does a body good

So I'm watching Milk, yeah the one that won all the awards? Sean Penn? Well I just started watching it and from the first freakin ten minutes, my mind was blown. You know every year the academy awards roll around and some movie you've never even heard of is spoken as the contender for like.. thirteen hundred different awards and you go WHAT? I had to choose between this and Legends of Wrestlemania at the video store (it has the Piper in it!), boy am I glad I went with this instead.

But the first ten minutes.. Whoa. I like paying attention to actors, watching how they emote or try to mimic the real life expressions of someone who geniunely IS in that particular situation or is a particular person of sort. I don't know if there's anything more difficult than for a straight (supposedly) man to make out with another dude, on the big screen to boot. Vin Diesal would definitely be pulling out his hai.. uh, his pubic hairs out if this was something he had to do.

For one thing, you have to give yourself COMPLETELY to the character if you want to make him believable. You just can't flinch on-screen every time you're supposed to tongue-dive into another man's mouth. You have to totally transform yourself and commit each mannerism; no matter how vulgar it may be, to a part of your brain and allow it to be welcomed as a transient guest of your psyche.

I don't know. Could I do something like this on a whim just because I can or would I have to be paid millions of dollars to cope with the ruinous, most deadliest thing a man could do to himself? Because like I said, it takes a tremendous amount of acting ability to do a realistic job. I was going to say cojones as well, but considering the depths these straight men are descending to; I'm not sure if they do have balls.

And its not just Sean Penn doing a masterful job but James Franco of all people! You can see the little, twinge of his smile deliberately raise up as Sean Penn is about to deep-throat him in bed. Thats... that's impressive. It almost makes up for the tripe he's showed us in the Spiderman flicks. Almost.

Usually young actors these days are a greasy nickel a dozen. They come into the business, make three or four successful movies, a few flops, etc and then you never see or hear from (most) of them again. Flashes in the pan, like the entire cast of American Pie for instance (except Stifler, how the hell does he still get work after Bulletproof Monk?).

But Franco, Jesus,.. pulls it off masterfully, and so does Penn. I think it's the money, and the prestige these men are bending over backwards for. At least I don't think either of them said, "hey I've always wanted to pucker up with this guy!". Its gotta be the monies, or raising their stature in the industry. HAS to be, right?

So Milk gets a huge two thumbs up and a raised pinky for it's brilliance. Though most of the credit would have to go towards Penn / Franco, it just wouldn't work nearly as well had Carrot Top and Rob Schneider been casted.

And I almost felt like turning gay after watching it. That's not good.

what the...?

ITS AN UPDATE! HALLELUJAH MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS!

...and thats all for now! see you in another twothree years!

malaise a la' monde

There are few things in life of which I am certain of. Thanks to the events way back in November, I'm forced to make several hard decisions about what I plan on doing with my future. This blog of mine has had its ups and downs but it has never come close to the display of wit that I bestowed on past forays into writing online. And I realized, I just didn't care. It felt pointless, as if I was masturbating before a live audience just to see what their reaction would be. Thanks to my keeping this blog a quiet affair among myself and a small number of people, I no longer have an audience of millions in which to entertain with crass anecdotes of bad sex and general ribaldry.

But I think maybe I should get back into writing more seriously, its easy to become complacent and to let my ability slide over time, maybe if I were to try and push myself into writing on the blog, I could rekindle the love affair I once had with words.

One of my goals at the moment right now is to write a definitive version of what happened in November of 2006. It is by far and away the craziest story I've ever heard and I'm fortunate to have played a starring role in it. Well, not quite fortunate depending on the perspective used to look at it. Whatever the case, the events yielded me a hefty amount of material in which to draw from. This was my story, and I'm going to try my hardest to tell it.

I have problems with motivation. I've always been dutifully complacent and lazy when it comes to putting real effort into something creative. Ironically, I've always wanted the one monument that will end up being the legacy of my skills as a writer but could never settle on any one idea to see from conception to completion. The only single complete story I've ever written was this comedic piece of first-person drivel that involved my borking some girl with a foot long dong :P somehow I don't think thats what I want my kids to end up reading later in life, "look kids! daddy's a writer!" (hands out manuscript)

So my present dilemma is this. To write a fully detailed account of my experiences but without the expense of hard work. I admit it, I'm a wuss. So far I had managed to get it up to around forty pages of original material with many more in a rough, unfinished form but its hard to keep inspired throughout. I realize I'm the type of person that needs strong encouragement and a lot of prodding to get things done, self-motivation can only last for so long. If someone were to put a gun to my head while writing this, I would still drag my feet throughout the process and make excuses. Thats how difficult of it for me to keep a strong focus, even if I essentially have most of the story details worked out. I am part of the ADD generation, always looking for the next shiny thing that captures my attention.

Obviously I need to somehow convince myself that I can, and will write this book even if it begins to feel like work. For a long time, I would only write when 'inspiration' struck and even when it did, I often didn't bother to try and put pen to paper to immortalize my thoughts. As a result, my skills as a writer took a severe beating in the last few years as apathy set in. Maybe my mistake was giving too much credit to inspiration as being a necessary prerequisite for anything that I planned on writing. Maybe to help keep me focused, I could set the small goal of just writing something, anything, at least once each day.

I'm reminded of Hubert Selby Jr. each time I think about my problems. Hubert was a lifelong user of painkillers and heroin due to his diminished lung capacity, as a result, he remained bedridden and unable to work for much of his life. Much like William S. Burroughs, Hubert realized his desire to write, and used his experiences with drugs to craft cautionary tales which earned him a reputation among his peers. One of these tales was "Requiem for a Dream" which ended up being a pretty good fucking story, at least from what I saw in the movie. Whats worth noting is how Selby set out on the path of becoming a writer, a quote of his echos the thoughts at the time:

"I know the alphabet. Maybe I could be a writer."

