:: Loud Noises! ::

Right now, a co-worker is talking on the phone. She is approximately 75-80 feet away from me, and also around a corner in our L-shaped office. She is also in a semi-enclosed room (the door is open). The printer near me is printing, and two phones are also ringing. One other person in the office is talking quietly on their cell phone (Or so I assume. She might be talking to herself... I can't actually see her), and one person is laughing at something. Despite all this, I can hear every word this co-worker speaks. Every. Single. Word.

To suggest that she's a little loud would not be out of line. I mean, c'mon, this is a place of business – tone down the volume a 'lil.

Some of us are trying to browse Facebook.

:: Drunks say the darndest things ::

"Everybody's first child is an accident." - Christene, doing some serious generalizing.

"So, what are the rules against tickling?" - Rachel, finding a loophole in the UFC handbook.

"Whenever you can stick a beer can up a chicken's butt, you might as well." - Ian, barbecuing.

"Hi, I'm Ian Forbes and I have sour keys." - Ian, making new friends at Funtastic.

"I love being drunk on a Sunday. It's like you're drinking for Jesus." - Bucholtz, at Funtastic.

"I can't relate to anybody in Kamloops. In my program, all the girls are married and have kids. There's this one girl who is 26 and is pregnant with her third kid. I'm 26, and I'm pregnant with my Master's." - Ashleigh, summing up her post-baccalaureate university experience.

"If I'd known life was going to be this fucking hard, I would've drank more." - Melissa, going through a rough patch.

"I will decide when you can die." - Christene, after I joked I'd have a heart attack at 35.

"Before I was pregnant, if a friend suggested on a Friday night that we should just go for coffee, that was it - we're done. I could never be friends with someone like that." - Kristyl, who is no doubt yearning for a boozy night now that little Molly has been born.

:: Thou shalt not leave Twitter ::

Just tried to log out of Twitter, and got this message:

"403 Forbidden: The server understood the request, but is refusing to fulfill it."

Much more ominous than the usual 404. Threatening, almost.

:: Bad Publicity ::

There are days in this business where all you can do is shake your head.

This is one of those days.

Scene:

A polite but disappointed woman calls my desk to complain that her daughter's sporting achievement – now nearly three weeks old – was never publicized in the newspaper. Even worse, when she achieved something even better last summer, that was not written about either.

Me: Well, we would've loved to have known about that, but how could we? Did you ever think to call us and let us know?

Caller: Well, no... the last thing you probably want is people calling you constantly and telling you stuff like this.

Me: Uhhh, actually, no, We're a newspaper – I'd love it if you called and told me some news. How else are we supposed to know about these things?

Caller: Oh.

Somewhere along the way – probably about the same time people started seeing news updated on the fly, 24/7 online and elsewhere – the general public began to assume that we somehow instinctively know of every event, big and small, that occurs. We know a lot, sure, but how do you think we know?

Because people tell us. Not because we're mind readers.

I don't begrudge this woman too much, really. Though she seemed quite confused, she was polite and otherwise just a lovely person.

Wouldn't want her as my publicist, though.

:: Not helping ::

It turns out that, despite being a writer who is paid (modestly) to accurately and vividly depict scenes, events and people, I am not very good at it.

I was informed of this today.

BACKGROUND: Early on Sunday morning, Kristyl had her baby - a little girl named Molly. Christene and I went and visited them at the hospital last night, and therefore, when I arrived at work today, everyone wanted to know a) that everything was OK health-wise, and b) did you take any pictures?! Did ya? C'MON WHERE ARE THE PICTURES?!?!?!?! GOD DAMMIT NICK PICTURES!!!"

No, I did not take any pictures. This apparently was a big mistake. I probably could've stolen a baby from the hospital, and that would have been deemed less terrible than forgetting to bring my digital camera.

Apparently the next best option when somebody (an obvious idiot) has forgotten to take a picture, is to describe the baby instead.

"What does she look like?" a co-worker asked, excitedly.

"Umm...she's small...she's a girl... looks like a baby."

This was not deemed an appropriate description. Can't imagine why.

:: Power and Influence ::

About five weeks ago, I had to work a Sunday shift, filling in for our usual photographer, who had the weekend off. Midway through my shift, I made a quick stop - for five minutes, tops - at a local sports facility. This particular facility was in a town that lives and dies on pay parking. However, because I was only running in quickly to see if anything interesting was going on, I did not feed the meter.

Besides, I've been working here for more than five years and rarely paid for parking, and had never gotten a ticket (which I was actually quite proud of, and I bragged about it often to co-workers).

Karma, of course, is a hideous bitch, and sure enough, I received a parking ticket approximately three minutes after I left my vehicle. Total fine: $30 if paid within a certain timeframe, and it doubled to $60 if you took too long.

Regardless, I tried to pay the ticket online later that day, but the bylaw officer had obviously not processed it yet, and therefore, I could not pay up.

No big deal, I'll pay it on Monday, I figured.

Of course, I spent the rest of Sunday and most of Monday stewing about my ticket situation, and my Monday afternoon - spurred on by a co-worker or two - I decided that, no, I was not going to bow down, take my lumps and pay the $30 fine.

It was only three minutes, I re-iterated to myself. And then, as far as justifications go, the kicker - I was there in my role as photographer for a small community newspaper, and therefore, doing a service to said community by attempting to take photos of its fine citizens, so how dare they insult me with this?!

Professionally speaking, it was as close as I've ever come to a Do you know who I am?! moment. Frankly, I'm surprised it took that long to occur. But occur it did.

With rebellion in my heart, I downloaded the required paperwork to launch my official appeal. I filled out all the forms, and under reasons for appeal, I described my case in detail, giving them my "community service" spiel, and then some.

Then I faxed in the form, and I waited. And waited.

Two days ago I received in the mail a letter from the city stating that I now owed $60 because I took too long to pay. This of course, comes despite never hearing back from the city regarding my appeal, one way or another. Certainly I couldn't be expected to pay a fine before my appeal was approved or denied, right?

Now I was actually angry, so I did what I had been encouraged to do weeks earlier but hadn't, instead saying it was a "last resort" - I went right to the top. I emailed the mayor.

Now, this wasn't just some random wahoo calling the city's top politician to vent (well, it was...) - I actually do know the mayor, and we get along very well. She likes me, so I knew I had a shot. I explained the situation, and that I wasn't trying to weasel out of a ticket, merely trying to get it reverted back to $30 status.

This afternoon I received an email from another city official. He had been forwarded my query by the mayor, and explained that, upon investigation, "it appears no appeal of the subject parking ticket was ever received and no record of any fax appears to exist."

Hmmm, how curious. He continued...

"My first instinct is to allow you additional time to pay the lesser fine, and re-file your appeal. However, considering the circumstances, I will instead simply cancel the ticket."

Translation: I really want to fine your whiny ass, but the mayor won't let me, so instead she's making me cancel the whole fucking thing. So congratulations on being a dick. Enjoy your $60, asshole.

I win.

You'd think I'd learn a lesson from something like this - perhaps in the future I'd be sure to put sufficient money in the parking meter instead of blatantly thumbing my nose at the law.

You'd think that, but you'd be wrong.

All this has taught me is that if you have enough money, power or influence, or simply know the right people, you can get away with anything.

:: Twizzlers, hormones and sad songs by Bryan Adams ::

Kristyl's last day at work was yesterday, and she is now on maternity leave for an entire year. And, while it sucks that I will now have to go on coffee runs on my own for the next 12 months, I'm pretty sure it was time for her to go. Her hormones were getting the best of her, to say the least.

Case in point: Last Friday at the movies, for opening night of The Hangover (which is awesome, by the way)

Christene and I walk into Colossus and see Kristyl and Jason. Kristyl looks a little rattled. Naturally, we ask why. Apparently, on the five-minute drive from their house to the theatre, she cried twice.

Once because she saw a mom walking on the sidewalk with her young daughter, and a second time when a particularly moving Bryan Adams song came on the radio. I'm not even kidding.

Then, once we're seated, this....

Kristyl: Jason, if you're going to get snacks can you get me some Twizzlers?

Jason: Uggh, I don't wanna pay six bucks for one tiny pack of Twizzlers. I asked you if you wanted to bring anything before we got here, and you said no.

