"Sweet Fucking Jesus!"

When you get this type of reaction from your girlfriend upon letting loose a hellacious fart, you know you've done a good job.

:: Louis CK stole my bit ::

I have a memo pad file on my BlackBerry called "jokes." It's where I write down, well, jokes (it's not just a clever name). More accurately, it's where I write down bits I'd use if I was ever to actually to do stand-up comedy.

Now, I may never do it... in fact, it is very unlikely because a) I'm still pretty shy and hate speaking in public, and b) I don't think I'm funny enough. I mean, I think I'm pretty funny, but as Jer once told me - "You're funny, but you aren't standup/joke funny. You're just funny because you have a blog where you write down all the funny shit we do."

Fair 'nuff.

However, I have a file on my phone - and on my computer - nonetheless. And you know what? There's a lot there, and I think it's pretty good. And the other day, likely because Jer and Katie just had a baby (Hank the Tank!) I was thinking about babies. And I got to thinking... why is it that the first time anybody mentions a newborn baby, one of the first questions a person asks is - aside from whether it's a boy or girl, and what its name is - is the baby's weight.

Well, it's because they're fucking babies... they don't have a lot else going on. What is a mother or father going to say about their new son or daughter, if not their weight, sex, and maybe how much they sleep, shit or puke... Anyways, I wrote a pretty good bit about it. It was pretty funny.

And then, last night, while idly flipping channels, I found Louis CK's HBO special, Shameless.... and he had nearly the exact same fucking joke.

And now I can never fucking use it on my eventual road to comedy stardom, all because of a balding, 40-year-old ginger who is quasi to moderately famous, and guest stars on shows like Parks and Recreation when he isn't busy talking about handjobs said it first.

You know, if I had my HBO special first, this never would've happened.

:: Disneyland, passports, quotes ::

So we are back from our week in California, and needless to say, it was pretty awesome. Weather was nice and warm - too hot on some days, actually - and the lines at Disneyland weren't too bad, for the most part. It was one of our best vacations yet, even with a few bumps in the road.

Well, one bump, really - I lost my passport about one hour after landing in Los Angeles. I won't go into all my complaints about that - about the piss poor customer service from everyone from multiple people at the airline to the airport to the lost and found people... because I don't want to make it sound like I was miserable the whole week. Truthfully, I was only miserable for about one day, and for me, that's not bad.

In the end, I made it home without a passport somehow and that's the important thing. (sidenote: So much for that upgraded security, US and Canadian border services people. Nobody even asked me about my lack of a passport)

Anyways, here are some quotes (some old), anecdotes and other things from the past 2-3 weeks.

At the Fox n Fiddle, Chris is quietly trying to point out something to Ian (they were making fun of some random person, I think)
Sean: WHO WE LOOKING AT?!!!!!!!!

"Organic baby toys? Only the French would think of something like that. Babies these days are gonna be so weak - give 'em some nails to chew on." - Bucholtz, future father of the year.

"It's like Bluetooth for my nuts!" - Sean, during a round of golf, defending his way of peeing, which includes pulling his balls right out of his shorts, too. (Because the stability allows him to go hands free).

While discussing an infamous New Year's part years ago at Sean's dad's house...
"I've been trying to forget that night for seven years.... come to think of it, two days later wasn't so great either." - Chris

"It was dark, I was drunk, and I stuck my finger down her pants." - Sean, defending his actions during that same NYE party.

"I don't need to be reminded to laugh. I make fun of stuff every day." - Christene, on why she hates laugh tracks on TV shows.

"You bought camping groceries? What the hell for? All you need is a bag of salt, a box of beef jerky and beer. Either that, or a big box of Kentucky Fried Chicken." - Mo (Christene's dad) on camping necessities.

"I've been doing this thing now where I think before I say things." - Christene

"People like different things. You know, Nick likes sports and folding his laundry, and I don't like those things." - Christene, on differences.

Oh, and feel free to ask Christene about her initial reaction to Disneyland, upon walking through the gates for the very first time. (hint: she almost started crying, she was so overwhelmed). She hates it when I bring it up, but then again, she posted this so fair is fair.

:: Shadenfreude ::

Shadenfreude is described as, to the best of my knowledge without actually looking it up, taking pleasure in other people's misery. You might be surprised to know that I do this a lot.

I bring this up now because at the moment I am sitting in the boarding area of the Bellingham Airport, waiting for my flight, in an hour or so. We got here early - go figure - and as we walked into the terminal, it was the last boarding call for a flight to Vegas. And there is not much funnier than watching people scramble to make their flight.

We saw, in a matter of just a few minutes, three guys race through the doors yelling "last three for Vegas! Last three for Vegas!" and also two older women get chastised by the employee at the counter for being late. They blamed the border lineups. They were awful this morning - we waited an hour; Peace Arch border was apparently a 3 hour wait.