... and off he went. Without any formal training. Selby analogously was a man claiming, "I know a few words of Spanish, I could be a translator." His dream of writing a book in order to make a living for his family arose from such an innocent and naive view of the English language that he ended up creating his own style and from there, became a bona fide author with several published books and short stories. He proved to me that if anyone wants something badly enough, they can get it, but only if they invest in it proportionally to what they expect to achieve.

While Selby's life eventually ended tragically admist periods of depression and addiction, he had finally conquered the demons that haunted him for decades. He passed on April 26, 2004 at the age of 72, not bad for someone who was once told that he wasn't expected to live for more than a year after being diagnosed with tuberculosis. He was fifteen at the time.

For those interested in Selby and his works, I suggest to check out the interview that is on the Requiem for a Dream DVD. The impression it left on me hasn't faded in the three years since I first watched it.

As for me, its time to stop doing fat chicks and to start writing. I can only hope it will all work out somehow. *crosses fingers*

Im tired of sex

Gahh, I'm starting to regret this whole sleeping with fat chicks thing I've started. I dont mean to imply that they are worth any less than the fistful of Canadian Tire money I have scrunched away in my wallet, but they're just a pain in the ass.

Which gives me a segue. The girl I'm "dating" is a gay man in a woman's body. I don't know if its something I fell asleep in sex ed over, but is it normal for guys to want women playing with their poopchutes? This girl apparently thinks so. Here are some choice quotes:

"how do you know you won't like it?"
"the last guy I was with LOVED it" (dildo)
"there's more erogenous zones around a guy's bum then anywhere else!"
"I'm interested in exploring, pushing the boundaries..."

after I said I'd probably would never want a pink floppy dildo up my cocoa tunnel and that I wasn't quite on her level yet:

"so when will that be?"

I have to constantly be on guard for an object going up the one-way street of my anus. Its not fun. What if she surprises me with a curling iron up there? There just isn't enough therapy in the world to get over something like that.

Then you have the complication of seperating sex from love which I find difficult to do. For me I realize that I have to want to be with the person if I'm going to let them touch my naughty bits. So you have this relationship which is like this completely boring thing that only gets interesting during sex, but once thats done, then what? You massacre millions of friendly sperm people, put your pants on and go home.

Now is this really worth it? I rarely feel happy about the two minutes it takes for me to get off but even though this is completely 100% free no-strings sex, I don't know if its even worth it. After I'm done, I just end up feeling guilty about it, even though I'm pretty damn sure I'm the victim here.

So I'm starting to think of how I can comfortably dissolve this 'relationship' without any hard feelings. Its a little hard to do when you have text messages like these coming to you at all hours of the day:

"you totally want me"
"morning, did you sleep well?"
"are you thinking of my boobs?"
"can you come over right now?"
"Oh good. Iwill get out the lube ;)"
"I don't have aids you stupid homo"

It also doesn't seem to matter what I write back half the time. At one point I suggested rather diplomatically that she get off on a large vegetable of her choice. But it appears that an English cucumber is no match for my tiny pencil-sized penis.

I realize she's lonely, sad and wants companionship as I do but not having any chemistry with someone just makes it awkward and weird. The fact that she's very open about shoving things up my ass just makes it even more uncomfortable when I try to splooge on her boobs without feeling like I'm degrading her.

I wish I could say she's a nice person, but some of her mannerisms just reeks of privilege and expecting people to do all the work. Its not fun giving her a foot massage that she says "you're really good at it" and getting a woefully mediocre one in return. I also feel like such an idiot when I'm laying in her bed and she says "you are so sexy... I love the way your ass looks, I love how you feel inside of me..." and I'm stuck there thinking.. "uhm... you have nice hair". Of course she's a good looking girl from the neck up but I honestly can't find much about her that turns me on. I am so going to hell for this.

*sighs* I never thought I'd complain about having a girl wanting this much sex out of me, but but.. arghhhhhhhhhhhh. I think I'm going back to putting lipstick around the edge of my hand and making love to myself. This just sucks, and I'm only going to have sex with her ONE more time before I break things off for good! I think I mean it too!

"do you want to skip our first date and just..."

So add another feather to the overwhelmingly obscene looking headdress that adorns my skull.

I had sex with a very, very large woman two days ago.

There are those that can immediately be expected to give some wildly varying opinions on the logistics of fucking a fat person and there is never any shortage of amusement in debating this very topic.

I however am of the opinion that no one in this world is allowed to judge a person to be unworthy of love, sex, security, friendship, respect and the right to live.

But, among the superficial male of my demographic, the answer is more often than not, "there's no fucking way I'd put my penis in THAT." which I feel is unfortunate and speaks volumes as to the quality of that person's character and perception of others.

So on Thursday evening at around 1:14am, I had been doing my usual moseying around on the intranets when suddenly this girl I had met weeks earlier (on an online dating service no less), had messaged me saying she wanted me to come over and play with Mr. Floppy.

Now, a few days prior I was bored out of my skull with nary a plan for a Friday night and I thought "eh, why not take this girl out, she could turn out to be interesting. Even if she is like two hundred and fifty fucking pounds." so I called her up, we chatted and I was none too surprised that my sparkling charisma won her over (wink). So we set ourselves a little date to go to Schanks and watch the Oilers lay the beatdown on Dallas.

But apparently the patience required of her to wait an extra day was simply too much and thus she was willing to forfeit having to go to work the next morning if I would simply come over and nail her.

So, here's me, at my computer, reading the words "I just want to get fucked..." written by an obviously horny thirty-one year old (and depressed, and lonely, but lets not get into that just yet) and I leaned back into my chair and stroked my goatee in a very pensive fashion.

First I laid out the facts.

