I have never paid as much attention to language, both spoken and written as I do now. I am by no means a linguist. I often miss use and miss spell words. My point being is that no matter the mistake, I am using real words, they exist in our beautiful language. I am not making words up, nor are my sentences pragmatic. When I speak to another, they don't look at me wondering what it is I might be trying to say. Well that's not always true, unfortunately there are a lot ( yes that is two separate words) dumb people out there but our tolerance allows this so who is to blame? I have been witness as of late to a number of brutal, massacres of our language, committed by both adults and adolescents.
For example, last night we meandered our way through the isles of the local
Bulk Barn. Whilst walking, a mother called out to her son " where are you?" . The child who appeared to be about ten, responded, " I'm in the isle where was we started". What the fuck? " where we was started?" I realize our government has made substantial cut backs to education but have they done so to the point where it has become acceptable to piece sentences together at random? I wonder if our current education system coupled with our lazy society is resulting in a new breed of human. The "super dumb". It is as though we have relapsed into a prehistoric period, at a point when we just began to comprehend language for communication. If you doubt this just look at the number of people who no longer write using full words, even in e-mails where there is no limit on the number of words. All the abbreviations drive me mad, the brb, lol, 8's, cu's. In only a few short years I presume we will be right back to grunting and pointing. I continue to lose faith in our educators, specifically those who teach elementary and high school. I recall the teachers who were entering the profession as I was leaving high school, they seemed more interested in being the "cool" teacher as portrayed on FOX after school specials then actual educators. That was over ten years ago, what are they like now? I am not putting the entire blame on our educators, parents it's time you get your shit together. Apparently it isn't alarming enough that the current generation has a shorter life expectancy then their parents. This is a first in history by the way. Child obesity is through the roof. But hey who gives a fuck right. If their going to be fat and live short lives who cares if they can read, write or communicate? In any case the end of the world is approaching, Mayan calender ending in 2012. For a moment however let's consider if it doesn't. The world continues, do we want it to be led by these poorly educated, video game addicted, live at home until your 35 or your parents die types? Why don't I have kids, for the above reasons, the world is a scary dumb place. Heather and I would have glorious, magnificent kids but I fear stupidity is contagious so our best attempts at raising brilliant beings would be a lost cause. But hey, these are just ramblings, induced by wine, in the end what do I really know.
Everything, is the answer. If you don't believe me just try to spell check lol.
Peace and love and please get your children to read books, real, tangible books, filled with words.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Satan's Village
Peering out the window I am forced to take note of all the snow. It covers everything. To prevent myself from slipping into a self induced hibernation I will share with you one of the last rides I had this season. Appropriately on a trail system known as "Santa's Village."
The name results because these trails are adjacent to Santa's Village in Brace Bridge. More often then not, they are referred to as Satan's Village do to the carnage of bodies and bikes which often result from riding these North Shore inspired trails.
As I am a fan both of riding and of Satan, who often gets a bad rap, I was all aboard when the opportunity arose to ride these famed trails. We met in the parking lot and readied ourselves. A variety of bikes formed our Calvary, everything from burly DH rigs to long travel trail bikes. I of course was riding SS. There was of course some skepticism as to whether or not a single speed would hold it's own on these trails. Needless to say, all doubt was quickly removed and my claim that " I have yet to find a place I can't ride single speed" remains true.
I can best describe these trails as O natural. Rocky, rootie with a sprinkling of North Shore style ladder bridges and skinnies scattered throughout. Mixed in are some white knuckle descents and some lung buster, make you want to vomit climbs. Add in the fallen leaves and some wet roots and you have your self something epic and fun. The trails feature more then a few of Mother natures own wonders, including several steep, get your ass back, way back, descents on open rock faces and a wicked three step drop.
When it comes to Satan's village, believe the hype. This place lives up to it's reputation. If you manage to finish the ride, and by finish I mean with an in tact bike and body then you more then certainly earned yourself a beer or two.
Happy trails, cold beer and sweet sweet single track.
The name results because these trails are adjacent to Santa's Village in Brace Bridge. More often then not, they are referred to as Satan's Village do to the carnage of bodies and bikes which often result from riding these North Shore inspired trails.
As I am a fan both of riding and of Satan, who often gets a bad rap, I was all aboard when the opportunity arose to ride these famed trails. We met in the parking lot and readied ourselves. A variety of bikes formed our Calvary, everything from burly DH rigs to long travel trail bikes. I of course was riding SS. There was of course some skepticism as to whether or not a single speed would hold it's own on these trails. Needless to say, all doubt was quickly removed and my claim that " I have yet to find a place I can't ride single speed" remains true.
I can best describe these trails as O natural. Rocky, rootie with a sprinkling of North Shore style ladder bridges and skinnies scattered throughout. Mixed in are some white knuckle descents and some lung buster, make you want to vomit climbs. Add in the fallen leaves and some wet roots and you have your self something epic and fun. The trails feature more then a few of Mother natures own wonders, including several steep, get your ass back, way back, descents on open rock faces and a wicked three step drop.
When it comes to Satan's village, believe the hype. This place lives up to it's reputation. If you manage to finish the ride, and by finish I mean with an in tact bike and body then you more then certainly earned yourself a beer or two.
Happy trails, cold beer and sweet sweet single track.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Entry 2, The Forgotten Ones
Regardless of spiritual beliefs or hang ups relating to inanimate objects possessing souls, I feel that we can all agree that there is something indescribably spiritual about being outside, the ground beneath us and the canopy of leaves above. If we can agree on this point then we can agree when I say trails abandoned, left to overgrow and slowly erased from existence is a tragedy which should be mourned.
This past season we loaded the bikes and the dogs into the car and headed to Calabogie. For those of you who are scratching your heads as to the geographical location of this strangely named local, it is roughly an hour outside of Ottawa, which for the the youth of today is the capital of Canada. We did so based under false pretense. Word was that Calabogie was home to some amazingly technical trails and some equally technical down hill. Calabogie Peaks, the ski hill which was home to these foretold gems, website boasted of such things. In the past Calabogie has hosted both O-Cup XC and DH events as well as one of the few, if not only, X-Terra races in Ontario. Expectations were high and the itch to let it all hang out needed to be scratched.
We arrived late on Friday night, beers consumed and talk of what adventures would be had. The following morning we arrived at the base of the hill. Strangely there were no other bikes, anywhere. No trail signs, maps or for that matter any sign of trail. We sought the expertise of an employee. The words they uttered were a shot at the very soul of cycling. " The trails are closed, the down hill was shut down last year and you can't ride on the hill." Imagine if you will the heart break, the disappoint and more so the audacity to tell me I can't ride on the hill. I immediately disobeyed this mandate. Soul Mate having competed in both the 0-Cup and the X-Terra became the guide in our search for the forbidden trails, which turned out to be the forgotten trails.
In five hours of riding we uncovered only a small portion of what was a trail system. This portion was a testimate to the lore. It was technical, steep and required more then just the ability to pedal. This brief glimpse into the past revealed that this trail system was incredible and a loss for all those, including myself, who missed riding it during it's hay day. A few artifacts were happened upon. Two signs, both black diamond foretelling of what use to be. These signs left to be consumed by the forest, which had already reclaimed the majority of the trail system could not be left. I took these signs, stealing a piece of the past.
Searching revealed that these trails closed some time in 2009 if not in late 2008, a combination of Insurance issues and land owners. The closure of these trails put an end to mountain biking in the area, unless of course you enjoy riding ATV trails of which there is no shortage.
Exploring what once was, I left Calabogie feeling as though I had missed out on something special. How can we, as riders, just let a trail system parish? I reached this conclusion. We often take for granted our local trails, expecting that they will always be. Never wondering how they came into existence or picking up a shovel or a rake to help maintain them. We ride, blissfully unaware that like all living things they too may one day leave us. Having had this experience I now more then ever appreciate the struggles that IMBA faces in keeping trails open and turning illegal trails into legal ones.
This is a mournful report. Calabogie's trails are CLOSED. Let this be a lesson to not take our local trails, any trails for granted. I have spent many hours this season, after this experience, maintaining and building new trail. In doing so my riding is enriched knowing that as long as I pitch in these trails will not see their death. I encourage every single rider to get out there and help keep our trails alive, because where else are you going to ride?
Peace and love and happy trails.
This past season we loaded the bikes and the dogs into the car and headed to Calabogie. For those of you who are scratching your heads as to the geographical location of this strangely named local, it is roughly an hour outside of Ottawa, which for the the youth of today is the capital of Canada. We did so based under false pretense. Word was that Calabogie was home to some amazingly technical trails and some equally technical down hill. Calabogie Peaks, the ski hill which was home to these foretold gems, website boasted of such things. In the past Calabogie has hosted both O-Cup XC and DH events as well as one of the few, if not only, X-Terra races in Ontario. Expectations were high and the itch to let it all hang out needed to be scratched.
We arrived late on Friday night, beers consumed and talk of what adventures would be had. The following morning we arrived at the base of the hill. Strangely there were no other bikes, anywhere. No trail signs, maps or for that matter any sign of trail. We sought the expertise of an employee. The words they uttered were a shot at the very soul of cycling. " The trails are closed, the down hill was shut down last year and you can't ride on the hill." Imagine if you will the heart break, the disappoint and more so the audacity to tell me I can't ride on the hill. I immediately disobeyed this mandate. Soul Mate having competed in both the 0-Cup and the X-Terra became the guide in our search for the forbidden trails, which turned out to be the forgotten trails.
In five hours of riding we uncovered only a small portion of what was a trail system. This portion was a testimate to the lore. It was technical, steep and required more then just the ability to pedal. This brief glimpse into the past revealed that this trail system was incredible and a loss for all those, including myself, who missed riding it during it's hay day. A few artifacts were happened upon. Two signs, both black diamond foretelling of what use to be. These signs left to be consumed by the forest, which had already reclaimed the majority of the trail system could not be left. I took these signs, stealing a piece of the past.
Searching revealed that these trails closed some time in 2009 if not in late 2008, a combination of Insurance issues and land owners. The closure of these trails put an end to mountain biking in the area, unless of course you enjoy riding ATV trails of which there is no shortage.
Exploring what once was, I left Calabogie feeling as though I had missed out on something special. How can we, as riders, just let a trail system parish? I reached this conclusion. We often take for granted our local trails, expecting that they will always be. Never wondering how they came into existence or picking up a shovel or a rake to help maintain them. We ride, blissfully unaware that like all living things they too may one day leave us. Having had this experience I now more then ever appreciate the struggles that IMBA faces in keeping trails open and turning illegal trails into legal ones.
This is a mournful report. Calabogie's trails are CLOSED. Let this be a lesson to not take our local trails, any trails for granted. I have spent many hours this season, after this experience, maintaining and building new trail. In doing so my riding is enriched knowing that as long as I pitch in these trails will not see their death. I encourage every single rider to get out there and help keep our trails alive, because where else are you going to ride?
Peace and love and happy trails.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Journal Entry 1
Today the slowly rising sun revealed rain. Rain which washes away the snow. Snow which covered trails not yet ready to hibernate. All of this has me asking "what the hell man?". I ask that " whom it may concern" weather it be a God of some kind, Mother nature or some wizard who controls weather patterns hidden behind a curtain make up their mind and choose a season. Let it be winter or summer. These transitional months are ridiculous and as my mathematical calculations have revealed, unnecessary. My math, it should be stated, has no real formula, chalk board full of numbers or validity. In reality I am only writing the words"my math" for argumentative purposes only. None the less I stand by my statement.
By all accounts I should be happy, I had a long and full riding season. The first trail ride was had in May and the season was filled with riding my favorite local trails and finding some new ones abroad. Riding in Calabogie, Pennsylvania, New York and northern Ontario. Jumps were jumped, logs and ladder bridges ridden, down hills conquered at break neck speeds and climbs mountain goats are to timid to attempt ascended, all might I add on a single speed. Is there any other speed? Despite all of this I am left wanting more. Greedy? Obsessed? or suffering from mad cow? What ever the cause I am not ready to let the trails rest. I have gone as far as talking myself into a state of understanding. Seasons change, so on and so forth. The natural course and more green redirect such as that. I just don't believe myself. I have even taken the drastic step of cleaning the bikes, new chains, tires, cables all bestowed upon them. The magical, mythical things which comprise a bike and breath life into it. They now sit high above us in our living room, perched at a height reserved only for Gods. They sit there, looking down on me with judgement and a look of abandonment. Yes there is skiing, snowshoeing and all things cold, but riding is the catalyst of my soul. Yes, indoor bike parks will be visited, giving me a fix, like a junkie. The fact remains that like that junkie I too have an addiction. However no support groups will be sought or court ordered. Instead I will seek to satisfy myself through daily visits to Pink Bike, frequent visites to Bike shops and alone time with Dirt Rag. Note to self, buy more Kleenex and lotion. I have choosen instead to pray.
" To whom it may concern or please. Bring a swift end to winter or if it pleases thee a rapid increase in global warming your call. While your at it, fire and brimstone on all land managers and those who hold the belief that trails are reserved for hikers and horses. If this is your will give me no sign and rid the world of Justin Bieber, Celine Dion and watery beer. In some name we pray. "
Now I wait. It might take a bit it does have to go to space and back, a bit like the Internet I suppose.
Peace and love and fast flowy dreams.
