Sexiest Songs

In honour of Valentines, I have created a list of the sexiest songs I can think of. Please keep in mind that I do not have a degree in Sexy, nor do I claim to be Sexy.


In no particular order here they are.


Hey Pretty (Drive By Remix) – Poe
It’s a Mans Mans Mans World – James Brwn
Darling Nikki – Foo Fighters
Got You – Flys
Ooh La La – Goldfrapp
You can’t always get what you want – The Rolling Stones
Son of a Preacher Man – Carly Simon
The Hunter Gets Captured By The Game - Massive Attack With Tracey Thorn
Teardrop – Massive Attack
Glory Box – Portishead*
David Bowie – Thursday’s Child
Cowboy Junkies – Sweet Jane
Painted on My Heart - Cult


For that moment when it’s all done and over – A smile
Fuck Her Gently – Tenacious D





If you get laid while listening to one of these songs, please post a comment. We’d all like to know that at least some of my readers actually get laid :D

*Anything Portishead will do. Their albums are the bomb for Sexy!

Ulla the Eastern European Mouth Specialist

So, I had the privilege of going to the dentist yesterday. Normally, I am quite excited about my dental visits. Everyone is friendly, the cleanings take no more than 20 minutes, my dental hygienist is friendly & attractive, and the dental assistants are great!

This faithful day, my dentist managed to switch my dental hygienist with another…. Ulla…. Ulla’s miniature stature and fair complexion should not be taken lightly. The middle aged eastern European must have been trained in the KGB style of mouth torture and agony testing.

She started by instructing me to wear goggles. I’ve never worn goggles for any of my dental procedures. It wasn’t as if I was going to be shaping chunks of steel on a belt sander I was going in for what I believed was a simple cleaning.

Before even inspecting my teeth, Ulla began questioning my dental cleaning routine. I was told that I should brush more than 2-3 times a day, and that flossing once every other day is unacceptable. I agree, I should floss more and leave it at that. La Femme Ulla then continued to berate me on how bad hygiene causes strokes, bad breath and ulcers. I conceded and told her that although I don’t floss daily, all the dental professionals who inspect my mouth would agree that my teeth are in good shape and I take care of my pearly whites.

Hooray for me. She’s stopped lecturing me about gingivitis. The live action 50’s style guilt film is over… But then… Ulla the enforcer offers me some brochures and instructions on flossing. I interrupted her to assure her my teeth are fine. I attempted to bargain with her. “How about you take a look at my teeth before preparing any literature. I haven’t had any complaints to date”. Ulla Opens my mouth, only to find that Yes, me teeth are in great shape and actually quite clean. She compliments me on my teeth and begins to insert foreign objects into my mouth. In an effort to prove me wrong, Ulla manages to find a patch of plaque and decides to show me what plaque looks like. She pulls out a barber’s mirror and begins a double reflective view of my mouth. Ulla has trouble finding the plaque source, but manages to find it once again. She then lectures me on the affects of plaque build up once again. I thanked her and told her once again, that I understood her concerns and will make an effort to brush at least 3 times a day and floss daily. Obviously, she hears the annoyed tone in my voice and promises to stop lecturing me and will begin her lingual intrusion.

I won’t bore you with the details of my ordeal; however, Ulla managed to stick a dental tool up my nose and drew blood, then proceeded to poke my gums exactly 32 times, plus 3 scrapes. Following her dental swashbuckling, I was punched in the head while she tried to swing the chair around, soaked with pressurized water. And as the grand finale, she managed to get her leg caught in the mouth vacuum hose, jerking my head aside as she left the cleaning room to get the actual dentist.

Before leaving, Ulla had one other parting surprise. She had printed and laminated blurbs on gingivitis, tartar build up, and flossing techniques. The dental assassin placed the sheets on my lap and asked me to read them while she flagged down the professional.

Needless to say, I will never let that lady near my mouth ever again.

So Many Haters out there.

This past couple of weeks, I’ve come across a few websites, posts, and groups focused on hating one thing or another. Whether it’s a sports team, automobile, religious view political party… The list goes on and on. I would really like to understand why people can’t embrace their own believe without putting down another.

As an example, I came across the “Mustangs suck, and a Honda can do more than a mustang”, and the “The Ottawa Senators Suck” groups. Albeit, the Senators may suck, Why create such a group? Why not focus on a joint admiration of all other teams, or a single team?

I just had to get this off my chest.

More recently, I was browsing a deals forum, when I came across a post for a $1 book. The book depicted the top 100 moments in Toronto Maple Leafs history. Unfortunately, 70% of the follow up posts detailed how much the Leafs suck. To mean, the Leafs sucking isn’t much of a deal, where as the book was an incredible deal. The flood of useless bashing really ruined the deal thread.

