Category Archives: Rants

#Hashtaggery

This post is a #nowinsituation. Young people are going to disagree, and old people aren’t going to #knowwhatthefuckimtalkingabout. I’m a #hater perhaps. Maybe it’s the #wine, maybe I’m just #frustratedbeyondbelief, but probably it’s the fact that I’m #gettingolder, and the world in my humble opinion is #gettingdumber, but I’m finding that #imgettingirritatedwiththeinternet. It’s a #lovehaterelationship though. I depend on it. I waste hours on it. So in a way I’m in #nopositiontocriticize. I do write a blog though #thoughtsandrantsinjoggingpants, so right or wrong, if I don’t #lashoutagainstpeople from time to time, then #whatgoodami?

Dear internet friends, enemies, and #frenemies…… I hate your #fuckinghashtags!

First I feel I need to explain #hashtags. According to my #researchsources wikipedia and urban dictionary, #hashtags are a #socialmediatool to group certain ideas together so they’re easier to search for. #newsflash…. Nobody gives a shit what you’re saying on #facebooktwitterorotherwise to actually search for it later. People are just #doingthistodoit, which I find #superprepubescentofyouall. Especially the 30-50 crowd. #giveitabreaklosers. I promise nobody is trying to find your status updates with a #hashtagsearch.

The other thing which is #waymoreannoying is using the #hashtag as some sort of weird #punchlineindicator. That is to invent a #hashtag to drop at the end of your status update to somehow #punctuate what you’re saying. Are you like #11yearsold??? No. You’re 40. Stop it. Here’s an example I made up. “Just got into a fender bender, and off to the collision center! #happynobodywashurt #shouldntgodrivingbeforecoffee #theregoesmyinsurancepremiums” etc. I guess it seems cute to some. I disagree. Decidedly not cute, just say what you want to say in plain English. Stop trying to #impressyourkids. The thing is, when young people do it, I’m half expecting it. They’ll look back and #realizehowdumbtheywerelikewealldoeventually, but the people my age should know better.

I suppose if a company wants you to use a #hashtag so you can enter some sort of #weirdcontest, then it makes a bit of sense. I just don’t like the gratuitous use of it by people who #dontevenknowwhatitreallyisandthinkthisisjustonebighashtagparty. Hopefully just by reading this post, you’ve been suitably annoyed by trying to read all the #hashtags in it, and I’m super pissed off that my word count is only sitting at 325 right now because every #hashtag is only one word, no matter how many I crammed in there. Spell check is going to be a #nightmareshitshow too.

I guess I’ve been #crankyenoughforonenight. #offtobed


Holiday Retail Pet Peeves Part 3

Loyal Readers…

I’m sorry I haven’t written in over a month. I could make excuses. Maybe I’ll just cut right into the topic.

I just re-read parts 1 & 2 to make sure I don’t repeat myself. Here’s links to the first 2 in case you feel like some light reading.

Holiday Retail Pet Peeves

Holiday Retail Pet Peeves Part 2

I’ve spent a lot of time in Retail which has provided me with almost nothing, other than these lists. It gets a little crazy around December with all the Christmas shopping. People get a little annoying. I’m a trained soldier in dealing with said people, but my patience wears thin from time to time as well. I am human of course.

– If you are a human being that is unhappy with a product, you are probably spitting mad, and looking for a verbal confrontation. That’s probably the only thing in your mind that’s going to make the disappointment and anger subside. So who better to take your day out on, then some poor teenager who makes minimum wage to work (possibly seasonally) at the store you purchased the product from. Sometimes the product you buy will direct you back to the store for your customer service issues. Other times, you might have a number on the box that you can call to talk directly to the manufacturer……which you will ignore, and come into the store anyways, demanding satisfaction from whichever unfortunate teenager happens to be standing near the entrance to the store. Don’t phone ahead to find out what the proper protocol is. Just show up, and then if the situation isn’t resolved, make sure you tell everyone how far you drove, and how much your time is worth. People, listen….. Stop treating store employees like they’re the ones that manufactured the product you are unhappy with. They didn’t. Unless you’re lucky enough to see the same person that helped you, they probably didn’t even sell you the item. The retail employee has ZERO control over the longevity and effectiveness of the product that you are using. They have ZERO control over the exchange policy that they are PAID (very little) to enforce. I know you want to yell. I know you want that vain in your forehead to pop out with anger. Everybody from the product designer, to the manufacturer, to the warehouse, to the store level employees probably really wanted you to be happy with this product. They aren’t trying to swindle you, and if they are, it’s certainly not happening at store level. I know you thought that when you spend X amount of money, that the world would open itself up to you in the form of this product, and everything would be the way it should be. That wasn’t the case for you this time. Not the fault of the part-time employee whose lunch break isn’t even long enough to run to the food court and back. Stop the abuse.