By all accounts I should be happy, I had a long and full riding season. The first trail ride was had in May and the season was filled with riding my favorite local trails and finding some new ones abroad. Riding in Calabogie, Pennsylvania, New York and northern Ontario. Jumps were jumped, logs and ladder bridges ridden, down hills conquered at break neck speeds and climbs mountain goats are to timid to attempt ascended, all might I add on a single speed. Is there any other speed? Despite all of this I am left wanting more. Greedy? Obsessed? or suffering from mad cow? What ever the cause I am not ready to let the trails rest. I have gone as far as talking myself into a state of understanding. Seasons change, so on and so forth. The natural course and more green redirect such as that. I just don't believe myself. I have even taken the drastic step of cleaning the bikes, new chains, tires, cables all bestowed upon them. The magical, mythical things which comprise a bike and breath life into it. They now sit high above us in our living room, perched at a height reserved only for Gods. They sit there, looking down on me with judgement and a look of abandonment. Yes there is skiing, snowshoeing and all things cold, but riding is the catalyst of my soul. Yes, indoor bike parks will be visited, giving me a fix, like a junkie. The fact remains that like that junkie I too have an addiction. However no support groups will be sought or court ordered. Instead I will seek to satisfy myself through daily visits to Pink Bike, frequent visites to Bike shops and alone time with Dirt Rag. Note to self, buy more Kleenex and lotion. I have choosen instead to pray.
" To whom it may concern or please. Bring a swift end to winter or if it pleases thee a rapid increase in global warming your call. While your at it, fire and brimstone on all land managers and those who hold the belief that trails are reserved for hikers and horses. If this is your will give me no sign and rid the world of Justin Bieber, Celine Dion and watery beer. In some name we pray. "
Now I wait. It might take a bit it does have to go to space and back, a bit like the Internet I suppose.
Peace and love and fast flowy dreams.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Warning
Life is full of warnings, usually to prevent the dumb from doing dumb things. We have all seen them, they litter our landscape. Caution, beverage may be HOT. Well ya it's a coffee smart guy. Caution, do not reach hands under lawn mower whilst in operation. Well of course not because A) you will loose said hand and B) you will make a mess which someone will have to clean up. For argument sake these warnings exist only because someone of lesser intelligence committed an act which warranted these common sense Warnings.
Fortunately however some signs are beacons of hope. They point to what lay in our immediate future. Take note of the sign above. "Bicycles stay ON single track. Do NOT detour around obstacles. Trail unsuitable for novices " I was confronted with this sign as we entered the beginning of the trail system in Elicotville NY. My first reaction was physical, I had a hard on. My second reaction was less obvious. The synapses in my brain began firing rapidly, lighting the neon sign in my brain that glows the words " Fucking Awesome". This home made sign, as simple as it is, guarded the gates to what can only be described as true mountain biking. Roots, rocks, gnarly climbs and descents. A tuck your balls in and get it done kind of trail. Unfortunately over the past several years riding has become slightly pussified. Trails have become over groomed. Obstacles have been given "chicken out " options. Logs have had ramps built to aid riders in getting over them and in some cases, do to the lack of riding ability often demonstrated, logs have been altogether removed. This is total and utter bullshit. If you can't ride it, get the fuck off the trail. If your looking for smooth terrain which is obstacle free, shave your balls, slap on some Lycra, perhaps something that says "live strong" and put a road bike under your spineless ass.
Boys and girls this is mountain biking. Grow a pair. Learn how to ride, truly ride. That means being able to ride anywhere, anytime without any excuses. "Oh my bike isn't designed for this type of riding".
Shut your mouth.
" I don't like to climb"
Pussy.
" How do we get around that log?"
I should kick your ass.
Lets take a look at the true meaning of this sign, read between the lines if you will. "Stay on the single track". This really means double track and road are for those wanna be riders.
"Don't detour around obstacles" I love this part. It means grow a pair, a pair the size of grapefruits and ride the line. Don't walk your bike it's not a dog. Don't make a cut around the obstacle, unless your from Hardwood. "Trail unsuitable for novices". Clear as day. This trail is for riders. This is not a gimme, you have to earn the right to ride this shit. This trail is not your mother, it will beat you like pimp beats a hoe. Pause for a moment, if your wearing a matching kit, if your bike match's your kit, if you have a recovery shake in the car rather then beer, this trail is not for you son. Take your kit and bike to a road near you. "cyclists yield to hikers". Note the choice of words, hiking not walking. Hiking dictates rough, rugged terrain. Translation, awesome.
Well there it is, a warning of warnings. Actually it's more like a leading suggestion. Get it done or get out of the way. Perhaps I have read to much into these simple words. Perhaps, as unlikely as it is, I have added more meaning then this sign intends. Perhaps.
Perhaps you should through your leg over that top tube and try to keep up?
Peace, love and single track for life.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Reputations and Cock Suckers
How important is a reputation? Some people define their existence by their reputation. In light of this how in control are we when it comes to our reputation? I recently heard that " the only thing we are in control of is our character". It is our character which influences how others view us and intern our reputations are born. If hundred people meet you and judge you as weak, whiny or intolerable then you can presume that your reputation will be one that reflects these character traits. If one were to meet say someone like myself, your reputation would probably reflect character traits similar to the collective great minds of the past present and future. You may be describe as unimaginably handsome, scarily brilliant, deep and profound, unshakable and of course grounded because it would be unbearable to co-exist with someone who not only posses these traits but knows he posses these traits. Thus a reputation is born or in my situation a LEGEND.
Unfortunately though the world is fraught with those who lack all desirable character traits and posses only those of, well lets see, I believe the current term is cock sucker. Yes, the world is fraught with cock suckers, not the gays despite their love of the cock but true, hate full cock suckers. Now fortunately I don't give a fuck, not a fucking fuck or a flying fuck. This being said, there are those who do care and are hurt by the malicious words of those who find joy in tarnishing a reputation. As stated, a reputation is the collective opinions of the masses, so to tarnish a reputation takes a substantial amount of work. For shame. Think of how these people must hate themselves so, that they outwardly hurt others. These people often grow up to become the loud mouths who tell everyone else how to live their lives, what people should or shouldn't do. Well, let me tell you for those who are to afraid to "shut the fuck up".
I am taking a stand. In a similar fashion to that of Robin Hood I will protect the weak, those who cannot defend themselves against the cock suckers of this world. My motivation has been birthed from the idea that it is better to be "for" something rather then "against" something. It is a spiritual idea, yin yang, Tao, Karma so on and so forth. In lay terms it is positive energy and focus verses a negative energy and focus. This is deep shit, not to be taken with a grain of sand nor a shot of whisky. As I am a spiritual being of profound intelligence whom of course remains grounded whilst on his worldly journey, I naturally was drawn to this belief. So I have chosen a righteous path. I am no longer "against" the cock sucker but I am "for" a world without cocksuckers. I will be the defender of those who lack the sharp wit to defend themselves. I will look the cock suckers of the world in the eye and say " shut the fuck up you dirty cock sucker." I will hold rallies not "against" but "for" a world free of cock suckers. I will hold charitable walks and rides with those nifty bracelets. Where cock suckers rear their despicable faces I will appear and use my intelligent wit to beat them into a brain seizure, leaving the cock sucker to rock, alone in a cornor. Yes this is what I will do.......
I'm sorry I zoned out, what was the question?
Peace, Love and all together " down with cock suckers!"
Unfortunately though the world is fraught with those who lack all desirable character traits and posses only those of, well lets see, I believe the current term is cock sucker. Yes, the world is fraught with cock suckers, not the gays despite their love of the cock but true, hate full cock suckers. Now fortunately I don't give a fuck, not a fucking fuck or a flying fuck. This being said, there are those who do care and are hurt by the malicious words of those who find joy in tarnishing a reputation. As stated, a reputation is the collective opinions of the masses, so to tarnish a reputation takes a substantial amount of work. For shame. Think of how these people must hate themselves so, that they outwardly hurt others. These people often grow up to become the loud mouths who tell everyone else how to live their lives, what people should or shouldn't do. Well, let me tell you for those who are to afraid to "shut the fuck up".
I am taking a stand. In a similar fashion to that of Robin Hood I will protect the weak, those who cannot defend themselves against the cock suckers of this world. My motivation has been birthed from the idea that it is better to be "for" something rather then "against" something. It is a spiritual idea, yin yang, Tao, Karma so on and so forth. In lay terms it is positive energy and focus verses a negative energy and focus. This is deep shit, not to be taken with a grain of sand nor a shot of whisky. As I am a spiritual being of profound intelligence whom of course remains grounded whilst on his worldly journey, I naturally was drawn to this belief. So I have chosen a righteous path. I am no longer "against" the cock sucker but I am "for" a world without cocksuckers. I will be the defender of those who lack the sharp wit to defend themselves. I will look the cock suckers of the world in the eye and say " shut the fuck up you dirty cock sucker." I will hold rallies not "against" but "for" a world free of cock suckers. I will hold charitable walks and rides with those nifty bracelets. Where cock suckers rear their despicable faces I will appear and use my intelligent wit to beat them into a brain seizure, leaving the cock sucker to rock, alone in a cornor. Yes this is what I will do.......
I'm sorry I zoned out, what was the question?
Peace, Love and all together " down with cock suckers!"
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
WTFF ?
What the fucking fuck?
Yes, that is the question I am asking. It's straight forward and honest and in all it's vagueness applies to every facet of life and living.
Today, however I pose this question with a topic in mind, riders. It is a term I use loosely, because some people who own bikes, ride bikes or for that matter can spell the word bike should if possible avoid bikes. Hmm, that statement seems somewhat confusing, like fog in a crystal ball, but again my brilliance is scary amazing so I will wave my hands and clear up any confusion as to avoid any miss communication.
I suppose I have reached my tolerance for dumb ass questions. I with patience have always tried to answer, even the most retarded with kindness and patience. That being stated, I can't do it anymore. I can no longer serve people who have no fucking clue as to how their bikes work. People who come in and describe a problem by making a sound, example " click, click, click".
What the fucking fuck?
Dude by a vowel, use it to spell a clue and use your god damn big words, seriously. If you come in and say, intelligently, " my bike seems to be hesitating whilst I shift " I can help you out. However, if you waddle your over weight ass in while rolling a 7000 dollar bike and make a sound to describe the problem then I will slap you like a pimp slaps a hoe. I refuse to humour anyone, anymore. I loath, fucking loath those who come in, flashing their "live strong bracelets" , speaking of wattage and weight, telling me about how much they spent on their bikes, their euro trash skin suit, sperm helmet and how amazing their bike is. I don't give a fuck. Not even a fucking fuck. These people are easily identified, they are the ones with areo bars facing virtually straight up.
If your a mountain biker laughing, stop. Some of you are NO better. Riding bikes their parents bought them, parents who are trying to buy love while nurturing stupidity. Unless your kid is a pro athlete or has great unwavering potential to be so then they do not deserve the best bike on the market. Those bikes are reserved for those who can ride, not your spoiled ass kid who can barely walk and chew gum. I fear however that the parents of these kids won't get this message. They have enough money to afford stupidity, trail passes and all seem to flock to a central location on old Barrie road.
So let it be stated, written in stone, recorded for all time that if you ask me a stupid question I will reply with "what the fucking fuck" followed by what ever demoralizing linkage of words I can configure in the moment and I will try to avoid smacking you.
In good conscious, I must avoid these situations as to avoid numerous law suits. So, it is with sadness that I announce my retirement from pro wrenchdom. I will only work on my own bikes and those friends who don't inspire the response, " what the fucking fuck". If you're wondering if you are one of these latter friends then your wondering is your answer and the answer is yes, your a dumb ass and I will not work on your bike.
Yes a brilliant mind is lost to the cycling world, but do not fear I will continue to regal you with wisdom. Of course I will dumb it down for many of you as big words hurt you small brains.
Peace and Love
And retirement from bike shops.
Yes, that is the question I am asking. It's straight forward and honest and in all it's vagueness applies to every facet of life and living.
Today, however I pose this question with a topic in mind, riders. It is a term I use loosely, because some people who own bikes, ride bikes or for that matter can spell the word bike should if possible avoid bikes. Hmm, that statement seems somewhat confusing, like fog in a crystal ball, but again my brilliance is scary amazing so I will wave my hands and clear up any confusion as to avoid any miss communication.
I suppose I have reached my tolerance for dumb ass questions. I with patience have always tried to answer, even the most retarded with kindness and patience. That being stated, I can't do it anymore. I can no longer serve people who have no fucking clue as to how their bikes work. People who come in and describe a problem by making a sound, example " click, click, click".
What the fucking fuck?
Dude by a vowel, use it to spell a clue and use your god damn big words, seriously. If you come in and say, intelligently, " my bike seems to be hesitating whilst I shift " I can help you out. However, if you waddle your over weight ass in while rolling a 7000 dollar bike and make a sound to describe the problem then I will slap you like a pimp slaps a hoe. I refuse to humour anyone, anymore. I loath, fucking loath those who come in, flashing their "live strong bracelets" , speaking of wattage and weight, telling me about how much they spent on their bikes, their euro trash skin suit, sperm helmet and how amazing their bike is. I don't give a fuck. Not even a fucking fuck. These people are easily identified, they are the ones with areo bars facing virtually straight up.