Kristyl: I'M CARRYING YOUR GOD-DAMN CHILD, THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS BUY ME SOME FUCKING TWIZZLERS!

Whoa. (To be fair, the outburst was sort of "fake-rage", but still...jesus christ.)

Jason: Fine, I'll get you some Twizzlers!

Kristyl: Or if there's something better, get that instead.

Jason: Well what do you consider better?

Kristyl: Well, if there's chocolate raisins...

Jason: It's a movie theatre – of course there's going to be chocolate raisins. Which one do you want?

Kristyl: Twizzlers then.

Then, after 10 minutes in line, Jason returns with Twizzlers for his lovely wife, and some popcorn, too.

Kristyl: You know, Nibs would've gone a lot better with popcorn.

Jason (looking at Christene and I): You've gotta be fucking kidding me. This is what I live with every day.

:: At least she's honest ::

Yesterday, upon walking the quaint streets in the lovely little town in which I work, I came across two women, walking and talking together. They were both in their mid-20s, looked pleasant and well-adjusted enough. Even stopped to pet a friendly dog that was tied to a mailbox outside the post office.

Nice people, I thought.

Then I walked closer and, as I passed them, overheard one girl say to her friend...

"I'm not one of those people who says, 'Oh, I just hope he's happy.' Look, I don't hope he's happy. I don't hope he's happy at all. I want him to get fucked. And then after he's done getting fucked, I want him to get hit by a fucking bus or bit by that fucking dog of his."

Yikes. Bitter, much?

:: Random things I thought you should know ::

I don't have much in the way of a topic for today, but rather a collection of snippets for your enjoyment – including a couple quotes.

At The Keg, when I left excess crab bits in a few of the claws...

Christene: I'm so disappointed in you.

Me: Yeah, get used to saying that.

Christene: Your hands are really soft today.

Me: They aren't soft – they're very tough and masculine!

Christene: Oh, well I meant the tough kind of soft... like shaking hands with an axe.

At breakfast on Saturday, Kristyl asked me what our plans for the rest of the day were. I said we had nothing to do. Then Kristyl decided to be helpful:

Kristyl: What do you crazy kids have planned for tonight?

Me: Nothing.

Kristyl: Oh, well you should go and have some big seafood feast for dinner.

Me: Nah, don't feel like it.

Kristyl: You could go to the Richmond Night Market. We should all do that one day.

Me: No, that sounds terrible. I don't want to spent one half of my weekend nights at some crappy market buying shit from Japan and eating noodles.

Kristyl: Well, you could go buy a 40 of rum and go to a foam party!

Me: OK, you aren't really helping anymore.

Now, I have a complaint (I'm sure you're all shocked).

For starters, in town this week, there was a Greenpeace protest of a local grocery store. They were protesting against its seafood-buying practices or some such nonsense - the reason doesn't really matter.

What matters to me is how they were going about their business. Yes, they were well-behaved and polite, and didn't cause any great scene (which makes for a pretty shitty protestor, if you ask me), but what bugs me most is the way that they looked. Three or four of them were dressed up in huge, gaudy, bright tropical fish mascot suits, complete with cartoony eyes.

They looked campy and ridiculous, and I, for one, would not take them seriously in the least if I had come across them that day. I mean, in addition to the fact that they carried no big signs to explain what the fuck they were there for, they basically looked they were a promoting Finding Nemo 2: Gill's Revenge.

I don't know if the cartoon eyes on the suits were supposed to make the fish look cute, thereby convincing people not to eat them, but it failed. I mean, had they been wearing cute puppy costumes, I probably could be sold on the idea of not eating puppies, but it's a god damn fish.

And everybody knows fish don't have feelings.

C'mon, Greenpeace, you're supposed to be the experts at this shit.

:: I'll take that as a compliment ::

This morning, I slept late and woke up with only 15 minutes before we had to meet Kristyl for breakfast. As such, I didn't really have time for a shower and was concerned that I smelled a little bit, well, gross.

So I went with the "Surrey Shower" solution, and sprayed a little bit of Axe body spray on before I headed out the door. Then I asked Christene if that would do the trick.

"You smell fine, very masculine. You smell like ass and woodchips."

:: Funny, then.. not so much ::

Earlier today, we got an e-mail into our newsroom that an elderly woman had gone missing from a seniors home. As such, we thought it best to post the bulletin on our website. Before that decision was made, however, the person tasked with writing it called into our boss's office, where I was at the time, and asked "What do you want me to do with the missing woman?"

Without hesitation, both myself and my boss blurted out the same thing: "Find her!" Then we laughed heartily because we were both so funny, and also because we'd said the same clever thing at the same time. Juvenile humour, yes, but it was still an amusing moment.

A moment, however, that I quickly ruined.

"Maybe somebody should go check the golf course," I suggested.

Earlier in the week, we'd written a story a missing eight-month-old puppy – who had run away from its home through a door that was inadvertently left open. Yesterday, the body of that poor, cute pup was found at a local golf course, having had a run in with a coyote or some other animal.

This time nobody laughed.

:: Status updates ::

"Nicole's only boyfriend was deaf. That was the only way he could put up with her." - Kristyl, talking about an acquaintance's love life.

"Matt would give you the shirt of his back. The only problem is that the shirt would be pink and nobody would want it." - Ian's neighbour, Ryan, ragging on Ian's future brother-in-law, who earlier that day arrived home from teaching golf wearing white pants and a light pink shirt.

"It's my Cola Wars slurpee." - Christene, filling up her 7-Eleven collectible Terminator cup (Yes, she really bought one) with both Pepsi and Coke.

After buying a new power drill to fix his backyard gate...

Ian: I wish I had something else to drill.

Me: You could make a birdhouse.

Ian: If I was going to make a birdhouse, I'd just go to Home Depot and buy one of those kids birdhouse kits.... Then I'd probably just call my dad and get him to build it.

"It's like knowing you are going to get your hand chopped off. You know it's going to hurt, but there's nothing you can do about it so you might as well get it over with." - Kristyl's fine take on the actual process of giving birth, which she is getting closer and closer to.

"Why isn't Jesus good at hockey? Because people kept nailing him to the boards." - Bucholtz tells a joke.

"Affirmative action is bullshit." - Bucholtz again, this time after seeing a woman officiating a men's boxing match, and having trouble separating the angry combatants.

"If I'm driving after drinking some beers, I'm never under 0.08 anyway." - Sean, on why it doesn't matter if he gets rid of his 'N' on his driver's licence. For those who aren't aware, if you are a "new driver" you can't even blow 0.01 without losing your licence.

"It almost seems like you should have B.O. to match your mustache." - Christene, commenting on my wicked facial hair.

And on that note.....

Current Funtastic Moustache Status: Barely noticeable (It's blond for some reason)

And speaking of Funtastic, and therefore of the Cannons, we have bounced out of our losing streak by winning our last two games. On Sunday, we beat a crappy team by three runs, and followed that by beating an even crappier team Monday night by a single run. It's still embarrassing, but embarrassing wins are better than embarrassing losses.

:: Bad mistakes, we've made a few ::

Right now, the illustrious Cannons - reigning champions of Langley Mixed Slo-Pitch's division E1 - are in the midst of a bit of a slide. Losers of three straight. Losers of four of the last five or so. And, in Jeremy's case two games back, losers of our cool, too. (editor's note: Jeremy recently became the second Cannon to be kicked out of a game. Kudos, good sir. You are in good company.)

However, recent mistakes aside, this current misstep is far from our worst. As such, I present to you, in no particular order, the Worst Mistakes in Cannons History:

1. "Hey Nick, welcome back. You're playing third."
The inaugural Cannons season began in early April five years ago. The team won its first two games, and was something like 3-1 after the first few weeks. Then I, our standout third-baseman-turned-first baseman-turned-outfielder-because-there's-no-other-spot-to-hide-him returned from a nine-month sabbatical in Peace River, Alberta. We lost in my debut game, then 17 more in a row, and finished the season at 3-19. I like to think I helped.

2. Bucholtz plays drunk.
Friday night game. Buch's parents - even his lovely grandma - come to watch him play. Bucholtz, who has been at the peelers with his crew from work ever since mid-afternoon, arrives drunk and beligerent. For some reason, we let him play. He strikes out looking in the first inning, questions the umpire loudly and emphatically, then is benched, and sits on the bench the rest of the game. Diana is not proud.