– My new favourite shopping dynamic is dealing with the mother/daughter combo in which the daughter is a young adult, and the mother who no longer provides for her daughter is trying to remain relevant by brainwashing her daughter into believing that she is the fountain of wisdom, and nobody else’s opinion could possibly be meaningful. It’s subtle but hilarious. The daughter has no idea it’s happening. The mother is probably doing it instinctively, rather than intentionally. Once you figure out what’s happening, it’s hilarious to watch. The mother talks constantly, like she’s an expert on all things, and trying to influence the daughter’s choices. As the sales person, you are being almost physically shielded from the daughter by the mother, who feels she will lose credibility if an ACTUAL expert chips in with his two cents. So as the salesperson you have no choice but to hang back, and hope that either the daughter asks for your opinion, or the mother asks you where something is. If you get asked for your opinion by the daughter, you are allowed to give it, but it will be met with a frown from the mother, and daughter will then be steered back into the opposite direction. If it results in a sale, it’s a win for everyone. I’ve just never drilled down enough to explain this phenomenon until recently, but the more I see it happening, the more I understand that it stems from a great deal of insecurity from the mother’s part. This isn’t about shopping in my store. It’s bigger than that. It’s fun to be a fly on the wall and watch it. That said, it qualifies as a pet peeve, because the mother is usually rude to me, and chances are I know all the answers to the questions that you won’t give me a chance to address. Sometimes it’s more about the customer service experience, and that one is way more about personal relationships than it is about retail.


Don’t ‘Shut The Front Door’

I’m going to swear a bit more than normal here. Maybe my mom and her friends shouldn’t read this one. I’ve had a couple of sappy blogs in a row now, and if you’ve followed my patterns, you know it is to be followed with something completely ignorant. I wouldn’t be me otherwise.

The topic of course is swearing. There are people who glorify swearing. I don’t think that’s me, although it’s not too far off the mark. There are people who don’t condone swearing. That’s me a very small percentage of the time. You can’t swear elegantly if you can’t pick your spots. I will say this though. I don’t condone substitute swearing. What’s that you ask? It’s when somebody says Fuzz, Frig, Fudge, when they really mean FUCK! (The exclamation mark was meant for the word, not for the whole sentence in case you’re one of those readers who reads aloud to themselves. Meant to be read in normal voice until the word Fuck, and then you take it up 2 notches). The latest and greatest of substitutions that absolutely drive me crazy is ‘Shut the Front Door!’ This (I’m assuming) is a fun, and supposedly appropriate way of saying ‘Shut the Fuck Up! (Except really only useful with the incredulous voice of disbelief, like you told me you won the lottery and I said a high-pitched, almost question like ‘Shut the Fuck Up!!!! Not useful in the Shut the Fuck Up scenario where I actually want you to Shut the Fuck Up). This is a great way to be funny on TV as far as I can tell, but if you’re not on TV, I have no patience for your ‘Shut the Front Door!’

Why do I like swearing? Isn’t it for people who can’t express themselves with a proper vocabulary? In some cases yes. I would say it adds emphasis that cannot be otherwise added. Well placed and well spaced enough, it can be the perfect addition to a passionate discussion. It’s a feel good thing too right? When you’re frustrated, who doesn’t like a good hard fuck?? (Get your head out of the gutter, I didn’t mean it like that…..but I didn’t delete it either). I just love pulling out my potty mouth to describe unsavoury situations. If done right, it makes things funnier. If done wrong, well at least I got to let out some frustration while my audience judges my choices.

Who could possibly argue that a good ‘Fuck You’ is the perfect thing to say to the victim of your road rage. ‘You’re a bad driver’ just doesn’t cut it. ‘You fucking suck!!!’ hits the nail right on the head. We’re just mammals. Fuck is just a word. Why deny yourselves? It feels fucking spectacular sometimes to just let loose.

I know there’s a time and a place, and I’m not claiming to be the foremost expert on that. My son just turned 2. As much as I badly want him to learn the English language properly, it’s only a matter of time before he picks up something terrible from the old man. I try not to swear around him, but it’s just natural self-expression, and it gets the best of me at times. I feel comfortable around him. I let my guard down sometimes.