But still, I have no sympathy for em, really. They knew they had a border to deal with, they knew - or should have known - it'd be busy on a Saturday morning. Leave early, like we did.

In the end, everyone made the flight, it seemed. Except about 10 minutes after the plane left, we saw two couples come in, late. They looked stressed, angry, frazzled and unhappy.

They missed the flight, and despite my jerky ways, I felt bad for them. I mean, I feel bad for anybody who gets Vegas taken away from them like that, whether it was their own fault or not.

As they frantically tried to rebook flights for later in the day, I heard the airline woman say the following:

"OK, there's four of you and we have four flights. I can get one of you on every one..... oh, and two of them are tomorrow. That'll be an extra $291.09."

That's when it became funny again.

(See you in a week. Disneyland awaits!)

:: Silent Agreement ::

Seth: What are you doing? 

Evan: Drilling holes.... there's two weeks left of school, fuck it.

- Superbad

Today is my last day of work before two weeks of vacation. Tomorrow, I leave for Disneyland. Needless to say, I am not working very hard today. I mean, I don't really have to – I did a bunch of work ahead of time to help out those filling my shoes in my absence, and there is no point in starting anything new because, well, there is less than two hours left in the workday, so what's the point? If I start something new and it doesn't get done by 5 p.m., then what? 

I realize this, and so does, I think, my boss. He often has a bad habit of assigning us tasks – even menial, quick ones - at like 4:52 p.m. I don't even think he does it on purpose, but today, for me, there has been none of these type of assignments since lunch. Instead, other colleagues are getting them put on their desks instead.

Because let's face it, if he gave it to me, it's not going to get done. Nobody even has to say anything.

He knows it. I know it. 

Now, let's just sit silently at our desks until the clock runs out.

:: Kill 'em with kindness... or cancer ::

I've been dealing with a lot of banks, lately. Too many, in fact. 

I'm currently in the process of switching banks from Coast Capital to TD, and then a third, RBC, is handling our upcoming mortgage. So, that's three banks with the ability to piss me off at once. And as everyone knows, banks have a way of pissing people off.

Also, and perhaps this is the most important point, anybody who knows me is well aware that it does not take much to get on my last nerve (See previous post, titled 'The Complaint Department, for further proof).

Anyways, the reason I'm leaving Coast – my main bank since I was eight or nine years old – is because they kept screwing me around and giving me the round-around when I tried to get the loan for my truck a year and a half ago. But secondly – and most importantly – they really jerked us around with the mortgage we almost had with them. I may have written about this before – it's probable, actually – but here's the Cole's notes of it: 

They approved our mortgage without problems about six weeks before the closing date of the deal. Then, four days before the deal was set to close, they said, "Oh, sorry, we finally got around to actually checking out the details, and we can't do it (for one pretty lame reason, but a reason nonetheless). I was furious not because they rejected it – there's lots of banks out there, after all – but because they waited 'til the last second and left us scrambling like idiots. 

So today, as I attempt to move my accounts, I went to Coast Capital – albeit a different branch than the one I'm mad at – to get some void cheques/banking info, which are necessary to make the transfer. 

The teller asked me, out of curiosity more than anything else, why I needed the forms. I said it was because I was closing all my accounts. 

"Oh, do you mind if I ask why?" she asked.

Oh boy, this was the moment I was waiting for. The chance for me to tell the bank – loudly – just how badly they had fucked me around, and that they could all go to hell. I didn't even care that it was a different branch, I was gonna let 'er rip.

I explained my reasons (politely, I may add. I was working up to the anger). And then, the real piss-off: the overly-polite teller agreed with me. 

"I don't have much dealings with the mortgage end of things, but you're right – they should've told you way sooner than that. I don't blame you for being upset," she said.

"No! You're supposed to disagree! I need ammo here! I want a fight!!!!" my angry brain screamed.

But I got nothing but pleasantries – a "sorry to see you leave" and a "have a nice day." Talk about taking the wind from my sails.

Anyways, with that out of the way – and more bottled-up rage than ever – I focused my attention on RBC. We need to finalize the mortgage and sign papers in a week or so, and my mortgage specialist – who had already previously disappeared for three months due to some type of medical leave – was, again, nowhere to be found.

I emailed. I called and left a message on her cell. I emailed again - this time a little more tersely, explaining that I couldn't wait forever, and that her lack of a response was unnerving, to say the least. Then I called again. And then one more time for good measure.

But still nothing. To quote noted philosopher Homer Simpson: "Urge to kill rising."

Finally, exasperated, I called the branch itself and complained. The woman on the phone apologized and said she'd get right on it. She said not to worry about it – she'd do all the legwork, get me an appointment and call me back when I had one. 

