:: (Useless) Douche of the Day ::

A couple things that have been annoying me lately – all of which leave the guilty party up for Douche of the Day honurs (you know, that sporadically-awarded honour I first gave to this guy)

Anyways, Contestant #1: Somebody called me at work the other day, and after we chatted about whatever it was he called for, he gave me his phone numbers so I could reach him next week. So he leaves me his work number – no problem there – and then his cell. Only he doesn't call it his cell. No, he says, "Oh and this is my mobile."

Mobile? Really? I mean, really?

I know, it's an English or possibly European thing to call a cell phone a mobile, and that's fine – I have no problem with that as long as either a) you are in that country (or countries) or b) you are from that country and that's what you're accustomed to saying. 

But this guy is not English, and certainly not European – he's Chinese. And as far as I know, he's always lived in the Lower Mainland (I've spoken with him numerous times through the years, and I think this is true). There is absolutely no reason for this guy to call his cell phone his "mobile" other than to try and sound like a pretentious douche.

Contestant #2: This one isn't specific person, but a type of person. And I can't even take credit for it – it was first brought up by Mike at The Jerk Store. He hates people who talk about people playing poker on TV. And he's absolutely right. A couple weekends ago I was somewhere – can't remember where – and heard two or three guys debating their favourite players. Really? Favourite poker players? 

I like poker as much as the next guy – I've actually started liking it more lately, as a matter of fact – but I like playing, not watching. And you certainly shouldn't have a favourite. I mean, Christ...

Contestant #3: This guy isn't so much a douche as a guy who has wasted his youth. He is yet another guy on my Facebook friends list who is obtaining a post-bachelor's degree. Only this is a doctorate. Our very first Douche of the Day was a guy being knobby about his Master's Degree – go click the link at the top for a refresher, if you want – so with that precedent set, I've gotta include this guy, too. 

This new guy is someone I haven't seen since high school, and though I don't remember him being a douche, he was/is incredibly smart. He's 29 – same as me – and has spent the last 11 years in school. Fancy university back east, then a post-bachelor's degree run at a prestigious school in the States, and then, of course, studying abroad. Lives in France or some place. 

Anyways... though one could assume he's a douche candidate simply be virtue of his schooliness (yes, I'm inventing that word), he recently posted as a FB photo the cover page of his doctorate dissertation. And you know what? I don't really have too much of a problem with that because I imagine it's about 120+ pages and took the guy years to do.

He's proud of it. Fair 'nuff.

But then I read the cover page and finally realized what exactly this dude's been studying for a decade – which has presumably cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars. I'd never known before, but I thought it was probably some medical field (Not because it's a doctorate, but because I was under the impression he was a science-y, pre-med type of guy).

And the title? Some 3-line, two sentence, paragraph about the French Revolution from 1789-1792 (so not even the whole revolution) and its effect on international law. 

Like I said, douchey. 

And assuming this incredibly boring, scholarly dissertation is actually good – I'm sure it is, because he's a smart guy – do you know what he'll receive? 

His Doctorate of Philosophy.

You heard that right. Fucking Philosophy. 

I'm sure he'll get lots of high-paying job offers from philosophy factories with that in his back pocket.

:: Chips and a Coke ::

On Friday afternoon, needing a junk food/caffeine rush of some kind to get me through the last few loooong hours of work, I walked across the street and bought a Diet Coke and some Doritos. And as I walked back with these two items in my hand, I was for some reason reminded – out of the blue – of my Grade 8 gym teacher.

I am, as you are likely aware, not in the greatest shape. Sure, I'm not 288 pounds like I was in my Alberta heyday (I'm a svelte 227 now for those scoring at home), but I'm not about to go run a marathon either. Or wear anything slim-fitting, for that matter. 

But during the early days of high school – before what I'll call the Pizza Hut Era – I wasn't yet The Fat Kid. I was just a regular-sized guy. And my Grade 8 gym teacher was Mr. Bergen. He was a gruff no-nonsense guy, but he always got along well with the jocks – pretty standard for all gym teachers everywhere, I'd guess. He was likable enough, as far as most were concerned. But I never really liked him. To be honest, I thought he was a bit of a pompous dick.

So that's probably why I never paid much attention to anything he said, and it's also the likely reason I quit the Grade 8 basketball team halfway through the year. But more on that in a bit. 

One thing – possibly the only thing – I ever remember Mr. Bergen telling us in class came during a little speech he gave about the importance of being in shape and all that stuff. His point was that a healthy, active lifestyle was actually pretty easy to keep up. (His ulterior motive was to get us to sign up for the basketball team. He was the coach.)