#1 - A free ticket for sex, no strings attached
#2 - She was fucking fat
#3 - Though she was fat, she was also very pretty
#4 - She had nice long curly red hair, god I love nice, long, curly red hairs
#5 - I hadn't ever had a one-night stand or anything of this sort ever happen to me before. At the very least, I could have an entertaining anecdote to pass around at the dinner table with family and friends while I talk with food in my mouth and waving around a giant turkey drumstick.
#6 - I had never met this girl in person before, maybe she's a complete loon. But who's to say I'm not one either :)
#7 - She is either a who-ore, or trusted me enough from our three online conversations and one phone convo to give me this offer.
#8 - Her bra size was 38H. yes.. I typed "H"
#9 - My to do list of things to do before I die includes doing it with the morbidly obese at least once.
#10 - I may never be able to look at myself with any shred of respect or dignity ever again if I go through with this.
#11 - What have I got to lose? (other than the aforementioned respect/dignity/sanity/etc)

So I went ahead and drove on over to her apartment. Yeah, I went through with it. She was waiting for me at the bottom and we were both talking on the cell which I would later find out to be the exact same fucking Sony Ericsson Z520a I had.

As we made our first eye contact, I snapped my phone shut and smiled.

She smiled back with the most genuine, awestruck and abashed little thing I had never seen before in my entire life. I was immediately flattered and we had not exchanged a single word between us yet.

Then blah blah blah happens, we go up, blah blah blah, she shows me around, blah blah. Wanted me to watch Shirley Valentine (her favourite movie) blah, I said forget it, it sucks and I put it Groundhog Day. We watched that. Then she starts kissing me and playing with my penorz. Blah blah. Finally we go into her room, she starts asking me if I like getting it up the ass and I'm like "uhhhhh nope!" then she starts trying to convince me about erogenous zones and being "completely open" with another person that you're comfortable enough to stick your tongue up their poopchutes. I was like "yeah okay, well, how about I just take a shit on you instead?" and basically told her it wasn't my thang. Still, my sense of humor made the most of a situation that could have spiralled into something even more awkward than the one we were already in.

Thankfully, it went quite well. I'd share the gory details, but I'd probably get the Blogger guys on my ass about indecent content ;) Still, no, there wasn't any physical difficulty in actually "doing it", I also didn't regret what I've done because I was the victim more than she was (*wink*) and the end result was really two people getting something they've wanted in the first place. Nothing wrong with a win-win situation if you can recognize it and not let your inhibitions and doubts throw you off in the assessment of such an opportunity.

I mean really. Fat people need lovin' too. I was happy to oblige a girl that openly confessed to insecurity and self-esteem issues and a general malaise that was prevalent in her life. Was I so wrong in giving someone like this a night to remember and perhaps smile back on? Naws I says. Perhaps anyone reading this who is quick to denounce the value of having a relationship with fatties will see that judging someone by physical appearances alone does not make for a person of integrity and worthy of much respect. There are slobs, and then there's everybody else. I dont think this girl meant to let herself get that large and she seemed somewhat remorseful of her condition which to me, is exactly the mindset I was expecting of her.

And thats that. The wonderful story of my making love to the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. Gawd, the most memorable thing I took from that experience was the sounds of flesh slapping. Harughgmmggpph *clears throat* its something that may haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

THWLAP. THWLAP. THWLAP.

well excuuuuuuuuse me Princess!

(ooops... I suck at the internet ) ------------------------>

wow, its only been ten years since my last post, I almost couldn't see this page with all the cobwebs covering it. *sprays pesticide on monitor*

all three (maybe four) of you are probably raising their devils horns in the air with great triumph, as should be. But for those that aren't, here is a transcript between my cousin and I (yes its sort of a cheap bribe). In this conversation I've had on ICQ, it can only be supposed that we are either a) completely delusional and need to be locked up or b) the most important philosophers since Socrates and Plato. We generally go off on existentialism, horny dolphins and FLYING ENERGY BEINGS!!!111

This all hapenned shortly after we both watched an analysis of NASA footage (2 parts) that some guy pointed out UFOs in and he brings up all these interesting ideas that it completely blew back the hair on our heads, except for the last part, that part sucked. I also felt my penis move, in a three-hunded sixty degree axis, that only happens when Im REALLY excited about something.

Uhm, the grade-school mangling of the English language is completely intentional. Also, he's Polish which makes him not nearly half as smart as I am. (sorry man, haha)

In case you feel ripped off and want a refund, here's tourettesguy, be sure to check out the M&M one. "let me tell you about a porcupine's balls, they're small and he don't give a SHIT!"

I know, its been a long while since that last post. Hopefully I'll start having the good sense to find something stupid to talk about and run over to the blog. Kind of like taking a sweaty dump if you will. Call it blogstipation. I was blogstipated. There, that feels better. *flushes the intraweb toilet*

Till next time...

my eyes bleed cathrode-rays...

showtime!!

so I've been sitting on my lazy unemployed ass (yes this is a good thing) for the past week working my way through an imposing stack of films I've rented and "borrowed" from the intranet.

I am going to do these quick and dirty:

Muhammed Ali: The Greatest Hits Collection (7.8/10)

was he the greatest? after watching this, I can't really tell. Sure he punk'd Forman with the rope-a-dope and kept his cool against a ridicuously hopped-up Joe Frazier, but is he the best boxer that ever lived? I'd have to say no. None of the three fights on this disc (Liston / Forman / Frazier) ended with Ali sending a dude for a nap on the canvas. The Liston fight was stopped because the guy looked like a bloody steak, Forman lost because he didnt put his gloves above his waist during his standing eight-count and the doc pulled Frazier out of the match. Was he the greatest? I think he's a bit overrated. Put Ali in with Rocky Marciano, Lennox Lewis or maybe even...





Nikolai Valuev.

..and lets see how far the rope-a-dope takes him there. I don't think a seven foot tall, 330lb guy called "The Beast from the East" is going to let someone like Ali keep all his teeth.