3. Funtastic 2007. Um, I'm sure we all remember this...




For those you don't recall. This was taken after a drunken, very-public streaking of the Canada Day fireworks in Enderby. The all-male streakathon culminated in a group slip-and-side effort into dish soap, which stung eyes and nearly blinded everyone involved. Upon photograpic review, Bucholtz came perilously close to sliding right into both Sean and Groz's naked groinal areas.

4. Dana holds at third
It was the semifinals of the playoffs, and the Cannons have made a miraculous run from the last-place seed into the Final Four. We are down by a run in the final inning, and Dana - who has wheels - is at second base. The ball is smacked into the outfield, and it looks like we're about to tie the ol' score. Except whoever is coaching third - can't remember if it was Jeremy or Bucholtz or Ian - inexplicably holds Dana at three. Oh, there were two outs, by the way.


And sure, Katie came into the game and saved the day with a swinging bunt that scored Dana which is, to this day, is among the greatest plays in team history. And sure, we won the game easily in the extra inning, but still, that was not wise coaching. I would've sent her home - but unfortunately I'd already been kicked out of the game. Also, I was banned by my own team from coaching third base. But that's not the point here.


and finally, the last great mistake (Which ironically was actually the first)....


5. "Hey Mike, want to play on the softball team we're starting?"

:: Random Text Message ::

Me: Hey, I just saw your exact double at Safeway. I had to look twice, but then I saw that he had a kid and was, you know, a responsible adult. That's how I knew it wasn't you.
Sean: Haha. He was my un-evil twin then.

Also, a new feature debuts tonight, and will appear periodically on this slice of the Interweb until late June:

Current Funtastic Moustache Status: Embarrassing.

:: How not to stay on my good side ::

This conversation – via BlackBerry Messenger – woke me up at 11:23 last night.

Friend: Hey

Friend: Hey... you there?

Friend: You got a couple minutes?

Friend: PING!!!

Me: Jesus Christ, WHAT!??

Friend: Sorry man, didn't mean to make you mad.

Me: What do you want?

Friend: What're you doing?

Me: Are you serious? It's 11:30 on Sunday night, what do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to fucking sleep. What do you want?

Friend: Oh, sorry man, I'll talk to you about it tomorrow.

Me: You already woke me up, so you might as well talk. What do you want?

Friend: Don't worry about it, it's alright. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow.

I really need to start turning my phone off before I go to bed.

:: Christene becomes a hockey fan* ::

Midway through Canucks/Blackhawks Game 3, after three months of being forced to watch games with me but not really ever caring about the outcome, this happened....

"Where's the effing defence? Get Vigneault out there - he'll take care of business!" - Christene, who by the way, likes head coach Alain Vigneault and his snappy suits better than any one player.

And just because I'm here, I might as well liquidate some old quotes from the system, too.

"Wine is not for guzzling!" - Vanessa, after doing just that, with not-so-good results, during a Canucks watching/house-warming party at Amanda and Kyle (and Maverick's) new condo.

"Dan's rad. I hope when I'm 45 I'm as awesome as him." - Bucholtz with the backhanded compliment.

"I'm gonna open a store that only sells things that I like. That way, all the other totally rad people will know where to shop." - Christene, after an unsuccessful experience at the Target in Burlington, Wash.

"I'm not drunk. But I'm... pretty drunk." - Bucholtz again.

"I want to get there and see him before he has a heart attack and dies." - Christene, talking about Big Elvis, who performs on the Vegas strip at Bill's Gambling Hall.

"I love cows - they're so cute. Too bad they're so tasty." - Christene, on Catch-22s.

After Rach got her ear pierced at the tattoo show...
Rach: I had to pay an extra $15 for the second hole.
Me: Oh, that's not too bad - I've done that plenty of times.
Rach: Uh, I was talking about the piercing.


*C'mon, it was inevitable - only a matter of time.

:: Embarassing ::

The fact that this made headlines today is Exhibit 1A of why I'm often ashamed to work in the media business.

Suddenly the president is Un-American because of his fucking mustard? We're in a recession here boss, how dare you show off your "fancy" condiments.

I also love how this has sent bloggers "out in full force." Ever wonder how the cliche about bloggers being losers who live in their parents basement came about? Because of shit like this.

You're the leader of the Free World, sir - eat whatever the crap you'd like.

Fucking America.

:: Two very different methods* (with footnotes!) ::

I got a Nintendo Wii for Christmas, along with a couple games and two controllers. Now, due to my busy, busy schedule, which is full of charity events, bottle drives for the blind, and volunteering at soup kitchens**, I have not played it as much as I would have liked.

Therefore, considering Christmas was only four months ago and also considering the system and its parts have not been overused, one would expect all parts to continue to operate in an acceptable working manner. However, as Christene and I discovered last week when trying to play Price is Right***, this is not the case with one of my controllers, which is apparently broken. We tried swapping out the batteries, re-synching it, but nothing worked.

I happened to mention this a few days later while talking with my mom, who said that she probably had the reciept still, from the department store she bought the Wii from. Even though I figured that, four months later, there would be no exchange or refund, I told my mom that some day soon I'd swing by and grab the reciept and see if I could get it exchanged for a new one.

But my mom knows me too well, and quickly ki-boshed my idea.

"Why don't I just come get the controller one day, and then the next day I'm at the mall, I'll take it and try and exchange it?" she suggested.

Never before have I been one to pass up an opportunity in which somebody will do something so that I don't have to, I agreed to this new plan.

Other than the fact that my mom is just a nice person, the following hypothetical**** example is the reason why she suggested her plan as an alternative to mine:

What would happen if I took the controller back...
Me: Hi, this controller is broken, so I'd like to exchange it. Here is the receipt.
Employee: Sure, how long ago did you purchase it?
Me: Just before Christmas.
Employee: Oh, I'm sorry, our return police is only 15 days.
Me: 15 days? That's it?! You've gotta be fucking kidding me. That's fucking pathetic.
Employee: Sir, I don't appreciate your tone. Would you like to speak to the manager?
Me: Tell your fucking manager he can eat my ass, douchebag! And fuck you and your god damn store.
Employee: I'm going to have to ask you to leave.
Then I'd probably knock over an entire display of glassware or perfume on the way out the door.

Conversely, this is how my mom handled the situation...
Mom: This controller is broken, so I'd like to exchange it. Here is the reciept.
Employee: Sure, how long ago did you purchase it?
Mom: In December.
Employee: Oh, I'm sorry, our return police is only 15 days.
Mom: Only 15 days? That's terrible. Can I please talk to the manager?
Employee: Sure, no problem.
Manager: I'm sorry, our return policy is only 15 days.
Mom: So you're telling me that if I came into your store and spent $500 on something, and then 16 days later it broke, you wouldn't replace it? That's not right - you should stand behind the products you sell. I'd like a new controller, please.
Manager: OK, you're right. I'll get you a new one. Sorry for the problem.
Manager (after a few minutes): I'm sorry, but it turns out we don't actually have any individual controllers left in stock. We only have ones that come with Wii Play.
Mom: Okay....
Manager: Here, you can just take this one. Enjoy the game.

Then, 10 minutes later, my mom calls me and tells me the story. She ends with this, before saying goodbye...

"That's why it pays to be nice, Nick, instead of being a jerk to people."

Point taken.


*one of which is successful; the other, definitely not.
**schedule actually filled with Internet porn, watching King of Queens reruns and eating nachos.
***Awesome.
****hypothetical but pretty fucking accurate.

:: Early morning revelation ::

"I'm bored. The day is actually quite long when you actually get up a decent hour and don't have anything to do." - Chris, who faced his day off bright and early, at 8:45 a.m.

:: Proud Moment ::

Me: Kristyl's having a rough morning. In the last few minutes, (somebody) tried to joke with her, and she blurted out, "Today is not the day!" and then after that, she said, pretty loudly, "Why do I even work here?!"

Christene: So, she's basically turned into you.

Me: Yeah, I guess she has. It's a proud day for me.

:: Hi, I'm Troy McClure... ::

... you may remember me from "Almost a Month Ago" and "That time that Nick had a frequently updated website."