What I really wanted to say here is not to use substitutions. It’s far more offensive to me than actual swearing. It just means that in your heart, you wanted to let something out, and you didn’t trust me as your listener. It’s a dishonest form of communication. If your soul had a ‘shut the fuck up’ in it, and all that came out was a ‘shut the front door’, then you didn’t let me in. I don’t respect it. I want the truth from you. I want you to let the crazy out, and not be self-conscious about what people think about it. Those aggressive little stress relievers will lengthen your life too. I’m sure of it.

I know a lot of people find swearing gratuitous. If you think you can offload your aggression without doing it, then you’re a better communicator than me. I would suggest that most people can’t, and the silly little substitutions are just a way of telling me that you wanted to do it, but were too worried about what people would think of you. I hope one day you can break free from your shackles and join the rest of us in saying ‘FUCK THIS SHIT, I WANNA BE FUCKING FREE!!!’ Save your uptightness for something more important.


Half My Life

So I meant to write this post about a week and a half ago. I didn’t, and who knows why? Is it because I was too busy crying my eyes out? Throwing up? Lying on the floor in the fetal position with a snot bubble on the end of my nose that didn’t know whether to go in or out? Drinking coffee liquor? Taking a tomato juice bath? Probably all of the above.

What would have me in such a foul, non-bloggy mood? Some smart-ass decided to update his status on Facebook to indicate that he was off to University 20 years ago that day. Who cares, right? Except that I too would have been starting my post-secondary education that day as well. 20 years ago. I was 19. Do the math. I’ve been pushing 40 for a while. Only gently. Now, I’m pushing it like a bully in a room full of dorks. I’m OK with that for the time being, but the fact that I went to college 20 years ago is unacceptable for some reason. I’m not saying that it feels like yesterday. It doesn’t. It feels like 12 or 13 years ago. Not 20.

Let’s analyze just how ridiculous it is that going to College was half my life ago. I’m the same guy, right? Not even close. Not for the better either. The main difference is that everything hurts. Physically I mean, not emotionally. For no reason at all. I am in pain a fairly high percentage of the time. Nothing requiring a get well card. Just that nagging kind of pain that I know won’t ‘get well’ ever. By the way, for all of you who are over 40 and in more pain than me…. this isn’t a contest, so don’t fill up my comments section talking about your aches and pains…… That sounded selfish and mean. OK, tell me about your aches and pains.

I’m kind of crusty and frowny these days. I was NEVER like that! Why would I be? All I had was dumb shit to think and worry about. It was awesome! The simplicity of it all. I would go out for a beer with a buddy, and that was the most important thing I did all day. I walked with a spring in my step. Now I think I limp slightly, depending on the day. I can’t overstate that I think some of this has to do with the fact that I’m in pain. It probably makes me crusty and frowny more than anything.

I’m a husband, father and working professional now. I was maybe a boyfriend, possibly a part-time employee, and a crappy disinterested student then. I’m not saying that was better, but it was much much easier.

My neck is like waaay bigger now. Most of me probably falls into that category too, but the difference in neck size is astounding. My face too. My whole head really. I only suspected this before now, but recently I bought a ‘New Era’ baseball hat, you know, like the kids wear (oh and I say that now with a straight face), and they’re fitted, so you have to keep trying them on until they fit. My head is big, and that’s all there is to it. I hope you don’t have to sit behind me at the movies. So it only makes sense that I would have a big goddamn neck for it to sit on. I wish my ego, or earning potential, or generosity of spirit was bigger. It had to be my neck.

I’m sure I was way funnier back then too. I should have started this blog then. I don’t think blogs existed then, but I wish I kept a journal or something. I was funny. I don’t know that I’m any less funny now, but I am way less interested in whether people laugh or not. That used to mean the world to me.

I do miss those days. I sometimes long for my 19-year-old energy and enthusiasm. The good news (if I’m to make this blog entry one that ends on a warm and fuzzy note) is that I had a blast! It’s like that rollercoaster that you went on, and you loved it, but you have to line up 45 minutes to ride it again, so you say screw it. It was an excellent ride. I enjoyed every minute of it. I am enjoying where the journey has taken me, and I don’t have any recurring nightmares about how I should have done things differently. So if I’m to turn 40 in the not too distant future, I won’t do so with any sort of sadness, but rather a ‘holy shit, I can’t believe how amazing this last 40 years were, and how lucky I’ve been.’ The next 40 I’m sure will be even more amazing. They will hurt. Not emotionally, but physically.