A Dirty Shame (2.2/10)



this movie just plain blows. Its like they gave a drunken, sexually-frustrated village idiot full reigns of a multi-million dollar film. Its about small town hicks who after they've had a concussion become sexualy ravaneous. I admit the plot sounded interesting, with Selma Blair sporting funbags larger than the tires on my truck, but dear God is this ever a stinker. Avoid at all costs. Not even Johnny Knoxville can save this wretched garbage.

This is also the perfect film for me to seperate the men from the boys when it comes to reviewers. For instance, Martin Scribbs writes: "A Dirty Shame, a very funny movie, overcomes its limitations by playing to director John Waters' strengths."

I plan on waiting for Martin Scribbs to show up at my door so I can kick his ass.


Fahrenheit 451 (2.7/10)



In a future, not too far away, we'll still be using rotary-dial telephones. Yeah, I can't believe Ray Bradbury gave some low-budgeted British production the thumbs up to adapt his book for the big screen. Most disappointing was seeing the "wall" screens which are supposed to be tvs that cover an entire wall. In the movie they're about the size of a postage stamp. And this is the future?

Plus you get bad British acting, props that look like they been purchased from the back room at Goodwill, and the look of the film reminded me of the awful Brit sitcoms we used to get on the public access network, "if it is no trouble, would you mind passing me a lump my good chap?" "why certainly, one lump or two?" "if it is no trouble for you, I would be most delighted in a single lump my jolly friend. Pip pip!"

Anyways, these are not the droids you've been looking for... next up...


Conan the Barbarian (8.6/10)



You can't go wrong with Ah-Nuld's portrayal of a slave rising up the ranks to become the most feared warrior of his time. This film works well with Arnie's heavy accent and "...the lam-en-ta-tat-tons of their women..." speech, well damn, that speech is just classic.

And what kind of self respecting male wouldn't want to nail hot vampire chicks, hack off the appendages of random people and become a king by his own hand? I'll tell you who wouldn't.







The End of Suburbia (8.3/10)



Time to break out the tinfoil hats...

Are we running out of oil? What would happen if suddenly oil was no longer a commodity that could be purchased? What impact would this have on the economy? On jobs? On transportation? Or more specifically, in the suburbs?

This is a fascinating "shock"omentary where the filmmakers try to get everyone to wet themselves with fear by the time the credits roll. I have to say, they do paint a very persuasive portrait of life after oil. Sure we'll be walking a lot more, have to work different jobs, restructure the retail sector, kill/cripple/maim whoever has a cornflake so we can feed our families, etc. But the big question (that wasn't answered to my satisfaction) is, will we run out of oil in our lifetimes?

While I'm not completely convinced there's a reason to panic, I do think a plan b should be set in motion. Also, if there is a great risk of us running out of oil (Hello China, whats that? you want even more oil?), then it would explain why the American government invaded Iraq. Maybe securing the oil refineries and having complete control over the region's exports is far more important than most people think. Its easy to paint their motives as being suspiciously arrogant, but maybe the US does have a good reason to kill thousands of innocent people :P

Total eye-opener. Watch this with your grandfather's pipe in your mouth.

next up:
Pet Semetary
Hostel
The Descent
Silent Hill

I need to make an important announcement...

balls.

that is all.

hibernation

finally got the layoff I've been waiting eight months for, yay! I'm freed from the machinations of big oil and its soul-crushing ilk. I can't express fully enough how it feels like I've been in prision for years and I'm released back into the wild. I mean you get the small cubicle thats supposed to be your room, you wake up and go to sleep at or near the same time each day, you see the same people more times than you see your own family/friends, you eat at a cafeteria with trays, and the smell and noise of the place becomes as natural to you as the whir of the furnance in your home.

I mean it just sucked.

Its a sad thing for me to see some random old guy at work pushing around a wheelbarrow, or sweeping up an area. I mean do these guys live meaningful lives? Do they enjoy what they do? How did they manage to survive this long doing manual labor? I ask questions like that constantly, and it really comes down to whoring your body and mind for money. It gives me new found respect for prostitutes, in that you do something unpleasant and CA-CHING! money in the bank. Are construction workers really that different? We don't get asked if we want it up the ass, or if we do group discounts, but we do whore ourselves out for profit. I truly do envy those that get up each morning with a smile and say "fuck, I can't WAIT to get to work today!". I had that feeling once before with my job as a hydrotester before the place got shutdown. It just felt like playing a videogame all day.

Still, just complaining about my job and work enviroment seems almost pointless. I'm lucky to have a job where I can work eight months out of the year and still make 40k. Or having a job where I'm shuffled from place to place, and meeting new people. A job where I can choose to either do next to nothing the entire day, or work my ass off if I so desire with few repercussions. In light of these perks, I guess my job isn't really that bad. But it feels like a last resort, a job that I do because I have no other options. I only have myself to blame for not looking at other possibilities out there.

Someday, my true destiny as a lifeguard on a nudist beach will assert itself.

So thats that. I've got a few 360 games to go through, books to read, stuff to pack and dozens of other little things to do that should keep me occupied during the unemployment stretch. And not to mention, spending some of that phat cash I earned.

Once again.



oh yeahhh

rising from the ashes

argh.. one more week of work left to go and then its time to sip pina coladas off my balcony for a month or two. Eight months of working out of town, in isolation, eleven days on, three (actually two) days off is finally coming to an end.

I must say, what the fuck?



I've never even heard of Nacho Libre but thats the coolest fucking idea ever. My gringo ass will be most pleased.

Anyone read up on Scientology? Thanks to Tom Cruise going apeshit on Oprah a while back, Scientology is in the spotlight after a long hiatus and it ain't pretty. I was first exposed to Dianetics at sixteen while rummaging through my dad's book stash and I flipped through a few pages, it got me hooked. For those of you who've read Dianetics, you'd know its pretty much the modern day Bible with like over 1,000 pages on how man can achieve perfection in his life. Dianetics was pretty much THE book that started the whole self-help book and tv phenonmeon, written by a man who previously published science fiction, Dianetics went on to make assloads of money and became a cult in its own right.

