Now I done it

In hindsight maybe changing his food the day before, what must be, a very traumatizing experience for a 6 month old pup, was not my finest decision.

Castration log (Or Jackalog):

May 30, 2005 4:25 Pm, Bring Jackal for run to wear him out before he is cooped up for 24 hours at Vet.

5:00 Feed Jackal full, large can of meat in gravy, a nice treat before going for the big cut, besides, he is out of the regular stuff.

5:01 A voice inside says to me (as Jack is lapping up the last bit of gravy from his dish), maybe feeding him some greasy meaty bits froma can was a poor strategy when his system isn't used to anything but dry food. Nah, he'll be fine.

5:02 Wife re-itterates the above sentiments, with slight use of profanity to characterise the play (I'm dubbed dumass for the day).

5:23 Drop Jackal off at clinic. He is going to spend night. Have uneasy feeling over the size of his cage. Technician suggests dogs will not mess a small space if they have to sleep there.

5:40 I go home, a little sad and worried for his well being.

Spend the rest of the evening playing baseball and pining.

May 31, 2005 6:30 AM Wake up and go to gym. Think to self, Jackal must be asleep still. But he'll need to pee soon, like he does at home.

8:10 Arrive to work late. Forgot lunch.

9:10 Suspicions confirmed and theory of small space for bladder control disproved. Jackal has "diahrea'd" the space and slepd in the funk.

Telephone call transcript:
" Hello Jeremy, it's Doctor (so and so), Jackal is fine, does he have diahrea at home?
No...
Well he had a bit of an accident last night, and we wanted to make sure before we operate.
Hmm, not normally.... Oh damn, we (me) fed him some new stuff right before we (me) brought him in.
Okay, that combined with the stress probably caused it. We'll go ahead with the operation.
Thanks Doc, oh, be gentle!
Guffaw! (laughing) we will!"

Everything South of the ribcage is gonna be a little sore buddy! Maybe it will take his focus of the pain of having his fun stuff tampered with.

Eeyore is here and the way he tells the story he makes me seem like some kind of idiot!

2 years

Married for two years in July. Wow, she's either really patient or has A.D.D. I'm a lucky bastard.

I bought Wife her anniversary present already. But more importantly, she got me mine. Tickets for me and my friends to see a Saskatchewan Roughriders game at Skydome. Should be plenty of seats available!

If you're watching the game, look for the two schlubs with Rider green jersey and Eskies green sidekick. Most likely we will belly paint, (Note to self, need bigger belly to write Go Riders Go, in a form that will allow the viewers at home to discern my preferred team) and we will likely be the only people there doing so. Should be fun. Luckily we'll have4 our bouncers (Wife Ellie-Mae and S.O.L.) to fend off the Boatmen faithful. Or at the very least bail us out of Skydome jail! Jokes, we should be ok. Of course it may be more to their benefit to leave us there, but what fun would that be?

Giver Baby!!!

Let's hear it for Danica Patrick! The kid hung in there and pulled out fourth place in a sport traditionally dominated by men.

There apparently was some turmoil over the young lady making her professional debut because of her body weight. Some drivers decided that there should be weights added to her car to even the playing field. That is absurd. Some of the drivers riding these cars are no more than 150 pounds. I seriously doubt that 20 or thirty pounds makes the difference between 1st and last place.

Now let's take a look (using what I have seen personally towing and driving) at why Female Race car drivers have the potential to do so well at this and any other driving sport.

*Disclaimer, the opinions expressed in this list are solely for humor's sake, no finger pointing or suggestions on the ability of the fairer sex are being made. This is simply the observations of "some" people not every one. I would also like to add that my wife looks especially pretty today. As do you all. (C.Y.A. Check.)

1. No signaling. Now it's ok if you change a lane with nobody but you knowing where you're going.

2. No mirrors overhead. The lipstick you got on will have to do, thus making it easier to keep your mind on driving.

3. You are now expected to speed far beyond your control, but not necessarily you comfort level (few know the difference, race car drivers I mean).

4. Bumping and ginding are expected (Grr!).

5. Parking ability will have absolutely no effect on the outcome.

6. Ice cover is rare on these courses, so there should be no pesky slipping or accidents, normally.

7. Your insurance will cover any damage to others or yourself.

8. You are more likely to show up in Sports Illustrated, if you aren't "estheticaly pleasing", but can drive really really fast.