If your a mountain biker laughing, stop. Some of you are NO better. Riding bikes their parents bought them, parents who are trying to buy love while nurturing stupidity. Unless your kid is a pro athlete or has great unwavering potential to be so then they do not deserve the best bike on the market. Those bikes are reserved for those who can ride, not your spoiled ass kid who can barely walk and chew gum. I fear however that the parents of these kids won't get this message. They have enough money to afford stupidity, trail passes and all seem to flock to a central location on old Barrie road.
So let it be stated, written in stone, recorded for all time that if you ask me a stupid question I will reply with "what the fucking fuck" followed by what ever demoralizing linkage of words I can configure in the moment and I will try to avoid smacking you.
In good conscious, I must avoid these situations as to avoid numerous law suits. So, it is with sadness that I announce my retirement from pro wrenchdom. I will only work on my own bikes and those friends who don't inspire the response, " what the fucking fuck". If you're wondering if you are one of these latter friends then your wondering is your answer and the answer is yes, your a dumb ass and I will not work on your bike.
Yes a brilliant mind is lost to the cycling world, but do not fear I will continue to regal you with wisdom. Of course I will dumb it down for many of you as big words hurt you small brains.
Peace and Love
And retirement from bike shops.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The One....the only one
Last night I decided to grace a few lucky riders with my presence. Similar to the "make a wish foundation" I granted several of those present their life long wish, to ride with me. These lucky few if able to get over their star -struckness, would be able to ride with and possibly learn from a master.
Weather it was nervousness or some over developed sense of competitiveness, several comments where made about my single speed. Usually I would nod and smile, laughing internally about their misconceptions, their over developed and uneducated need for gears. Simpletons.
However I believe the time has come when those who read this will grasp my explanation. A turning point in the history of mankind will occur when I reveal the "why", about riding single speed. The common and misconceived idea as to why single speeders exist range from the retarded to the very retarded. Things like, weight savings, the in ability to shift, or that it is some sort of hippie throw back movement to simpler ways. These are all wrong and are the beliefs of the uneducated masses.
The reason I ride a single speed is this. I am an enlightened being. I have achieved a Nirvana, a cycling Nirvana. I have super ceded the need, the reliance for gears and have been able to achieve total harmony with the use of a single gear. This is not easily done, not for the weak of mind nor for the weak in faith. No hill is too steep when you are an enlightened one. The hills all kneel before me and the down hills extend them selves with out limit. It is total control over the planet, over all terrain, a power to great for most and far to great for the "cutters".
For some of you reaching this enlightenment will prove to be to much to bear and your heads will explode, literally explode with this increased knowledge brought forth through achieving cycling Nirvana. For many of you this journey towards cycling Nirvana will be far to difficult and being complete chicken shits you will avoid it. I understand, riding gears is simple, it is "easy" and I don't expect all of you to have the same drive, determination or God like abilities that I naturally posses. It is my gift and at times a curse to be so intelligent, so brilliant and so devilishly good looking but please do not weep for me I will carry this cross.
In conclusion, I will continue to ride with the geared masses, like a shepherd attending his flock I will safe guard you from the inevitable need for more gears. Always with a gentle, gloved hand, I will guide you back. Back to a place of peace a place of light. I will bless you with knowledge in portions easily digested so that one day you too may achieve Nirvana and live in a place so serene, so right, that you will cast your cassettes aside. Some of you however are so simple, so intellectually underdeveloped that gears will be all you know and to that I say "enjoy the short blue bus".
Peace and love.
So there it is why I can ride a single speed, anywhere, in any condition and why the rest of you struggle with gears. I will be here, awaiting others to join me in this enlightened place, but sadly many of you do not posses the tact nor intelligence to join me, no worries we can still be friends.
Weather it was nervousness or some over developed sense of competitiveness, several comments where made about my single speed. Usually I would nod and smile, laughing internally about their misconceptions, their over developed and uneducated need for gears. Simpletons.
However I believe the time has come when those who read this will grasp my explanation. A turning point in the history of mankind will occur when I reveal the "why", about riding single speed. The common and misconceived idea as to why single speeders exist range from the retarded to the very retarded. Things like, weight savings, the in ability to shift, or that it is some sort of hippie throw back movement to simpler ways. These are all wrong and are the beliefs of the uneducated masses.
The reason I ride a single speed is this. I am an enlightened being. I have achieved a Nirvana, a cycling Nirvana. I have super ceded the need, the reliance for gears and have been able to achieve total harmony with the use of a single gear. This is not easily done, not for the weak of mind nor for the weak in faith. No hill is too steep when you are an enlightened one. The hills all kneel before me and the down hills extend them selves with out limit. It is total control over the planet, over all terrain, a power to great for most and far to great for the "cutters".
For some of you reaching this enlightenment will prove to be to much to bear and your heads will explode, literally explode with this increased knowledge brought forth through achieving cycling Nirvana. For many of you this journey towards cycling Nirvana will be far to difficult and being complete chicken shits you will avoid it. I understand, riding gears is simple, it is "easy" and I don't expect all of you to have the same drive, determination or God like abilities that I naturally posses. It is my gift and at times a curse to be so intelligent, so brilliant and so devilishly good looking but please do not weep for me I will carry this cross.
In conclusion, I will continue to ride with the geared masses, like a shepherd attending his flock I will safe guard you from the inevitable need for more gears. Always with a gentle, gloved hand, I will guide you back. Back to a place of peace a place of light. I will bless you with knowledge in portions easily digested so that one day you too may achieve Nirvana and live in a place so serene, so right, that you will cast your cassettes aside. Some of you however are so simple, so intellectually underdeveloped that gears will be all you know and to that I say "enjoy the short blue bus".
Peace and love.
So there it is why I can ride a single speed, anywhere, in any condition and why the rest of you struggle with gears. I will be here, awaiting others to join me in this enlightened place, but sadly many of you do not posses the tact nor intelligence to join me, no worries we can still be friends.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Stupid is as stupid does
Well here I am again on the verge of yet another rant.
Before I get started, pouring my wisdom and all knowing-ness upon you, I will provide this warning: What you are about to read here is my opinion, which is to say, the right way of thinking. All those who disagree with my views, sentiments or line of thinking are free to continue on their current path, a path which most likely will lead to certain and epic failure.
So, that was the closest thing to a parental advisory you will get on my blog, I love it! My blog, it's really all in the name. Since it is mine I will say what I like about whom I like in any fashion which brings me amusement.
Now that the formalities are out of the way, I will tell you a tale starring no other then a "stupid person".
I will highlight this fact because stupid people are not like you nor I, they are, as their name suggests stupid. This stupidity could be the result of too much or too little love, a mother who drank while pregnant or just really poor DNA. In either case they are stupid. So we, as the "non-stupid" can only expect so much from them.
I, a being of great intelligence, tact, skill, good looks and all things God-like was imparting my knowledge in the form of a bike lesson. Prior to this magnificent dictation of bike skill, the "stupid person" required a bike. A process quite simple. The individual fills out a rental form, pays with any form of currency. Bartering is not permitted nor do we accept farm stock or pocket lint. The renter then brings said form to staff who then in turn fits the renter to a bike. Said staff member then records the bike's number on the rental form, a copy is given to the renter and we, being the one doing the renting keep a copy, both of which have personnel info, i.e. credit card numbers on them. Now it becomes difficult to do this when the "stupid person" takes both forms ... problem? ... Not really ... they have all the info, so we are not responsible for destroying this sensitive information. After the lesson this stupid person returned their bike.
The cause for her next actions are probably the result of me imparting too much knowledge upon her. Too much knowledge in respects to her simple brain. When she returned her rental, her form was nowhere to be found, for those of you who are stupid I will re-state this point, she took it. When our talented staff could not find it, she became possessed, demonic and in all totality a BITCH. She blamed us for losing her form. Imagine the nerve, bitch. This rant went on for about two hours. A rant I will admit to missing as I a being of all knowing, was giving another lesson. When I returned I was confronted by the "stupid person" easily recognizable my her large forehead, close set eyes and overall demeanor of low intellect. She, using some dialect of "stupid," asked me what I did with her form. I took a deep breath and responded, calmly, in control with "is it possible you took it, why don't you look through your belongings again and we will again look through ours" Her response deserved nothing less then a loud "what the fuck" as she admitted to not looking through her own belongings. Who does this? Who, outside of the stupid, don't look through their own shit first? My fucking heavens! Evidently and with little surprise to myself, she found it, with her shit, in her car. What a fucking stunt. Obviously she was embarrassed which lead to her blaming everyone else, including her husband who was not even present, for causing her stress and anger. Who marries something like that? The answer is someone who can't do any better. Wow simple much. Here is the kicker, she was a teacher. Retired, thank some God somewhere. What kind of people do we having roaming the planet thanks to this fucking battle axe? I'll tell ya, stupid ones, (again easily identifiable - see above description). Seriously, if you are about thirty and went to school about one hour north of Orillia, go to the school board, ask for a refund because odds are you didn't learn shit, especially if this is the caliber of teacher they had about 15 years ago. Then take a hot shower and make sure all the "stupid" is washed off in case you were contaminated by proximity.
I realize this was a long one and for many of you, your A.D.D. kicked in and you are pacing around the room no longer focused on the glowing screen before you.
In conclusion, I fucking hate stupidity and would have liked nothing more then to say "hey you stupid piece of shit, what, outside of nothing, was going through your head. Before freaking out like a fucking spastic tart, you should look through your own shit, thus avoiding looking like a complete retard. My word, give your head a shake. On second thought don't, lets preserve what little intelligence you have, fuck. What the fucking fuck."
Well that's really it, enough for some and too much for the stupid.
Peace, love and down with stupid people.
Before I get started, pouring my wisdom and all knowing-ness upon you, I will provide this warning: What you are about to read here is my opinion, which is to say, the right way of thinking. All those who disagree with my views, sentiments or line of thinking are free to continue on their current path, a path which most likely will lead to certain and epic failure.
So, that was the closest thing to a parental advisory you will get on my blog, I love it! My blog, it's really all in the name. Since it is mine I will say what I like about whom I like in any fashion which brings me amusement.
Now that the formalities are out of the way, I will tell you a tale starring no other then a "stupid person".
I will highlight this fact because stupid people are not like you nor I, they are, as their name suggests stupid. This stupidity could be the result of too much or too little love, a mother who drank while pregnant or just really poor DNA. In either case they are stupid. So we, as the "non-stupid" can only expect so much from them.
I, a being of great intelligence, tact, skill, good looks and all things God-like was imparting my knowledge in the form of a bike lesson. Prior to this magnificent dictation of bike skill, the "stupid person" required a bike. A process quite simple. The individual fills out a rental form, pays with any form of currency. Bartering is not permitted nor do we accept farm stock or pocket lint. The renter then brings said form to staff who then in turn fits the renter to a bike. Said staff member then records the bike's number on the rental form, a copy is given to the renter and we, being the one doing the renting keep a copy, both of which have personnel info, i.e. credit card numbers on them. Now it becomes difficult to do this when the "stupid person" takes both forms ... problem? ... Not really ... they have all the info, so we are not responsible for destroying this sensitive information. After the lesson this stupid person returned their bike.
The cause for her next actions are probably the result of me imparting too much knowledge upon her. Too much knowledge in respects to her simple brain. When she returned her rental, her form was nowhere to be found, for those of you who are stupid I will re-state this point, she took it. When our talented staff could not find it, she became possessed, demonic and in all totality a BITCH. She blamed us for losing her form. Imagine the nerve, bitch. This rant went on for about two hours. A rant I will admit to missing as I a being of all knowing, was giving another lesson. When I returned I was confronted by the "stupid person" easily recognizable my her large forehead, close set eyes and overall demeanor of low intellect. She, using some dialect of "stupid," asked me what I did with her form. I took a deep breath and responded, calmly, in control with "is it possible you took it, why don't you look through your belongings again and we will again look through ours" Her response deserved nothing less then a loud "what the fuck" as she admitted to not looking through her own belongings. Who does this? Who, outside of the stupid, don't look through their own shit first? My fucking heavens! Evidently and with little surprise to myself, she found it, with her shit, in her car. What a fucking stunt. Obviously she was embarrassed which lead to her blaming everyone else, including her husband who was not even present, for causing her stress and anger. Who marries something like that? The answer is someone who can't do any better. Wow simple much. Here is the kicker, she was a teacher. Retired, thank some God somewhere. What kind of people do we having roaming the planet thanks to this fucking battle axe? I'll tell ya, stupid ones, (again easily identifiable - see above description). Seriously, if you are about thirty and went to school about one hour north of Orillia, go to the school board, ask for a refund because odds are you didn't learn shit, especially if this is the caliber of teacher they had about 15 years ago. Then take a hot shower and make sure all the "stupid" is washed off in case you were contaminated by proximity.
I realize this was a long one and for many of you, your A.D.D. kicked in and you are pacing around the room no longer focused on the glowing screen before you.
In conclusion, I fucking hate stupidity and would have liked nothing more then to say "hey you stupid piece of shit, what, outside of nothing, was going through your head. Before freaking out like a fucking spastic tart, you should look through your own shit, thus avoiding looking like a complete retard. My word, give your head a shake. On second thought don't, lets preserve what little intelligence you have, fuck. What the fucking fuck."
Well that's really it, enough for some and too much for the stupid.
Peace, love and down with stupid people.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Well here is the moment many of you have been waiting for, the moment I admit for the first and what could be the only time that I was wrong.