Not even 10 minutes later, I had an email from the formerly MIA mortgage woman. (What a coincidence.)

Again, I was ready to be angry. I opened the email.

"Hi there, sorry for the delay in getting back to you...." it read.

Damn right you should be sorry! 

"... but I just found out that my dad has been diagnosed with a very serious form of cancer, so I had to take a few days off in the last week."

God dammit. So much for being angry. I mean, I was still within my rights to wonder where the hell she'd been, but how can you possibly stay pissed off when that's the reason given? 

Now, the worst part – aside from the fact that some poor guy out there has a serious medical issue to deal with – is that I've still got all this pent-up anger and nowhere to unleash it.

Thankfully, we've got the first two games of our fall slo-pitch season tonight. The umpire at diamond 4 is probably gonna get an earful.

:: Best dream ever ::

I didn't sleep well last night, for whatever reason. I went to be really early, like 9-something, and then tossed and turned for hours. But when I did finally fall asleep for good, I had a pretty awesome dream. And the fact that I can remember it – I usually don't remember dreams – makes it even better. 

Here's what happened.

A bunch of us were all camping somewhere out in the woods. In bear country. There were, in fact, bears sightings all over the place. At some point in our camping adventure, Christene needed to get something from Sean's tent, and when she left, she forgot to zip the door back up.

And soon after, a bear got into Sean's tent and tore shit up. Pretty awesome so far.

Sean, of course, went nuts, and got really mad at Christene for leaving the door open (because, as everyone knows, zipping up a thin nylon door keeps bears out). Basically, he blamed her for the bear attack. Then I, of course, got mad at Sean, and we started arguing/fighting.

And here's where the dream gets really good. I won the fight when I, wait for it..... picked up a grizzly bear and threw it at Sean.

Yes, I hit Sean in the face with a bear. 

Take that, asshole. 

:: The Complaint Department ::

Last night, while sitting around making idle chatter with Christene, I rattled off – in the course of about 15 seconds - four consecutive complaints about completely different, random things. Christene stopped me before I could say anything else – which, let's face it, was probably about to be complaint number five – and marveled at the speed of which my complaints came. 

Not to mention the fact that I didn't even realize I'd complained at all. After awhile, it just becomes so common you don't pay attention. You know, like the Boy Who Cried Wolf but more angry.

"You should get a tattoo of a suggestion-box looking thing, and get the words 'The Complaint Dept.' written over top," Christen suggested. 

And while I probably won't get that tattoo, here's a list of things that've been pissing me off lately. 

1. The perma-garage sale on our street

Our next door neighbour is well, a li'l trashy. She is a single mom and lives in this house with her couple young kids – and despite the fact that she has no money, she refuses to get a job. Instead, she mooches off the system because, and I quote, "I just feel like it's more important to be here for my kids."

Commendable? Perhaps. But, newsflash, lady: Most of the day, your kids are in school. It's probably more important that they, you know, eat.

But anyways, rather than work like the rest of productive society, she spends her hours – hours which could be spent at a real job, remember – collecting free shit from road sides, driveways, and wherever else Craigslist tells her somebody is giving something away for free. She then takes the free garbage back to her driveway, where she has a garage sale.

Now, I've got no issue with garage sales - people have them all the time. But this woman has had garage sales EVERY SINGLE FRIDAY AND SATURDAY FOR FIVE CONSECUTIVE WEEKS. And this weekend will be six. Personally, I hate this mainly because a) I park on the street, and the never-ending sale means a never-ending stream of cars coming next door, thus making parking hard to come by; and b) get a freaking job.

I think by Week 3, it ceases to become a garage sale and becomes a business. If it wasn't for the fact that her kids would go hungry, I'd love to call the city and complain about an unlicensed business.

2. Whiny Facebook whiners

First off, I know that complaining on a blog about people who complain on Facebook is hypocritical on the surface, but here's the thing: When I complain, it's straightforward, angry, and often full of curse words. 

Fuck. Shit.  See? I can't help myself. 

Point is, when I complain – by whichever medium I choose – there is no ambiguity, no vagueness, and therefore, no reason for hundreds of people to ask "Ooooh, no, what's wrong?" just because your camera broke or think the world is against you or you "need a change."

Here's a change for ya: Shut up!

The difference, you see, is that I'm not complaining as a way to garner attention. I'm complaining because I'm an asshole and it's what I do.

Not everyone is like me, however. There are plenty of these attention-seekers. And while this is not exactly news to anyone with a Facebook account – friends lists are littered with over-the-top emo assholes, after all – it's gotten worse on my list of late. In fact, the next time I log in, I'm culling the herd of these people. (Note to friend's ex-wife: This means you. See the word 'ex'? This means I no longer have to pretend to tolerate you.)

