Tag Archives: Rant

February 1, 2024

The Podcast – Episode 2

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

Hi all,

Episode 2 is now live on the Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants podcast. This one gets very ranty, especially near the end, so if profanity makes you uncomfortable, maybe skip this one 😉

I’m going to try to embed a player in here for next episode. I think it’s possible, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it just yet, and ran out of patience. I am pleased to announce that the Podcast is available almost everywhere you would normally get a podcast from, and this episode uploaded seamlessly, so we’re in good shape going forward. Those places are….

Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Podcast Index, Overcast, Amazon Music, Podcast Addict, Castro, Castbox, Podchaser, Pocket Casts, Deezer, Listen Notes, Player FM, Goodpods, Podfriend, and………

thoughtsandrantsinjoggingpants.buzzsprout.com

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March 6, 2017

A Message To The Soap Dish Manufacturer

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

I have 2 soap dishes in my condo. One in each shower. Is it still even called a soap dish? Or if it’s installed into the wall like mine, is it now called something else? That’s not actually what I wanted to ask. Let me give some background. I have 2 soap dishes in my condo. One in each shower. Are they fairly attractive and seemingly well installed? Yes. I have no complaints about that. You being the manufacturer wouldn’t have installed them, but rest easy…. I’m sure they were done properly. Really, overall, other than one small detail, I’ve been pretty happy with these soap dishes. They sit there nicely, they don’t rust, and they’ve never fallen apart. I’ll say that much. It really seems like a quality product, other than one very minute detail…… the soap slides off the dish…. every single time. Not occasionally. Not regularly. Always. Slides right off that fucking dish, and if I’m not careful, onto my foot. Not the bottom of my foot that is already suitably punished from standing on my feet for 40 hours a week and playing basketball 2 of those nights as well. It slides off and lands on the top part of my foot which has all those small bones going across with no muscle or fat to protect them. It fuckin hurts when the soap lands on my foot.

Now here’s the thing….. Maybe you figured nobody uses actual bars of soap anymore. I would say that as a soap dish manufacturer, you had to at least respect the fact that some people still did. You didn’t start installing liquid soap containers in my shower, so I’m guessing that bars of soap is still a thing. So how did you think that manufacturing a soap dish which esthetically pleasing as I promise you it is, is fucking angled to let a piece of soap fall off into the shower, and quite possibly onto a vulnerable part of people’s feet?

I try to be a laid back non-judgemental type, but periodically things like this get me upset, and I think I know the reason why this situation in particular is troublesome. Why? Because you had ONE FUCKING JOB! It was to create a soap dish that would provide a safe place for my soap to sit. One function! That’s it! It’s not a Smart-Soap Dish! You can’t check your emails and watch fucking YouTube on it! It’s the old school kind of soap dish that does nothing, and I do mean nothing, other than housing my soap. Not to beleaguer the point, but a soap dish which cannot seem to contain soap is about as useful as a toenail on your shoulder-blade.

I thought I’d spend the last paragraph giving you advice, but who am I kidding? You’ve probably got way more money that I do. You sold these useless fucking things to a builder that put them in every unit in this building, so who am I to sit on my high horse and talk about quality? You’re a quality salesperson if nothing else. You’ve probably made enough money to retire, and I’m busting my ass every day with a bruises on the tops of my feet, so what do I know? That’s the kind of world it is now. The guy who used to decide every week which celebrity ran a shittier fictitious company, is now the leader of the free world, so you should be able to slanty soap dish your way to the top too. I don’t really wish any ill on you because that’s not my style, but if I do find out that you died because you fell in the shower, my first instinct will be to laugh.