Aghast, did he just admit to being wrong? Indeed people I have. It was brought to my attention that despite my understanding of the law and my belief in the rights to freedom of speech that I was wrong.
Apparently my writing "offends" some people, hurts the fabric of society. My words, religious views which are exactly that, my views seem to strike at the very moral fibre of some. Well heaven forbid that we all don't share the same ideas. Wouldn't that make life so much easier for things such as organized religion? Imagine the uncountable number of followers religious groups would have if we all just had the same views, their views more specifically. I must have missed the mass e-mail which stated that we were no longer allowed to voice our personnel opinions. Opinions that I don't necessarily expect everyone to share, the bright ones will, but not everyone. I especially missed the portion were holding a religious view not in line with un- named faith to be promoting hate. I a hate monger, I think not. Educator, corrupter or values maybe but hate writer? Hate is such a strong word, I prefer to think of myself as offering a different view.
My view is not one for all, I merely suggest that in the end, judgement day that is, we shoot them all and let ME sort them out. For those of you with exposure to pop culture, you will have realized with your quick wit, that this is a play on the phrase "shoot them all and let God sort them out". What I have done here you see is made a farce that I am god. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not but will all have to just wait and see.
In the end, I would like to think that we all have a sense of humour. I don't expect all to share the same sense of humour because it would mean we would all have to have a fairly high base level of intelligence and of course be literate enough to read. But there I go again spreading hate, my bad.
I will leave you with this quote, one I myself stumbled upon today "God is a comedian playing to an audience to afraid to laugh", well I ain't afraid to laugh, god is a funny mother fucker, I am a funny mother fucker I wonder, coincidence, maybe, maybe not.
Peace and love and all gods, deities, voodoo dolls and other religious junk.
Aghast, did he just admit to being wrong? Indeed people I have. It was brought to my attention that despite my understanding of the law and my belief in the rights to freedom of speech that I was wrong.
Apparently my writing "offends" some people, hurts the fabric of society. My words, religious views which are exactly that, my views seem to strike at the very moral fibre of some. Well heaven forbid that we all don't share the same ideas. Wouldn't that make life so much easier for things such as organized religion? Imagine the uncountable number of followers religious groups would have if we all just had the same views, their views more specifically. I must have missed the mass e-mail which stated that we were no longer allowed to voice our personnel opinions. Opinions that I don't necessarily expect everyone to share, the bright ones will, but not everyone. I especially missed the portion were holding a religious view not in line with un- named faith to be promoting hate. I a hate monger, I think not. Educator, corrupter or values maybe but hate writer? Hate is such a strong word, I prefer to think of myself as offering a different view.
My view is not one for all, I merely suggest that in the end, judgement day that is, we shoot them all and let ME sort them out. For those of you with exposure to pop culture, you will have realized with your quick wit, that this is a play on the phrase "shoot them all and let God sort them out". What I have done here you see is made a farce that I am god. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not but will all have to just wait and see.
In the end, I would like to think that we all have a sense of humour. I don't expect all to share the same sense of humour because it would mean we would all have to have a fairly high base level of intelligence and of course be literate enough to read. But there I go again spreading hate, my bad.
I will leave you with this quote, one I myself stumbled upon today "God is a comedian playing to an audience to afraid to laugh", well I ain't afraid to laugh, god is a funny mother fucker, I am a funny mother fucker I wonder, coincidence, maybe, maybe not.
Peace and love and all gods, deities, voodoo dolls and other religious junk.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Shattered
Life, unfortunately, is full of disappointment. More tragically is the fact that we often become familiar with it at an early age, often with the learning that icons such as Santa Clause are not real.
Being resilient we deal with these disappointing moments, some times with shedding tears and some times with brat like out bursts of anger. The commonality is that our disappointment is often the result of putting our faith, joy and trust into people who seem God like, but in the end turn out to be mere mortals. Professional athletes seem to be the outlets to which we "plug" our hopes and dreams into. We foolishly believe that they are pure, ethical individuals who hold themselves to the highest standards. I am deeply saddened to report that this my friends is not true.
You see, I put all my trust in a particular cyclist, who's name shall go un-mentioned. The very mentioning of their name strikes the deepest pain into my heart, a pain so un imaginably horrific that time may not be able to heal it.
This pro-athlete, an inspiration to riders everywhere, a rider who rides for a Canadian company, Norco in fact is a cutter. It is true, I am sad to say, but I witnessed the atrocity with my own eyes.
A few days ago I, while on my way to Hardwood, saw this icon, hero of mine if you will commit an act which is unimaginable. Approaching the entrance to Hardwood I saw him coming towards us on his road bike, stunning, perfect form. Of course my heart began to race, the anticipation of watching a prime athlete take the turn into the parking lot. Instead, disappointment. With only a few hundred feet left, a few hundred feet that could have been easily coasted especially given his supreme speed, he cut. He and with a heavy heart I write this cut across the lawn into the parking lot. My heart was shattered into fragments, so many that there is no word in existence to express the number. I shall simply say a lot! Which is of course two words, not one.
I being a person of integrity, confronted this Canadian cycling icon, his rebuttal, more devastating then the cut itself.
"It wasn't taped off", my word. Has it come to this. A short cut needs to be taped off, it's temptation so strong that tape is required to prevent it's taking. A mere mortal I understand, but this professional athlete? I expected more, I expect God like behaviour, Jesus resisted temptation in the Desert, I thought this rider could resist the temptation of a short cut. "For shame" I say "for shame".
I guess, painfully, I have learned a valuable lesson, I am better off putting my faith in an athlete like Tiger Woods. Tiger may cheat on his wife and slut himself around, but Tiger my friends does not take short cuts, no way no how.....
To the athlete in question, you know who you are and in the end you have to live with this deed of cutting, cutting from Old Barrie road into the parking lot of Hard wood Ski and bike, I only hope you are not haunted my this for all time.
Peace and love,
and tears in his eyes.
P.S. This is of course a complete and sarcastic commentary on an event, which holds absolutely no meaning, relavence or value to me but I do, admittedly, get joy no matter how twisted, out of harassing those I consider friends. Andrew Watson, ha there I said your name, sucker!
Being resilient we deal with these disappointing moments, some times with shedding tears and some times with brat like out bursts of anger. The commonality is that our disappointment is often the result of putting our faith, joy and trust into people who seem God like, but in the end turn out to be mere mortals. Professional athletes seem to be the outlets to which we "plug" our hopes and dreams into. We foolishly believe that they are pure, ethical individuals who hold themselves to the highest standards. I am deeply saddened to report that this my friends is not true.
You see, I put all my trust in a particular cyclist, who's name shall go un-mentioned. The very mentioning of their name strikes the deepest pain into my heart, a pain so un imaginably horrific that time may not be able to heal it.
This pro-athlete, an inspiration to riders everywhere, a rider who rides for a Canadian company, Norco in fact is a cutter. It is true, I am sad to say, but I witnessed the atrocity with my own eyes.
A few days ago I, while on my way to Hardwood, saw this icon, hero of mine if you will commit an act which is unimaginable. Approaching the entrance to Hardwood I saw him coming towards us on his road bike, stunning, perfect form. Of course my heart began to race, the anticipation of watching a prime athlete take the turn into the parking lot. Instead, disappointment. With only a few hundred feet left, a few hundred feet that could have been easily coasted especially given his supreme speed, he cut. He and with a heavy heart I write this cut across the lawn into the parking lot. My heart was shattered into fragments, so many that there is no word in existence to express the number. I shall simply say a lot! Which is of course two words, not one.
I being a person of integrity, confronted this Canadian cycling icon, his rebuttal, more devastating then the cut itself.
"It wasn't taped off", my word. Has it come to this. A short cut needs to be taped off, it's temptation so strong that tape is required to prevent it's taking. A mere mortal I understand, but this professional athlete? I expected more, I expect God like behaviour, Jesus resisted temptation in the Desert, I thought this rider could resist the temptation of a short cut. "For shame" I say "for shame".
I guess, painfully, I have learned a valuable lesson, I am better off putting my faith in an athlete like Tiger Woods. Tiger may cheat on his wife and slut himself around, but Tiger my friends does not take short cuts, no way no how.....
To the athlete in question, you know who you are and in the end you have to live with this deed of cutting, cutting from Old Barrie road into the parking lot of Hard wood Ski and bike, I only hope you are not haunted my this for all time.
Peace and love,
and tears in his eyes.
P.S. This is of course a complete and sarcastic commentary on an event, which holds absolutely no meaning, relavence or value to me but I do, admittedly, get joy no matter how twisted, out of harassing those I consider friends. Andrew Watson, ha there I said your name, sucker!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
What an ass!
Obviously for those of you who actually read my blog, you realize that this is my first post in some time. Why? Who really knows, nice weather, bikes, or beer one of these three things seems to have distracted me, but fear not, I have returned.
I am not here to impart wisdom today but rather tell you of the worlds largest dumb ass, no not me, but some thing in my care. Since his adoption, Dexter has demonstrated that he may be the most dimwitted creature in existence, a lovable retard if you will and you will because I control the key board so na na bo bo. Any whore, like many concerned parents we bought a book in hopes that the text would shed light upon the shallow depth of his thinking and allow us to turn our dumb ass doberman into a candidate for best in show. FAIL. The book describes dobermans as "regal" "obedient" dogs who strive to please their owners and whose feelings are easily hurt. By please I believe the author meant piss off and by regal I believe that is "street" for retarded because Dexter is the exact opposite of all descriptions in the book.
Point in case, yesterday during a lovely ride in Copeland, Dexter disappeared. Oh where oh where did he go you may ask? To fend off a vicious attacker, to rescue Timmy form the well? NO like a dumb ass he found him self a pointy little friend. Yes a porcupine who, with a smile on his face, filled Dexters nose with quills. Then like a kid with A.D.D he noticed a deer who he then proceeded to chase. What a fucking dumb ass! I in true god like fashion stayed calm, calling Dexter in such a fashion, " hey you fucking dumb ass, what the fuck is going through your brain?"
The answer of course is nothing. When he finally returned I wanted to go Chuck Norris on his ass and beat him like I owned him, which I do, but he is after all a dog, a dumb ass dog who cannot link one thing to the next so beating him will prove to be futile, enjoyable and stress relieving, but futile. So we calmly proceeded to the car, to the vet and to the pub.
I now realize why parents kick kids out of their homes, because if I had a kid with the intellect of Dexter, I would drop him off at a cornour with a dollar and pat on the back and a "best of luck".
Word to the wise.......fuck I don't have any wise words in this matter. I guess despite everything, training, books, educational videos, at the end of the day a dog is a dog and will do dog things like roll in dead fish, smell crotches and chomp down on porcupines.......
What a fucking dumb ass,
Peace and Love
I am not here to impart wisdom today but rather tell you of the worlds largest dumb ass, no not me, but some thing in my care. Since his adoption, Dexter has demonstrated that he may be the most dimwitted creature in existence, a lovable retard if you will and you will because I control the key board so na na bo bo. Any whore, like many concerned parents we bought a book in hopes that the text would shed light upon the shallow depth of his thinking and allow us to turn our dumb ass doberman into a candidate for best in show. FAIL. The book describes dobermans as "regal" "obedient" dogs who strive to please their owners and whose feelings are easily hurt. By please I believe the author meant piss off and by regal I believe that is "street" for retarded because Dexter is the exact opposite of all descriptions in the book.
Point in case, yesterday during a lovely ride in Copeland, Dexter disappeared. Oh where oh where did he go you may ask? To fend off a vicious attacker, to rescue Timmy form the well? NO like a dumb ass he found him self a pointy little friend. Yes a porcupine who, with a smile on his face, filled Dexters nose with quills. Then like a kid with A.D.D he noticed a deer who he then proceeded to chase. What a fucking dumb ass! I in true god like fashion stayed calm, calling Dexter in such a fashion, " hey you fucking dumb ass, what the fuck is going through your brain?"
The answer of course is nothing. When he finally returned I wanted to go Chuck Norris on his ass and beat him like I owned him, which I do, but he is after all a dog, a dumb ass dog who cannot link one thing to the next so beating him will prove to be futile, enjoyable and stress relieving, but futile. So we calmly proceeded to the car, to the vet and to the pub.
I now realize why parents kick kids out of their homes, because if I had a kid with the intellect of Dexter, I would drop him off at a cornour with a dollar and pat on the back and a "best of luck".
Word to the wise.......fuck I don't have any wise words in this matter. I guess despite everything, training, books, educational videos, at the end of the day a dog is a dog and will do dog things like roll in dead fish, smell crotches and chomp down on porcupines.......
What a fucking dumb ass,
Peace and Love
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Raise a pint and chant "down with Wal-Mart!"
Whilst enjoying a few libations over the weekend a conversation began, spawned by a toast to Al Gore and the irrefutable truth that global warming is not a hoax, inconvenient for some but the truth non the less.
So, after a toast like that it was pre-destined that the conversation at some point would find it's way to Wal-Mart.
It's not that I hate Wal-Mart, it's just that I don't want it to be in existence anymore. Oh, but what about the roll back prices you say, the friendly greeters you ask, or the ability to do all your shopping in one easy to access super store.
Fuck that shit I say.
Roll back prices my ass. Have you ever wondered why the shit that overflows the shelves of Wal-Mart is so cheap? It's because it's made in some 3rd world country by workers who A) have no rights and B) are paid worse then a prostitute with the clap.