9. No one expects you to give the right of way to other drivers.

And I will leave number ten to my loyal readers. Make your point but don't offend. Men are also bad drivers, especially old ones!

Ps. she would have won had she not stalled the car in the pit stop. She came back from 16th place. Says a lot about her skill.

My book

Here is a little something I have been toying with, just for fun, comment away!

CHAPTER ONE


It seemed like only a few days had passed, he sat in front of his computer monitor with his eyes burning from the dryness of the hot summer sun, which beamed into his 3rd bedroom through a window that was only exposed from 5 to sundown (the hours he wasn’t at his regular job), it was nightfall now, and soon there would be relief through the cooler night air. With sweat beading down his brow, he reached for the glass of iced tea his wife had brought him only moments ago. She was here for the big moment.

Over one year. Had it been that long? Is it even possible? Truthfully it didn’t matter; this was a work of love. He sat back with great satisfaction, with his eyes scanning the 342 pages he had worked on for close to 13 months. It contained mystery, romance, and betrayal. Truly this was a testament to personal growth.

His wife had sat back and observed as he spent every waking hour on the story that started as a way to pass time during his lunch breaks and the evenings when his wife would be busy with the kinds of duties a teacher takes home with her regularly. It was summer now and she had a few months of relaxation time before the beginning of the fall semester. She had been very patient to this point, but was looking forward to the finished product, and the return of the man she knew to their nest in front of the television. He didn’t particularly like her programs but suffered through it because it allowed for more liberties when it came to his pastimes, which, he would now be able to become re-acquainted with.

With a deep satisfaction apparent in his voice and a glimmer in his eye he turned and told her: “It’s done”.

She approached the desk which had acted as a backstop for his conjurations with scrap paper and notes strewn about. It resembled what an accomplished writer might sit at day after day. He of course was far less of an accomplished writer, and more of a moonlighter, in his eyes he could never keep pace with the likes of Dean Koontz, or John Grisham; his all time favorite story teller.

After reading the first several pages, she slumped back onto the futon she had inhabited occasionally as he furiously pounded on the keys, for what seemed like forever to a pair of newlyweds.

“What?”
“Nothing, it’s good. I’m just tired.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah, It’s 11:30, I’ve done a lot today and I just want to sit and relax.”
“Relax?”
“Don’t take it the wrong way honey, I’ll read it when I get a chance.”
“But this is kind of a big moment for me, I just wrote a novel for Christ’s sake!”
“I know honey, and I can tell from the beginning that it is going to be great, but I want to be clear when I sit down to read it so I can fully appreciate it.”

This would be the closest thing to an acceptable explanation he would hear, and it was enough. He didn’t feel like starting a 3 hour session of bickering over her lack of enthusiasm, not today, this was special.

She gave him a hug and a kiss and whispered a congratulatory word in his ear and made her way downstairs. Soon he could hear the buzz of the television, the white noise he had grown accustomed to. It was time for one of her favorite reality shows. As he focused on the screen looking for ways to improve his masterpiece, the noise from the lower level faded into a murmur. He was back in the zone, but he wouldn’t change anything that wouldn’t be changed back immediately. This was a work that had been scrutinized and re-read over a hundred times; in his mind it was perfect.

“Honey, are you coming to bed?”

He was shaken out of his trance.

“Yes.”
“Well come on.”
“I’m going to have a shower.”
“Okay” (Yawning)

He saved the novel to his computer and made two copies on a thumb drive and a disk. He placed the disk in his fire safe, and the thumb drive on the chain around his neck, he followed his wife down the stairs and kissed her goodnight. She would be fast asleep by the time he got there.

In the shower his mind raced with thoughts of the following days.

“Who should I see about this?”
“Should I see anyone?”
“Is it good enough to show?”

Unbeknownst to him all these questions would be answered; it was just a matter of time.

He crawled into bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin as he had done since childhood.

“Good night.” A faint voice muttered from the opposing side of the bed.
“Good night sweetheart.”

Crazy Old Coot

I know a few people who are the kind that complain about anything, especially when they feel they have been cheated of a good or service they paid for. Often, they remark:"Let me speak to your manager". People do this more often now than ever because the consumer has been given the ultimate power. Input, and the internet that links them to phone numbers and e-mails that managers at higher levels read and react to.

Whether it be a restaurant, grocery store or a movie, these predators are lookin to get theirs, reasonable or not, they will likely get their pay off. The big corporations are ready to hand out coupons for anything.

You forgot my straw!
Here's a meal on us.
My potato was starchy!
Here's a pitcher of beer.