Oh, I Know What You’re Thinking About

I went to the grocery store on a Friday. Not as bad as a Saturday or a Sunday, but not as good as a Monday through Thursday. I don’t mind the grocery store as long as it’s completely empty, or almost at least. I like food. It’s people I don’t necessarily like. That sounds harsh. People are OK I guess, but when they are pushing shopping carts I find them completely intolerable. Friday it seemed like everyone got paid, and left work early to stock up the refrigerator for whatever weekend madness they have planned. Perhaps that’s what people were also thinking about as they meandered through the aisles aimlessly with their shopping carts, and made perfectly sure that there were no available spaces for the functional humans who might actually have other things to accomplish this day to maneuver through.

Starting with my man who walks up to the cart line to grab his cart, and stops in front of it to read a text message. Don’t get your cart and pull it over somewhere first!!! Read that message now! Make haste! No, it’s OK, I’ll wait here. You must be confused with that alternate universe in which you are the only person in it. It’s ok, I’ll just pretend to look at the massive display of Oreo cookies which are promotionally priced. While I daydream about Oreos, you daydream about some ridiculous weekend decision like which checkered shirt to wear to Phil’s Barbecue, and whether or not Stacey is gonna bring any of her single friends this time. I know based on the fact that you don’t possess the intelligence to pull a shopping cart out of the stack and move it to the side, or alternately move yourself to the side, so other people can shop here too, that you will have a weekend highlighted by your own mediocrity, and if you do manage to get a girl’s phone number, it will be a fake, and you won’t have removed enough barbecue sauce from your ignorant little fingers to accurately punch it into your phone anyway.

Or the Fifty-something guy who is staring at the canned corn with his shopping cart JUST DIAGNONAL ENOUGH to prevent another cart from getting by. I wait patiently, listening to Air Supply on the speakers. How much analysis can you possibly do on canned corn? Let me run it down for you. The name brand one costs more, but they’re both exactly the same. Make sure you check for dents in the can. Are you waiting for the cans of corn to start dancing? That would be about the only reasonable excuse for standing there in full on space cadet mode with your cart blocking the aisle. Just tell me that the show’s about to start, because if these cans of corn start dancing, I will park my cart diagonally as well and watch the show with you, only after I pick up some Cheetos from aisle #3. Oh, they aren’t about to dance? THEN MOVE YOUR CART!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! STARE AT CORN WHEN YOU GET HOME!! Or are you trying to avoid going home? Is your wife gonna make you clean the windows and trim the hedges? Are you stalling? I understand, just move your cart to the side.

Or the obnoxious lady checking every single egg in the package. Both sides. While standing in the doorway of the fridge, so less OCD people could just grab some eggs, do a cursory glance at them and check the date. She’s checking them over like she’s at the antique road show trying to put in a bid on some hand crafted trinkets from the 18th century, not like they are something that she will crack in half in less than 2 weeks, and guess where her cart is while she’s doing this? Blocking the way! Was there ever a doubt. She’s obviously thinking about how her life is spinning out of control, and making sure that these eggs are absolutely perfect is the only way to bring some semblance of order to her existence. The irony here being that if she only went through life as the type of person who didn’t stand in the fridge doorway blocking people from getting eggs while her shopping cart blocked the aisle, that she would probably be in a better place where she didn’t have to make sure her eggs were perfectly crafted works of chicken magic.

I of course would also be able to get home quicker.


Buying Back Your Karma, LeBron?

This past Father’s Day was a great day for me. Not only did I celebrate my second year of being a Father, but I became Godfather to my nephew. It was a lovely church service with an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet to follow, and good times hanging out with family. That was enough to make it an amazing day. Those are life events, and they’re awesome. That wasn’t the end though. As my day was winding down, I watched the NBA Finals in which the San Antonio Spurs defeated the evil empire Miami Heat to win the championship. To say that was the cherry on top of my day is understating. It’s like I was eating ice cream, and suddenly I got caramel, chocolate drizzle, peanuts, candy sprinkles, and frigging gummy bears raining down on my dessert. As a basketball fan, it was so unbelievably sweet. My only objective for watching the NBA playoffs was to see Miami lose. Why do I feel this way?