Don't fret about it though, you don't have to see them or the rape and pillage of the environment that accompanies the manufacturing of this shit, out of sight out of mind. Wal-Mart goes one step further though to ensure low prices, they are one of the biggest employers of illegal immigrants. "Oh my" you say as you fill your cart with shit that you will throw out in less then 6months. That's right, that's the life cycle of stuff. Back on point, hiring illegal workers means that you don't have to give them benefits or pay them minimum wage, a few threats of deportation and those folks will pretty much do anything, wink, wink.
Let us now examine the greeters. An army of seniors who rank slightly higher then there illegal co-workers. These poor son of bitch's aren't here because they love the job. They are here because they probably made no plans for retirement, no stashing money under the mattress. Big daddy Wal-mart knows this, so they hire a fleet of barely mobile folks who are paid like first world prostitutes with herpes, minimum wage and no benefits. If these gummer's rock the boat out they go. Lets face it, with baby boomers steadily becoming the fastest growing segment in the market they will have a mass of workers at there disposal, literally these folks are close to death. All of this and the fact that they push their goddamn shopping carts on me. If I want a cart I'll get one on my own you smiling jack ass. Oh and check my bag on the way out, your lucky I'm no Chuck Norris or ca pow right to the chops.
For the last case in point, one stop shopping is highly over rated. If Wal-mart were viewed as a microcosm of society I would be fucking scared. It would reflect poorly. We would apparently only care about shitty, over processed food, cheap clothes and electronics made from non recyclable, toxic materials and guns and ammo. Well slap me on the ass and call me an American.
I prefer to walk, civilized and such, from one individually owned store to the next. Gleefully chatting with seniors who assume the appropriate position. That is to say on a bench feeding the birds. Paying fair prices to local merchants who buy their products locally. Yes it is a world that resembles the bev's but I like it. It sure as hell beats what Wal-mart offers. Ever wonder what a cow's life is like in it's final minutes, go stand in the express line in a Wal-mart.
Oh, what a big soap box I stand on. Use your head, think about what your buying, where it comes from who it benefits? Oh and last but not least, if your the jack ass who doesn't put their cart in the cart corral and I see you, I will run you down, seriously, I will.
Peace and love.
So, after a toast like that it was pre-destined that the conversation at some point would find it's way to Wal-Mart.
It's not that I hate Wal-Mart, it's just that I don't want it to be in existence anymore. Oh, but what about the roll back prices you say, the friendly greeters you ask, or the ability to do all your shopping in one easy to access super store.
Fuck that shit I say.
Roll back prices my ass. Have you ever wondered why the shit that overflows the shelves of Wal-Mart is so cheap? It's because it's made in some 3rd world country by workers who A) have no rights and B) are paid worse then a prostitute with the clap.
Don't fret about it though, you don't have to see them or the rape and pillage of the environment that accompanies the manufacturing of this shit, out of sight out of mind. Wal-Mart goes one step further though to ensure low prices, they are one of the biggest employers of illegal immigrants. "Oh my" you say as you fill your cart with shit that you will throw out in less then 6months. That's right, that's the life cycle of stuff. Back on point, hiring illegal workers means that you don't have to give them benefits or pay them minimum wage, a few threats of deportation and those folks will pretty much do anything, wink, wink.
Let us now examine the greeters. An army of seniors who rank slightly higher then there illegal co-workers. These poor son of bitch's aren't here because they love the job. They are here because they probably made no plans for retirement, no stashing money under the mattress. Big daddy Wal-mart knows this, so they hire a fleet of barely mobile folks who are paid like first world prostitutes with herpes, minimum wage and no benefits. If these gummer's rock the boat out they go. Lets face it, with baby boomers steadily becoming the fastest growing segment in the market they will have a mass of workers at there disposal, literally these folks are close to death. All of this and the fact that they push their goddamn shopping carts on me. If I want a cart I'll get one on my own you smiling jack ass. Oh and check my bag on the way out, your lucky I'm no Chuck Norris or ca pow right to the chops.
For the last case in point, one stop shopping is highly over rated. If Wal-mart were viewed as a microcosm of society I would be fucking scared. It would reflect poorly. We would apparently only care about shitty, over processed food, cheap clothes and electronics made from non recyclable, toxic materials and guns and ammo. Well slap me on the ass and call me an American.
I prefer to walk, civilized and such, from one individually owned store to the next. Gleefully chatting with seniors who assume the appropriate position. That is to say on a bench feeding the birds. Paying fair prices to local merchants who buy their products locally. Yes it is a world that resembles the bev's but I like it. It sure as hell beats what Wal-mart offers. Ever wonder what a cow's life is like in it's final minutes, go stand in the express line in a Wal-mart.
Oh, what a big soap box I stand on. Use your head, think about what your buying, where it comes from who it benefits? Oh and last but not least, if your the jack ass who doesn't put their cart in the cart corral and I see you, I will run you down, seriously, I will.
Peace and love.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
When are the 80's coming back?
Seriously though, when are they coming back?
I am a child of the 80's in as much as I was born in 1980. As I recall it was the most brilliant point in human history. My recollection of course is limited to the late 80's the time between picking my nose and the introduction of MC Hammer. As I recall it was totally awesome and I feel like I would have done so well during that decade.
When this topic arises, the majority seem to want to dismiss this decade, brushing it under the rug of time. I have come to the conclusion that this is done because it was so awesome of a period that re-living it is painful because no other period will be as awesome so we have blocked it from our memory leap frogging in time from 1979 to 1990.
I would like to present a couple of examples as to why the 80's was and will forever be the pinnacle of human civilization, if you agree with me "right on" if you don't then you are delusional and clearly off your meds.
Here are a few highlights which prove my point with no room for rebuttal:
1980- I am born, your welcome. The rest of the world is cruising around on roller blades while wearing IZOD alligator shirts, collars flipped up of course. Rocking out to Air supply on their Walkmans and solving the Rubik cube. Mount St. Helen's erupts, which is bad, but volcano's are way cool.
1981- Our minds are stimulated with the wonders of Arcade excellence as we are introduced to Pac-man. MTV debuts, airing it's first video by the Buggles, "video killed the radio star", leg warmers are so the thing and IBM gives us the personal computer.
1982 -The world flocked to the newly opened Epcot center and Smurfs made our world a bit brighter. E.T. came into to our lives and Reeses Pieces were all the rage. Heads bobbed whilst listing to new bands like Duran Duran, Bryan Adams, Hewy Lewis and The News and of course "Thriller" one of the best albums of all time is released.
1983- Crack hits the streets and we said good bye to M.A.S.H and hello to the Cabbage patch dolls. Jane Fonda helped firm asses everywhere and the soundtrack to the year was given to us by REM, Madonna and Culture club. That and apple gave us the mouse, nice.
1984- The pivotal question "wheres the beef?" was asked, stone washed jeans and Miami Vice, need I say more, thank you 1984
1985 - The price of a movie, $3.55. We wrapped our arms around Teddy Ruxpin and wanted to give the world a hug while we listened to "We are the world".
1986-We all mourned together as Challenger exploded and laughed together with ALF and the Tanner family. The Bangles gave us the audio master piece "walk like an Egyptian" and we all agreed with Madonna when she sang "Papa don't preach". Thanks sister.
1987-"I just died in your arms tonight" said it all and we captured the year on disposable cameras. We said goodbye to Andy Worhol and Kristy Alley joined the cast of Cheers.
1988-Can be summed up by the song of the year "Don't worry be happy", but it was hard because Casey Kasem signed off the air, top 40 radio changed forever. Sony Bono was Mayor of Palm Springs. Roseanne got her own show and the first prescriptions for anit-depressants where written, Prozac to be specific. Any corhelation?
1989-The Berlin wall came down and east met west for the first time in 28 years. The Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles filled Saturday mornings and Milli Vinilli picked up a Grammy.
Now I am sure my brilliantly guided, beautifully crafted and grammatically perfect highlight reel of the 80's proves with out a doubt that it was the best decade of all time. If you ever make it back look for me, I'll be the guy rocking a "flocks of seagull" hair cut, acid washed jeans with worn out knees and IZOD alligator shirt collared flipped up and converse high tops. On my head a pair of ear phones plugged into a bright yellow walkman bellowing out the words "Relax don't do it" . One foot will be on a single tipped skateboard and a Rubik cube in my pocket. That's right, the coolest looking mother fucker you would be graced to lay your eyes on. If you make it back maybe we can have "breakfast at Tiffany's" ?
Peace and Love
and 80's forever!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
I'm Melting, melting.....
Coffee in hand, dogs at my side I stand peering out the window. It would seem that winter is over, the snow steadily melting helped along by the rain which has been falling over the last two days. I have watched local snow people, to be politically correct, meet their demise over the last week. With temperatures hovering around the 10 degree mark I took notice as day by day these creatures began to reshape, melting into what amounts to soppy piles of slush. As I watch as they disappear from existence I wonder, do they have feelings, does it hurt, death by melting?
As far as I am concerned meeting my demise as a result of melting is low on the list of "ways to go". This might seem like a ridiculous concern but think about it. We breath life into these beings, give them carrot noses and coal eyes, we take photos of them and post them on our face book pages and tag them as though they are friends. But as the warm weather greets us we turn our backs on them and let them melt, ignoring their silent pleas. I think we should be ashamed, we should just shoot them, a quick and painless death. Instead we let them parish, slowly without intervention. Perhaps we can bag some small part of them and use it for snow people genetic cloning to create an identical copy next winter? Maybe I am sleep deprived from a winter of grooming or maybe I am a rambling lunatic who has yet to be committed. In either scenario heed my plea and do the right thing, end snow peoples lives quickly and painlessly or help the process along with a blow dryer, just saying.
Peace and Love
accepting donations on behalf of snow people everywhere.
As far as I am concerned meeting my demise as a result of melting is low on the list of "ways to go". This might seem like a ridiculous concern but think about it. We breath life into these beings, give them carrot noses and coal eyes, we take photos of them and post them on our face book pages and tag them as though they are friends. But as the warm weather greets us we turn our backs on them and let them melt, ignoring their silent pleas. I think we should be ashamed, we should just shoot them, a quick and painless death. Instead we let them parish, slowly without intervention. Perhaps we can bag some small part of them and use it for snow people genetic cloning to create an identical copy next winter? Maybe I am sleep deprived from a winter of grooming or maybe I am a rambling lunatic who has yet to be committed. In either scenario heed my plea and do the right thing, end snow peoples lives quickly and painlessly or help the process along with a blow dryer, just saying.
Peace and Love
accepting donations on behalf of snow people everywhere.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Vega -a-tarian
So a little over a year ago I made the choice to become a vegetarian, not because I am against the slaughter of animals or because I am some radical, free thinking, tie dyed shirt wearing hippie. Well, actually I am but I try to limit my ti-dye wearing to odd days or every other Thursday. I chose to become a "veggie" because something about it called to me, so I listened and thought I would give it a try. Initially I had some concerns, but they were limited mainly to sources of protein. With a little searching, the answers were found and I have been healthy and happy.
The reason I have brought this up today is because I am still amazed when people find out your a vegetarian, the response is slightly more reserved then that of discovering your dad is a terrorist but there is still a gasp of astonishment which is always followed by one of two responses. The first is "isn't it hard" and the second is a snotty, better then you "I couldn't do it". Usually after one of these two responses there is several stupid ass questions, usually based on ignorance or slow sanapson firing.
Let me address these questions. For me and this is strictly based on my own personal experience, no being a vegetarian isn't hard. I really didn't eat much meat prior to my choice so the transition was really easy. Plus I am not a picky eater and love fresh fruit and vegetables.
The more often response, "I couldn't do it", is usually delivered with an arrogance which is based on ignorance because if you knew where your meat came from and what they do to it odds are you would vomit and opt for a salad. Ignorance is bliss, but let me enlighten you a bit with some fun facts about mass produced, grade "A" meat.
As our population steadily increases so does our consumption rate and we are really good at gobbling up things, usually useless shit, if you are doubting me just look around, how many dollar stores do you see? So back to the case at point. In order to feed this mass population we have devised some clever ways to mass produce animals, no more chickens pecking the ground or cows in the field grazing with a smile. Chickens today come from, basically, three main "growers" and don't see light. That's right these poor sons of bitches are kept in the dark 24/7 Overfed and jacked up on more drugs then your local crack fiend. They gain so much weight, so quickly that they can't even stand. That is some fucked up shit. Then they are butchered, packaged and consumed. Oh did I mentioned cleaned with ammonia. Then we gobble them up, chemicals, hormones a whole buffet of shit. Take a look around, chicken breasts aren't the only breast getting bigger. Question, you think the hormones they feed chickens come out in the processing, wake the fuck up this isn't laundry and these aren't grass stains.
Pigs and cows share the same fate, put they get to stand outside. What a lovely image, a herd of suntanned fat asses, with needles in their arms standing knee high in their own shit. Dinner anyone.