Hmm, you know what? I guess there's really only those two complaints. Funny, I thought there was more. Oh well, I'm sure I'll come up some some more later. Either way, felt good to get those off my chest.

Have a good weekend, boys and girls.

:: Open bars are dangerous, dangerous things ::

For those of you who weren't there, either because a) you live far away, b) you apparently had better things to do, or c) weren't invited because you are a random reader of this blog and don't actually know me (Hi, random person! Thanks for stopping by) I am going to recount, quickly, the mayhem that was Derrick and Angela's wedding on Saturday night.

The reception, for starters, was an open bar. This meant, unlike most gatherings among our friends where maybe a few people get drunk, others don't, some people don't show up, etc..., this one consisted of everyone but the two pregnant women getting on-their-face smashed. Just obliterated.

To recap:

- Kyle made fun of a guy who was wearing both suspenders and a belt. Guy got angry with Kyle. Kyle told him he was going to throw him down some stairs. Derrick makes Kyle apologize. Apology consists of "Yeah, I'm sorry man, but still, you're lucky I don't chuck you don't the stairs." Nice.

- Jeremy drinks approximately 13 bottles of red wine.

- Jenna and Kyle crash the (lame looking) wedding next door, just to dance. Jenna is approached by a bridesmaid who says, "Get out. The bridge doesn't want you here." Jenna calls her a bitch and invites her over to our fun wedding.

- At very end of night, Tara catches aforementioned bitchy bridesmaid trying to take advantage of our open bar. Bridesmaid is promptly given the boot.

- Jeremy temporarily passes out outside at a patio table.

- Chris, shitfaced, tells Jeremy and Katie - who were leaving and found Chris in the parking lot - that he's just gonna lie down for a second. Proceeds to lie down in a parking stall for a quick nap.

- Because Christene was too reluctant to dance with Kyle - or anybody at the time - Kyle decides to just dance on her, lapdance style.

- On the way home, at McDonald's drive-thru, Jeremy refuses to give Kate his wallet (Katie had no bank card) because that's "his money!" Despite repeated angry efforts, Kate is forced to pay for $8 of McDonalds with her Visa.

- After midnight, Jeremy discovers more red wine on our table. This conversation then ensues:

Me: Hey man, you sure you wanna more of that? I mean, you're already hammered. You're gonna be so hungover tomorrow.
Jeremy: Who cares?! Tomorrow's tomorrow, Nick - LIVE IN THE NOW!!!!!

- The next morning, I asked Jer if he wanted to meet us for breakfast/lunch. He'd already went for breakfast much earlier. "What in the hell were you doing up so early?" I asked him.

"Living, Nick. I was living."

That is my favourite quote of the whole thing.

Oh, and Jenna puked at Ricky's the next morning.

:: Best phone call of the day ::

I just got off the phone with an 85-year-old guy named Ken, who was an athlete of some renown in his heyday. Now, in this community, dealing with people in their 80s, 90s or 100s is common, and sometimes, well, it's tough. You can't understand them. They can't hear you. They're confused. You're confused. 

Often, it doesn't end well. So I was worried about this guy, who I'd never spoken with before. 

Turns out, I had nothing to be concerned about. He was awesome. Kinda gruff and crotchety, but generally nice. Then, he says this about the fact that I called his daughter's home line to speak with him, instead of his own (he lives in his daughter's basement suite):

"Yeah, I got my own line about a year ago because I was sick and god-damned tired of taking stupid messages for my grandson. I mean, Jesus, he's 15 years old – what in the hell do 15 year olds have to talk about that much, anyway? I didn't even think they knew how to talk on the phone – don't they just text nowadays anyhow?"

Then he explained why he moved into his daughter's house, from his previous place downtown.

"I decided to move here about five years ago, because I got tired of living by myself. It's boring, being alone all the time, you know? TV's not as good as it used to be – it's all this reality crap or cooking shows – so it gets pretty boring if you're by yourself."

This is exactly how I hope to be when I'm old.

:: Voice of the street ::

This conversation took place yesterday evening, after I changed the radio station because the Beastie Boys came on the air – a band I do not like.

Christene: Good, I hate the Beastie Boys.

Me: So do I.

Christene: What can I say, I like my beers cold and my rappers black.

Me: What about Eminem? He's good.

Christene: No, I don't like Eminem – he's too damn whiny. He's always going on about "oooh, look at me, I'm from the streets, I'm from Detroit." Detroit? Well you know what? I'm from Surrey – now that's a tough city. Eminem wouldn't last one day in Cloverdale.

:: Presented to you without comment ::

This reminds me of someone.

Enjoy your day, folks.

:: All my hard work has finally paid off ::

Today at the office, we had a potluck lunch party for a woman who is retiring. Today is her last day.