I notice this in Ontario more than other places, but I'm sure it wasn't always so. No bad service is tolerated or accepeted without compensation.

I went to a restaurant in town here, and the meal was horrific. We ordered a dip and some potato skins and wings. The dip was more of a dried pot of beans and the skins were brutally burnt. we talked to the manager nicely and we got a reduced price. The excuse was that the computer to the kitchen where the orders come in through was broken. Not sure how that burns a potato but...

Now for anyone who is saying: "People do complain a lot", you likely work for a place that has to satisfy customers. If you are saying, "but why should I pay for something that isn't worth my money?" You probably have little contact for the clients you represent... Like ME! But this takes the cake, or pie depending how you look at it.

Elderly woman jailed over pizza delivery complaints

Now tell me how far you would go for service! Or better yet, how far have you gone, or how bad was your encounter? These comments aren't made on their own people!

The Big bike

My wife signed herself up for the Big Bike for Heart and Stroke research, thing, where she's supposed to raise money and ride a gargantuan vehicle along with about 19 other people. This was a few months ago.

The ride is tonight and guess who forgot to raise her cash? Me!

Here is an e-mail I circulated:

Hello madam

My name is (JIM) and I am raising funds for the Heart and Stroke Foundations big bike charity event for my wife. You see, every year someone’s wife talks herself into one of these things and forgets to get donations from people and gets her husband to do it for her. This is a severe problem and we hope to raise enough money to make her feel that she never has to do this again. (Unless she really really wants to.)
Would you be able to donate to such a worthy cause? If so I will send her post haste to you with a coffee or a (foam) bat so you can take a swing at her as many times as you feel your donation should allow.

Thank you for your time.

(Wife's) husband

Well I had a few takers, although I'm not sure if Wife knows what she's got waiting for her when she shows up to collect. No one took the coffee.

My dog Houdini

Above is a picture of my (newest) dog, Jackal, or as he has become known recently "Houdini". He is not as innocent as he looks here.

As spring rolled in I thought it would be a great idea to try and tune up the backyard and fix the patches of grass that had been ruined by a full winter of Canine "gifts". There are several patches of dead grass and holes all over the place. I worked for a couple of weeks landscaping, planting trees and building rock gardens to try and beautify the place. I have two ongoing problems though, the dogs.

First thing they did was start leg upping my new cedar trees, digging through the fresh soil and compost that I had put around them and removing the stones from the rock garden, and of course leaving their "landmines" everywhere. I decided to build a pen. I paced out the size and figured a space of 16 feet by 12 feet would be enough. I got a 4 foot tall roll of fencing and the necessary posts, a hardware pack for the gate and a ton of staples.

I put the thing together without incident (still ten fingers and toes) and put a layer of round stone for the base, that way the pen doesn't become a mud pit when it rains. I filled it with some toys, a water dish and a tree stump for their marking. It looked nice and I was ready to hem the dogs in. I put them inside and they spent the next few hours sniffing and running around the place, they looked happy.

We went back in the house and they ran around inside for a while. I got tired of it and said "hey I’ll just lock em up outside, it's a beautiful day!" So I did. Not 20 minutes later, I hear a scratch at the door. Jackal is there waiting to get in the house. WTF?

I put him back in to see how he was escaping. He was literally climbing the fence, and jumping down. Not bad for a 6 month old, but unacceptable to me. I built a foot long extension to the top that leaned back into the pen, like a backstop for baseball. It took him a day, but he found his way out. He got on his hind legs and pulled himself up to the top then climbed out again.

After contemplating tying weights to his paws, Built a 2 foot wooden railing on top of what has become my Auschwitz-like abode for the lil (expletive)s. A few days passed with no jailbreaks. but magically, Houdini ended up on the steps a few days ago, again, this time with the small dog right behind him. WTF?

Still unsure of how but Wife told me that Jackal can open the gate... Yes, he opens it for both of them now. So this weekend I may put a roof on the damn thing and barbed wire around the perimeter. Failing that I will just let them loose and try to beautify the 16 by 12 space that they seem so determined to vacate, and lock myself in there with the bar-b-q and my patio set.

Eeyore was miles from this disaster

Ralph Klein... Havina look at QE's tush.


Here's a good look at things that go wrong when you plan a trip to western Canada, in May.