So, I'm finally back and able to write. However, it's been three weeks since we went to Arizona and Las Vegas (even if it doesn't seem that long ago), so here's why it's taken me so long to post anything: I almost died.

It hit me on our second-to-last-night in Vegas. We'd spent the entire damn day walking about. It was about 10:30 at night when we got back to our hotel, and my legs were extremely sore. I decided to take a short breather, and head up to my room to change and relax for a couple minutes. So up the elevator I went, and almost as soon as I got to my room, I suddenly got the shakes. I'm not unfamiliar with this condition - for me, it's a sign that I'm getting sick; I used to get them when I was overtired, overstressed and overworked at the end of every semester of university.

But I did not want to get them in Vegas. Regardless, it basically ended my night at 11:30 - I made a brief attempt to pull myself together and go back to the casino floor, but I couldn't handle it. The second night was slightly better - especially considering I won a couple hundred bucks - but I still knew something bad was going to happen.

It did, when I got home. The first night, I got home from the airport at midnight, and slept fine, but after that, whatever was wrong with me - flu, plus dehydration - killed me, and I did not sleep for five straight nights. Then, I had a couple decent days, and then the second wave hit me: throat infection, ear infection, and tonsilitis.

I've been on so much medication lately that it's actually making my stomach hurt. It's the sickest I've ever been in my life, and it's just today, three weeks later, that I'm finally beginning to feel human again. Not the way I wanted to spend my birthday weekend, I'll tell you that much. I also had to take two sick days - the first sick days I've taken in nearly five years - and I don't know if that really sat well with people, but there was nothing I could do. Besides, it was two days in five years, I don't think it was too much to ask.

Regardless, I'm on the mend - sort of. Somewhere in all this mess, I've also bought a truck that I don't quite have yet, watched my washer and dryer crap out on me, requiring replacements (Yay, more debt!), and taken about 400 naps.

As for the Vegas/Arizona trip itself, it was awesome, minus the getting sick. (And also minus Carly brilliantly leaving her wallet in an A&W bathroom in Sun City, Arizona, full of all her ID, credit cards and $600). Somebody at the restaurant found her wallet - still with everything in it - and she got it FedEx'd to our hotel in Vegas, so it worked out fine in the end, but wow, was that a tense rest stop at the Wikieup Trading Post in middle-of-fucking-nowhere Wikieup, Ariz.

Phoenix was rad - we saw two Mariners games, Chris almost got sucked into a Hawaiian time share just because he wanted to enter a contest where you guessed how many baseballs were in the case ("Listen lady, I really just wanted to guess the baseballs. I'm not interested in any of this.")

We also went rattlesnake hunting (didnt find any), ate a giant freaking cheeseburger at an unlikely spot, and drank a lot of beer while playing Trivial Pursuit outside in the backyard.

Vegas was, well, Vegas. Pretty awesome - especially because of the five of us, I was the only one who had been there. And it's always cool to see people's reaction when they first hit the Strip. (Chris: "This place is surreal. Everything is fucking massive, and people are just walking around with booze!)

In the end, nobody lost too much money - I basically broke even gambling thanks to my two slot-machine wins on the last night. Most of my money was spent on beer, food, tipping, and stuff like the car rental, parking at the airport, etc... Jenna also had some good slot machine luck - she won $92 bucks on the first machine she played all week, and won about the same on the very last machine she played before we left for the airport.

Also, we saw a douchebag get kicked out of our hotel casino because he insisted he bet on red playing video roulette, but obviously is an idiot and did no such thing. So he caused a scene. It was the highlight of the day - just awesome.

And now, for some old and new quotes:

On awesome weddings...
Jenna: I'm very bitter about Welcome to the Jungle.
Me: Why?
Chris: Because I said one day when I get married I want that song playing when the wedding party walks into the reception.
Me: That's rad!
Chris: I know. It'll play right after Jeremy throws out the first pitch.

"If this was 200 years ago, all those kids would be dead by now." - Scotty, after Katie told him she wasn't allowed to fail students or dock them marks for handing in work late. (editor's note: Scott's right. This system is a joke. Fucking coddled kids get nowhere. Toughen up you pussies)

"She had purple hair. Not bad purple hair, but.... bad purple hair." - Chris, talking about this chick Shannon whom he used to know many moons ago.

"TO is like a kid in a... candy store." - Me, watching TO go nuts at the M&M Store in Vegas.

Chris, acting as Captain Science during our road trip through the Arizona desert....
Chris: See the lines between those rock layers over there? Those are called striations.
TO: Oh yeah? Well do you know what the rings on trees are called?
Chris: No, what?
TO: Birthdays!

"I've never seen so many stupid people in one place." - Chris, after watching the Canucks/Coyotes game from the upper deck with the Coyotes' educated fans. (example: "What's that plastic all around the ice? Does it ever fall down?"

"Jenna, what do your boobs look like when they're just out there? They aren't like a sock with a bunch of rocks in it, are they?" - TO, classy as ever.

"I once dated a girl who lived way out here. She was really nice, but I had to break up with her because she was geographically undesirable. I mean, 50 miles each way!" - TO's Uncle Brad, who picked us up from the airport, which was not in any way close to North Phoenix. Apparently that city is really spread out.

"Hey look - liquor and wine! That's what I do to Carly!" - TO.

Me: If I get a dog, I'm gonna name it Chaser too. That's a rad name.
Chris: Really? He doesn't even bring the stick back.
Me: His name is Chaser. Not Bring-it-back-er.

And then one more story from Brad, who works as a game-day medic for the Coyotes. One day he was at the rink, and he was showing the training staff this new blood glucose tester that he had. It was the kind where you get a pin prick in the finger and it automatically reads your blood glucose level. According to Brad, any reading between 80-120 is good. As he was showing the trainer, Wayne Gretzky walked past.

"Hey, why don't you try that out on me?" the Wayner offered.

So Brad turned it on, and tested Wayne's blood glucose level on the spot. The reading on the little digital screen?

99.

Of course it was. It's in his blood.

:: Delay ::

I know you're all waiting for stories from our trip to Arizona and Las Vegas, and I also know you're anxiously waiting for hundreds of pictures to appear on Facebook, too. And they will. But not yet.

Ever since last Tuesday - our second night in Vegas - I have been getting sick. It's a combination of the flu and some severe dehydration. As a result, I'm constantly either feverishly hot, or cold and clammy - sometimes both within minutes of each other. Also, I can't sleep, and have not slept for the last four nights. Maybe an hour, tops, but thats it.

It's terrible and I hate it. So you'll just have to wait.

"It'd be rad if I was black." - Christene

"In (high school gym class) square dancing, you basically got an A if you smiled and looked like you were having a good time. I was always good at it, because back then I was a naturally sunny person. That was back before life handed me some shitty cards." - Christene again.

:: Random Childhood Memory #58: Vacation Edition ::

Growing up, we used to go on one "family vacation" per summer. Once in awhile we'd mix it up – a big camping adventure or Puerta Vallarta (we went when I was 13) – but for the most part, we rotated between three main spots - Edmonton, to visit my uncle and go to West Edmonton Mall; Southern California, to go to Disneyland; or Northern California via the Oregon Coast, to see the sights and visit family near San Francisco.

While each vacation had its charms, as kids, we obviously like Disneyland the best (I think we went two or three times), because, well, because it's fucking Disneyland, and it's basically part of a kids' DNA to like Mickey, Space Mountain and those giant pickles they used to sell for three dollars. Any person under the age of 13 who doesn't like The Happiest Place on Earth is basically a Nazi. But I digress...

Though Disneyland was the most anticipated trip, my most memorable was a journey we took to San Francisco when I was 9 or 10. Though today I'd kill to spend some time in NorCal, back then I'm not sure my brother and I fully appreciated it. The year before we'd been to Disneyland for the first time, and it was very tough for our tiny little elementary school brains to understand why we'd come alllll the way to California again without going to see the Big Mouse and his friends. Sure, the distance between San Fran and Anaheim is 601 km (I checked) but still – WE'RE ALREADY HERE! C'MON LET'S GO!!!!