Four years ago Lebron James, who is the best player in the NBA currently, and when it’s all said and done, might be regarded as the greatest of all time, became a Free Agent. To my non-basketball watching readers, this means he was free to sign a new contract with any team of his choosing. He had played for the Cleveland Cavaliers his entire career up to that point. He was born and raised not far from there, so this was his home team. Up until this point, I kind of liked him. What followed was sort of off-putting. He decided to team up with the other 2 top Free Agents that year, and all sign with the same team, basically guaranteeing that they would be the best team in the NBA. This type of collusion had never really happened in any sport that I was aware of. This is all perfectly within the rules, so can’t be called cheating necessarily. There was a salary cap system that prevented one team from spending more money than all the rest. If the Miami Heat wanted to spend all their money on only 3 players, then I guess the other 9 wouldn’t be that great. Except for the fact that a lot of quality veteran players agreed to take less money, and play a lesser role in hopes that hitching their wagon to these guys might bring them a championship before the end of their career. So instead of having only 3 good players, they had 12 good players, and became the envy of the rest of the league. There was a TV show to announce Lebron’s intentions. There was introduction ceremony at the arena where they boldly predicted that they would win the next 5 or 6 championships. It was all really disgusting to me. I tried to imagine Larry Bird agreeing to play on the same team as Magic Johnson in order to dominate the league, and I think they would have rather died. As good as Lebron was, and as hard as the Cleveland organization really tried to put good players around him, I guess at the tender age of 25, he’d run out of patience with his hometown, and took his ‘talents to South Beach’.

I really just wanted them to lose. I would have cheered for any team who went against them. They made the finals in their first year together, and lost to the Dallas Mavericks. That was pretty sweet, but to be honest, making the finals in their first year as a new team was a pretty decent achievement. I was hoping for their failure to be more extreme. The following two seasons the won the NBA championships. I watched those games, and tried to suppress the bile from shooting out of my mouth onto the entire world. It was all happening, just like they said. I so badly wanted them to be brought down to earth. Finally this year, after making the finals for the 4th consecutive year, they ran into a team that could bring them back down to earth. This Father’s Day I got to see them hang their cocky little heads in shame as they walked off the court. That said, in 4 years they made the finals 4 times and won 2 championships. I wish I could say that they somehow didn’t live up to the hype, but that’s pretty good. I hate them.

Fast forward to now. They had opt out clauses in their contracts, and guess what? They opted out. Weird. I thought as stacked as they were, that maybe they’d go after another few championships. There was no reason to think that they couldn’t. Then this morning I find out that Lebron James is leaving sunny Miami, and going back home to Cleveland. Shocking! It is kind of a feel good story though. It’s kind of making me hate him a little less. Could it be that he finally realized that he would never feel true satisfaction from his achievements in Miami because of the way that situation had been manipulated from day one? Did it suddenly occur to him that if he were able to bring a championship to his hometown, that it would be way more fulfilling than bringing it to a place with nice weather, beaches, and a cool nightlife? Is there a part of him that isn’t whole because he basically sold out his people to take the incredibly easy road to success? I kinda think so.

I think Lebron has come to the realization that there is a thing called Sports Karma which most people don’t know about or understand. What he did only had subtle amounts of evil to it. So when Karma struck, it wasn’t in the form of a career ending injury, or a lack of success, but possibly an empty feeling that he wasn’t able to enjoy his success the way he thought he would. At 29 years old he’s decided to go against all Basketball Free Agent logic, and sign with his hometown team again to take care of unfinished business, and maybe right an old wrong by bringing that long suffering franchise a championship.

I gotta say, as cynical as I am about some of these things, I kind of like this. I think maybe I don’t hate this guy as much as I used to. I almost think that as long as it doesn’t conflict with my Toronto Raptors success, that I might be hoping Cleveland does really well. I did not recently envision a scenario where the sight of this guy wouldn’t really irritate me, but now??? I don’t really mind him. Until he does some other dumb thing I guess.


Lotion Commotion

I’ve sparked off a new debate! Challenging all conventional wisdom. In real life, nobody believes me, so I’m taking the debate to you, my readers…. 90% of whom might not even be real people for all I really know and can prove. If you are following my blog, then I feel that you are intelligent, sensible, and wonderful all at the same time. I don’t know why I didn’t just come to you first. Now, I’m not necessarily looking for people to agree with my argument. In fact, it might be more fun if you don’t.

Here’s the topic for debate….. I personally think that Hand and Body Moisturizer is as addictive as most narcotics, and regular use of it is detrimental to your existence.

I have absolutely no scientific evidence to support the above statement, and I’m way to lazy to do any actual research on it. The logic is sound though. I believe that your skin moisturizes itself. In certain climates like this extremely dry Canadian winter climate that I’m currently stuck in, your skin may not be able to produce enough moisture to properly protect itself. In these instances it totally makes sense to use a product like body lotion to help out your skin a bit. There are a lot of people who use lotion every day. Some even twice a day. My wife for example….(I wasn’t going to talk about her in this blog because of a ‘respect my privacy’ thing, but when I realized I couldn’t poke fun at the #1 lotion addict in my life, it made me sad, and less passionate about presenting the topic here. Then in a wonderful twist of fate, I asked her permission to talk about her lotion addiction, and she didn’t directly say no, so the topic is on the table as long as I was willing to present some of her counter points which I think is only fair). She uses lotion at least twice a day. She is a lotion addict. Now I should mention that she does have great skin, and often passes for 10 years younger than she is (or as she put it just now ‘I’m gonna look like this when I’m 70, what are you gonna look like hatchet face?…… I should explain that I have a ‘concentrate face’ which has me squishing my face together when concentrating, thus creating a permanent line between my eyebrows which my wife lovingly refers to as a hatchet mark), but she has a little secret, and it’s called addiction. To the general public she doesn’t appear to be an addict, but they haven’t been around for an episode of her suddenly and feverishly scratching her leg, and yelling ‘get the lotion, quick!!!’. I go and get her fix, but who knows how long until the next withdrawal. You would think that lotion twice a day would prevent such a thing.