I am puzzled as to why people hate The Leafs, Mustangs, Political groups? Did a Mustang go out and kill one of their relatives and since then, they’ve felt the need to exact revenge on the automobile model? Was a Toronto Maple Leaf, the guy who created Global Warming? Maybe the entire Liberal party of Canada threw sand in the hater’s eyes when they were young? I am at a loss as to why people hate another group, team or inanimate object. How really can someone hate an inanimate object?

Bank Case 2: Penniless and pondering

Saturday afternoon, and I’ve been working all day. It was the second day of my new job, and I needed to pay for my film development, get changed and showered, and run back to training for dinner and evening festivities. Being that Wal Mart (the 7th circle of hell) was the closest place I could develop film, I was forced to use their skill-less photo lab technicians to develop my film. After waiting an hour and a half to have my film developed, it was finally ready. I went to pay and found that my debit card was displaying insufficient funds. I found this odd, as the preceding Friday was a pay day. I was sure to have money in my account. I was also sure my card was functional, as I had used it earlier in the morning to pay for the film, currently being developed. I was forced to pay by Credit card.

It was 3:30, and I promptly called the Bank’s 1-800 number. After waiting on hold for 20 minutes, I was forced to hang up, as I had arrived at my destination. I thought it wise to use a land line and save myself some airtime. I re-called the bank, and waited another 20 minutes. I finally heard a voice. As usual, I was asked a series of security questions, used to thwart would be thieves. The CSR informed me that my card had been used at a location, known to compromise debit cards. I thanked her for canceling my card, and informed her that I needed money for the evening. The CSR was unable to help me. Since my card was cancelled by the fraud squad, I would have to get my money directly from a bank. Unfortunately, at 4:20, there are no banks open on Saturday (one of the many gripes I have with banks is their unaccommodating business hours). Essentially, I was stranded. The CSR then told me I could use my VISA to withdraw cash. The VISA withdrawal would have been a good idea had I remembered the pin that was given to me 8 years ago. I told the CSR that I didn’t know my VISA pin and could not withdraw any money. I then asked her if I could transfer my money to my account with an affiliated bank. The CSR informed me that since my card was frozen; all my bank accounts were frozen. I was left without cash. I asked to speak with a supervisor or member of the fraud squad. The CSR then promptly hung up on me. I am sure it was an accident. No… really…. I am. I called back once again, and once again, waited on hold for 20 minutes. Again, I answered my security questions, and spoke with yet another CSR. I explained my story to the CSR and he passed me on to a supervisor. The supervisor echoed her subordinate’s statements verbatim. My accounts were all locked and there’s nothing I can do about it until Monday (I later found out that although my card was frozen, they could have processed a transfer… but that’s a whole other story). I was puzzled. What is the point of the security questions to validate my identity over the phone if they really can’t do anything with my account? The supervisor repeated to me that she could not validate my identity and therefore could not unfreeze my account, or transfer any money for me. I guess this location that compromises debit cards is also housed with special Psychic Cashiers, who can predict my mom’s maiden name, guess my birth city, envision my first kiss and knows the name of my third grade teacher. Note to the readers: Never underestimate the psychic abilities of crooks!

It was now after 6:00. I had been on the phone with the banks for a couple of hours, and am penniless. The Bus is about to leave for our dinner destination, and I don’t have any money to do anything. This really sucks. I explained my situation to my new manager, and he loaned me $60 for the evening. On the bright side, we ended up going to a club in the evening, where the Bartender recognized me from Humber College. She gave me free beers and shots all night long.

Monday rolls around and I meet with my personal banking advisor. I explain the situation and she’s appalled. She tells me that I should have received a call as soon as my card was cancelled and she would call the Head office to investigate further. She gets me a replacement card and destroys the tainted card. She was surprised that it’s Monday and the bank still hasn’t called me to notify me my card was cancelled. Standard protocol is to call within 24 hours of an incident, but usually call immediately after canceling a card to avoid the situation I went though. Later that day a Fraud Squad member called me and notified me that my accounts are in order and no funds were siphoned from my account. He also notified me that even though my card was cancelled, my accounts were still active and should have been able to transfer money to my affiliated bank card. You really have to admire those clueless CSRs.

Friday evening, I’m at home and receive a call on my phone. I am asked a series of skill testing and personal questions. My bank has decided to call me and notify me that my card was compromised last week, and if I have used my card since. I was extremely pissed at this point. It took my bank a week to call me to notify me that my card was compromised?? This poor CSR got the brunt of my anger. I asked her if this was a joke, and if it was normal to call someone a WEEK after their card was cancelled. She told me that her supervisor had asked her to call me. And there it was. It was a pity call. I guess someone got in trouble for not calling me a week ago and tried to make amends by calling me a week later. I don’t hold the CSR here at fault at all. The problem lies with the way banks treat their customers. In the end, I would have been better off keeping my money in a jar beside my bed.