But whats interesting is that I've always held a naive view of Dianetics, when I read it, I didn't catch any sinister vibes, I thought it was an entertaining read with some seemingly well thought-out ideas. Little did I know that it was a malicious exploitation of the human condition, the yearning to improve ourselves and diminish our pains. L. Ron Hubbard is one evil fuck.

So today I came across this interview that was published in Penthouse (wtf, they have interviews?) and it just blew me away. Its an interview focusing on the son of Hubbard and his involvement within the organization and origin of Scientology.

It really speaks volumes about the guillibility of the masses and their desperate search for purpose in this life. Can we as human beings possibly be this disconnected to the world around us that we have to have someone tell us how to live our lives? I unfortunately have to agree that yes, we are that desperate. Look at how Hitler managed to persuade all of Germany to unite for a common goal, it takes a very methodical and ruthless person to become fixated in this mindset of accumulating power, no matter what the cost. What really boggles the mind, is how brutually effective propaganda and 'herd' mentalities are. Its a scary commentary on the human species to admit that when it comes down to it, our individuality and confidence in ourselves are often seriously compromised in the face of adversity, regardless of how irrational it is. And men like Hubbard and Hitler, have exploited this weakness in the human condition on a massive scale, with apparently little remorse for their actions.

It makes me sick.

I think organized religion is the most sloppy and haphazard way of achieving inner peace and acceptance of your place in the cosmos. Religion is a personal journey that is different for each person, and doesn't require that you turn your brain off and sing hymns every Sunday morning at church. Yes, we don't have to take any religion or doctrine at face value, no one religion can ever hold all the answers. And its very likely that no one will ever really know what the meaning of life is, or what awaits us after death.

Organized religion is like a box of puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled. Except that no one has all the pieces to fill out the 'big' picture. I think its up to the individual to ascertain which piece goes where into their OWN world view and not whatever delusion their peers or the majority supports.

Maybe the truly enlightened, are the ones that most ignore asking the big questions. Really, is the effort even worth it?

Life goes on.

the gods of rock are chanting my name...

For those of you familar with the magic known as "Guitar Hero", you may be interested in hearing that I have recently completed the game on the hard difficulty level. Meaning that I have only expert left to traverse before I can finally smash my axe into the floor and throw up the devil's horns in triumph.

I can't praise this game enough. On the expert difficulty, playing GH is almost exactly like real guitar. Granted you only have five buttons to press, but techniques like hammer-ons, pull-offs, power-chords and soloing all mimic a real guitar(check out 2:25) in ways that would make Angus Young cream his shorts.

Here's an amusing Classical Guitarist vs Metal Rocker sketch.



Hey, it could be worse, I'm glad I'm not one of these guys.

In other news, my job is winding down with massive layoffs. Unfortunately I am still unable to experience HiBeRnaTiON 06 as planned because apparently I'm too good of a worker to lay off just yet :P Why does God torture me so? I guess freezing outside in -32c weather is my destiny, and its certainly not fun having to go through six layers of clothing just to find my penis so I can take a leak.

And it looks like the Total Gym = Total Bust. As I have changed priorities. I am now eyeing a new guitar purchase, because to me, rocking is so much more important than having massive pecs that I can crush beer cans with.

Here is a picture of a prospective suitor. I can't wait for the honeymoon.

free as a bird

Eighteen freakin days. Thats how many days in a row I worked non-stop, in a small camp an hour north of Fort McMurray. And I gotta say its certainly given me pause for thought about the long-term aspect of it all. I can score myself nearly three months worth of rent by just working a seven-day week, which I think is a pretty damn good deal. I basically give up my body and mind for eighteen days to be used as the bitch puppet of a multinational corporation bent on supplying the unwashed masses with the liquefied, processed remains of ancient dinosaur bones. It all seems laughable in concept to me that we have yet to progress beyond a means of fuel that doesn't involve biological byproducts, but I digress.

I definitely do feel like Morgan Freeman in the Shawshank Redemption. I was almost tempted to apply for a job as bag boy at the local Sobeys, but then I realized that I already had a job, and I was just given a weekend pass instead. The only aspect of my job that is dissimilar to prison would be the lack of conjugal visits, I'm still waiting on a hot broad to spend a couple hours helping me thoroughly empty out the sausage pouch. And the small camp room, god, I think its actually smaller than a real prison cell. At least the toilet isn't in the middle of the room and it actually has a seat.

So I work with a lot of strange people (myself included) and there is much exposure to a wide variety of personalities and stereotypes that most people only see on their television sets. For instance, we've got the aging hippy who's fried his brains out on acid, got abducted by aliens and pees on the toilet seat (so his bathroom buddy says). The guy also has been a first-year apprentice for... over ten years. Apparently the many times he's been to school has resulted in him failing the course and thus, never advancing beyond the mere designation of a lowly first-year apprentice worker. Yes, Peter brings me much amusement and amazement at how such people can freely walk the Earth.

Aside from the joys of interacting with former Hells Angels members, barely-literate foreign workers, disillusioned grumpy old men and wife beaters my job has given me plenty to be thankful for. Okay.. wait I'm thinking.. I guess I'd have to say the money is damn fine, especially now that I've gotten a raise after kissing enough ass. The job also has given me back the appreciation of my free time. Coming home from work gives me about three to four hours to shave, shower, eat, watch a movie and take a massive shit. I then get up the next day at 6am and dedicate thirteen hours to the 'man' before I head back to do it all again, for eighteen straight days. Yeah, this is the life.

Sadly I must announce that HiBerNaTiON 06 will not be on schedule as planned. In the unplanned event of a massive labor shortage, I was unable to secure myself the expected pink slip as anticipated. I do however, concede that perhaps its for the best. I've been constantly avoiding the stress of working for so long, and not making much headway into personal progress that maybe the best solution is to just throw myself into it and grit my teeth. There are guys making over 100,000k/yr where I am, and I think its just downright retarded to pass up that kind of green just so I can stay at home and spooge all over the Xbox 360.