Dems my kind of Yankee

I like Americans. Good ol boys who would stop their car when you tried to cross the street, or hold the door open for you, or your wife at the very least. The kinds of people who volunteer and raise good families. The kind that work honest hours for an honest wage. I like the kind of Americans that are meek and humble, who know a good cause when they see it. The kind who recognize a Canadian's right to exist.

Why I am not a big supporter of US media and their so called "experts".

If this don't get your blood boilin, You are not of this world... or at least this country! And if you are from this country, you moved here from somewhere, or will be movin out soon.

Right, POLO?

Poor Donkey

Well it was a short dry spell for the misadventures of Eeyore and family.

You likely remember my previous posts about Eeyore and his cloud of bad luck:
My Friend Ior
The Misfortunes Of Ior Take Two
My Bad
And of course: The Legend...

Well as it turns out a couple of floods and a saggy ceiling make insurance companies weary. Eeyore got a letter from his insurance company saying he is too high risk (DUH) to be covered, so they are cutting the Eeyore clan loose. This sucks.

With the luck these good folks have been having, their pool is likely to spring a leak that will no doubt empty the contents into the only drain that leaks into the top floor of the house and makes like Niagara all the way through the 3 bed 2 bath dwelling of said donkey. Not to be outdone, the place will likely go up in flames because the pilot light went out on the gas stove, only to spew room fulls of natural gas into the air for hours followed by a couple of drifting underwires for S.O.L.'s bra coming into contact with each other creating enough of a spark to hollow out the remaining structure leaving nothing but a sad empty Donkey barn.

But only the day after their current policy expires.

I can see Ellie may now, dancing jigs for quarters while Mommy and Daddy play the Jug and Washboard (respectively) in front of a Maytag box left from their new washing machine, that somehow made it through the ordeal unharmed.

But I digress. They will be fine I'm sure, as a matter of fact I have a feeling that this will be their summer...

This is not all.

I got this e-mail today:
Hey – I ended up in emerg last night with an EKG – sound familiar. I had bad pain in my chest and I couldn’t get a full breath. Apparently I have an inflammation in the cartilage between my ribs and sternum. Lucky me.

I said:
Holy (expletive)! Any precautions, or doctor’s orders?

She says:
Nope – it is not dangerous. It is called costochonditis. They don’t know what causes it – could be trauma, or a virus. Just take anti-inflammatories, and take it easy. It is 70% more common in females. Thought I was having a heart attack or a blood clot in my lungs or something…

Me SEZ
What did you do with (Ellie-May)? You can call us if you ever need someone to watch her when you have to leave for those sorts of things. Glad to hear you’re ok!

She SEZ:
Thanks – (Eeyore) stayed home with her.

Me:
Thought you were havin a heart attack and you drove yourself? (Expletive)!

She:
I know – I was thinking that too.

That's it, I am going to take up a collection here. Not money (sorry bud), but wishes, I would like all my readers (yes all 5 of you) to post a "You poor SOB's" comment here so I can give it to them. I will likely get a punch for it, but hey, that will make a good story too!

Good Man

Words of wisdom from my buddy Ron,

It is important for men to remember, that as women grow older it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them.

Some are oversensitive and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman. My name is Ron...... Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Julie.
When I took "early retirement" last year, it became necessary for Julie to get a full-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working I noticed she was beginning to show her age.

I usually get home from the Golf Course about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table.

I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club so eating out is not reasonable.I'm ready for some home cooked grub when I hit that door...

She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now, it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed. I really think my experience as a teacher helps a lot. I consider telling people what they ought to do one of my strong points...

And speaking of bed, her age really shows up there. I go out and golf all day, come in dead tired and after a two-hour nap and a good meal, I'm ready...if you know what I mean. Age has gotten her so bad that she actually dozes off during lovemaking. But that's okay. Her satisfaction in that area is important to a sensitive guy like me and if she enjoys sleeping during our little trysts, what the hey...

Now that she has gotten older, she does seem to get tired so much more quickly. Our washer and dryer are in the basement. Sometimes she says she just can't make another trip down those steps. I don't make a big issue of this; as long as she finishes up the laundry the next evening, I'm willing to overlook it. Not only that, but unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday lodge meeting, or to Wednesday's or Saturday's poker club, or to Tuesday's or Thursday's bowling, or something like that, I will tell her to wait until the next evening to do the ironing...

This gives her a little more time to do some of those odds and ends like shampooing the dog, vacuuming or dusting...