Now this isn't what motivated me in my choice, but I am sure glad I made it. I am sure some of you think I am "preaching" or self righteous and I just may be, but the fact of the matter is that we don't need to be ingesting this kind of shit. This process of food production isn't limited to meat, fruits and vegetables are druggies too. Picked early, put on ships and trains and "fogged" with toxic gases to give them that "fresh just picked look"
What can you do? The answer is simple buy local, buy organic.If you chose eat meat , but buy free range organic meat. The kind that comes from animals that get to be animals, eat grass, shit in a field, walk around. Yes this will cost more money so you may have to make some changes to your spending but isn't living healthier or longer worth it. Maybe we should be asking are governments why pop and chips are cheaper then a head of lettuce or why fast food restaurants have dollar menus and you can't even buy a bottle of water for that. Think that beef on that dollar burger is real?
I am sure some of you think I am fucking ridiculous and out of my mind. I am sure that those of you with this opinion are probably smokers which speaks volumes about your intelligence. Look I am just concerned about the health of our planet because to the best of my knowledge we can't just pick up and move. For those of you who just don't care I suggest wrapping your lips around your tail pipe and just sucking for a bit, mmmmm.
I will leave you with this question. Do you think that the chemicals we use to "help" our food along disappears when the animal is slaughtered, do you think it might end up in our bodies, in the air in our water?
Peace and love
And healthy food at fair prices
The reason I have brought this up today is because I am still amazed when people find out your a vegetarian, the response is slightly more reserved then that of discovering your dad is a terrorist but there is still a gasp of astonishment which is always followed by one of two responses. The first is "isn't it hard" and the second is a snotty, better then you "I couldn't do it". Usually after one of these two responses there is several stupid ass questions, usually based on ignorance or slow sanapson firing.
Let me address these questions. For me and this is strictly based on my own personal experience, no being a vegetarian isn't hard. I really didn't eat much meat prior to my choice so the transition was really easy. Plus I am not a picky eater and love fresh fruit and vegetables.
The more often response, "I couldn't do it", is usually delivered with an arrogance which is based on ignorance because if you knew where your meat came from and what they do to it odds are you would vomit and opt for a salad. Ignorance is bliss, but let me enlighten you a bit with some fun facts about mass produced, grade "A" meat.
As our population steadily increases so does our consumption rate and we are really good at gobbling up things, usually useless shit, if you are doubting me just look around, how many dollar stores do you see? So back to the case at point. In order to feed this mass population we have devised some clever ways to mass produce animals, no more chickens pecking the ground or cows in the field grazing with a smile. Chickens today come from, basically, three main "growers" and don't see light. That's right these poor sons of bitches are kept in the dark 24/7 Overfed and jacked up on more drugs then your local crack fiend. They gain so much weight, so quickly that they can't even stand. That is some fucked up shit. Then they are butchered, packaged and consumed. Oh did I mentioned cleaned with ammonia. Then we gobble them up, chemicals, hormones a whole buffet of shit. Take a look around, chicken breasts aren't the only breast getting bigger. Question, you think the hormones they feed chickens come out in the processing, wake the fuck up this isn't laundry and these aren't grass stains.
Pigs and cows share the same fate, put they get to stand outside. What a lovely image, a herd of suntanned fat asses, with needles in their arms standing knee high in their own shit. Dinner anyone.
Now this isn't what motivated me in my choice, but I am sure glad I made it. I am sure some of you think I am "preaching" or self righteous and I just may be, but the fact of the matter is that we don't need to be ingesting this kind of shit. This process of food production isn't limited to meat, fruits and vegetables are druggies too. Picked early, put on ships and trains and "fogged" with toxic gases to give them that "fresh just picked look"
What can you do? The answer is simple buy local, buy organic.If you chose eat meat , but buy free range organic meat. The kind that comes from animals that get to be animals, eat grass, shit in a field, walk around. Yes this will cost more money so you may have to make some changes to your spending but isn't living healthier or longer worth it. Maybe we should be asking are governments why pop and chips are cheaper then a head of lettuce or why fast food restaurants have dollar menus and you can't even buy a bottle of water for that. Think that beef on that dollar burger is real?
I am sure some of you think I am fucking ridiculous and out of my mind. I am sure that those of you with this opinion are probably smokers which speaks volumes about your intelligence. Look I am just concerned about the health of our planet because to the best of my knowledge we can't just pick up and move. For those of you who just don't care I suggest wrapping your lips around your tail pipe and just sucking for a bit, mmmmm.
I will leave you with this question. Do you think that the chemicals we use to "help" our food along disappears when the animal is slaughtered, do you think it might end up in our bodies, in the air in our water?
Peace and love
And healthy food at fair prices
Monday, March 8, 2010
"Go ahead, keep driving"
I just finished reading a post from a good friend Matt Spak. He wrote about a disappointing ride he had yesterday. Unfortunately he ended up with some tire trouble which brought his ride to an end. Luckily he was able to contact a friend who came to get him. The real "disappointment" came for Matt when no one stopped to assist him or even to see if he was alright. In fact he had a close call when an elderly driver nearly ran him over. Now, Matt is a nice guy and wrote very politely hoping to not upset or offend. Well Matt good on you, I on the other hand am a Scorpio so let me step in......
Matt, the reason no one stopped is because we live in a society where no one gives a flying fuck anymore. It's not because the world is now filled with horrible people deserving of one way tickets to hell, it is because we are taught to mind our own business. There was, and not too long ago, a time when people would have stopped, helped or given you a ride. Then something changed. Good Samaritans began being ridiculed and punished, told to "butt out". Now we live in a world were good people will turn a blind eye to violence, poverty even child abuse. What the fuck happened?
We have become so self consumed with our own lives that we fail to see that we are all connected. It's become easier to watch as someone struggles with whatever issue than to step in, because then we might actually have to do something, we might actually become involved in someone else's life, holy jumping Jesus on the cross. Fucking actual human connection, you mean removing the those social retarding ear buds and actually dealing with another. There was also an indirect reference to the fact that church had just let out and that many of the passers-by had attended mass, this too confused Matt. Well let me tell you this, from personal experience, going to church does not make you a righteous person, in fact it often makes you full of shit. I don't mind to offend, really. Matt, churches are often filled with people "raising the roof for god" on Sundays because they have spent the week prior being a bunch of douche bags, but the lord forgiveth, just ask.
I think a revolution is due. Down with "minding your own business" instead get involved. Know who your neighbours are, stand up for the weak and don't walk, drive, fuck it simply don't pass by anyone in distress, pull your head out of your ass, acknowledge you're not alone on this planet and help out.
Peace and Love
Matt, the reason no one stopped is because we live in a society where no one gives a flying fuck anymore. It's not because the world is now filled with horrible people deserving of one way tickets to hell, it is because we are taught to mind our own business. There was, and not too long ago, a time when people would have stopped, helped or given you a ride. Then something changed. Good Samaritans began being ridiculed and punished, told to "butt out". Now we live in a world were good people will turn a blind eye to violence, poverty even child abuse. What the fuck happened?
We have become so self consumed with our own lives that we fail to see that we are all connected. It's become easier to watch as someone struggles with whatever issue than to step in, because then we might actually have to do something, we might actually become involved in someone else's life, holy jumping Jesus on the cross. Fucking actual human connection, you mean removing the those social retarding ear buds and actually dealing with another. There was also an indirect reference to the fact that church had just let out and that many of the passers-by had attended mass, this too confused Matt. Well let me tell you this, from personal experience, going to church does not make you a righteous person, in fact it often makes you full of shit. I don't mind to offend, really. Matt, churches are often filled with people "raising the roof for god" on Sundays because they have spent the week prior being a bunch of douche bags, but the lord forgiveth, just ask.
I think a revolution is due. Down with "minding your own business" instead get involved. Know who your neighbours are, stand up for the weak and don't walk, drive, fuck it simply don't pass by anyone in distress, pull your head out of your ass, acknowledge you're not alone on this planet and help out.
Peace and Love
Sunday, March 7, 2010
For something slightly different I thought today's adventures, rather then being beautifully scripted and delivered in only the genius and enlightened way that I deliver them should rather be portrayed with the use of visual aids. So sit back, grab and coffee or beverage of choice and watch as I spin a tale of adventure, heroism and love. Please turn off all cellular devices as so to not disturb your fellow viewers and at no time try to press play, this is more or less a poor mans version of a slide show so just scroll down to see more or log off because if scrolling is beyond your intellectual grasp then so is reading......
The morning began with it's usual sound track, coffee dripping slowly into the pot. The aroma filled the air and I was lured by it to the kitchen. There before me bearing a devilish grin, soul mate stood.
I knew immediately that she had something on her mind. The evil, plotting grin gave it a way, that and who wears sunglasses at 7 am. She spoke words of madness, her suggestion we take the dogs for a walk, a long walk. All words were lost as I stood there stunned.
The morning began with it's usual sound track, coffee dripping slowly into the pot. The aroma filled the air and I was lured by it to the kitchen. There before me bearing a devilish grin, soul mate stood.
I knew immediately that she had something on her mind. The evil, plotting grin gave it a way, that and who wears sunglasses at 7 am. She spoke words of madness, her suggestion we take the dogs for a walk, a long walk. All words were lost as I stood there stunned.
Before I could grasp what was happening we were out the door, in natural light. Still in somewhat of a daze I followed, followed soul mate beyond the safety of the road and into the forest. I was immediately struck by images of things never before seen.........trees.
As we continued to walk we had the strange sense that we were being followed. Followed by to strangers dressed in black. We tried to play it cool, but we could not loose them. They said little but kissed a lot making it awkward.
We decided to sick Maggie after them and she stalked the two shady characters. She forced them into the shadows but they soon returned.
Dexter tried with little avail tried to leap onto these two un welcomed followers. He too failed as they soon re-appeared in the light.
We decided to make it equally as awkward for our two kissing followers so soul mate and I broke out into a full on make out. It was at this point that we realized we were being followed by our own shadows. We erupted with laughter and a sense of ease and calm fell over us.
We continued on our walk all the while holding hands.....
We saw more trees, though there was something slightly odd about how they were growing. I have never seen trees grow is such straight lines?
As we continued to walk we had the strange sense that we were being followed. Followed by to strangers dressed in black. We tried to play it cool, but we could not loose them. They said little but kissed a lot making it awkward.
We decided to sick Maggie after them and she stalked the two shady characters. She forced them into the shadows but they soon returned.
Dexter tried with little avail tried to leap onto these two un welcomed followers. He too failed as they soon re-appeared in the light.
We decided to make it equally as awkward for our two kissing followers so soul mate and I broke out into a full on make out. It was at this point that we realized we were being followed by our own shadows. We erupted with laughter and a sense of ease and calm fell over us.
We continued on our walk all the while holding hands.....
We saw more trees, though there was something slightly odd about how they were growing. I have never seen trees grow is such straight lines?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
" O Canada a door mat we shall be......." Since we are contemplating changing the lyrics to our national anthem, as a proud Canadian I thought that I should contribute. I use the words "proud Canadian" very loosely because if the lyrics to the National anthem are changed I will not be a proud Canadian because we will all be proud Americans. Rolling over to make a few people in our country feel better about themselves will be the "flare" signalling our lose of balls and the Americans will invade, absorbing us into their empire. Don't worry, the invasion will go smoothly because I have no doubt our conservative government will ask "is there anything we can do to make your conquering of us easier?"
In case any of you reading this are not aware there is a proposal to have the lyrics "in all thy sons command" changed to "thou dost in us command". This action is being lead by a group who feel that these lyrics exclude them. Are you serious? You exclude yourself. The reality of the situation is that you are attaching meaning to lyrics in a song. I am fully aware that I am speaking about our national anthem a song we stand and sing with pride, a song we use to identify ourselves as a country.
I am well aware that our anthem found it's roots in a poem and that the original words where "thou dost in us command". However it is no longer 1880 (first time it was performed originally, in french). As it tragically stands the majority of our youth can't sing the anthem in it's entirety so how the fuck can we expect them to learn the words especially if they can't relate to them?
That and the majority of them believe our national symbol is a Molson beer bottle.
Some of you may be thinking that my point of view is sexist. Let me assure you of a few things. I whole heatedly am against racism, sexism, and abuse. I believe we all have the right to freedom of choice and speech. We should all be privileged enough to breath clean air, drink fresh water and eat food not manipulated with pesticides and hormones and that we should all be provided with education and health care no matter income level or social standing. That being said I feel that this motion to change the lyrics is a total horse shit. Where does it stop. We as "polite" Canadians are no longer allowed to say "merry Christmas" because other religious groups feel excluded. Why don't we just take the Easter bunny out back and Elmer fudd put a bullet in his head, then we can elect him as prime minister because I am sure he is far more capable.
I am all for progression but at what cost. Should we totally cast to the weigh side all of our tradition? Let be point this out, if I went to India and asked for a cheese burger they would say politely "no fucking way". As a country lets continue to stand for freedom and tolerance. Lets us welcome with open arms the cultures of the world and lets provide the safest, cleanest environment to live in. But lets do it with some dignity.
If your feelings are hurt and you feel excluded go to counselling or by a dog. Seriously if you have this much time on your hands why don't you chose a cause that really needs attention, I don't know maybe women's rights in India? But it is far easier I suppose to petition for changing lyrics to the national anthem in a country that allows you the freedom of stupidity then to get on a plane and go to India and have to get dirty fighting for a cause truly worth this amount of attention. Grow up!
Peace and love
In case any of you reading this are not aware there is a proposal to have the lyrics "in all thy sons command" changed to "thou dost in us command". This action is being lead by a group who feel that these lyrics exclude them. Are you serious? You exclude yourself. The reality of the situation is that you are attaching meaning to lyrics in a song. I am fully aware that I am speaking about our national anthem a song we stand and sing with pride, a song we use to identify ourselves as a country.