Two things have come out of this. One, it has caused one noted office conversationist (guess which one! Hint: read the post previous to this one) to wander around the office, saying to every colleague over the age of 50 "Well, I wonder which one of us is next!?"

And two, it has made me reconsider my career. Not that I want to quit, mind you. But I would like to retire. Early. Like now. I relayed my career plans to Christene, because I thought she should be the first to know. After all, if I'm retiring at 29, somebody's gonna have to pick up a few more shifts at the ol' pancake factory.

Christene: You know, I think it is time for you to retire.

Me: I think you're right. I mean, I've worked my ass off for... 7 years. My time has come. I deserve this.

And with that, I relayed my intentions to my boss.

(To his credit, his only response was "Nobody else can retire on deadline." We spend a good hour-and-a-half of crunch time today eating cake and listening to heartfelt speeches.)

So I am retiring effective the end of today, 5 p.m. Here's how I expect my retirement to go: After spending Canada Day and Friday enjoying the fruits of my years of labour, I will then spend Monday re-evaluating the decision I have made (and the Funtastic beers I have drank!), and on Tuesday, just minutes before the office is set to open at 8:30 a.m., I will announce, Brett Favre-style, my triumphant return.

It is unlikely anyone will host a "Welcome Back" party for me (especially since I didn't get a retirement one), but I'm guessing that, even on Tuesday, there will still be some leftover cake in the fridge from today's lunch.

:: Conversation error ::

I know I've said this before, about a certain person I know, but in a vain effort to talk to somebody – Oh, please won't somebody pay attention to me! – asking a general, "So....?" without any follow-up, is not an acceptable way to engage somebody in conversation.

:: Instant trade analysis ::

Yesterday, the Stanley Cup champion Chicago Blackhawks traded Dustin Byfuglien and a bunch of extras, to the Atlanta Thrashers for a couple high draft picks. The deal was widely — and instantly – panned as awful for ATL, as it should be, because despite his playoff heroics, Big Buff isn't exactly a 30-goal scorer, and first- and second-round picks are a lot to cough up.

Not too much though, for Atlanta, where years of awful decisions don't get you fired, but get you promoted instead.

The trades sounds even worse when you consider that the draft picks Atlanta moved to Chicago are the same picks they got from New Jersey in exchange for their former superstar Ilia Kovalchuk. When you consider the two moves together, the Thrashers essentially traded a 45-50 goal scorer – not to mention team captain and face of the franchise – for Byfuglien, Ben Eager, Johnny Oduya, Niclas Bergfors and a prospect who didn't even finish his last junior season because he attacked a guy.

Basically an all-star for spare parts.

And after hearing that, I think the trade with Chicago was summed up best by Chris, who said to me yesterday:

"Wow, that's like when we were kids and I traded your best hockey card for 25 shitty ones."

And you know what? It's exactly like that.

When we were kids, one day when I wasn't home, Chris traded my Ed Belfour rookie card – which at the time was probably worth $10 bucks (big money in a kid's world) – to some neighbour kid for a stack of shitty commons. I was not very happy.

Come to think of it, I still haven't forgiven him.

What a dick.

:: Annoying, obnoxious... take your pick ::

Today at work, in the span of three hours, the same person has inexplicably spoken three times in an exaggerated faux accent – an accent I can only describe as Jamaica/Eastern European – has made four terrible puns that drew absolutely zero response from anybody (because we've learned to ignore him) and then, when he got zero response from said puns, he looked around everyone and said "C'mon! C'mon!" like a bad stand-up comic who wasn't getting the laughs.

(Each pun was set up the following way, as they all are... Somebody mentions something, and he responds with "So what you're saying is..." and that's where the awful play on words happens. It's awful.)

Also, he's burped at his desk about 16 times since 9 a.m., which is both classy and obnoxious, not to mention a little bit gross.

I just thought you should all know these things.

:: I don't care ::

Facebook is a place for many things. For catching up with old friends and staying in the loop with current ones. For posting way too many pictures. For leaving drunken, non-sensical status updates at 3 a.m. For playing any number of awful games like Farmville of Mafia Wars.

Sadly, it's also for updating people on things that nobody gives a shit about or ever wants to hear. And after perusing my FB news feed in recent days and weeks, the following is a list of things I don't ever want to read in a Facebook status ever again, because I just don't care. And I'm sure nobody else does either.

(*editor's note: before the angry comments fly, keep in mind that, to the best of my recollection, none of these status-types were inspired by any of this blog's usual merry band of readers.)

Anyways... onward with the list. I don't want to read your damn status if it is about any or all of the following things:

1. What you had for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

2. What you are currently making, or about to make, for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

3. Reviews or predictions about how great any of the aforementioned meals are/were (unless you did something awesome like blow up your kitchen or burn off your eye brows).