As we did in those days, we hopped in the Volkswagen camper van that we had purchased from my grandparents earlier in the year, and set out on our two-week trek. Being that I was 10 and Chris was 7, we were not the most easy-going travellers – especially when those travel days are 8-9 hours long. We would have been completely unbearable if my mom had not planned ahead for this situation.

At the time, both my brother and I collected baseball player stickers. They were great – essentially they were baseball cards that you would peel the back off and stick on the designated team page/rectangle.

Before the trip, my mom purchased an entire box of these Topps Baseball stickers, and every hour or two, when we were getting restless, she would reach into the box and toss a pack or two of these stickers at each of us. We would then be kept occupied for the next five to 10 minutes, as we found places in the book for our new Mark Langston or Hubie Brooks sticker.

It was also during the early parts of this trip that we became acquainted with the rock 'n roll stylings of Steve Miller, the Beach Boys and Bobby McFerrin (my dad purchased a Road Trip Tunes mixtape).

But things went bad around Sacramento.

The temperature was about 40 degrees celsius out (or something close) and the old VW van started to fizzle out. Eventually, it just died by the side of the road. While my dad tried to flag down some help and call a tow truck, the rest of us sat in a nearby air-conditioned McDonald's for hours, drinking orange pop and eating fries. Though the ensuing details have been glossed over by time, the end result was this: Eventually we moved out of our new home at McDonald's and into a local hotel, and the van got a new engine put into it for the low, low cost of $3,000 (USD).

Once that was finished, we carried on with our trip, visited our family and the wonderful city of San Francisco, and also ate an Earthquake Sundae at Ghirardelli Square, much to the disgust of the other diners (They were just jealous).

It was, without question, the most expensive family vacation we ever had. But they say you can't put a price on a memory, and if that is indeed the case, then it was money well spent, because to this day, every time anyone in my family (including extended family) sees a Volkswagen camper van driving down the highway, they say the same thing:

"Uh oh, they're in trouble."

I felt compelled to write this long-winded, mildly amusing (at best) story because less than 48 hours from now, I will embark on another holiday. And although it won't be a family vacation in the sense that my parents aren't coming, I will be going with my brother.

We realized today that we've never been on a vacation together since the old family vacation days. He went with Jenna to Disneyland a couple years back. I went to Cancun a couple Octobers ago, but he did not. Then Jenna and him went to the Mayan Riviera for a wedding that I did not attend, and my previous two trips to Vegas were with mom and/or dad.

So Thursday morning when we embark for our trip to Phoenix (and later, Vegas!) for some Mariners spring training baseball, it was be a first. We're gonna drink some beers in the outfield bleachers, hob-nob with minor-league players destined to spend another year with the mighty Everett Aqua Sox, and heckle opposing teams' outfielders from our seat on the stadium's grass.

And I'm gonna check if they sell baseball stickers, too.

(Hey, it's a five-hour drive from Phoenix to Las Vegas.... gotta stay entertained).

:: 411 ::

There is a gentleman I work with in my office who is, to put it lightly, old-fashioned. He's 50 years old, and very classy. Always wears a suit to work - usually a vintage suit from the '40s. Hell, I've run into him in the mall on a weekend and he's wearing a suit, decked out to the 9s. He also used to drive a big old Mercedes until it broke down last year.

So yeah, he's an old fashioned chap. Nothing wrong with that - it just makes him quirky. However, it has its drawbacks. For starters, he is utterly clueless and lost when it comes to computer technology - which is trouble considering that's a signficant part of our job. But somehow, he manages to get by.

But on Friday, he did something I could not understand. He needed to find a phone number of a local restaurant. For starters, I'm sure this number was in the phone book. However, if it wasn't, the most logical next option is to look it up online, especially considering that he's sitting there with a computer in front of him.

But no, instead he decided to pick up the phone and dial 411 for directory assistance. I didn't even know this service still existed - or that anybody used it, but knowing this guy as I do, I have to believe that using the Internet never even occurred to him.

I clued into what he was doing when I overheard him talking to the automated system.

"Business."

"White Rock."

"West Beach Bar and Grill."

"No, West Beach..."

He had to repeat himself a couple times, but eventually I heard him get through, and he got the information he was seeking. As soon as I realized what was happening - about midway through his 411 call - I thought I'd find the info for myself.

First I went to Google. Then I typed in the restaurant. Then the website came up. The phone number was listed on the main page (As was a full listing of the weekend entertainment, which is what he was calling for the in the first place).

The whole thing took, oh, maybe 11 seconds.

His phone call took five minutes. And cost 75 cents.

It was also during this debacle that I e-mailed Kristyl, whose desk is right next to our old-fashioned co-worker:

"Wait...is he actually dialing 411? What is this, 1998? Some people are just so technologically stunted it's baffling.

"To quote Garth Algar, "Live in the now, man."

:: Random Childhood Memory #42 ::

When he was a teenager, about 15 years old if I recall correctly, Ian left Walnut Grove and spent most of the summer with his cousins in St. Catherines, Ont. Why he voluntarily chose to stay for an extended period of time in Ontario I'll never know, but that's what he did.

He finally returned later in the summer - thus bringing an end to the saddest, most boring summer of Chris's life – and he brought with him a fairly expensive skateboard that he had purchased back east. I guess his cousin had got him into it or something, I don't know.

We all laughed at him because, let's face it, Ian with a skateboard is akin to me with gang tattoos. What a waste of money, we said. But Ian – who always boasts that he never gives in to peer pressure – was adamant that he was going to use his new board, "like, all the time."

For a couple weeks he'd bring it over to our house, and try channelling his inner Tony Hawk by doing ollies and kickflips at the end of the driveway.

Then the summer ended, school began, and we never saw the skateboard again.

:: The desert calls ::

I worked a 14-hour day today, in three different cities. It started at 8 a.m. at my office, doing my usual job. Now, this wasn't too bad to begin with - minus the fact that we had to skip our usual walk to get coffee because it was too fucking cold out - but it got worse.

I won't bore you with the details, but just say this: budget cuts have made a certain part of my job a living hell. I spent three-quarters of my day today talking to colleagues on the phone about said problem, trying to find a solution, dealing with complainers, then complaining myself when no solution could be found. Good times.

In between these phone calls, I did a minimal amount of real work, and also traded phone calls back-and-forth with my bank, as I am in the process of trying to secure a car loan. This was the worst part of my day, but again I won't bore you with details. I'll just break it down quick:

- I own my own place. It is assessed at $244,000. I could sell it for 260.

- My credit is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that last Saturday a car dealership approved me for financing - for an amount far greater than I needed, as a matter of fact - in less than fifteen minutes.

- I make a good annual salary, and have a second job which in theory would cover the entire cost of a monthly car payment, were I to get one.

- I have no other real debts, except for my mortgage (which many people driving nice new cars despite modest salaries have and can easily afford) and a few hundred bucks on one credit card.

- I asked for $32,000 (Whether I need this much or not is debatable, but considering all the above points, I thought it was more than a reasonable request).

- The bank said I could only have $25,000.

- Then the following things happened: I got really mad, and yelled at the bank folks, calling their offer "insulting." Then said I was taking all my money out and going to a different bank. Then I hung up. Then they called me back four times, all of which I sent straight to voicemail. In the messages they left, they said they'd "try to work something out." Their second "offer" was pretty much the exact same thing. I called back and yelled some more.

- I still have no new truck.

I don't know what else to say about this really, except that it really, really pisses me off. When I was 20-years-old and jobless, I got a $21,000 loan from the same bank with no questions asked. Why they've now decided that a stable person with a good job and a house is not to be trusted with anything more than a $400/month loan is beyond me. But whatever.

Sorry, I know I said I wasn't going to bore you with details and then went ahead and did exactly that, but I do that sometimes... stories just get away from me.

So where was I? Oh right, my stupid long day. After bitching at the bank for another little while, eventually I had to drive downtown to cover a basketball game, which just happened to overlap with two other things I normally would have covered. I watched the game, took pictures - even got hit in the side of the face by a ball on its way out of bounds. I was sitting courtside on the floor, camera to my eye.

With four minutes left in the game, I had to race back to Langley, grab some dinner en route, and then watch the Canucks game, so I could write about it and file a story by 10:15 p.m. In between stoppages in play, and in the intermission, I worked on my basketball story, and did interviews over the phone from the dining room.