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May 31, 2016

Ready For Life In 4K? Me Neither

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

I’m in a hotel room watching a 4K TV for maybe the second time in my life. At least I think that’s what it’s called. It’s an ultra high-definition TV set. I can say that much. What do I normally watch? Who knows? My wife knows, but she’s crashed out on the couch, and I’m not waking her up to ask. Let’s just say its high-definition. Maybe just not ‘ultra’ high definition. Anyone who will read this will range between knowing what the fuck I’m talking about and not knowing what the fuck I’m talking about, and consider me a part of the latter. All I know is that this TV is blowing my mind, as I’m sure it’s supposed to. Like when we first saw HD quality, or Blu-Ray, or colour TV instead of black and white, or black and white when we had only heard the radio. I look at this TV, and I don’t even think real life looks that clear. I could be mistaken, or maybe I need glasses, but I just don’t think that if I was looking at the same thing from the same distance right beside the TV, that the real life equivalent would be as clear. So mission accomplished, and mind blown.

Now how do I feel about this two beers into my evening? I don’t know. It’s impressive. Sometimes I ask the age-old question about whether we put the same effort into salvaging the planet, that we do into blowing our minds with new tech, would the world be a better place or not, but then people just give me dirty looks and call me a hater (which is the weirdest thing to say to someone who asks that question, but that’s what I usually get). Having 4K around isn’t hurting me, other than the odd sensation like ‘whoa, was that guy just there??? Oh wait, I’m only watching TV.’ Is it helping?

Here’s the thing. When I’m watching TV, I don’t really care what the front lawn looks like 7 houses down from the one I’m supposed to be looking at. I mean sure it’s nice to see someone’s hair standing up on the back of their neck during an intense moment, but if there are lice bugs clinging to the end of those hairs, I don’t need to know. If I’m watching Baseball, it’s disturbing that I know how many days of facial hair the beer guy has grown, that’s just too much detail. Like if someone holds up a newspaper in a scene, I think it’s pretty cool to be able to read a couple of other headlines, other than the one you’re intended to look at………but NOT THE FINE PRINT!!!! NOT THE FINE PRINT!!!! IT’S NUTS TO BE ABLE TO READ THE FINE PRINT…..FROM MY COUCH……I CAN’T EVEN READ THE FINE PRINT ON A PAPER HELD UP TO MY FACE……IT’S TOO MUCH!!! Ok calm down. It’s not that serious. Go buy one. It’s great. I say I won’t get one, but there’ll come a day when we just won’t be able to strain our eyes to watch anything else, and then there’ll come another day when 4K will be a steaming pile of shit compared to the new thing they invent tomorrow, so whatever.

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April 17, 2015

Bad Things Come To Those Who Hate

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

There’s been a lot of talk about haters over the last 15-20 years. You almost can’t listen to urban or pop music without hearing about it. Haters. I can’t believe it’s even a word. Sure, it’s human nature to hate. Take me for example. I hate bad drivers. I hate any sort of spilled liquid. I hate myself for eating my son’s Easter chocolate without him knowing, and that’s just what I can think of in a 30 second brainstorm. I hate fairly consistently. Am I a hater though? Does passionately disliking a LOT of stuff fit me into a conveniently labelled package so that people can easily reference me with a one word description that doesn’t even begin to tell my story? I don’t think it should. I’d HATE to think that it would. I don’t want to be described as a hater. Everybody hates something, but nobody hates everything. I don’t even think there’s such a thing. Let’s explore.

Where did the notion of haters come from? To hear young people tell it, it’s almost like every person in the world knows a handful of people who exist only to hate them (or hate on them as it’s often described). How self-absorbed would you have to be to believe that’s the case? Like anybody that might have a differing opinion, or for whatever reason just happen to be in the way of you getting what you want is nothing but an anger fueled malcontent? Perpetually? Like the act of hating on you is so gratifying, that it could actually be enough to fulfill another human being? I don’t know. I kind of think that’s not true.

As I type, I pause several times to reflect upon my own life. Do I have haters in my life?? I don’t think so. I don’t think I ever did. Are there people I disagree with? You bet. Are there people I don’t get along with? Probably, but I don’t force myself to spend time with them. Is there anybody in my past that went out of their way to dislike me or really give me a hard time? Not that I can think of, but maybe. I’ve been accused by members of the less optimistic population of existing in a world full of lollipops and cotton candy with chocolate rivers and friendly puppy dogs, and ice cream, so it’s possible that I’m giving human beings the benefit of the doubt when I shouldn’t. I really think if anyone hated me up until now, they probably had a legitimate reason. Not everything that comes out of my mouth glistens with agree-ability or political correctness. That said, I just don’t think that anyone has purposely held anger toward me, or sabotaged me just for the sake of doing it. I think people are making it up.