4. Your daily itinerary. Nobody cares that you have to go to the mall, the dentist, then soccer practice.

5. The daily itinerary of your child. Even fewer people care that you have to take your kid to the mall, the dentist and then soccer practice.

6. Any posts about what your baby/toddler/small child just did unless it is actually interesting. ("Little Jimmy just sat on the TV remote... it was sooooo cute" does not fucking qualify.)

7. No updates informing the world about just how amazing your significant other is, and how you're just sooooo lucky to have them in your life and blah blahgedy fucking blah. There is no wiggle room on this one, sorry.

8. Political commentary of any sort, unless it's some kind of joke made at the expense of, or in reference to, some political figure or event. (this was inspired by one FBer who decided a status update was the appropriate place to declare that she "fully supports her MP, Libby Davies")

9. Intentionally misspelled words, ala LOL CATS, in some kind of effort to be cute.

10. The term FML.

So there ya go. In the spirit of co-operative blogging, once again feel free to add to this list in the comments section if anything springs to mind.

:: Note to self - Pay Attention ::

On weekday mornings, I very rarely leave myself much time to get ready, because I'd much rather sleep for an extra few minutes. I usually shower the night before, too, thus giving me an extra 10 minutes of beautiful, beautiful slumber.

And, in my hurried state, I often leave "making lunch" until the last minute. And considering, in our current living arrangement, that contents of said lunch could be in any one of three fridges (kitchen, extra fridge in utility room, and a wildy-unorganized beer fridge in our basement), making lunch quickly is sometimes a challenge. Add in the fact that I'm a) still dead-tired and b) sometimes it's still pretty dark in the basement, and I'm lucky I eat lunch at all.

Cut to today: my usual five-minutes-to-go-before-I-leave lunch scramble, and I open the bar fridge to grab a Coke Zero. I grab a can, chuck it in my bag, and run out the door. 

At noon, I open up my bag to get my lunch, and there is no Coke Zero to be found. But what is there? Why, there's a Bud Light, of course. 

In my haste to get to work, and in the low-light of the basement, I grabbed a dark-blue can of beer instead of the black can of Coke. Genius.

I relayed this chain of events to Christene, and she said she's come very close to doing the same thing numerous times – and she wakes up at 4 a.m., so here chance of error is even greater, because, with it still dark out and the rest of the house still asleep, she does nearly everything in a dark haze, including trying to sort through a fridge that contains a scattered collection of Coke Zero, four different kinds of beer, Palm Bays, Gatorade, Diet Coke with Lime, Diet Cherry Coke, apples, oranges, and God knows what else.

But she's still never brought a beer to work. She did, however, offer a solution to my workday gaffe:

"You should shotgun it!"

Good idea maybe, but I think that kind of shit is frowned upon in an office setting.

:: Jump the Shark ::

A few nights ago, neither Christene nor I could sleep, and as often happens, we ended up lying in bed, talking about random stuff. And as often happens, that random stuff was mostly about one of our favourite things – TV. The conversation eventually turned into a Complete Guide to Popular Television Shows That Jumped The Shark. Honestly, we talked about it for at least an hour. This is why we work well together.

For the uninitiated, Jump the Shark – a term Christene and I use all the time, but we might be the only ones – is described as the following:

"...an idiom used to describe the moment of downturn for a previously successful enterprise. The phrase was originally used to denote the point in a television program's history where the plot spins off into absurd story lines or unlikely characterizations. These changes were often the result of efforts to revive interest in a show whose viewership has begun to decline."

The term originated from an episode of Happy Days, when – with writers fresh out of story ideas – had The Fonz jump over a shark on water skis. The episode was absolutely ridiculous, and marked the beginning of the show's downfall.

So now, with that out of the way, here's the list the two of us compiled from our own television-watching experience. Buckle up, it's a long one (That's what she said.)

Fresh Prince of Bel-Air:

A great show, but it actually has two Shark Jumping moments. The first is one found in more than just this show – the quick-aging process for a young cast member.

In the series' later years, little baby Nicky Banks suddenly morphs from an infant to a four-year-old between seasons. (The fact that Uncle Phil and Aunt Vivian had another child so late in the series actually smacks of shark-jumping just on its own, when you think about it. Hello, New Cast Member – another trick to revive interest in a show.)

A similar tact was taken in the 1980s sitcom Growing Pains, where midway through the season, the youngest daughter, Chrissy Seaver, grew up about six years between seasons. And since we're talking about that show, the quick-aging-daughter wasn't, in fact, the show's Jump the Shark moment – we'll leave that to the time-tested method called, Introduction of a New Cast Member, one Leonardo DiCaprio, a poor orphaned, homeless kid.

Fresh Prince's second JTS moment, and this one is according to Christene: when they replaced Aunt Viv with Aunt Viv 2.0. (After the third season, actress Janet Hubert-Whitten was replaced by Daphne Maxwell Reid.)