Then the game went into overtime, which meant I had even less time to file a story. I made it on time though, like I always manage to do, and now I'm sitting here, way past when I should've gone to sleep, especially because I have two more nights like this between now and Saturday.

The only thing currently bringing a smile to my face is the Bud Light Lime that is sitting in front of me, ice cold and half-full. It is the last of the Lime beers I brought back from Vegas when I was there in the fall. Somehow I made 24 of them last five months.

This particular beer is making me happy because it reminds me of sitting at the Stratosphere Las Vegas, playing Super Jackpot Party for about three hours straight, getting fucking bombed off this particular beer. Then, at about 3 a.m., I stopped by the hotel gift shop/store and bought three more for the elevator ride to my room.

I woke up hungover with one unopened beer in my bed next to me, and an empty bottle still in my hand.

And in a little over a week, I'll get the chance to do that very same thing again, only this time with the addition of four days watching spring training baseball in Arizona.

Can't come quick enough.

:: I have a nautical-themed Pashmina afghan ::

For the first time Monday night, Chris viewed the SNL/The Lonely Island I'm on a Boat video. He's a little behind the times, but we'll give him a break just this once because his response to it was so awesome:

"Oh, so that's why everybody's Facebook statuses lately have said they were on a boat! I just kept thinking, 'Why the hell are so many people going on cruises?'"

"It did not get cool until I got here."

I woke up this morning to this text message from Fort McMurray:

"You posted quotes yesterday and not a word about my birthday... gone r the days of birthdays shout-outs, apparently.... Hurtful."

Jesus Christ. A person gets all this shit for her birthday - and 24th birthday, for that matter (not exactly a milestone to begin with) - and she's still fucking complaining about the lack of a mention on a crappy, 25-readers-a-day blog.

Some people are just so ungrateful.

But as I've often said - it pays to complain, so in honour of Kelsey Lundquist's 24th birthday, I will repost what is probably my favourite Kelsey quote of all-time:

"If I fold down the seats in the Cougar I could have sex with like four people at once!"

So there's your damn shout-out. Happy Birthday - you asked for it.

Just a couple quotes for ya...

"I look like Lindsay Lohan's mugshot." - Christene, the morning after a night of drinking.

"I'm trying to make it so I don't get drunk all the time." - Christene again, after the aforementioned night o' drinking.

"You know, if we hadn't broken up, we'd still be together." - this guy Joel, logical as ever.

"We should start our own gang that eats nachos and goes to the Walnut Grove Pub." - Kristyl's answer to the increasing gang presence in the Lower Mainland.

:: How to know when it's time to take a vacation ::

I just got back from a four-hour, double-overtime playoff hockey game. I am exhausted, but somehow still quite energetic and cheerful.

I don't know if it's because I just saw a very entertaining hockey game (which the good guys won, too) on an otherwise drab Monday, or if it's because I have a fantastic lede already written in my head for when I sit down at my desk early tomorrow morning and pound out the story on deadline.

I'm not exactly sure, but I think it's the second one.

That frightens me.

:: Truck? What Truck? ::

Me: So you bought that truck for sure, then?
Bucholtz: Yeah, but don't tell anybody. I don't want to help people move.
Me: Nobody's moving. Who don't you want to help?
Bucholtz: Anybody. Especially that Ian.
Me: Well, alright, but you realize you can't exactly hide a truck that big, right? It's an F350 - not exactly stealth.
Bucholtz: We see about that.

:: What kind of day it's been ::

For the third time in a matter of weeks, my office computer has completely crapped out.

It's nearly March and – after a week of pretty gorgeous weather - it's fucking snowing (hard) outside, again.

And today it was announced that Steven Page has left the Barenaked Ladies, one of my favourite bands since I was a kid. Sadly, though it affects my life the least of the three, it's the music news that bums me out the most.

Today sucks.

Christene: My phone bill for December had $155 in text message fees. That was before I had a data plan.
Me: I can't help but feel partly responsible.
Christene: Of course you're responsible!

"Pregnancy is one big camel toe." - Kristyl, on ill-fitting pants.

"It actually feels like you're masturbating if you have sex with a black chick in the dark." - Sean, as politically correct as ever.

"I quit smoking weed for awhile, but then I was like, 'Hey, I enjoy being stoned.' So now I smoke weed again." - Sean, again.

Watching some '80s movie on TV...
Me: That guy looks like Judge Reinhold.
Christene: It was the '80s, everbody looked like Judge Reinhold.

"There's a lot of lesbians in Blaine." - Jolene, a co-worker. She said this at lunch, completely off-topic and unprovoked.

Speak first, think later...
Me: I want to go to Australia.
Kristyl: Me too, but I don't think I could handle the drive.
Me: uhhhh...
Kristyl: Flight. I mean flight.

"We saw a lot of sights. We didn't neccesarily go into many of them, but we drove past a lot on our way to a pub." - Kristyl again, reminiscing on the trip to Ireland her and Christene took a couple years ago.



:: And the award goes to... ::

Because it's Oscar Night, I've decided to put on my best tux (actually a stained wife-beater and some fleece sweat pants) and hand out some awards of my own.

Best attempt to out douche-ify Randy River: Old Navy, which is currently selling a shit-ton of board shorts with skulls on them.

Raddest Facebook admission: My cousin Steve, who admitted in one of those 25 Random Things About Me lists that he once "was so high I made a platter of sandwiches for people I was talking to on the phone."

Best Way to Spend a Sunday: Me, lazy fuck that I am, for waking up at 8 a.m. but not getting out of bed until 2:15.

Best Way to Get Out of Household Chores: Me again, a two-time winner. On Saturday, by coincedence, I popped by my parent's house to say hi just as my mom and dad were out washing their cars. So of course, mine ended up nice and shiny, too. I helped....sort of. Also, on Sunday, I had a bunch of shirts I needed to iron for work, but my iron sort of crapped out (it sucks on the best of days. I'd buy a new one, but it's a fucking iron, so who cares?). So I brought a bunch of my dress shirts over to my parents' house when I went there for dinner, fully content to, and planning on, ironing them myself (really). But my mom did it for me without me even knowing, because she's my mom and this is what she does.

The What a Shocker Award: Heath Ledger's Best Supporting Actor Oscar win for his role as The Joker. Not saying he wasn't deserving - he was amazingin The Dark Knight - but c'mon, they've been hyping this since last summer, obviously he was gonna take it. Even Stevie Wonder saw this coming (*rimshot*).

Best Dressed: The guy I saw at the Walnut Grove Pub Friday night, who was wearing a black T-shirt with "Spitters are Quitters" printed large across the chest. Classy buddy, classy.

Best Idea: Jenna's pre-purchase of Mariners/Padres tickets for our first night in Phoenix. Fuck I am pumped - and less than a month to go!

Best/Most Terrifying Realization That We are Getting Old Award: Christene and me, watching Kids. When you watch the movie as a 15-year-old, you think "Wow, these kids are bad ass - drinking, fucking and wandering around New York. I want to be like them (minus the AIDS)." When we watched it on Saturday, as quasi-responsible 27-year-old adults, we both said the same thing at the same time: Where are these kids' parents, anyway?

:: Not that funny ::

Just a friendly word of advice. If you are a brown guy, in his mid-20s, with an fashion sense that I can only describe as "G'd up from the feet up" (ie: douchey), and you find yourself in a parking lot, exiting from an $80,000 Porsche Cayenne alongside two other young brown dudes, do not make any jokes when you hear police sirens in the background.

When you look at your pal/accomplice - and me, standing right beside you - and say, "Ha, sounds like somebody else got shot!" you aren't that hilarious (even if you might be right).

No, considering your car, your age and your general appearance, you do not sound funny at all.

You sound guilty.

:: The Definition of Douchebag ::

Saw this BMW parked outside Boston Pizza last night. Needless to say, it did not have a "Handicapped Parking" pass hanging from the mirror.

I was as shocked as you.

(I apologize for the grainy photo, but it was taken on my BlackBerry as I was walking swifty. I would've stopped, but this was an expensive car with nice rims, and I therefore gave it 10:1 odds that the owner of said vehicle was a gang member. And I did not want to get shot. I'm sure you understand.)