Also, if I had a really good day on the course and it was wet and muddy, my clubs are a mess, so I let her clean them, you know, get the grit off the grips and a little light Brillo on the club faces at a casual pace. My golf bag is heavy so I lift it out of the trunk for her. Women are delicate, have weak wrists and can't lift heavy stuff as good as men. But I did tell her I don't like to be wakened during my after-golf nap, so rather than bother me, she can put them back in the trunk when she's finished. But, I show her the proper lifting technique.

Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points. When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too, and then take her break by my hammock. That way she can talk with me until I fall asleep.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Julie. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older.
Now guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile.I had Julie Proof-read it however. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.

Signed, Ron

EDITOR'S NOTE: Ron died suddenly Thursday March 3. He was found with a Calloway extra long 50 inch Big Bertha Driver II rammed up his posterior, with only 2 inches of grip showing. His wife Julie was arrested, but the all-woman Grand Jury accepted her defense that he accidentally sat on it, and she was released on Friday, March 4.

Me like Hockey

Let me tell you why I will not be working tomorrow.

Golf. I am going on a golf trip with the team I “played” for last winter. It involves a State-side trip (cheap beer) a round of golf, a steak dinner, and a keg of beer. Eeyore will be attending of course, he is my connection to the world of all the things I enjoy (cheap beer!).

I played for the team one game and rode the bench twice, but enjoyed it more than any pick-up game I have played in the past few years. I play in goal.

Some people refer to goalies as “insane” or “crazy”, but I assure you, I would much rather be facing a 90 MPH slap shot than a Todd Bertuzzi sucker punch. Here is something I found on CBC this morning:

When he was just a rookie with the Montreal Canadiens, a reporter noticed that Roy seemed to get a lot of favourable bounces and the puck seemed to often hit the goalposts.

That's because, Roy said, he talks to his posts during the game.

"They are my friends," he said.

Roy's superstitions have been well documented because he is arguably the greatest goaltender to play the game.

Roy, who holds the NHL record for career wins by a net minder, had a set routine before every game.

During the pre-game, he would skate out to the blue-line and stare at the net, envisioning it shrinking. He would also consciously never step on the blue-line or red-line.

Now as for me, I never did anything that stupid. I did however have the following rituals.

· Fart every time the opposing team is anywhere near the crease.

· Let the first goal of every game slide past me.

· Let the last goal of every game slide past me.

· Tape my stick only when the splinters falling off of it are affecting my play.

· For fun, I close my eyes when someone shoots at my head. And then giggle uncontrolably.

I ask the referees if they can see my shoulder straps.

And something that is not routine, but more of a habit:

I can think of 1000 reasons why our team lost that has no connection to me or my routine. Yeah, I'm a real gem.

Jackal and Spud

I took Jackal and Spud to the park yesterday for a run. Spud performed his usual self hanging from the leash bit, while Jack walked along with me very excited, but very controllable.

I tried to throw the ball with them both, but it seems that the littler dog was more interested in anything that did not involve listening. Little bugger.

Jackal on the other hand, was attentive and played fetch the way you would expect an IAMS commercial talent to play. He ran far and fast and always came back with the ball. There were other people and their dogs walking around and he paid little attention to them only straying the one time a lady walked right up to him, but one quick "Here Jack", and he regained his focus. He's 6 months old.

I can actually walk him without a leash. All I have to do is point my finger on my left side and he follows along under it glancing occasionally to make sure he's in position. Jackal is just a good dog.

Now let me tell you about spud. He has more energy than any animal I have seen. He listens incredibly well, if you know what to ask for; Like "spud, run to the end of your leash and pull until you almost cut the oxygen off", or "Bark like mad at anything and everything as long as you still have a voice", or my favourite "crawl up on Wife and put your nose right in her face until she notices you and pets you". Not to mention the "Spud once your leash is off, run for the hills and never look back", which actually may come in handy someday. Spud is an arse hole.

He has moments where you can get him to do anything in the world. Like Roll over, jump, sit, lie down, dance, sing and wave goodbye. But if you don't make with the treats, then he will pout like a 4 year old child. Spud is a more of a cat than a K-9.

Not feeling groovy

PLEASE COME BACK MOMMY!!

My mom has pointed out the fact that my stories are less than amusing when they involve me, pumpjacks, sppeding automobiles, or other dumb kid stuff, so that's it, I will focus on some better material, and clean up the lingo y'know what I mean?