The above was yet another reason why I hate banks

Bank Case 1: Waiting at a bank

I figured I’d start off my case files with the quickest and most recent bank case.

I decided I’d start saving for my future and invest in some RRSPs. I currently invest money for retirement, but was looking for something a bit more stable. I opted for a Bank RRSP. It was 3:00pm on a Thursday (extended hours day) and I was the only customer in the bank. I walked up to the customer service desk and informed the CSR that I’d like to open and RRSP account. I was asked to take a seat. After waiting 15 minutes, the CSR approached me with some news. Unfortunately, all of the personal bankers were occupied and could not assist me. I’d have to come back another day. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative of this CSR’s advice, however, I would have liked to have known 15 minutes earlier that the bankers were all busy. Isn’t it her job to know how long each banker should take and when a banker should be free? So I left the bank with 15 minutes of my live given to the bank.

I then went to visit the bank on Saturday at 2:45. When I spoke to the CSR at this bank, I was informed that there wasn’t enough time to process my RRSP as the bank was to close at 3:00pm. I then glanced at the hours of operation, and noticed that the bank was open from 9:30 – 3:00. There was nobody in the bank, yet I was once again turned away.
The following Monday, I visited a different bank branch at 3:00 pm, and notified the CSR of my intentions to open an RRSP account. After waiting 25 minutes, the CSR asked me if I wouldn’t mind waiting two more minutes before meeting with a personal banker. Hooray for me!!! I’m going to finally meet the illusive personal banker. I imagine this is how the tin man felt when he finally got to meet the Wizard of Oz. Unfortunately, what the CSR meant to say was “Excuse me sir, would you mind if I let all these people behind you, ahead of you?”. Shortly after asking me to wait a couple more minutes, the CSR proceeded to usher the two clients who followed me into the bank, to their personal bankers. I waited an additional 15 minutes before the CSR asked me if I wouldn’t mind coming back another day as all the personal bankers were now occupied. So, I’ve been sitting in the waiting room for 40 minutes with nothing to do but play gold on my cell phone, and now the CSR has the nerve to ask me if I could come back another day. In total, this bank branch, which I shall remain nameless, has robbed me of over an hour of my time (I’m including drive and park time). I politely told the CSR that after waiting 40 minutes at her location, I wasn’t leaving the bank without setting up my RRSP. I waited an additional 10 minutes and met with my personal banker. He didn’t look anything like the Great Wizard of Oz. He was bumbling and tried to sell me a third RRSP solution.

All in all, this was a horrible experience, and hope that I’ll never have to deal with this bank until my 65th birthday. They’ll take my money, invest it without my intervention.

Please stop being so hard on Banks! – A real inconvenient truth

I am a true friend of the bank. I get upset when people slag banks for being inconvenient, costly, inattentive, and self serving.

Why should banks be open before you leave for work, or after you finish work? I think we’re being a bit selfish in thinking that banks should offer hours of operation longer than 6.5 hours a day. Listen up bank customers, bank employees have families too. I’m sure they’d like to maximize the time they spend at home as much as you. Don’t you think it would be indecent to ask them to spend an entire 9 hour shift at work, simply to accommodate the customers? It’s true that banks close for every holiday, celebratory day and soon enough, mothers/Father’s Day; but let the employees have their days off! Really, these holidays aren’t coming as a surprise to us customers. They fall on the same days every year. Who cares if Veterans Day falls on a pay day? You’ll have to visit a money mart to get your cash pensioners! You should make it a priority to visit a bank on your lunch hour, the one day a week the bank is opened late, or on a Saturday. Brave those 30 minute line ups and understand that the banks really are here to serve you.

The banks have made numerous attempts to accommodate us customers. The banks have listened to our requests for later service hours, and have appeased us by introducing ABM machines and Online Banking. Where would I be without those 24 hour ABM machines? These two marvels of modern technology are godsends, albeit convenience does come with a price. Every ABM and internet transaction carries a minimum $1.25 per transaction price. I trust that my $1.25 transaction fee feeds the needed research used to prevent internet banking fraud, and ABM card scams. Just 5 months ago, my bank card was defrauded, duplicated and used. I am confident that without each of my accumulated $1.25 bank fees, they wouldn’t have had the manpower to cancel my card, and then notify me about it a week later. That one week notification could have easily been two months or longer. It’s this personal attention I don’t mind paying for.