Hrmm.. well thats how its going lately, building up my empire piece by piece with bleeding hands and its something that has to be done. I apologize for the somber tone, as there really isn't much to get excited about, except of course, this:



Endorsed by Chuck Norris and a very hot Christy Brinkly, I now take a small step towards the complete enslavement of all humankind. The Total Gym(tm) is the means by which I will cause entire nations to tremble in fear at my ungodly pecs, yes, you know this is coming.

Prepare.

painfully prententious polish people pontificating pap

yay, over a month without a post, a NEW RECORD! actually this is pretty much par for the course, as lately I've been finding it hard to get the energy to post anything on here.

tons of new stuff has happenned, including the acquistion of GUITAR HERO which makes me silently shed teardrops of joy. New apartment, two and a half weeks off of work, the xbox 360, and of course xmas parties with the familia.

I have to say that no human being should ever have to endure the agony of being in the company of a group of excitable, passionate, friendly POLISH people that converse in their native language, especially when your vocabulary consists of swears and "where's the bathroom". I can't properly describe the sensation my brain feels when I'm asked to "sit down with us and have a beer!" among five others and then listening to them babble in what could have been Klingon for all I know. Seriously, if you ask a non-native speaker of your language to join your group, you show him/her a little courtesy by babbling in english for the time that they're present.

So I'm sitting on the couch, trying to drink my beer as fast as I can and my eyes are desperately searching for visual stimulation, but I had the choice of watching some fat polish chick on tv sing christmas carols or watch the blinking lights on the tree. Guess what option I chose? Yeah, that was the longest seven minutes of my life.

Still managed to survive, and now I'm gearing up for the big move. I'm somewhat surprised at all the junk I have here, I mean why exactly am I hanging onto a plush gnome that is holding a mug of beer in his hand? I've also found some tupperware that had a black greasy mass inside, obviously the remains of some long-forgotten scraps of nourishment that I've failed to consume. Or a dead alien, or Jimmy Hoffa.

This move can't come soon enough. I'll now be able to sleep in without having the damn laundry machine being turned on at 9am, god help me, I will get my revenge for that somehow.

Merry Christmas everyone.

...and its right where it belongs

NINE INCH .. FUCKING NAILS was every bit as awesome as I expected them to be. Having been a fan since Pretty Hate Machine (1992), it was a nice bit of closure to have finally seen them perform live in thirteen years.

Opening band, Death From Above 1979 was so-so, Queens of the Stone Age seemed a bit lackluster. But NIN? I was tempted to put an empty cup over my crotch to hide the huge erection I was trying to control. But I thought, fuck it, and I sat there, for two gloriously short hours listening to thirteen years of NIN with a large penis poking into my left eye.

God I wish it went on all night. Donald Rivers happilly assisted me in dumping a cup of beer onto Jerry's leg. I dont think giving a manly hug to a friend in the seat across from you while holding a beer, is a good idea. The idea is to do the quick head nod and go "sup", I must learn to control these homoerotic urges in times of drunken debauchery.

Terrible Lie was the highlight of the night. Now thats a fucking classic.


trent looking particulary morose

Look at that fat corporate douchebag. I hate him with every fiber of my being :)



In other stories, check out the amusing ancedotes of the AMAZING FleshLight product. Basically its a fake vagina disguised as a flashlight, yes, this is for those of you who are extremely bored. Still, hearing guys give a page long review of a hunk of rubber is fascinating in a surreal kind of way.

"I happily received my new "Fleshlight" this past Tuesday. Upon arriving home I opened the package with great anticipation"

For the record, I found the site by clicking on an ad on this page here. No, I do not personally need or want a FleshLight(tm), as I am perfectly content to simply continue on with my self-imposed vow of celibracy. Besides, nothing beats the touch of an under-inflated latex doll.

Adios.

Rock God

If there is any one game a man like me needs to own, its Guitar Hero. Check out the video clip where a couple of Angus Young wannabes rawk out to iron man.



tracklist
---------
Audioslave "Cochise"
Boston "More than a Feeling"
Bad Religion "Infected"
Black Sabbath "Iron Man"
Blue Oyster Cult "Godzilla"
David Bowie "Ziggy Stardust"
Burning Brides "Heart Full of Black"
Cream "Crossroads"
Deep Purple "Smoke on the Water"
The Donnas "Take It Off"
The Exies "Hey You"
Franz Ferdinand "Take Me Out"
Helmet "Unsung"
Incubus "Stellar"
Joan Jett and the Blackhearts "I Love Rock 'n' Roll"
Judas Priest "You Got Another Thing Comin"
Jimi Hendrix "Spanish Castle Magic"
Megadeth "Symphony of Destruction"
Motorhead "Ace Of Spades"
Pantera "Cowboys from Hell"
Ozzy Osbourne "Bark at the Moon"
Queen "Killer Queen"
Queens of the Stone Age "No One Knows"
The Ramones "I Wanna Be Sedated"
Red Hot Chili Peppers "Higher Ground"
Stevie Ray Vaughan "Texas Flood"
Sum 41 "Fat Lip"
White Zombie "Thunderkiss '65"
The Edgar Winter Group "Frankenstein"
ZZ Top "Sharp Dressed Man"
Acro-Brats "Call Out"
Anarchy Club "Behind the Mask"
Artillery "The Breaking Wheel"
Count Zero "Sail Your Ship By"
Freezepop "Get Ready 2 Rokk"
Honest Bob and the Factory-to-Dealer Incentives "Hey"
Made In Mexico "Farewell Myth"
Monkey Steals the Peach "Theme from Guitar Hero"
The Model Sons "The Story of My Love"
Shaimus "All of This"
The Bags "Caveman Rejoice"
Din "Fly on the Wall"
Drist "Decontrol"
The Slip "Even Rats"
The Upper Crust "Eureka! I Found Love"
Graveyard BBQ "Cheat on the Church"
Black Label Society "Fire It Up"

this game looks like tits, I must have it.