A word of advice to people who think they have haters in their life……. You are far too wrapped up in your false perception of your importance to the rest of the world. When looking at you from an airplane, you are far less significant than an ant. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I’m just suggesting that I don’t think there are other humans that dedicate their lives to making yours miserable. It could be true, but it probably isn’t. If you are dismissing the reasons behind conflicts that you are experiencing, and just writing off the situation as ‘everybody hatin’ on me’, you’ll probably never look inward to see if there’s something about yourself that you can alter to help alleviate some of these situations.

And if I’m wrong, and haters actually DO exist….

A word of advice to the haters….. What the fuck man???? I didn’t even think you existed. You really serve no other purpose than making someone else’s life shitty? That’s no kind of life. Go back to school or something. Learn something new. Start doing awesome stuff, and stop the hatin’. Don’t be so miserable.

“Blowing out another’s candle will not make yours shine brighter” – Unknown (since it’s unknown, I should’ve just taken credit for it).
“You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong” – Abraham Lincoln.
“Hating people is like burning down your own house just to kill a rat” – Harry Emerson Fosdick

Stop it haters!!! Knock that shit off!!

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December 10, 2014

Holiday Retail Pet Peeves Part 3

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

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.

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October 28, 2014

Don’t ‘Shut The Front Door’

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

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.

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August 1, 2014

Oh, I Know What You’re Thinking About

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

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.

10 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Humor, Rants, Stories, Uncategorized

February 3, 2014

Pooperbowl

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

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.

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January 2, 2014

OH, I’ve Had Some New Year’s Eve Moments In My Day

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

So last night was kinda cool. A little better than last year. Last year we had a baby who was about 2.5 months old. New Year’s Eve involved all three of us lying in bed watching TV, and at least 2 of us being fully asleep by the time the new year rolled in. I thought that was kind of lame, but I also feel like we deserve to not be judged during the ‘100 days of hell’ that a new child brings with. We needed our sleep more than we needed to party. This year, same kind of thing. Everyone except me is sick, and I’m totally worn out from working way too much over the last couple of weeks. I guess we could have gone out, but it would have required a baby-sitter, and it’s kind of mean to ask someone to babysit on New Year’s Eve. Last night my wife and I went to ‘The Cheese Boutique’, which is my favourite ‘Fine Foods’ store, and got some great stuff for a fun little stay in ‘wine & cheese party’ to which nobody was invited. Thanking my mom here for the gift certificate. I drank Ice Wine and ate exotic cheeses from around the world while we watched ‘Viva Las Vegas’ on TV. Actually, now that I’ve just said that out loud, I’m gonna go pour myself another glass of that Ice Wine while I finish writing this…. hang on…….ok, I’m back. Sounds kind of fun, right?? I mean, it’s not super lame, is it??

I just got to looking at Facebook, and seeing all of the great party pictures from those that went out, and kind of felt bad that I don’t go out anymore. It is a transitional time, mind you. We’ve got the young boy, and with both of us working hard at work, and at home, it’s not easy to find the energy to go out like we once did. I decided to write this post to remind the world, and mainly myself that WE ONCE DID!!

New Year’s Eves past have been some of the CRAZIEST nights of my life! I would say that there was probably a time in my life when it was my favourite day of the year. It started as a child. I guess that was the only night I was allowed to stay up until midnight for the first few years. I was an obsessive nerd for pop music in the 80’s, and on New Year’s Eve, you could always count on a radio station or a TV show counting down the top songs of the year. I don’t know how other people didn’t see it this way, but to me, that was the most important information in the world! To the point where I actually still remember some of it.