My theory is that if you put lotion on your body too often to help with dry skin, then your body will stop producing its own moisture, ironically creating a dependency on the lotion which was supposed to be solving the problem (not unlike an addiction to painkillers). Somebody that uses lotion twice a day probably does so because their skin has already dried up from the first usage, and because their body no longer produces moisture, they have to put on a second dose. When I do actually put lotion on my body to combat my own dry skin, my skin feels soft for days, because I’m just using it as a little boost to augment my already ‘moisture producing’ skin.

My son is now the ultimate guinea pig. He gets lotioned up twice a day as per his mom, and various medical websites that I consulted. At just over a year, he’s not old enough to form his own opinion about how often he should have lotion on his skin. When he is old enough, it might be too late.

I have a friend who I play basketball with who only recently learned how to apply lotion to that hard to reach area on his back, by using the back of his hand. He claims that he’s never been happier with his lotion situation, and that he only uses lotion in the winter. Interestingly enough, he doesn’t put lotion on his hands, and washes them a lot. Even I would say that he could use some lotion on his hands. So the question came up….. ‘Why would you go to all the trouble to put lotion on your back, and then not put lotion on your hands as well (which is way easier)?’ His answer was that when his hands get itchy, he can just scratch them, but when his back gets itchy…… Interesting perspective. This guy uses lotion for the specific purpose of avoiding ‘hard to scratch’ itchiness, but general ‘easy to scratch’ itchiness is acceptable, because he can just scratch it. If I was a girl right now, I would say “Only a guy would do that!” As a guy, I understand.

I did say I would represent my wife’s opinion on this matter as well, since I brought her unwillingly into this debate. She would want the world to know that a lot of people comment on how great her skin is, and that she is often mistaken for being roughly 8 years younger than she is, which is all true. She gives full credit to her army of anti-aging creams and moisturizers. She is also militant about avoiding sun damage, and has the whole family (myself included) wearing the highest possible level of sunscreen, and claims that she is responsible for me not turning into a ‘Hatchety Leatherface’ as a result of these precautions. Just so I’m not tipping the argument too far into her favor, I will remind the public that she often suffers through what I would describe as ‘Lotion Withdrawal Symptoms’, or LWS as it will be called henceforth.

Now you’ve heard both arguments. What do you think?


When Is The Right Time To Start Crushing Your Children With Pressure?

Today I found myself giving my son a pep talk. My words were the result of my expectations, and I was communicating them in a motivational fashion. It went a little bit like this….. “Son, don’t be allergic to peanuts!! I know you’re too young to understand right now, but your inability to consume peanut butter will put a real strain on this family. We eat peanut butter on toast almost all of the time. I love peanuts son!!! Not the way I love you…. I love you more, but I do love peanuts and peanut butter son, and I need you to not have a peanut allergy. Do you understand???” We were about to give him peanut butter for the 2nd time in his life (which they say is when the allergy will show up). He’s 16 months old.

I’m certain my son didn’t understand the full extent of what I was saying. He’s a pretty smart kid, but not the ‘I know how to talk’ kind of smart. Not yet anyways. He looked at me when I gave the speech, so I know he was listening. I also know that I was holding a cracker at the time of the speech, and he really likes crackers, so I’m not sure if he was focused on Daddy, or simply waiting for me to feed his bottomless pit of a stomach. As I was talking, I felt myself transferring my pressure and anxiety on to his little shoulders. Almost like it was in slow motion, I could feel the disapproving looks of my wife, mother, sister and 3 month old nephew, who were all in the room. Was it too soon? Is he not ready to handle the pressure? Was I wrong?

Parents usually suck at life, and what’s the point of having kids if not to try to make them suck less than we do. We pressure our kids. Whether we mean to or not, we just do. We have to. Somehow if our kids end up not as completely stupid as we all are, then we feel that we’ve redeemed ourselves for our miserably disappointing lives. We can then take FULL credit for their achievements and accomplishments.