"It's easy to stay fit, but it's all about choices," he told us. "When you go home from school today, for example, you can do two things. One, you can grab a basketball and go get some exercise in the driveway or at the school. Or two, you can go sit in front of the TV and watch cartoons with chips and a Coke."

Obviously, I eventually chose to align myself with the chips and Coke option. But it may surprise you to know that this wasn't my first choice. 

My first choice was to actually get some exercise. So I signed up to play basketball. Which wasn't really a stretch for me – I knew how to play, had a modicum of athletic ability, and I loved sports, so why not?

But aside from the 7 a.m. practices before school, the other thing that dissuaded me from the game – and made the chips and cartoon option look pretty sweet – was what I quickly noticed about the rest of my new 13-year-old teammates.

They were all douchebags.

Of course, at the time, I probably didn't think of them as "douchebags" but I know that I didn't like their attitudes one bit. They were mostly from James Kennedy Elementary – which was the elementary school hoops powerhouse, if there was such a thing – and I just thought they were, much like the coach, pompous dicks.

(Turns out my suspicions were correct – by Grade 12 they had all turned into your typical douchey jocks. You know, the kind of guys who all shave their heads to look the same, and say "Bro" a lot. So in retrospect, I'm glad I recognized it early and got out when I did.)

I was a mediocre player on the team. I played a few minutes off the bench, don't remember scoring much if at all (the latter fact also describes my early 20s) but I do recall being a pretty good rebounder, which was shocking for a kid who was barely five-feet tall. But basketball interfered with my weekend hockey schedule, and because hockey was more important and less douche-infested, I quit the basketball team after about a month. 

And that was really the beginning of the end for me, fitness-wise. I suffered through two years of miserable gym classes, where the pompous teachers spent most of class-time trying to act cool around the jocks while not really giving a shit about the regular kids, while the token one-year-older-because-he's-a-retard-and-failed-gym bully spent his time making life hell for the younger kids.

By Grade 10, my knees and head (concussion) were pretty sore from hockey, so I got a doctor's note to exclude me from my last year of mandatory high school gym. Sure, I probably milked it, I could've toughed it out, but by then I'd just had enough of all that high school gym class entailed – the asshole teachers, bullies, dumb jocks, etc...

And thus began my long, loving relationship with the Coca-Cola company.

Now, I'm not blaming douchey high-school basketball kids for putting me off the road to fitness and down Dorito Boulevard. I've become what I've become because of my own choices, and to be honest, I don't necessarily regret it. I'd rather be fat than an asshole. 

Just makes me wonder what might've been, is all, had I stuck with the whole basketball thing.

Maybe I could've played pro. Or at least been a gym teacher.

:: Songs stuck in your head ::

As I was sitting here, browsing the Interweb for potential housing purchases (I'm moving - perhaps you've heard), my iTunes, which is on random, started playing some late-'90s Korn song that I didn't even know I had in my playlist.

Anyways, the song itself is pretty forgettable, but I hadn't heard it in ages, and it instantly reminded me of the summer between Grade 12 and college. And it's encouraged me to write a post that I'd been meaning to write for awhile (And actually may have written before, but a quick archive search turned up nothing, so I apologize if this is a repeat).

Through the years, there have been a handful of songs - or collections of songs - that instantly bring up a lot of memories, mostly good. And with that in mind, here they are:

1. Cruisin' Classics
When I was a kid, we took a handful of road trips to California - to go to Disneyland, or to visit my family in Northern California. And we had a handful of tapes (remember them?) for the trip, but the one that got played the most was Cruisin' Classics, which I'm pretty sure was bought at a random gas station one day, for about $3.99. Now, anytime I hear any of the songs from this tape - Rock 'n me by Steve Miller; Don't Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin; Kokomo by the Beach Boys, among others - reminds me of sitting in the back of my parent's Volkswagen van for hours at a time, asking "Are we there yet?! Are we there yet?!"

2. Collective Soul
Anything off Collective Soul's self-titled blue album reminds me of Grade 11 spring break. Chris and my parents had gone out of town somewhere for a hockey tournament, so my parents let my stay home for 4-5 days by myself, along with Jay, who was in the early stages of living with us at the time. We didn't really get up to too much debauchery (because we were nerds), but we did drive around a lot in my dad's Hyundai Sonata, and we left the same Collective Soul CD in the stereo the entire time. And listened to it over and over and over again. So whenever I hear a song off that album, I think of that week - complete with drinking, driving downtown for no reason other than because we could (not while drunk though), playing tennis, and Duke Nukem. Good times.