As I got older, and reached the legal drinking age, it became necessary to go to some sort of night club party which involved buying tickets ahead of time, only to pay 4 to 5 times the cover charge I would have normally paid to get into a night club. It was also necessary to have a pre-party somewhere, so we could get as much alcohol into us as possible, so we didn’t have to buy as many drinks at the club. We always had a plan to get home so nobody had to drive, but that often lead to other kinds of adventure.

I felt like I could tell a few of these stories, but the set up alone already has me at 600 words. I realize that each of these stories could be a blog post on its own. When I think back, all the memories are rushing back to me, and I can’t even believe it was all real.

In no particular order……
– I remember one year going to a club, and leaving sometime after last call only to find out the subway system had stopped running, and we had to find an all night bus which would take us home, except since we lived in the next city over, the night bus (which was packed 3 times before we got on it) only went to the edge of Toronto, so we had to cab it back to Mississauga at 6 in the morning, except it took the cabs 1.5 hours to get to the convenience store that we tried to wait inside of. I think we all got home OK.

– I remember having a girlfriend who when drunk would either puke, pass out or both. Getting her home safely was always tricky, and I know the time she barfed on the subway in front of my friends wasn’t one of my favourite moments (especially when it splashed up on my shoe).

– I remember renting a hotel room for the purposes of having a little get together for any of my friends who were downtown hitting the night clubs. This way my girlfriend (later wife) and I could hang out with some people for a while, but they would all take off and go to their respective parties, and the two of us could stay in. Until the hotel unveiled a new policy for New Year’s Eve that stated that you could not enter the building unless you had a room key. I understood why…. they wanted to avoid hotel parties, but you gotta tell me that before I give you my money!!! I planned my whole night around that. My guests were being turned away at the door. I went downstairs to yell at the hotel manager, and if I tell you good people that I’ve had less than five ‘lose my mind very publicly at extreme volume’ moments in my life, this was one of them.

– I remember at another hotel party (except this time the hotel was actually throwing the party, and we had tickets, so this was pre-party, in the room shenanigans), my buddy’s sister (who had never spent New Year’s with us before) was getting hammered and toasting EVERYTHING. The famous words of the night were ‘Guys, this is the best New Year’s EVER!!!!’ After a chat with the porcelain puke collector, she was in her bed, fast asleep at 11:15 pm. She has never lived it down.

– I remember the time we rented a cottage 3.5 hours outside of the city because it was Y2K, and all the computers were supposed to malfunction, and send the world into darkness etc. Bizarre moments include a friend falling down a flight of stairs and being so drunk that he ‘didn’t feel a thing’. Having a bottle of champagne (or sparkling wine more likely) shaken, and unloaded into my chest by a girl I had never met before, and never saw again. I remember all of these so-called ‘party animals’ were asleep with the lights off before 2 am on January 1st, 2000. I remember me being in the parking lot, and coming in to find the lights were off and the party was over, and LOSING MY FUCKING SHIT because it is unacceptable for a party to end that early on December 31st 1999 even if it was the 2nd straight day of drinking and carrying-on, I’m getting upset just typing this (This was also one of the five moments, but I’m in no way embarrassed about this outburst since it was among friends, and they had it coming). I wanted to party like it was 1999. Do you know how many times I’ve said that, but IT ACTUALLY WAS 1999!! These people were asleep!!!! I’m getting angry just thinking about it. I swear if you were with these people in their poopy little University town on a cold February night, they can stay at the bar until 3 am, make you suffer through McDonald’s drive thru, and crack beers when you get back to their residence. On the greatest party night of all time, however….. lights out at 2 am!! Sidenote #1, earlier that day as we drove to a convenience store (that was 30 minutes away…ughhh), my windshield wiper flew off into a snow bank. Not just the wiper blade…. the arm of it actually snapped off, and the whole thing flew into a fresh bank of snow, not unlike a boomerang. My friend in the back (when he stopped laughing) asked if I was going to stop the car, and I deadpanned “I’ll get it on the way back” (which he thinks to this day is the funniest thing I’ve ever said). Sidenote #2, On my way back from getting the deposit from the unmistakably weird man who rented us this cottage, my car muffler snapped off at night on the Gardiner Expressway, and I watched it in the rearview mirror as it sparked, and bounced off into the distance. Luckily it was nighttime, so nobody hit it (that I saw). So much for the deposit money.