I’ve been watching the Olympics a lot this week. What do you notice when you watch the Olympics?? A lot of kids under a lot of pressure. Not only from their parents, but signing up for the Olympics means you get pressure from everybody else’s parents too. Especially if you’re from the same country as them. (The media has the nerve to get on Patrick Chan for not winning a Gold in Figure Skating. He won a Silver, which is awesome, but that’s not good enough for certain rotten cheese doodle eating members of the Canadian Sports Media, but that’s another story). For them to be some of the world’s best athletes, they have to be under pressure. Oh, I know what you’re thinking…. ‘They all put themselves under that pressure because they are so dedicated to their craft’. Sure, that’s probably true, but they learned it somewhere.

It starts at home. It can start when you’re a toddler, and it can start with your father trying to talk you out of having an allergy. Hey, if my son goes to the Olympics someday and ‘puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the best’, I’ll know in my heart of hearts that me pressuring him into not being allergic to peanuts made him a more intense competitor. You can never start too young. Crushing them with your hopes and dreams! They’ll have to endure it later on anyways. You’re not doing them any favors by waiting until they’re 7 or 8 years old.

Now I was going to stop there, and I’m not saying that I don’t trust my readers to know when I’m joking, but……. I’m sort of joking about some of this. Kind of.


Pooperbowl

That was the most god-awful display of football I’ve ever watched. I’ve never been so infuriated with anything in my life. Actually one of the teams played really well. It’s the other team I have a problem with. The Denver Broncos. I don’t normally give a flying shit about the Denver Broncos, but today I happened to have $50 on them to win the Super Bowl. So I’m disappointed that they didn’t win, but it isn’t about the money.

It’s about the time and energy I wasted on the Superbowl experience. Being a San Francisco 49ers fan, I’m already kind of pissed off that they narrowly missed being in this game. What’s making me really mad is the fact that their opposition (should they have made it to this game) played one of the worst games in football history which would have made it all too easy for my 49ers to have won the Superbowl, and for me to be celebrating right now instead of blogging. However, my 49ers were not playing in this game, so other than the bet I made, and my dislike for the coach of the Seahawks (which I can’t really explain, other than I hate the sight of him…. irrational, I know), I had no real interest in the winner or loser of this game.

That said, it’s the Superbowl, and I watch every year, because it’s a tradition. I typically enjoy things associated with a Superbowl, like pizza or nachos, or chili. Perhaps beer depending on my mood. I also like watching football. Today however, one of the teams decided not to bother playing football. They decided that they should travel half way across the country, sit through the anthems the media the pre-game hype, and then proceed to walk out onto the field and shit the bed with millions of people watching. I’m personally offended by their effort tonight. I could have been anywhere in the world, but I was here on my couch with no real choice other than to believe that at some point in the evening, the Denver Broncos would actually show up to the game and start to take an active interest in what was going on.

This was a total shit-show. A barn-burner. The Broncos got their asses served right back to them, skewered, and covered in fish sauce, with a Starbucks for the road. It was an abomination. They were obliterated. I feel bad for the player’s children who have to now grow up with the knowledge that their father’s Superbowl game plan was to show up and play like complete amateurs in hopes that maybe it would throw off their opponent somehow. I feel sorry for the 2nd string bench warmers who must have realized that on their worst days, they couldn’t play as bad as the starters did, but were powerless to do anything about it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a fix. I can only imagine how disappointing it is to be a Broncos fan tonight. A team that thought so little of their fan base, that they decided to arrive at the Superbowl completely unprepared to do anything even remotely resembling playing competitive football. I feel bad for Bruno Mars, and his band, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, all of whom have probably always dreamed about performing at a Superbowl halftime show, and when they finally get their chance (and do a fantastic job by the way), their performance will always be tainted by the association of the shittiest Superbowl in the history of the NFL book-ending their musical brilliance. I feel bad for citizens of the United States of America because Superbowl Sunday is such a big deal for you guys, and I’m positive that at least 25% of Americans will now start watching CFL football instead, in hopes of wiping the horrible memory of this Superbowl out of their consciousness forever.