The switch coincided with the arrival of Nicky, and the only reference to the character swap came in the Season 4 premiere, when Jazz says to Vivian, "You know, Mrs. Banks, ever since you had that baby, there's been something different about you."

Married... with Children:

I was never a fan of this show, and mostly just caught the late-night reruns, so this one is all Christene (even though she refused to write the following blurb herself. "Writer's block," she said. Pffft.)

In season 7 (the series inexplicably lasted 10 years) a new character, a boy named Seven, enters the show for a 12-episode run. According to IMDB Seven was "the young son of one of Peggy's relatives who is left with the family."

I don't know if he was meant to be a full-time character, but the fact that he lasted little more than half a season probably explains how much he sucked. Another website called Seven "the most annoying character ever to appear on Married... With Children." Considering that show was chock-full of annoying characters, this is saying something.

Grey's Anatomy:

I'll admit, I watched this show for one season – the first one – and one season only. I was sort of expecting it to be an E.R.-type drama, and when I realized it was simply a soap opera designed to brainwash women into thinking it was T.V.'s greatest creation – the same way women think the Sex and the City movie is Oscar-worthy – well, that's when I stopped watching.

As for a Jump the Shark moment, well, take your pick: When a new lead actor started getting written off the show every week – the black guy, the gay guy, the blond chick – or maybe, and this is my choice, the JTS moment came when a fucking ghost showed up. Yeah, I'd say that's the one.

The Simpsons:

Sure, the show is long past its seasons 3-7 heyday, but this show is still one of the smartest on TV, and still has it's hilarious moments – it's actually gotten better the last couple years, after a lull – and because it is the longest-running, most successful, best show to ever grace a television screen, I am not prepared to say it has ever Jumped the Shark.

Seinfeld:

Like the aforementioned The Simpsons, Seinfeld never Jumped the Shark either – it was too good, and it called it quits before it could get bad. Some argue that the series finale, where the group is arrested for "doing nothing" and then all the old characters are trotted back out as character witnesses at the court case, was a Jump the Shark moment, but it was the last episode of the whole damn show, and if they want an excuse to bring back the old characters, you damn well let 'em. Not JTS for this show, either.

The O.C.

Another bad show I'll admit to watching for a season or two, before losing interest. This one's JTS moment likely came when they started killing off characters – was Marissa her name? You know, that skinny annoying bitch? – and replacing them with other random people. For a show that was a pretty big success early, it really took a shockingly quick nosedive before being cancelled altogether.

Dinosaurs:

One of the worst shows ever to appear on primetime TV, you may remember this show as a key member of the TGIF lineup. The Jump the Shark moment? Let's go with either the first time the theme song was played, or maybe when the "Baby-hits-the-dad-with-the-frying-pan" gag became a recurring them. Or maybe the true JTS moment came when some idiot TV executive decided that sinking millions of dollars into a show about animatronic/puppet dinosaurs was a good idea.

I hated that show.

Step by Step:

Another TGIF staple that tried to be a modern-day Brady Bunch, its' Jump the Shark moment is sort of twofold.

One, Christene says, is when the character Cody – who, if you remember, lived in a van in the driveway – was written off the show because the actor, Sasha Mitchell, was in legal trouble for smacking his real-life wife around. He was written off the show as "going to Russia" for some unexplained reason.

Then, in an continuation of the same shark-jumping moment, Cody returned briefly to the show a few years later for one of the final episodes of the series. In that appearance, he announced that he'd just "been on a road trip, changed his name to Steve," and oh, mysteriously and unexplainably "come into some money." So he pays Patrick Duffy and Suzanna Somers a bunch of money for letting him live in their driveway all those years. Then he's gone again.

Family Matters:

Another good TGIF show – I always liked this one when I was a kid – and when trying to think of its Jump the Shark Moment, Christene and I had trouble because, well, there were so many options: Steve Urkel's transformation machine (which turned him into ladies man Stefan Urquelle); Urkel moving in with the Winslows; the orphan boy 3J being inexplicably added to the cast....

There are so many options here, in fact, I'll just cut and paste the show's bio from IMDB and let you read for yourself. The whole thing reads like one big Jump the Shark moment:

"As the years went on, Urkel developed a special transformation chamber to allow himself to change into suave Stefan Urquelle, whom Laura fell for; it was a way for the nerd to finally win the object of his affection. Laura eventually got to appreciate Urkel's company, and eventually, fell in love with him. Carl was eventually promoted from sergeant to lieutenant, finally attaining the rank of captain. In later years, Urkel moved in with the Winslows when his parents abandoned him in moving to Russia (editor's note: What's with TV writers' infatuation with Russia? There are other "far away" places, you know...); and Carl and Harriet (long after their daughter, Judy, disappeared from the scene without explanation) adopted 3J, a local orphan who was friends with Richie."

