than-stellar
circumstances.

There were some shitty things this year - for me the biggest being my grandma dying in August. Rarely having to deal with such issues, I sort of forgot how it feels to lose somebody. Sucks. Hard.

And my getting in shape plan de-railed around mid-year, when the gym stopped being directly on my way home. I still probably lost around 8-10 pounds (maybe) but it's not good enough. 2007 will have to be another big year. Has to be.

Lots of good stuff happened too, though - I bought a townhouse finally, we had our best slo-pitch season ever, finishing in (gasp!) second place. Brad came home from G.F. Strong at the beginning of the year. We got drunk a lot too - Funtastic, Merritt, rafting, and then pretty much every Friday, as per usual. In addition to ingesting near-unsafe amounts of alcohol, there were a lot of familiarities between '06 and, well, the last five years. Nobody really came and went from the group, although there are a few people who don't come 'round as much anymore. And what would a year with us be without new pairs of people hooking up? Some days I swear to God it's like an episode of Friends, people.

But considering where I was at the end of last year - on the street in front of my parents' house having a shitfaced yelling match with Kels about God knows what - I'd say things were pretty solid.

2007? No predictions. No outlandish hopes. No resolutions. No nothing.

Instead, we'll head into next year with the same battle plan once employed by famed French general Napolean Bonaparte:

First we'll show up, then we'll see what happens.

Almost hard to believe he lost.