In other news, it appears that I will be playing tour guide for a French "model" when NIN comes to town on the 16th. Yes, I said a French model. Who barely knows english. This should be fun.

Not much to comment on, I've been trying to figure out how to profit from the Asian chicken flu crisis. Buy stock in 3M? Someone's gotta clue me in.

Over and out.

post not found

ugh, for the teeming masses (6) that check on the blog every so often, I've got to apologize for the lack of posts. Right now, my plan is to keep working my ass off until November where I get a week off for good behavior (NIN, yay).

things will come around eventually :P and yes, I still have people taking noisy dumps next to me in the bathroom stalls.

click me

best. movie. trailer. ever.

weekend update

Well there goes 11 days of fun and frolic in the wasteland known as Fort McMurray, and I gotta say, it wasn't too bad. Now that I've been officially promoted to 3rd year I'm given the privelege of doing much less work than I used to, and getting paid more for it. My dad used to always say "the more you get paid, the less you actually work" I'm starting to see the truth in all the "out of left field" pieces of advice he's given me over the years, what a smart fucking guy, I'm glad its hereditary *wink*

Some of the highlights over the past while include: (in random order)

1) The Droner Groupie

2) Shitty Soulmate

3) Incompetent Immigrant Imbecile

4) El Big Purchaso

The Droner Groupie is a title I've designated to this Bon Jovi crackhead that I met at work. Whenever he sees me, he comes over and drones, its pretty straightforward. At first I was tolerant of it, now Im practicising the subtle art of misdirection to keep this guy from yammering at me, here's a paraphrased sample of a typical conversation between us:

Me: "I'd like to get one of those new badass HDTVs, 42" so I can watch porn in high-def"

Real (yes thats his name): "Oh yeah, back home I got myself a nice 50" Toshiba, paid about two grand for it, top of the line when I got it. Now I've got no time to use it, my son at home loves it and plays his games with friends on that. I saw it for 1100$ at Walmart a while ago, its amazing how low prices get after a while, you usually don't want to spend a lot of money on something so expensive when you know its going to get old anyways. I figured if I'm here till December, I can save up enough money to finish the payments on my car, then I can start saving up to pay off my house. Last year I made about 60 grand, and it should be pretty easy to make that kind of money here. I mean, if I'll be working from now till December, I should have about 10k and I'll be able to get back on pogey. But thats only if we're working 11 and 3, its not worth it if its just four days a week here, I may have to quit if that happens. Heh heh."

Me: ZZZzzzzZZzzzzz

The guy is 42 years old and has the cadence of a dude that smoked up before coming to work. My misdirection skills include such tactics as avoiding eye-contact and hoping someone nearby will think Real is talking to them, I also employ the use of interupting his conversation by chatting to someone else and attempting to draw those two into a conversation. There's really a lot of finesse involved when trying to politely redirect the flow of a conversation without pissing the guy off. I remember when I used to work at Swarm as a graphic designer, one of the guys there had the uncanny ability of being able to talk for hours without any input from a second party, basically the biggest fucking monologue ever. I however was naive in the art of misdirection, and made the mistake of telling him "can you stop talking for a while, I'm trying to concentrate on my work" and well.. that elicted a bad response: "oh, I see, sorry" and I had to apologize for saying that to him :P

Okay, highlight #2 - Shitty Soulmate

In my trailer park (heh), we have to share bathrooms so it was only a matter of time before I felt the need to perch my buttocks atop a porcelin pedestral and facillitate the transfer of a fair amount of feces from my anus to the disposal unit. One balmy evening I found myself doing just that, I sat on the crapper and a dude next to me also synched my movements. After about a minute, we both crapped at the same time. He however let out a few wet tbbytytyttttt of the ass trombone, and I opted instead for the quieter clarinet approach where only the squeaking of the poo exiting the oriphice can be heard. We both peed at the same time, except I peed longer than him, and somehow when I dropped a loaf and made a splash, I could hear the other dude follow up with an equally impressive effort. In short, he was my spiritual poo mate. I've never had the pleasure of sharing my bowel movements with a stranger before, and the whole experience left me with a grin all along. I honestly think they should have theatrical productions based around the poo mate concept, the world needs to experience the unspoken camraderie between assholes, it really is both a humbling and endearing event to be a part of.

#3 Incompetent blah blah

So they paired me with this guy at work, a Newfie named Leo Howe and on the first day I knew I got a real winner on my hands. Typically in the profession I'm in, most guys from Eastern provinces do not get the proper training required for the job we do out West, so you get a lot of amateurs that call themselves "Journeymen" but are about on par with 2nd year apprentices knowledge-wise.

One of the greatest things to happen to me this week, was given Leo as a partner on doing a 10 x 2 1/2 metal elbow. A metal elbow is basically where the pipe goes from horizontal to vertical and the "elbow" is that part that transitions between them. So I insulated the elbow, and usually its the journeyman that has to metal it, except, oh my god, he couldnt do it. With this particular elbow, metal gores (which are about six seperate metal pieces that go on in a spiral) had to be applied. Basically the rule for installing those, is to center the gores along the weld of the elbow.

But Leo could not do it. He ended up telling me to help him, except he wouldnt listen to my advice because he was the "experienced" guy and I was just a "3rd year", hilarity ensues.

It took him 1 and a half days to get that ONE elbow on, typically it takes less than two hours. During this time it was hot outside and since Leo was a big guy, he started sweating hardcore. And I mean HARDCORE. His face looked like a water fountain, I thought it really was something to see. Of course, I had to laugh when he asked me how come I'm not sweating. Well the answer I gave him was "er, I sweat more below the waist" which is true, considering the size and position of the kielbasa contained below.