3. Korn
I already mentioned this off the top, but Korn was still pretty popular when I was in Grade 12. I'd switched schools for my final year of high school, and my new friends were big fans of Korn and metal bands. Whenever I hear, say, Freak on a Leash, for example, all I remember is house parties at my friend Brett's house, which almost always got waay out of hand and would end with cops being called, doors being pulled off the hinges and toilets being shattered. Yes, shattered.

After spending the first 16 years of my life being cripplingly shy, this was the year I finally started coming out of my shell a little bit, mostly because Brett forced me too. He was outgoing, fun, and popular with everybody, and even though I was shy and at a new school, he made a point of dragging me along for the ride, including me in everything, and I always appreciated that.

It was a far cry from Grade 11, where I became something of a pariah because I was too smart, too responsible, not cool enough, etc.. (You know how high school works). I don't see anybody from Grade 12 anymore - not Brett either, because he kind of went sideways after high school, but these are the memories I'm left with.

4. Thunderstruck, AC/DC
Anybody who ever played minor hockey will likely have this song stuck in their head for eternity. It was always the default "hockey warm-up song" during the 5-minute pre-game warmup, and was a go-to song at pretty much every tournament you'd ever go to. It was also the "theme song" of the Langley Thunder, back before they were the Hornets and then, finally, the Chiefs. And when I was 12 or 13, I went to a lot of junior hockey games.

5. Apologize, by Timbaland/One Republic
Not a great song, by any means, but it's a more recent memory. Last spring, when Chris, Jenna, TO, Carly and I went to Las Vegas, this song played in the Monte Carlo casino - where we stayed - over and over again for four days. Now, whenever I hear it, I think of sitting in that casino, in front of a slot machine or video roulette table, drinking my face off, and losing money. So no matter that this song isn't that great, and is definitely not my style, it has grown on me because of what it reminds me of.

6. The Distance, by Cake
The first time I heard this song was when my cousin Brian came to stay with us for a week from his home in California. He was up here for a hockey scouting showcase that Chris was also in, so Brian and a couple of his hockey buddies - Marcus and Beltzy (real name also Brian) - stayed at our house, and they had a Cake CD. I'd never heard of them before, and now they are one of my favourite bands. We had a really great week, and even though I keep in touch with Brian on Facebook, the other two guys have sort of fallen off the radar, which kinda bums me out, because they were great dudes.

7. Any weird punk cover of a previously lame song
Mike likes punk music, and he especially likes really weird music. When I lived in Kamloops, he made me a CD with a ton of weird cover songs by bands I'd never really heard of - like Ghoti Hook, Black Train Jack, MxPx. They covered songs from Celine Dion, Paul Simon, and a bunch of '50s tunes. I still have the CD on my shelf, and the songs are all in my iTunes library (Even the bad quality ones, which suck), so whenever one comes on randomly, I think of driving aimlessly around Kamloops with Mike and Shaun, eating Arby's and stealing garden gnomes.

Feel free to add your own songs/memories in the comments.

"I'd fight Duke. I'd fight a shark." - Bucholtz, talking about the formidable size of Bobby's ever-growing dog.

"The vagina's connected to the baby holder....the baby's connected to the....other thing," Buchs again, singing a song.

And now, a couple frightening quotes from Lambo's buddy, Mangel. He could've been talking about the video game he was playing, but then again, he's also from NYC, so you decide...

"Murder, huh? Sweet - I'm all about the killing. Who's ready to die?!!!!"

"I'll just grab whatever and I'll murder you with it. That's how I roll, bitches."

:: Making friends ::

People become friends in different ways. Maybe you meet somebody at work, or you play on the same hockey or baseball team as kids. Or perhaps, as is probably most often the case with best friends, you meet people in elementary or high school and stay pals for a long, long time after that. That's how I met most, if not all, of my best friends.

Or, in this techno-age, people meet on the Internet, bonded by some common interest. And then sometimes, the way you meet people is just completely random - maybe you met in the cereal aisle at Safeway, or at the bar, or at a cockfight. Whatever works.

Or in the case I'm about to explain, maybe you should've met years before, but some avoided each other every step of the way, until recently:

A year ago, not long after I signed up on Facebook, I got a random message from a girl who's name I didn't immediately recognize. After a few quick messages back and forth, it turned out that we worked in the same company, but at different places. After that, we ran into each other at our company conference, and after talking for a bit, it turned out that we'd pretty much been following each other around since we were 15.