Oh man….. I’ve got a million of them. I’ve earned a couple of sleepy New Year’s Eves I think!

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September 24, 2013

Not Hot Beach Bodies?

By Thoughts and Rants in Jogging Pants

There’s nothing like going to the grocery store to inspire me to write a Monday rant. There’s so much wrong with the world, and most of it in some way is going on at the grocery store. Could it be that the grocery store is a microcosm of our society? Shit, I could explain what I think I mean by that, but I don’t have a good explanation at the moment, and this post isn’t about grocery stores anyways, so I’m bailing on that concept. You deep thinkers out there can decide for yourselves. It’s 10:46 pm as I’m typing this. I gotta keep it simple or else I’ll get sleepy and won’t finish.

What went on at the grocery store today that could inspire a rant you say? Same thing that goes on at the grocery store everyday, but I usually don’t take notice. Perhaps I do, but maybe don’t always find it as offensive as I did today. To say its offensive is not to say that I’m specifically offended. I don’t offend that easily. I’m offended on behalf of society.

Why am I offended on behalf of society you say? I’m offended in general by gossip magazines. They’re always at the check-out in grocery stores. I’ve never purchased one, but I (like any other weak-minded soul) will check out the cover. There is a lot of information about celebrity weight fluctuation, marriage troubles, and not much else as far as I can tell. I don’t support this industry. I’m not saying that I’m better than anyone else for it. I’m sure there are industries that I do support that are worse than this. That said, I will look at the cover. I’m in the lineup at the grocery store, what else am I going to look at, chocolate bars??? We all know how that ends.

Today I got offended by one particular gossip magazine that I saw at the grocery store. It’s called Star Magazine. If you run out right now and get one, you’ll see the cover features “Best & Worst Beach Bodies”. This is certainly enough to pique someone’s interest. I almost don’t even have a problem with ‘Best Beach Bodies’ other than it being an invasion of privacy. At least there’s some positivity associated with compiling their best pictures of famous people at the beach. Do we really need ‘Worst Beach Bodies’???? I’ll give an example. They have a picture of Bruce Jenner’s son, and beside it, bold letters that read ‘HOT’. Beside that there’s a picture of Bruce Jenner, and beside it, bold letters that read ‘NOT’. Sooooo Bruce Jenner doesn’t have a hot beach body?? Bruce Jenner is 63 years old! Why would he have a hot beach body? More importantly who cares?? Even more importantly, does this mean that if you’re famous, and you don’t have a ‘hot beach body’, that you have to stop going to the beach?? Apparently it does! No wonder these poor buggers are always getting plastic surgery. No matter how washed up they get, there’s always the potential of them ending up on the COVER of a magazine in their bathing suit??? I think I would have been fine with a picture of his son, and a collection of other good pictures of ‘hot beach bodies’, but is there a new thing where you get ridiculed for going to the beach without a ‘hot beach body’? I would suggest that MOST PEOPLE do not have what would classically be regarded as ‘hot beach bodies’, does that mean none of them should go to the beach? That doesn’t seem right to me.

I know society doesn’t have too much sympathy for the rich & famous, and perhaps that’s why these particular magazines seem to be as successful as they are. I’m not too familiar with Bruce Jenner outside of his athletic notoriety. My understanding is that he’s the Kardashian kids’ stepfather. I’ve never watched that show (another industry I won’t support), so I have no idea how goofy this guy might be, but I don’t think it’s right for him or anyone else featured in that magazine to be ridiculed for what they might look like in a bathing suit. I also think that it sucks that they can’t just go hang out without being photographed. We’re the ones that buy the magazines, so we have nobody to blame but ourselves. It’s a bit disturbing to me, that’s all.

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