Tuesday night I had a little bit of a scare. In my family, heart irregularities are pretty normal, as a matter of fact I get a little chest wiggle now and then; my heart skips a beat or two them tries to catch up, leaving me flush and a little dizzy, no big deal. Tuesday night I woke at 3 AM to the feeling of my Heart trying to do the "Charleston" right out of my chest. It was basically wiggling supplying just enough blood to kep me in bed, and getting enough to my brain for me to say:
" that's it baby! Here comes the big one! I'm ready, take me now!" Well It wasn't that bad because after 3 hours of this, the old beat-box took it's rythym. within a few minutes i was in fine shape. I decided to see if I could set it off again, so there's JIM doing laps in his house at 6:30 in the morning in his boxers with two dogs chasing him around. Quite a sight to be sure. I refrained from going to the hospital, because with knowledge of the "family issue" you realize that unless you catch it in the act, there is very little that can be done.

The next morning I stayed home from work, since I was very dizzy and had 3 hours of sleep. I spent the day relaxing waiting for it to happen again. right around noon, away we wednt, I grabbed the bag I had packed and was ready for the hospital, then Ba-boom, ba-boom, I was fine again. I was getting pissed. By the evening I was decided that I was going to the hospital the next day. the night came and in the middle of a slumber there it was again, this time I was in pain. So I got up and walked around half out of it, then I jsut sort of froze. I sat on the edge of the bed and just sat there.

Off to the hospital I go. I spent a while on an E.K.G. and donated 6-8 viles of blood for testing. I get to be strapped to a machine that will record my heart beat and tell the doctors of any irregularities. I was told this is all a normal sort of thing which I sort of knew, but the doctor had a little trouble with the fact that I don't smoke, drink coffe (or pop for that matter) and I run 5 miles or so a day, and I' 28 years old. He told me not to worry about it too much, but when It happens like this for the first time, it is freakin scary. I thought I was going to die.

Afraid to sleep and too tired to think normally, I took a few more days off, things evened out and I feel fine now. The Doctor says it may be stress related. Eeyore will be rolling on the floor now. So for the time being I will jsut keep doing what I do, and try to keep my Mommy's heart from doing the same thing by recounting stupid things I did.

Happy Mother's day from your little Angel

Mom, you raised one helluva guy!

I got in a fight at a Burger King drive through because my buddy couldn't control himself from laughing hysterically at the 6'2 mamoth ordering a stawberry milkshake and a burger cut in half from the order window just in front of us. My friend never threw a punch but was quick to point out that I never should have stopped swinging at the guy.

I once hosted a party where the staircase to the basement collapsed and the guests were trapped in the basement with the live band for an hour while me and "Magpie" held the staircase so everyone could get out. At the same time, the railing of my patio broke away from it because there were too many people out there. The people under the railing were not hurt. The people who landed on the railing after falling off the patio were mostly ok.

I once "cruised" the main drag in my hometown on a Saturday night in my boss's semi with 7 people crammed into the sleeper. I actually only won two of the five races despite what you may have heard.

I once fell asleep for 4 hours at work, on a pile of tires that I was supposed to taking inventory of, because I had two baseball games back to back until 2 in the morning, and then hosted a party afterwards. My secret was discovered when my co-worker pointed out the letter H and some of a U indented into the side of my face from the sidewall of a KHUMO tire I laid my head on.

I once did a quasi "striptease" on the Souris swinging bridge in the August Moonlight for nothing more than a double-dare. The best part is that I had a spotlight shining on me before I fled, courtesy of the Souris Police, who were just on the other side of the bridge.

But don't worry Mommy, I haven't done something stupid in days!

Request for temporary re-instatement of testicles.


That is funny because it is true for everyone except me. Well maybe not, but close!

I have it pretty good I must admit. I have very few rules to follow, and for the most part, I stick to them. The Stripper clause is the golden rule in most of my circles of friends. But I have a few buddies who may get a stack of these forms for their birthdays.

God Damned Country!!

The picture is worth 1000 words. Beautiful southern Ontario, my ass. We just had a bout of snow, rain, cold and cloud. I woke this morning to sunshine and the promise of better weather. Back home the weather is fair and minus four. But no bloody snow in the forecast.

Perhaps this part of the country does tend to whine a lot about how "Bad" we have it, but I can honestly say, when you drive 20 kilometres to the east and pass through 4 seasons and a tropical storm, it just ain't normal.

So, tonight I will try to get some yard work done, I will wear Sandles with some woolies three pairs of shorts, a toque, mits and a tanktop with a scarf, that way I can cover all my bases.