We both went to the same high school, and knew a lot of the same people, but she went to school elsewhere in Grade 11 before coming back for Grade 12 - which was the year I left for someplace else.

And the reason I didn't immediately recognize her name was because it was different now - she got married, and as soon as she told me her maiden name, I instantly recognized it.

Then after graduation, we both ended up going to Kwantlen College for a couple years, although our paths obviously never crossed. Not that strange, really, when you consider that it's a large four-campus school, and a good portion of local kids start out at KUC. However, it got a little stranger after that, because we both ended up majoring in the same thing at university, and both ended up in Kamloops in the same program. Again though, just missing each other. She arrived just as I was leaving.

Once again, many of her university friends are my friends, too.

Now working for the same big company, she was just transferred into our office last month. Now our desks are 15 feet from each other.

So, anyway, after realizing this odd set of circumstances - and also realizing that we're pretty close to the same person ("You're like the guy version of me!" she drunkenly told me, over and over again, last week at our staff party) we decided that since we probably would've ended up being friends years ago if only our paths had crossed, we'll just be friends now instead...We know very little about each other, don't have any sort of friend history to speak of, but we're instantly good friends anyways, just because we decided that we would be. Kind of like when two five-year-old kids decided instantly that they're best friends simply because they live next door to each other, or because their pre-school coat hooks are side-by-side.

We drove in together to the aforementioned staff Christmas party (Her husband didn't come because he had tix to the Canucks/Penguins game), and since we appeared throughout the night to be good buddies, one of the office folk asked us how we knew each other, since she'd just started working for us.

"Oh, we've known each other for years - we went to high school together," she said.

And just like that a new friend becomes an old one. Weird? Maybe. But it's still kinda cool.

:: A Facebook sequel ::

I don't have many vivid memories of high school. No parties I can particularly remember, not many crazy antics, save for a few. High school, to me, is five years melted into one long experience, with days and events, and arguments and people, all overlapping.

I hated high school, nearly from the first day in Grade 8 until halfway through Grade 12, when things finally got a little bit fun at the new school I was at. And because I hated it, I think that's probably why all my memories just blur into one. Kind of the same way people can't remember details of traumatic experiences, or something.

I don't even have a single picture from high school - not of any of my friends, or events...no nothing. And I'm OK with that.

But there are still a few things I can clearly remember - first and foremost being Spring Break in Grade 11. That was the week that my parents and Chris went somewhere for a hockey tournament - I think the Okanagan. So I stayed home by myself, and my friend Jay stayed with me.

Since I had the whole house to myself, I remember it basically being a clubhouse for me, Jay, and three of our friends - Trevor, Steve, and Paul. I don't remember exactly what we did for seven days, but I know we must've got drunk at least a few times, and the weather was really nice, so we played a lot of tennis too...all of us cramming into my dad's Hyundai Sonata and driving to the high school, with the same CD playing over and over and over and over - Collective Soul's self titled album (the light blue one). I still cannot, to this day, hear a song from that album without thinking of that week.

Not too long after that week, Jay and his dog Digby ended up living with us. His parents had been split up for a number of years, and each had their own things to deal with. This way was just easier. And so it was...

Then, midway through Grade 12, Jay left and I lost touch with all those "spring break" friends I mentioned earlier. There was some ugliness there, but being that it was almost a decade ago, I don't remember specifics. Probably for the best.

And then came Facebook. I decided one night that, in an attempt to see how many friends I could add to my list, I'd start searching for random old friends from elementary school, high school, hockey - whoever I could think of. I found a few, but not too many - there's a ton of people I just can't remember, too. But then there was Jason.

Still looked the same, but with shorter hair and a goatee. When I showed Chris, he had to look twice and say "Is that actually him?" but there really was no question. He hadn't change much in that span, and I guess I haven't either, because Jay told me as much on Wednesday when we went out for beers and wings.

I've written about reunions with high school buddies before, but this was still different. Partly because we used to live 20 feet away from each other, partly because he was quite literally part of our family, and partly because it ended strangely.

Ever since we first starting talking again, I surprised myself by how quickly and easily I forgot about all the past stuff - I didn't even make a conscience effort to let it go, I just did. I'll admit to being bitter sometimes, and holding a grudge easily. This particular case hurt, and I was pissed for a long time. Even after I found Jay on Facebook last week, there was still something there. I didn't click "add as friend" and send him a message until a day after I saw his name because I didn't know what to expect.