I am well aware that our anthem found it's roots in a poem and that the original words where "thou dost in us command". However it is no longer 1880 (first time it was performed originally, in french). As it tragically stands the majority of our youth can't sing the anthem in it's entirety so how the fuck can we expect them to learn the words especially if they can't relate to them?
That and the majority of them believe our national symbol is a Molson beer bottle.
Some of you may be thinking that my point of view is sexist. Let me assure you of a few things. I whole heatedly am against racism, sexism, and abuse. I believe we all have the right to freedom of choice and speech. We should all be privileged enough to breath clean air, drink fresh water and eat food not manipulated with pesticides and hormones and that we should all be provided with education and health care no matter income level or social standing. That being said I feel that this motion to change the lyrics is a total horse shit. Where does it stop. We as "polite" Canadians are no longer allowed to say "merry Christmas" because other religious groups feel excluded. Why don't we just take the Easter bunny out back and Elmer fudd put a bullet in his head, then we can elect him as prime minister because I am sure he is far more capable.
I am all for progression but at what cost. Should we totally cast to the weigh side all of our tradition? Let be point this out, if I went to India and asked for a cheese burger they would say politely "no fucking way". As a country lets continue to stand for freedom and tolerance. Lets us welcome with open arms the cultures of the world and lets provide the safest, cleanest environment to live in. But lets do it with some dignity.
If your feelings are hurt and you feel excluded go to counselling or by a dog. Seriously if you have this much time on your hands why don't you chose a cause that really needs attention, I don't know maybe women's rights in India? But it is far easier I suppose to petition for changing lyrics to the national anthem in a country that allows you the freedom of stupidity then to get on a plane and go to India and have to get dirty fighting for a cause truly worth this amount of attention. Grow up!
Peace and love
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
They and by "they" I mean the sorts of people who feel it necessary to theorize everything and then express an opinion about whatever it is that they have recently theorized, they probably spread their opinion using a platform like the Internet. Odds are using some sort of blog.
Shut up, I know what you are thinking because outside of being unnaturally good looking I can read minds so shut it.
So "they" often say that life imitates art or that art imitates life, either way one of them is an unoriginal, unimaginative copy cat.
However, if I were to concede to this previous statement then what does my art reflect?
Clearly I am not a skeleton running through a fiery blaze whilst raising the roof "woo woo"
So then we (thanks for your lack of participation readers) have determined then that my life does not imitate art. That leaves us with the art imitating life. Confused yet?
Often artists are inspired before painting and their creations often have a deeper meaning, some shattering mind fuck which you have to look through the multi layered visual to be slapped in the face by a sudden, impactful "ahhhh the painting of the cup represents the current economic state as the cup is half full, filled with water which ties in the environment", it's so potent in it's delivery that we go insane and cut off one of our ears.
I like skeletons, so I painted a skeleton. Plus the painting makes me laugh, that's it no deeper meaning, no bullshit, just an elementary mind set in its creation. You know, like when you were a kid and coloured the sky green, painted a duck blue, just because, no rhyme or reason.
However, if you desire a deeper meaning I will create one for you......
The skeleton represents death, but the fact that it is running means there is life afterwards. The jogging represents our fascination with staying physically fit while alive, which despite our best attempts to prolong life inevitably still result in death, pushing up the daisies and such. His hands are up because he is on fucking fire and that hurts so he is like "holy shit I am dead and on fire, that really sucks...." Plus since the location of the painting is on fire, it must be some sort of hell,
Hmmm
I call it "fleeing a marriage"
Peace and Love
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
As I stepped thru the doorway into what can best be described as a "home gym" I saw it, this strange apparatus that was probably designed by some sadistic engineer who's achievements also include the mouse wheel. Head cocked to the side, a similar stance to that of a confused chicken I looked upon this new piece of equipment.
My thoughts on running are simple, it is better left to the horses and I am not a horse. However here I was, shoes laced up water bottle in hand and on the verge of climbing aboard our new treadmill to enter the realm of running. Arrrg I say. I have never thought of running as something fun or desirable to do, running is only necessary if fleeing for your life or if you have stolen something and our try to make a hasty get away. But again here I stand, on a magic carpet of sorts, walking warming up the legs. I feel as though my "look" would be complete if I where to adorn sweat bands around my wrists and head, some what of a Richard Simmons look.
The screen is flashing, demanding me to enter my weight. I follow the instructions, allowing the torture machine to calibrate for optimal pain. Soon the walk in the park warm up pace is over and I am running. Running and going absolutely nowhere, in fact traveling backwards at some moments. Oh god what is going on, why am I doing this to myself, why oh why?
Love is why. Soulmate plans on trail running with the dogs this summer and so I have decided the best thing to do is to join. That and the benefits of being able to outrun a zombie will surely pay off. In fact I will begin to encourage my friends and family to stop exercising so that during the event of bear, zombie or roaming pack of angry seniors attack I can flee leaving them distracted with my slower moving counter parts who, out side of the seniors, will become a meal. Seniors require soft food, usually prepared in a blender so odds are they won't be cannibals but just killers.
Lucky for me I am not running today, tomorrow but not today. I have chosen instead to sip coffee, walk in the woods and ski....
Tomorrow I will climb back on the moving death rug and run, run until I cannot run no more. Hmmm with all this running maybe I should compete in riots. I will practice my brick toss and my snatch and run.......
Peace and love
My thoughts on running are simple, it is better left to the horses and I am not a horse. However here I was, shoes laced up water bottle in hand and on the verge of climbing aboard our new treadmill to enter the realm of running. Arrrg I say. I have never thought of running as something fun or desirable to do, running is only necessary if fleeing for your life or if you have stolen something and our try to make a hasty get away. But again here I stand, on a magic carpet of sorts, walking warming up the legs. I feel as though my "look" would be complete if I where to adorn sweat bands around my wrists and head, some what of a Richard Simmons look.
The screen is flashing, demanding me to enter my weight. I follow the instructions, allowing the torture machine to calibrate for optimal pain. Soon the walk in the park warm up pace is over and I am running. Running and going absolutely nowhere, in fact traveling backwards at some moments. Oh god what is going on, why am I doing this to myself, why oh why?
Love is why. Soulmate plans on trail running with the dogs this summer and so I have decided the best thing to do is to join. That and the benefits of being able to outrun a zombie will surely pay off. In fact I will begin to encourage my friends and family to stop exercising so that during the event of bear, zombie or roaming pack of angry seniors attack I can flee leaving them distracted with my slower moving counter parts who, out side of the seniors, will become a meal. Seniors require soft food, usually prepared in a blender so odds are they won't be cannibals but just killers.
Lucky for me I am not running today, tomorrow but not today. I have chosen instead to sip coffee, walk in the woods and ski....
Tomorrow I will climb back on the moving death rug and run, run until I cannot run no more. Hmmm with all this running maybe I should compete in riots. I will practice my brick toss and my snatch and run.......
Peace and love
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Staring at the screen this morning my mind is rampant with so many things I want to say. In fact I have spewed out 10 different paragraphs already, all of which met there demiseat the stroke of the delete key. Sipping my coffee I was struck with it, the thing or things I will discuss today: athletes and Assholes.
Unless by some strange chance you just arrived on the plant and chose to immediately log onto my blog, which I would suggest to any alien visitors as the right thing to do ( welcome to are planet don't get your self caught and autopsied) you are aware that the Winter Olympics are on. Athletes, whom are suppose to be amateurs, have been served up by every country and are competing for one of three shiny pieces of medal. When ever the opportunity arises I sit and watch, I do not discriminate and have no favorite event I will watch any thing and cheer on all. Having some friends who are serious athletes I am well aware as to the time and dedication it takes to be the best in your sport and class. I am also aware of the pressure that these athletes are under to perform and win. A pressure they put on themselves and that is cast upon them by others. I was upset to catch a press conference this weekend held by one of our Canadian athletes. In tears they apologized for "letting the country down". Is this really necessary? I felt some what ashamed to tell the truth. As long as you did your very best your alright in my books, fuck everyone else! Yes I understand that they have dedicated their lives for what could be one moment and not winning is devastating for any athlete it fucking sucks, but to apologize to the country? To an audience of people whom the majority of which sit on their ass and don't play or participate in any sport. Apologize to a bunch of arm chair couches whom after watching a 30 second blurb about the sport think they have the right to say where you went wrong? Fuck that shit. Wipe your tears and smile. The statement "I let all of Canada down" was made, but honestly up until the moment I saw this press conference I had no idea who you where, sorry. All I can say is train, compete and enjoy your sport for yourself, if you win you win if you lose you lose no apologies ever be unshakable.
Now for the asshole portion. It still baffles me how dense people can be. If someone tries to contact me, phone, e-mail, carrier pigeon and i don't respond I probably don't what to associate with you. For the record, if this is the case it is because I think you are an asshole. The amazing thing is that these people can be so fucking retarded that they try and try again. Hmmm they say, he is not returning my calls, maybe his phone is broke. Oh he is not replying to e-mails maybe doesn't check it. It seems he has deleted me from facebook, maybe it was an accident. Maybe I should try this approach on his partner? Oh I have been blocked, hmmm maybe I should use my children as pons and send a message thru their account? Let me be clear, My phone works as does my computer I just think you are a piece of shit. Odds are "nobody told you" so here it is clear as day. I think said asshole is a total douche, a liar, cheater and a manipulating prick who would step over his own mother to steal her pension. If you are said asshole you probably will laugh and say something brilliant like "I would hate to be that guy" hey moron you are that guy ...........ass. For the rest of you reading this who have an I.Q above a squirrel you will know of whom I speak.
Well I feel better, I need to get that off my chest. Well that's all the ranting for me today and I stand by what I say, no apologies, ever maybe a go fuck yourself but that's it.
peace and love, even to the assholes.
Unless by some strange chance you just arrived on the plant and chose to immediately log onto my blog, which I would suggest to any alien visitors as the right thing to do ( welcome to are planet don't get your self caught and autopsied) you are aware that the Winter Olympics are on. Athletes, whom are suppose to be amateurs, have been served up by every country and are competing for one of three shiny pieces of medal. When ever the opportunity arises I sit and watch, I do not discriminate and have no favorite event I will watch any thing and cheer on all. Having some friends who are serious athletes I am well aware as to the time and dedication it takes to be the best in your sport and class. I am also aware of the pressure that these athletes are under to perform and win. A pressure they put on themselves and that is cast upon them by others. I was upset to catch a press conference this weekend held by one of our Canadian athletes. In tears they apologized for "letting the country down". Is this really necessary? I felt some what ashamed to tell the truth. As long as you did your very best your alright in my books, fuck everyone else! Yes I understand that they have dedicated their lives for what could be one moment and not winning is devastating for any athlete it fucking sucks, but to apologize to the country? To an audience of people whom the majority of which sit on their ass and don't play or participate in any sport. Apologize to a bunch of arm chair couches whom after watching a 30 second blurb about the sport think they have the right to say where you went wrong? Fuck that shit. Wipe your tears and smile. The statement "I let all of Canada down" was made, but honestly up until the moment I saw this press conference I had no idea who you where, sorry. All I can say is train, compete and enjoy your sport for yourself, if you win you win if you lose you lose no apologies ever be unshakable.
Now for the asshole portion. It still baffles me how dense people can be. If someone tries to contact me, phone, e-mail, carrier pigeon and i don't respond I probably don't what to associate with you. For the record, if this is the case it is because I think you are an asshole. The amazing thing is that these people can be so fucking retarded that they try and try again. Hmmm they say, he is not returning my calls, maybe his phone is broke. Oh he is not replying to e-mails maybe doesn't check it. It seems he has deleted me from facebook, maybe it was an accident. Maybe I should try this approach on his partner? Oh I have been blocked, hmmm maybe I should use my children as pons and send a message thru their account? Let me be clear, My phone works as does my computer I just think you are a piece of shit. Odds are "nobody told you" so here it is clear as day. I think said asshole is a total douche, a liar, cheater and a manipulating prick who would step over his own mother to steal her pension. If you are said asshole you probably will laugh and say something brilliant like "I would hate to be that guy" hey moron you are that guy ...........ass. For the rest of you reading this who have an I.Q above a squirrel you will know of whom I speak.
Well I feel better, I need to get that off my chest. Well that's all the ranting for me today and I stand by what I say, no apologies, ever maybe a go fuck yourself but that's it.
peace and love, even to the assholes.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Bee otch
You know it is rather quiet amazing when you think about it. How many options people have when choosing what they want to be as adults. With limitless information available on the Internet and colleges and universities around the world offering everything from economics to basket weaving that someone would still choose to be a bitch.
"My word" some of you may say.
Don't get me wrong by no means am I saying being a bitch is easy, nor is it for everyone especially the faint hearted. Being a bitch, a real bitch takes a lot of effort and practice. If your not willing to put in the hard time you will never earn the title of bitch or even queen bitch, you will like many of us just have your moments.
I am questioning why anyone in their right mind, and that may be my answer, would choose to be a bitch. I will set the record straight right now, one chooses to be a bitch, it's not an accident or fate or divine intervention it is a choice just like I don't know maybe not being a bitch. We all know the kind of person I am speaking of. They are kaniving, manipulative, ego centric, stubborn as an ass and often full of their own shit. How they stand themselves is beyond me, but they may share similar qualities to a skunk in that their odour does not bother them, just everyone else.