:: A case of the Mondays ::

If you've ever read Christene's blog, you may have noticed that she is not a fan (to put it lightly) of Friday office banter. You know the type – the herds of people who come by your desk throughout the day saying things like "TGIF!" or, "I'm sooo glad it's finally Friday!" as though this week somehow took longer than any previous week since the Egyptians created the modern calendar.*

*I actually have no idea who created the modern calendar, and a Google search proved inconclusive, so I decided to credit the fine folks of Egypt. They seemed like smart people, after all. I mean, have you seen the pyramids?

(editor's note: If you haven't read Christene's blog, you really should, because it's usually funnier than anything you'll find here. She's in the process of becoming a professionally trained comedienne, and I'm just a hack with an attitude problem)

But anyways... back to my original point: people should shutup about Fridays. But as much as that bugs me, too, I've decided that Monday office banter is on an equal footing, if not worse.

I cannot count how many times today I had to have a "Monday conversation" with someone.

This is how one of these conversations is typically supposed to play out:

"Hey, how's it going?"
"Pretty good I guess...for a Monday."
"I hear that!"

It's at this point that the two people engaged in said conversation usually high five, so pleased with themselves and the fact that they've found a kindred spirit who shares their view. Either that, or they slink back to their desks and slug their luke-warm coffee until the caffeine numbs their tortured souls until the clock strikes 12:01 a.m.

Here's how that same conversation went with me today, when approached. (I'm the second person, if you couldn't tell).

"Ugh, I really hate Mondays, don't you?"
"About the same as I hate Tuesday, or Wednesdays."
"Really? Monday's are waaay worse."
"Why?"
"Because it's Monday!"

Good argument. Way to back up your argument with real fact-based analysis. This is equivalent to the elementary school, "Because I said so" defence.

So, you can probably see what I'm dealing with here. And though I admit that this obnoxious banter is not that different from the TGIF nonsense, there is one thing that makes it worse: On a Friday, I know that I am, potentially, mere hours away from drinking away all recollection of this "witty" water cooler talk.

But on a Monday, not only do I have to put up with it, but I'm four and a half days away from the sweet, sweet memory blackouts brought forth by jagerbombs and vodka. (Unless of course, I decided to bring back Kelsey's Drunk Tuesday tradition, which isn't entirely out of the question.)

Ahhh, sweet alcohol, it eases the pain.

:: Not much, not much at all ::

I don't have much for you guys today, because what limited ranting ability I could muster this afternoon was spent writing a piece for my actual job, for which I get paid and therefore takes priority. Sorry.

However, I do present to you a handful of things that have crossed my mind over the last couple days. So, in no particular order...

1) I really hate man-purses. (This may or may not have been the focus of my earlier column writing).

2) Why are Nintendo's video game icons referred to as the "Super Mario Bros."? I'm not disputing that they are, in fact, brothers, but only one of them is named Mario. Shouldn't they be called the Super Lastname Bros. instead? And, speaking of which, how come they don't have last names?

3) Does anybody actually live in Tsawwassen? And if so, where are their homes? I drove out to the ferry terminal late last night to pick up a friend, and while I saw enough vehicles to suggest the area is habitated, I saw little else to support this claim.

I drove down Ladner Trunk Road, and saw dark, farm fields and one old Ford Tempo, left abandoned at the side of the road. Then I turned onto the four-lane Hwy 17, which is essentially one long, straight journey to a dead end (the dead end being the ferry terminal), and all I saw were the lights of Robert's Bank; plenty of billboards for the Rick Mercer Report (Tuesdays at 8 p.m. in case you were curious); and a odd scene at the side of the road in which three old trucks were parked at odd angles, and a handful of men were circled around a small bonfire. I just assumed they were burning the contents of their meth lab, but I didn't stick around to get a definitive answer.

But my point is, I didn't see much. It had been a long time since I'd made that drive, and it was very, very eery.

4) For those of you who work in an office setting, I dare any of you to be on a speaker-phone conference call with numerous other colleagues and not burst out laughing when one of your IT people, when discussing your company website's online presence and statistics, makes reference to "viral penetration." It just cannot be done. It was the best That's What She Said moment ever in this office's history (And God knows there have been thousands of opportunities).

Have a good weekend, folks. Happy Valentine-ing. Don't eat too many of those delicious, delicious cinnamon hearts. And try not to get an STD either (Which is good advice anytime, not just on Cupid's Big Day).

:: The Answers ::

Well, my attempt at music trivia didn't go so well - as you can see, only a few of the 25 songs were identified - but that's mostly because a lot of the lyrics were pretty obscure (Thanks a lot, iTunes' random mode). However, with song titles coming up in the first lines of a few of the songs, I expected a few lucky guesses. Good tries though - and good for everyone for not cheating (except Lanette). But, just so we can move on to other things, here are the answers:

1. Neil Young, Sugar Mountain
2. Bon Iver, Blood Bank
3. Pearl Jam, Corduroy
4. Tom Petty, Free Fallin'
5. Crash Test Dummies, Mmm mmm mmm mmm
6. The Black Crowes, She Talks to Angels
7. Matthew Good Band, Haven't Slept in Years
8. One Day as a Lion, If You Fear Dying
9. Pink Floyd, Time
10. 50 Cent, Window Shopper
11. The White Stripes, Offend in Every Way
12. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Knock Me Down
13. Van Morrison, Into the Mystic
14. Led Zeppelin, Over the Hills and Far Away
15. The Academy Is..., His Girl Friday
16. Pilate, Barely Listening
17. The White Stripes, The Hardest Button to Button
18. Ray Lamontagne, Trouble
19. Live, The Distance
20. The Black Crowes, Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution
21. Jay-Z, Can I Get A...
22. Vampire Weekend, A Punk
23. Motion City Soundtrack, 1,000 Paper Cranes
24. Green Day, When I Come Around
25. The Tragically Hip, Ahead by a Century

So there you have it. As an aside, you should all download some or all of these songs. They're good.

:: Trivia Time ::

The following is one of those mostly annoying lists that is floating around Facebook at the moment, but I decided I'd post it here too, because, well, because I felt like it. Also, it's a nice break from me bitching and moaning about stuff.

The following 25 things are the first line(s) from 25 songs that came up randomly on my iTunes last night. There are a few that are easy, plus some that I can almost guarantee nobody has heard. Either way, leave your answers in the comments, and for the time being, try to avoid Googling everything you cheatin' fucks.

1. Oh, to live on sugar mountain, with the barkers and the coloured balloons.

2. Well I met you at the blood bank, we were looking at the bags, wondering if any of the colours, matched any of the names we knew on the tags.

3. The waiting drove me mad. You're finally here and I'm a mess.

4. She's a good girl, loves her mama. Loves Jesus, and America, too.

5. Once there was this kid who/Got into an accident and couldn't come to school.

6. She never mentions the word addiction in certain company. Yes, she'll tell you she's an orphan after you meet her family.

7. Make me your animal, make me your freak, and I will pack them in.

8. The bastard son I spit non fiction, in exile for a while now with raw friction.

9. Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day. You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.

10. Oh, the top feels so much better than the bottom... so much better.

11. I'm patient of this plan, as humble as I can. I'll wait another day, before I turn away.

12. Never too soon to be through, being coool too much too soon.

13. We were born before the wind, also younger than the sun.

14. Hey Lady, you got the love I need - maybe more than enough.

15. If you knew what you do, when no one's in the dark room but me and you, a brilliant disguise.

16. I lie awake on this phone call, she's dreaming of better days. Flowers lie on the counter, remind her of better days.

17. We started living in an old house. My Ma gave birth and we were checking it out.

18. Trouble, been doggin' my soul since the day I was born.

19. Let him come into the city, let him find his lucky penny, let him put it in his pocket and shake it all around.

20. Cut a rusty engine outta sawdust town. Better deal with the man who shook 'em all down, so put a little grease on my axle now.

21. Can I hit it in the morning, without giving you all of my dough? And even worse if I was broke would you want me?

22. Johanna drove slowly into the city, the Hudson River all filled with snow. She spied the ring on His Honor's finger. Oh-oh-oh.

23. I thought that you knew her. I thought that you cared. But what am I do do at four in the morning?

24. Well I heard you cryin' loud, all the way across town. You've been searching for that someone and it's me out on the prowl.