(Interesting Family Matters' sidenote: Did you know that the actress who played daughter Judy – the one who disappeared with explanation from the show – grew up to be a drug-addicted porn star? She later appeared on Celebrity Rehab. Her list of credits on her IMDB profile takes a pretty stark, direct leap from "family shows" to hardcore porn titles. I find this hilarious.)

That 70's Show:

A classic example of a show that lasted one or two seasons too many, so this one's easy. The JTS moment came in the final couple seasons, when all the regular cast members left for greener pastures, and the show added an "Eric replacement" character named... well, I can't remember his name, but he sucked.

The Cosby Show:

This sums it up right here:

"At the start of season six Cosby believed that Keisha Knight Pulliam, as youngest daughter Rudy, had grown up too much to be considered "just cute" like she was when she started the series at age five. Cosby decided to bring in young Raven Symone, who was cast as the stepdaughter of Huxtable daughter, Denise. Symone was obviously trying too hard to be cute and came off more often as annoying. Two seasons later Erika Alexander joined the cast as Pam, who was taken in by the Huxtable family. With her came a slew of new characters to play her high school friends and before long the cast had swelled to over one dozen. With the arrival of Pam came the departure of ratings and Cosby decided to end the show at the end of the 1992 season, it's eighth."

[via Associated Content]

Saved by the Bell:

One answer: The Tori Paradox.

In the final season of the show, two main actresses, Tiffani-Amber Thiessen and Elizabeth Berkley – whose boobs would later go on to great things in Showgirls – refused to sign new contracts for the year. So tough-girl Tori was introduced, and episodes featuring her alternated with already-taped episodes featuring the other two. No mention of Tori was made in the non-Tori episodes, and likewise, the Thiessen/Showgirl episodes never mentioned Tori. She must've been home sick from school those days.

Full House:

If you really think about it, there were probably a million Jump the Shark moments, but the easiest one is when they suddenly introduced those two stupid, shaggy-haired asshole twins to the equation.

For starters, they did the suddenly-age-four-years-in-one-offseason thing. And secondly, how many fucking characters did that show need? I mean, I know it's a full house, but c'mon – they had so many people living in that place, that when the twins came along, the show's producers suddenly had to have the Tanners discover that, "Hey, look – we have this giant, high-ceiling'd livable attic that's big enough for a family of four!" I wonder where that came from. I mean, did nobody ever go up there in the shows first six seasons?

(Also, how come Joey didn't get really pissed off when he had to move out of the basement so Jesse could have his stupid music studio down there? The man was 35 years old – you'd think he'd be a little more protective of his own space. Instead, I think he just moved upstairs next to all the stupid kids' rooms... not ideal.)

Boy Meets World:

Another staple of the TGIF lineup, this show starred Fred Savage's brother and that chick who played Topanga, who every teenage boy at the time thought was hot, even though she actually looked like fish.

This show Jumped the Shark when the group graduated from high school. To start with, Cory and Topanga got married and then most of the college episodes dealt with how they struggled to live on their own, but pulled through in the end because they love each other. Also, the series finale was ridiculous – it was the obligatory "somebody leaves town" ending (Cory and Topanga move to New York) but then, suddenly, Cory's older brother and also his best friend, Shawn, show up in the final scene and say, "Hey, we're coming too!"

And then they drive off up the road, as if all is well. Forget the fact that Cory and Topanga's apartment in NY probably isn't big enough for 4 adults – I mean, have to heard how expensive NY rent is? – it doesn't matter, all the friends are staying together. If the show continued as some kind of spin-off (Boy and Friends meet New York, perhaps) I'm sure Mr. Feenie would've somehow appeared as Cory's new bos, or something. I mean, Christ — the guy was his elementary teacher, elementary principal, high school teacher, high school principal, college professor and fucking neighbour.

And while we're tearing holes in the show (Which I actually did quite like as a kid, by the way) – does anyone else remember those episodes/seasons where Shaun lived with his tough-guy, mullet-wearing teacher for awhile? What the hell was that?

So, anyways, there's your recap. If you have any other shows in mind – and the corresponding shark-jumping moments – feel free to leave 'em in the comments.

How not to be annoying...

There are plenty of ways, of course. But for starters, when somebody asks somebody else a question – keeping in mind that nobody asked you, you're just sitting nearby – do not butt into the conversation by saying, "Well the short answer is..." 

.... and then proceed with a really long fucking answer that, in actuality, doesn't answer the question at all, lengthy or otherwise.

And once your way-too-long "answer" is complete, certainly don't continue the conversation (long after everyone has moved on) by adding your opinions and theories on the matter to whomever is still within earshot. 

Because here's a short answer for ya: Nobody cares!