I am compelled to write of this topic because this week both myself and Soulmate where confronted with the aforementioned "Bitch". We both tried to remain calm, cool and collected but the onslaught of stupidity, which is often the weapon of choice, proved to much. Both of us became angry, ranting lunatics who wanted to do nothing more then what LL Cool J's mother suggested and that is "moma said knock you out". But do to the judicial system here in our country that would result in charges laid and a victory for the whole "bitch" nation. Yes that's right I believe they are a nation, a club whom give lessons to the devil on Saturdays about how to be more evil.
After are individual experiences this week, from two different bitches, both of us where left in awe. It was at this point that the question came up, "why would anyone want to be a bitch" So reflecting on what I know about people and my experiences, here is the answer I have arrived at:
Those who choose to be a bitch do so because they are small, frightened individuals who are threatened by everyone else. Often stuck in a child's mentality they often play games sometimes twisted but usually resulting in them looking like an ass. This is where the logical thinking person would pump the brakes and say hey I just made myself look like an ass. But since they are not logically thinking people they continue on the path of bitch hood, eventually isolating themselves winding up divorced, alone and with 90 cats. There only form of companionship or conversation is with the young children they yell at to get off their lawns. Soon they are so disillusioned they believe everyone else is crazy and they are sane. Eventually they succumb to the toll be a bitch has on the human body and they die. The 90 cats they own eat said bitch and no one cries at the funeral, because no one is there.
Hmmm it would seem that I not only answered the why but also made a prediction.
But like everything it is not to late for you to change, hell Jesus even forgave a criminal hanging on the cross next to him. You can always choose not to be a bitch?
Well maybe if you shut the fuck up and listen you might have caught that last part but odds are your to busy talking and blaming everyone else for your self induced misfortune.......think about it?
Peace and Love,
to most of you
"My word" some of you may say.
Don't get me wrong by no means am I saying being a bitch is easy, nor is it for everyone especially the faint hearted. Being a bitch, a real bitch takes a lot of effort and practice. If your not willing to put in the hard time you will never earn the title of bitch or even queen bitch, you will like many of us just have your moments.
I am questioning why anyone in their right mind, and that may be my answer, would choose to be a bitch. I will set the record straight right now, one chooses to be a bitch, it's not an accident or fate or divine intervention it is a choice just like I don't know maybe not being a bitch. We all know the kind of person I am speaking of. They are kaniving, manipulative, ego centric, stubborn as an ass and often full of their own shit. How they stand themselves is beyond me, but they may share similar qualities to a skunk in that their odour does not bother them, just everyone else.
I am compelled to write of this topic because this week both myself and Soulmate where confronted with the aforementioned "Bitch". We both tried to remain calm, cool and collected but the onslaught of stupidity, which is often the weapon of choice, proved to much. Both of us became angry, ranting lunatics who wanted to do nothing more then what LL Cool J's mother suggested and that is "moma said knock you out". But do to the judicial system here in our country that would result in charges laid and a victory for the whole "bitch" nation. Yes that's right I believe they are a nation, a club whom give lessons to the devil on Saturdays about how to be more evil.
After are individual experiences this week, from two different bitches, both of us where left in awe. It was at this point that the question came up, "why would anyone want to be a bitch" So reflecting on what I know about people and my experiences, here is the answer I have arrived at:
Those who choose to be a bitch do so because they are small, frightened individuals who are threatened by everyone else. Often stuck in a child's mentality they often play games sometimes twisted but usually resulting in them looking like an ass. This is where the logical thinking person would pump the brakes and say hey I just made myself look like an ass. But since they are not logically thinking people they continue on the path of bitch hood, eventually isolating themselves winding up divorced, alone and with 90 cats. There only form of companionship or conversation is with the young children they yell at to get off their lawns. Soon they are so disillusioned they believe everyone else is crazy and they are sane. Eventually they succumb to the toll be a bitch has on the human body and they die. The 90 cats they own eat said bitch and no one cries at the funeral, because no one is there.
Hmmm it would seem that I not only answered the why but also made a prediction.
But like everything it is not to late for you to change, hell Jesus even forgave a criminal hanging on the cross next to him. You can always choose not to be a bitch?
Well maybe if you shut the fuck up and listen you might have caught that last part but odds are your to busy talking and blaming everyone else for your self induced misfortune.......think about it?
Peace and Love,
to most of you
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Under a rock?
Well after a bit of a disappearance I have returned. With no help from you my readers. Really thanks for nothing, no missing persons reports where filed, no posters put up, no search parties or emotional plea for my safe return on the local news. You are ALL a disappointment and should be ashamed for your lack of caring. You are the worst audience ever, but an audience none the less so I will entertain you, feeding you tales and lies, truths and myths.
Well on the home front the dynamics have changed slightly, we now have two dogs, count'em two dogs and two cats. Seriously you may be thinking "it's a motha fucking zoo" and let me assure you it is. Our new additions are Dexter, a pure bred doberman who may or may not be the anti-Christ. He requires a lot of attention and exercise. The means of measuring if he has had enough is this; if you come home and shit is destroyed you have not exercised him enough. Fortunately for us we do not have a lot of shit. The new cat is named Chase and that is what he does. He chases the dogs, the other cat, hell he chases us. He is quite the personality. In true fashion I am the alpha dog, the leader, top of the ladder, king of all that is below me....which means I am not really in charge but the enforcer. Any enlightened man knows that he may have the penis, but without a vagina he is useless, so who really is in charge?
On the work front, what am I saying "home front, work front" sounds like I am reporting on a goddamn war. Any whore, Hardwood is a live with Olympic spirit. Which translates into everyone thinking they are an athlete. I swear to god there was more spandex out on trail this weekend then ever worn in the tour de france! Being able to see your own shriveled up junk does not make you an athlete or faster what it does make you is ridiculous. Seriously, by some proper ski clothes not for me but for the children and stop wearing speedos because odds are you wear them too.
Also, for future reference, jeans are not proper ski attire for Nordic or alpine. I can't begin to tell you how often I see people wearing jeans while skiing. They are usually wearing rental equipment, which is cool, happy to see you skiing but jeans, what are you semi-retared. A) Jeans are cold B) when they get wet they freeze, you freeze and your junk falls off. Buy some snow pants and a hat and gloves you will have more fun. Oh and as much as I love seeing you bomb down the hill in the kamikaze snow angle maybe throw in a turn here or there, just saying.
Well that's it, that's all.....if you are wondering I am still awesome, the coolest person you will ever know, the best looking and master of everything
Peace and love
Well on the home front the dynamics have changed slightly, we now have two dogs, count'em two dogs and two cats. Seriously you may be thinking "it's a motha fucking zoo" and let me assure you it is. Our new additions are Dexter, a pure bred doberman who may or may not be the anti-Christ. He requires a lot of attention and exercise. The means of measuring if he has had enough is this; if you come home and shit is destroyed you have not exercised him enough. Fortunately for us we do not have a lot of shit. The new cat is named Chase and that is what he does. He chases the dogs, the other cat, hell he chases us. He is quite the personality. In true fashion I am the alpha dog, the leader, top of the ladder, king of all that is below me....which means I am not really in charge but the enforcer. Any enlightened man knows that he may have the penis, but without a vagina he is useless, so who really is in charge?
On the work front, what am I saying "home front, work front" sounds like I am reporting on a goddamn war. Any whore, Hardwood is a live with Olympic spirit. Which translates into everyone thinking they are an athlete. I swear to god there was more spandex out on trail this weekend then ever worn in the tour de france! Being able to see your own shriveled up junk does not make you an athlete or faster what it does make you is ridiculous. Seriously, by some proper ski clothes not for me but for the children and stop wearing speedos because odds are you wear them too.
Also, for future reference, jeans are not proper ski attire for Nordic or alpine. I can't begin to tell you how often I see people wearing jeans while skiing. They are usually wearing rental equipment, which is cool, happy to see you skiing but jeans, what are you semi-retared. A) Jeans are cold B) when they get wet they freeze, you freeze and your junk falls off. Buy some snow pants and a hat and gloves you will have more fun. Oh and as much as I love seeing you bomb down the hill in the kamikaze snow angle maybe throw in a turn here or there, just saying.
Well that's it, that's all.....if you are wondering I am still awesome, the coolest person you will ever know, the best looking and master of everything
Peace and love
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Can we say all over the map?
That seems to be the state of my existence as of late. I am doing nothing and everything. Is that even possible? I have this goal, which is to create a routine. Not the kind of routine you can set a clock to, but more so a kind of daily routine. Thus far I seem to be "failing".
It's not like time is an issue, becasue if one didn't know better you would think I was A) semi-retired or B) Unemployed. I work a normal 40 plus hour work week and yet I am home all the time and constantly playing. Hell my job pays me to play. Now I am not bitching at all but you would think I would be able to create and stick to some kind of schedule.
Of course I being perfect shall not take any blame for this and will pass all blame onto the newest member of the family. No not the cat chase, but our new dog Dexter. Soulmate and I adopted Dexter just over a week ago and he is a pure bred Doberman and can out last the energizer bunny. Actually he would probably eat said bunny and then keep going. He needs a ton of exercise, love because he is a huge pussy and things to destroy because that is what he does.
I have all but given up with "formal" training and have decided that "playing" is more my thing. That being said there is no way this dude is going to lay down like his sister while I sit on the trainer for two hours he will lose his shit and eat a table, no lie he is pat beaver.
Try meditating for that matter with a 70lbs kid who wants nothing more then to wrestle. You may be saying to yourself, why don't you train him. Well you see we are hippie parents and we have tried nothing and we are all out of ideas. (Simpsons for those of you just arrriving on the planet).
A cleare sign is that I have not blogged in like two weeks, oh my god, whatever, lol, ttyl.
Any whore, I am going to make more of an effort on the schedule front. I am so spontanious though, I live care free without a worry in the world, not clock watching..........oh fuck I am late
Peace and love
That seems to be the state of my existence as of late. I am doing nothing and everything. Is that even possible? I have this goal, which is to create a routine. Not the kind of routine you can set a clock to, but more so a kind of daily routine. Thus far I seem to be "failing".
It's not like time is an issue, becasue if one didn't know better you would think I was A) semi-retired or B) Unemployed. I work a normal 40 plus hour work week and yet I am home all the time and constantly playing. Hell my job pays me to play. Now I am not bitching at all but you would think I would be able to create and stick to some kind of schedule.
Of course I being perfect shall not take any blame for this and will pass all blame onto the newest member of the family. No not the cat chase, but our new dog Dexter. Soulmate and I adopted Dexter just over a week ago and he is a pure bred Doberman and can out last the energizer bunny. Actually he would probably eat said bunny and then keep going. He needs a ton of exercise, love because he is a huge pussy and things to destroy because that is what he does.
I have all but given up with "formal" training and have decided that "playing" is more my thing. That being said there is no way this dude is going to lay down like his sister while I sit on the trainer for two hours he will lose his shit and eat a table, no lie he is pat beaver.
Try meditating for that matter with a 70lbs kid who wants nothing more then to wrestle. You may be saying to yourself, why don't you train him. Well you see we are hippie parents and we have tried nothing and we are all out of ideas. (Simpsons for those of you just arrriving on the planet).
A cleare sign is that I have not blogged in like two weeks, oh my god, whatever, lol, ttyl.
Any whore, I am going to make more of an effort on the schedule front. I am so spontanious though, I live care free without a worry in the world, not clock watching..........oh fuck I am late
Peace and love
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
All in the Family
Another night of grooming has come and gone with little excitement. I so desperately want to see wild life and yet I rarely see any. I see lot's of evidence that the woods are a buzz in the sign of foot prints but no sightings. Thus far I have seen a coyote and last night a big owl. I was really, quite foolishly, hoping to see much more. I guess however that something resembling a tank may not be the most inviting for animals.
On the home front we welcomed our 3rd child, Chase into our lives yesterday. Chase is a black and white cat......if you where thinking a child you are clearly off your meds. Soulmate and I adopted Chase from the SPCA in Orillia. He is unfazed by his re-location and very happy. Tucker and Maggie on the other hand are stressed. Their all like "what the fuck is going on here"
The new cat loves the dog and spends a lot of time rubbing up against her and walking under her, which is really funny as Maggie looks very, very confused. Tucker needs more time to adjust because he is in all accounts a prick. That's not bad, it is what it is.
Out side of that all is well and calm. No major life changing events to report. Just the same old, same old. Sorry if I bore you, I may spice things up by starting a riot or revolution both of which are still in planning.......
Peace and Love
On the home front we welcomed our 3rd child, Chase into our lives yesterday. Chase is a black and white cat......if you where thinking a child you are clearly off your meds. Soulmate and I adopted Chase from the SPCA in Orillia. He is unfazed by his re-location and very happy. Tucker and Maggie on the other hand are stressed. Their all like "what the fuck is going on here"
The new cat loves the dog and spends a lot of time rubbing up against her and walking under her, which is really funny as Maggie looks very, very confused. Tucker needs more time to adjust because he is in all accounts a prick. That's not bad, it is what it is.
Out side of that all is well and calm. No major life changing events to report. Just the same old, same old. Sorry if I bore you, I may spice things up by starting a riot or revolution both of which are still in planning.......
Peace and Love
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