25. First thing, we'd climb a tree, and maybe then we'd talk, or sit silently and listen to our thoughts.

:: No Laughing Matter ::

Of all the people I know, there are only a few I would consider genuinely hilarious people – these are people who consistently make me laugh. I'd put Jeremy in that group, Bucholtz and Christene, too. My cousin's ex-boyfriend, Dave, was also a funny, funny dude. And of course, Chris makes me laugh, but that's usually because he's drunk and yelling at someone, and Kelsey makes me laugh because she's usually done something stupid – like injured herself eating lobster.

That's not to say the rest of you don't have your moments, too - nearly all my friends make me laugh numerous times, which is why they're my friends, I guess. (This is my disclaimer so I don't get 50 messages from you idiots, mad that I didn't list you by name).

And not to build myself up too much, but I know I'm a pretty funny guy, too. I didn't once win columnist of the year by writing about the Israeli peace talks, after all.

But what's more troubling is that, increasingly, I have been running into more and more people who think they are funny, but whose "jokes" are so lame or dated – usually both – that I just cannot take it anymore (Hence, me posting about it).

My biggest pet peeve is the people who purposely misspell and mispronounce words, effectively ending up sounding like a live-action lolcats poster (And as many of you know, there is nothing I despise more than those goddamn lolcats). This is not funny. It may have been mildly entertaining four years ago, but that was a simpler time, when funny was harder to find. So we settled for mildly cute and amusing instead. That time is over.

The worst part is, rather than calling these people on their lack of originality, cleverness or humour, equally unfunny people are encouraging them. Recently, someone I know posted online some quip about being a champion of procrastination. Fair 'nuff. Valid point. End of story.

But then somebody else, a friend I assume, commented that they would dethrone this champion of procrastination, but they were "too lazy."

Gee, I don't think that joke has ever been made before. How clever. This is the same person who probably still goes around asking people "Is that your final answer?" and wearing Hammer pants. But it gets worse...

A few comments later, after about as much witty repartee and one can stand, somebody else chimed in with something along the lines of "OMG LOLOLOL You guys just crack me UP!!!"

Yeah...thanks for coming out. Go back to your Springer reruns and "Idiot's Guide to Growing a Mullet" handbook, jackass.

We just can't be encouraging this behaviour. These are the kind of jokes you expect when an Autistic Day Camp take a field trip to Open Mic Night. (Wow, that was offensive, even for me)

I also cannot stand the people who, while not straying into LOLcat territory, instead regurgitate the same phrases, comments and jokes we did when we were in high school. That was 10 years ago, times change! (editor's note: 10 years...fuck).

Nobody says anything is "the bomb!" anymore, and not everybody's "mug" is hilarious. Sure, there are ugly, goofy people out there, but not everybody. And while I'm bitching, lets update the ol' music collection from Marilyn Manson's Beautiful People and DMX, aiight?

These are just examples, but there are more. For starters, some amateur "artist" with a ballpoint pen and computer paper dropped off to our office today a comic strip he thought we could run in the paper (forgetting, obviously, that our publication has not once, since its inception in 1976, ever run comics). The comic was titled "Wang, Dang and Doodle" (editor's note: OK, the title is mildly hilarious if you are 7. or 27). It was about, apparently, three duck-like characters. Each piece of paper was supposed to be one frame of the strip.

Frame 1: Giant scribbly head of one of the characters (probably Wang?), saying "OH NO, MY WIFE LEFT ME."
Frame 2: A different giant scribbly head asking, "OH NO WHAT HAPPEND (sic)?"
Frame 3: Head #1, explains "SHE LEFT ME FOR THE MARCHING BAND."
FRAME 4: Head 2: "OH I GUESS YOU JUST WEREN'T MEN ENOUGH FOR HER!!!!"

Ohhhhhhh burn! I see what you did there. The man vs. men thing, because it was a whole band. I get it – very clever. Good work.

See people? This is the kind of mind-numbing shit I've been bombarded with lately. And it baffles me as to why it's suddenly occurring. And why were are encouraging them.

Do these people think they are actually hilarious, worthy of their own hour-long Comedy Central special? I mean, common sense says you update your shtick – nobody does TV dinner jokes anymore, do they?

Let me break it down in an analogy for you. I'm not good at running, so I don't enter marathons. But if I was absolutely convinced that I should do that anyway, I would practice. I would go to the gym. I would get running advice and hone my craft. Or at the absolute bare minimum, I'd buy the proper fucking shoes to at least give myself a fighting chance.

Now, for these wanna-be comics, I suggest just giving it a rest. You are good people with (presumably) many awesome qualities – you don't have to be funny, you're fine without that skill set.

Or if you're determined, it's not that difficult to improve. Just turn on a TV. We have sophisticated, clever comedy now like The Office, Curb Your Enthusiasm and 30 Rock, among others. Not to mention reruns of classic episodes of The Simpsons, which is the cleverest, most satirical show ever produced.

We can do better than fart jokes and lolcats, folks.

A little effort – that's all I'm asking for.

:: Awkward moments and Coke-fueled explosions ::

Couple things from today at work...

From experience in high school up until, oh, probably this morning, I have become something of an expert in awkwardness. Awkward clothes. Awkward conversations. Awkward baseball slides into third base. Awkward situations with the opposite sex.

You name an awkward situation and not only have I probably experienced it, but I've also probably made it more awkward (awkwarder?).

Today, in light of these wonderful economic times, I have something new to add to the list: The run-in with a former colleague who, after being laid off by your company, is serving you coffee in order to pay the bills.

The conversation goes something like this:

Person with job: Oh...hi! Nice to see you.

Person serving coffee: You too!

Person with job: So....what's new? Working here eh?

Person serving coffee: ...yep....sort of a career change.

Person with job (over enthusiastic): Well that's just great!

Person serving coffee: Yeah...take your fucking change.

On another note, I learned this week – by virtue of my boss telling us about his son's Grade 4 science experiment – that when you take mint-flavoured Mentos and drop them into Diet Coke, it creates a geyser of cola that often ends up shooting up and hitting a fellow student square in the face, knocking his glasses off and soaking him from the waist up.

Apparently it has to be the mint-flavoured Mentos and not the fruit ones, and it has to be Mentos, not some other kind of mints. Also, regular Coke does not work – must be the Aspertame or something (which is reassuring for those of us who drink the stuff).

Armed with this knowledge, I (obviously) went out this afternoon and purchased a package of peppermint Mentos and would have bought Diet Coke too, had the store not been out of stock. Tomorrow, however, I will come to work prepared, and we plan on running our own experiment in the back parking lot.

Yeah, we're model employees.

:: Server sympathy ::

Christene, who has worked at IHOP for a number of years...

Christene: I'm wearing an "I'm in training badge."

Me: uhh, why?

Christene: I'm hoping for sympathy tips.

Hey, we're in a recession. Gotta do whatcha gotta do.

"If there was a letter higher than 'A' that would be me and Kristyl." - Christene, discussing who among her friends and acquaintances had earned A-List status.

"I used to think that maybe I had a learning disability, but it turns out I was just really lazy." - Kristyl

"I hate the term, "fake boobs." If I can feel 'em, they're real." - Dan

Ian, reminiscing about the last time Blue escaped from the yard...
"I just remember that I came out of the bathroom and said 'Where's the dog?' Then somebody said that Jeremy had taken him for a walk, and I said 'A walk?! But Jeremy's the drunkest one in the house! And Blue's leash is still here."

:: Repeat Performance ::

You may recall (because I brag about it often) that a year ago I won some North American-wide awards. Well, not to toot my own horn or anything, but, well, I won one of them again.

First place this time, instead of third actually, if we're keeping score (and we are).

Normally, I'd suggest this would be cause for a big, fat raise - or a barrage of better job offers from competing companies. However, my company is bracing for a recession (read: being cheap) and the major competition is currently in a "hiring freeze" so the best I can hope for is that this saves me from being laid off.

Whatever, I'll take it.

:: Helpful tip ::

If your co-workers decide to walk somewhere for lunch, but you are out on an assignment so instead decide to drive over and meet them afterward, be sure not to walk back with them, thus leaving your car in the restaurant parking lot.

It saves you time, among other things.