During this entire time there has been some great moments where Leo would just get completely frustrated and start lamenting his situation. Some of the catchphrases include:

"I'm trying to understand it, I can't understand it!"
"I've never worked so hard in my life, and I'm 50 years old!"
"I'll give anything to get this fucker on, anything!"

and the big one:

"I might as well take a plane back home, I'm going to get fired!"
me: "you won't get fired."
him: "Well if I cant do the work, I'm out of here!"

Imagine all those phrases repeated a couple dozen times over the course of a ten hour day. Delivered in the same tone of voice, a tone thats pleading and frantic but not frustrated and you have COMEDY GOLD here folks. I swear the hardest thing about working with Leo is to keep from laughing out loud whenever he spits out another "I'll give anything to get this fucker on, anything!". Yeah I shouldn't be so cruel, but I DID tell him how to do it and he chose to ignore my advice until the next day. Hard to believe he's making ten bucks more an hour than I am.

Gotta jet back again tonight for another four days, thankfully I got myself one of these babies:



the 60gb model. FUCKIN A! 12,000 songs or 1,000 cds can be uploaded to this biznitch, I love the hell out of it. Originally I wanted the 40gb model, but they dont make that one anymore, so I had to splurge 519$ on the 60gb, but it was sooo worth it. I've already got 11,000+ songs on it and there's still 7gb left for porn pictures that I can share with friends and family. The real innovation is that click wheel, its totally off the hook, all touch-based, you just rub that thing like you'd rub a cootch. Anyone considering buying an iPod definetely should if they want to be a trendy music-obsessed mofo like myself. I suggest the iPod mini for casual users (5gb drive) and of course, the 60 gigger for the hardcores like myself who need to carry junk like The Star Wars Christmas cd and every Tupac cd to remote and desolute locations.

Over and out.

highway to hell

Six hours. It takes nearly six hours to get home from Fort McMurray, I dont even know why I bother, oh wait I do, its to pay respect to the power of the almighty dollar. Son of a bitch am I ever a sucker. Anyways, I just finished my first week of work in three months after finishing yet another year of insulating school and the feeling is similar to being cold cocked with a sucker punch and dumped in a bathtub full of ice. Immediately those old familar "this place sucks" emotions came flooding into my brain even though I was sure I've been up here enough times to become fairly jaded to the whole experience. No sir, McMurray still operates at the same level of suckitude now as it did four months ago.

After work, I usually find myself settling into a routine. I'd come to my room inside of a trailer that was built in the 60s (complete with the requisite yellow stains) and pull my pants off. Then I air out the snuffleapagus while retro-ing out with my cassette walkman and enjoying a cup of coffee followed by one of hot chocolate. This is a very important ritual, as it enables me to suffer through yet another day of pain that the Marquis De Sade himself would be proud of undergoing. Maybe I'm embellishing a little too much about the torture that goes on up there, but its definetely not a cakewalk. I mean damn, it was raining for two days, my monogoggles kept fogging up and I didn't even have a lunchroom to eat in ('tis full). So I spent my breaks outside, enjoying the added fiber that blowing dust contributes to my turkey sandwich and I'm a million miles from home to boot. The small comforts that the experience affords me would have to consist of a fat paycheque, seeing some of the people I used to work with (yay for fat indian broads) and the previously mentioned removing of pants.

I had also been fortunate to be amused while brushing my teeth one evening in the *public* bathroom. Some dude was taking a dump four stalls away and made these awesome guttural sounds that made me smile. Thankfully the odour didn't make its way over to me, but after the dude flushed the can I noticed some fourty year old guy coming out with a sheepish look on his face. Now I can read guilty expressions and combine this with my dirty mind it was easy to figure out that he wasn't actually taking a shit. So the guy notices me peering at him through the corner of my eye and says "uh oh good morning.. I mean evening.. heh heh heh" he was definetely nervous and embarassed about milking the meat stick, but rather than just grunting affably in his direction, I thought I'd engage in the conversation that he tried iniatating.

Some small talk commenced and then the guy reveals that he was working there for three years as an electrician. After I've gotten over my shock, he then expressed admiration for the insulating trade and how we create "works of art" instead of being subjected to the boring electrical work he does. I shake my head sadly upon hearing that someone shows approval towards insulating, I then made a comment about how electrical work is better since all they really do is "pull their wires" all day. Although my observation was correct (there's usually six+ electricians pulling wire from a cable spool), I think my new friend took it as a double-entredre as an allusion to his wanking in the stall, so he turned red, uttered a good night and quickly exited.

Yeah thats the highlight of my week, sad isn't it? Another thing that pisses me off is that they don't have tuna salad sandwiches anymore. Why? Because they were afraid "decaying mayonaise" has "toxic" effects, regardless that these sandwiches are made fresh daily.

Two days off and back I go.

O.o

These are not the droids you are looking for.

Haven't really had much to talk about lately as you can see I've skipped almost an entire month between posts, this is truly a historical moment. I've been in a funk the past while, bored out of my skull and itching to get back to work again next week. So yeah, I don't think most of you would be interested in hearing about how much fun I had with the crossword puzzle last night.

I did however, got one of my numbers right in Saturday's Lotto 6/49 draw, which is amazing and totally deserves to be bragged about.

And now, a picture of a frog.

my eyes are wide awake

I know its only been a few weeks, but I can't believe how much I still miss my cat.

After the first little while, I thought I put the whole grieving period behind me.

I was wrong.

I miss not having a big furry baby to hold.

I miss his purring.

I miss the two little meows he makes whenever he wants to go out.

*sighs*

...I dont know if I'm overreacting or not. But my life feels a whole lot empty now without Fluffy. He was my sidekick, my dancing partner, my only defense against evil mice. I'd hate to think what it would be like if it was my mother who died, or my father, or a friend.

We used to watch TV together.

...*sighs again*

well thats the way it goes.

I'm sure sex with Erica Campbell is the cure.