But after one message back and forth, it all just...left. All was fine again. In fact, we never even mentioned any of the bullshit; we just picked up where we left off, before it all got weird and we both disappeared.

In previous instances where I've ended up meeting or talking with old friends, I - like most people in similar situations - have usually spent the majority of the time re-hashing past stories, laughing at old jokes, and inflating how truly awesome you were "back in the day." But on Wednesday, we really didn't do that. Sure, we got some of the basics out of the way regarding the last eight years - he's married now, I went away for school and work for awhile, his family's OK, mine's good too - but we didn't spend a lot of time reminiscing.

We lost eight years, but what's done is done.

Instead, we just hung out - laughing our balls off, and generally living in the now I guess you could say. We've hung out three times in the last five days, which is more often than I see many of my other friends. And I was thinking tonight that, as much as I love the friends I've had for the past decade, I really didn't miss 'em that much this weekend. I just had a good time doing other things.

And next weekend, at a party, we're also going to reconnect with the rest of the ol' team. Should be pretty awesome.

As much fun as I always have with anyone else, this weekend so far has been pretty hard to top. I know, it probably seems like with all these reunions that I'm living in the past, when most of these types of things are little more than a novelty act - you seen the person or people a few times, but then life returns to normal soon after, because when you're set in your lifestyle it is tough to turn back the clock.

But I don't think we'll have that problem, and like I said, this weekend was a pretty good time, so far. I guess it's just nice to know that, even though you might not've seen someone for a really long time, you're still free to act like a complete nerd, and you don't have to worry about who's in a mood and who's not. Or you can tell a bad joke without being mocked; and you don't need to care about whether it's acceptable or not in some eyes if you didn't get your passport photo stamped yourself.

But mostly, after 2,920 days wondering "Hmmm, I wonder what happened to that guy?", it's just nice to have another best friend back.

There's no doubt that the tool-of-the-Devil that is Facebook is a wonderful web creation, and pretty god-damn addicting to boot. Since signing on a few weeks back, I've re-connected - if through nothing more than a quick message - with all kinds of people I knew in high school, elementary school, minor hockey, etc..It's been pretty fun, if not a little weird in that some of these people I never even really liked in high school in the first place. It's amazing what time can do.

But tonight, as I sifted through all kinds of groups in search of a long-forgotten familar names (and believe me, there was a lot of 'em I'd forgot...high school ended for me eight years ago, after all), I got a slight tinge of, if not sadness, then, well let's call it a combination of malaise and/or envy. This is why:

Among former schoolmates of mine:

One went to medical/grad school at John Hopkins University and is now a doctor. Lives in France.

One guy - a dude you would've called a geek in high school - is married to an incredibly hot woman, has a kid, and works for a professional sports team.

One guy got a degree, some money, but then just said 'Fuck it,' and appears to spend his days living on the beach in California, Australia, and other places. All he does is surf.

There were more, but those are the ones I can remember best. Now, I'm not lamenting my place in life at all - I've done pretty alright for myself in some departments. But still, here I sit in the same town I grew up in, eight years later. Single, and often eating peanut butter straight out of the jar (I wish I was kidding, but I'm not. Don't judge me - it's delicious).

My point in all this? I dunno really, except that in high school I was one of the smart kids. I wasn't one of those popular smoke-pit types, and I was led to believe that karma would eventually repay me by giving me some of the stuff I didn't get much of in high school.

Maybe if I'd have had the balls or the inclination to move away after high school I'd be the one with the hot wife or the doctorate degree.

Or maybe I'd just say fuck it, get a bunch of tattoos, bleach my hair blonde and surf all fucking day. Yeah, that'd be pretty rad.

And while yes, I know there's a vast majority of people from high school who still live close by, doing average jobs for average pay, I just always thought I'd be the guy who, when people mentioned my name, they'd say "Oh, you won't believe what he's doing now."

Instead I fear I've become a Townie. A townie with a house and a degree and a decent job, but a Townie nonetheless.

I wonder if there's other Facebookers from my high school online right now, clicking on my name and thinking, "Wow, he's doing really well for himself. I'm kinda jealous. Good for him."

I hope so.

(But while I hope that, I'll settle for someone clicking on my name and thinking to themselves, "Wow, he's not as fat as I remember." or "Holy crap, he looks way cooler than that geek I used to know.")