For those non-Football fans who perhaps think that I’m being mean while describing the losing team, and how their complete lack of basic execution has almost turned me off football forever, I am not being mean. No team this talented can play this badly unless they absolutely didn’t care about the paying public, or their sport or any sense of professionalism that might come with being an adult. Yes the Seattle Seahawks are a great team, but I think there are high school teams in remote parts of the South Pacific that could have put on a better showing than the Denver Broncos did. I’m personally offended that they didn’t think enough of my 3 hours of personal time to have put forth a better effort. My wife is offended that she went through the trouble to make a delicious chili for me, and I was unable to digest it properly because every muscle in the interior of my body was constricting with anger the entire time I was viewing the game. I think Tim Tebow is personally offended that all of this has happened as well because at no point during his tenure did they screw the pooch even remotely close to the way they did tonight.

May we never have to suffer through anything like this again.


Spewing Negativity Brings Positivity……Wait, That’s Probably Not True

I got thinking today about how people react to me when I’m stressed out or angry about something. I’ve noticed that some people really like to try to calm me down. I think that’s a nice approach. It’s very thoughtful, and it’s probably how I would approach someone else who was freaking out. I would talk them down. Perhaps I would downplay whatever they were worried about, and bring up poverty as a comparison point. Usually people who aren’t impoverished understand that their problems aren’t as serious as poverty, and in a weird way, it can make them feel better. The right thing to do is to let people know that it’s going to be OK.

Maybe I’m different, but that doesn’t work for me AT ALL. Don’t tell me it’s gonna be OK. Tell me that you agree that it’s going to be a complete shit show! It would be more honest, which I personally appreciate, but more importantly, it allows for more bitching and complaining on my part. This is good. I know it doesn’t seem good to most people. A lot of people with the best of intentions will hear me complaining about something, or getting mad about something else, and try to convince me that everything isn’t as bad as it seems. I think they are trying to get me to stop complaining because it’s making them feel uncomfortable. They’re missing the point though. I LOVE complaining. It’s one of my favourite things to do. It’s one of the reasons I write this blog. I feel like if I’m really bitching up a storm, that I’m actually cleansing myself of negative emotions, and am later able to reset to my regular positive self. Seems straight forward right? Not really.

There are people who will go into a downward spiral if you heap too much negativity on them. It’s good to know who these people are. These are the people who need to be told that it’s gonna be OK. If left to their own devices, they may not figure it out. They may wallow in self-pity, and never come out of it. That could be what their normal reset is. That sucks for them, I don’t know how they survive, but I do my best to help them when possible. I like to come up with ridiculous scenarios to make them realize that their problems could be way worse, and hopefully make them laugh.

Here are some examples of what might happen if you came to me with your problems…..

Sad and depressed person – My boss is an asshole and hates me.

Me – Oh that guy?? Don’t worry about that guy, he’s got warts on his anus the size of Tonka trucks man… He’s got foot fungus man, the bottom of his feet look like broccoli…. That guy’s got nose hair like Rapunzel trying to get the prince up for a visit, don’t worry about that guy…. Ask that guy if he wants you to braid his nose hair before the big meeting….

Sad and depressed person – I’m broke all the time, and can’t get a good job.

Me – Don’t worry man, you’re in North America….. There are people starving in Africa dude….. It’s hot there, it’s not hot here…. If a fly lands on your face, do you have the strength to swat it away??? Yes?? Then you don’t have money problems…. Trust me, you just have to stop spending your money on dumb shit….. Buy a big bag of rice, that shit lasts for weeks….. Dude, do you own shoes??? Then you don’t have money problems, don’t worry about it!

Sad and depressed person – Girls don’t like me.

Me – Not with an attitude like that they don’t… Girls don’t like guys, they like confidence… Be a guy with confidence, and girls will like you…..What girls don’t like you anyways??? Nothing wrong with you, there’s something wrong with them!!! You need to change out that cologne. Do you like you?? Learn to like you, and girls will learn to like you! Be more awesome when possible. You’re awesome now, but if you can be more awesome, that will help.

Sad and depressed person – I just have a general feeling of listlessness, and worry that my life is not turning out the way I thought it would.

Me – WHAAAAAATTTTT????? You live INSIDE!!!! You eat COOKED FOOD!!!! You wear CLOTHES!!!! You have a MOTORIZED VEHICLE!!! You have a portable PHONE that is also a friggin COMPUTER!!! We are NOT AT WAR!! You are NOT GETTING SHOT AT!!! Do you know that you are easily in the top 20 percentile of desirable conditions relative to the rest of the world???? Your life isn’t turning out the way you thought it would??? SO???????? Go make it turn out the way you thought it would!!! What’s wrong with you?? Please don’t piss away your opportunities! This is the best possible situation known to man in the history of the universe. I would love to get a naked kid from the third world to slap you in the face right now………Unless you’re clinically depressed of course….. then you might have to go get some meds for that shit.

Yeah, I guess you shouldn’t come to me with your problems after all 🙂