When requesting personal branch banking, I don’t mind waiting 30 minutes for service, before being asked to go home as the bankers are all busy. Really, how could they know that the customer who preceded me would take over an hour to finalize a mortgage and house signing papers? I know that my time and patience is valued; it was written on a placard, hung on the wall.

I really do live banks and the services they offer. I leave these thoughts with you: Why do banks need to operate under business hours, and work unofficial holidays that accommodate the customer? What’s the big deal about them collecting a measly $1.25 each transaction they process for us? Doesn’t the service they provide reflect the cost of business? Aren’t banks always looking out for our best interests, and not only interested in milking us of every penny we own?


If you’d like to learn more about my experiences with banks, please read come of the Case files I will pos shortly.

The Bermuda love triangle

Since my life is somewhat of a bore recently, my friends took it upon themselves to thrust me into their relationship woes. One of suck incidents is the story of Bryan and Martina. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Actually, I changed the names because it makes it feel a lot more covert this way.

Saturday morning, I was up at 8:00 am, working hard at rebuilding my home PC, when all of a sudden I receive a group MSN message from one of my best friends. The message reads something like this “From: I AM A BIG CHEATER, I DON’T DESERVE MARTINA BECAUSE I’M A LIAR AND NEED THERAPY: Message: I’M A LYING CHEATER WHO HAD SEX WITH A 19 YEAR OLD AND PRETEND I’M 23. I NEED SERIOUS THERAPY”

Knowing my friend would never send out a message like this, I called him to make sure everything was on the up and up. He knew right away that his ex had logged into his account, changed his name and send a mass MSN message to everyone on his contact list. I was asked to run some damage control. As a good friend, I logged into his account, changed the password and sent out a message noting that it wasn’t he who sent the message. Everything fixed! I’m such a good friend; I deserve a pat on the back, or a Porsche. Before I could log off, one of his female coworkers sent a suspicious message to his account. Knowing who she was, I identified myself as Steve, and assured her that Bryan did not send out any messages. The coworker response was again suspicious.

My friend came over to my house and brought me up to speed on his situation.

He and his girlfriend broke up. They decided to try and work though their issues, but the relationship was far from stable. Friday night, his girlfriend paid him a visit at work, and was treated to a brood of female coworkers, each with an axe to grind about Bryan. They regaled her with tales of his possible infidelity, womanizing and general attitude toward his female coworkers. All of the tales unsubstantiated, but were enough to cause the troubled couple to break up once again. Martina slapped Bryan in front of his coworkers as she stormed out. I’m sure the coworkers felt a sense of accomplishment and justice as their meddling had caused grief for their nemesis.

So, here we are back to Saturday afternoon, where Bryan is in need of some cheering up and direction. As most guys deal with grief, I offered him beer, chips and porno. He accepted the porno. As Bryan left, I received a message form Martina. She wanted to express her sympathy for dragging me into the situation. Instead of me accepting the apology and letting her go on her way, I defended my friend and questioned the motives of the coworker informants. This led to a lengthy MSN discussion that took over most of the day. In the end, it turns out the coworkers really weren’t as honest as one would think. They definitely had an agenda and malicious intentions. To my knowledge, Martina and Bryan still aren’t together or on speaking terms. I am no longer a part of this situation, and nor do I want to be.

My gripe with this situation would have to be the coworkers. This incestuous group of schemers must have been looking to cleanse their souls in some way. I don’t know how to describe this group of people. They live like gypsies, with no common bonds, or order, just the law of the land and look out for themselves before others. If you haven’t already guessed, they’re servers at a chain restaurant. Unable to see further than their next paycheque or screw, and consumed by the server lifestyle, they have nothing better to do than to spread rumours and lies about a guy trying to better himself and build his life. Please don’t get me wrong. Not all servers act this way, but this particular store seems to find the lowest of the low.

I had to get this off my chest as this entire incident managed to rob me of a weekend fo relaxation and computer rebuilding.

Baby Lassie scarred me for life.

As some of you may have already seen, I have a tiny scar that runs from the base of my nostril to my upper lip. If you attended Vista Heights public school, you may know it as the Bugger Chunnel.

You may wonder how I got such a scar. Well, wonder no more as the mystery of the Chunnel is about to be told. Please feel free to pause from reading, grab some pop corn and a frosted beverage. I’ll wait.

Picture a 3 year old toddler, vacationing in Malta. This 3 year old is happy and active yet bored out of his mind. He stayed with his family at his grandparents’ house. Unfortunately, for a 3 year old, Disneyland and time at spending quality time with the family are polar opposites. What’s an active 3 year old to do? One brilliant idea is to chase a miniature collie around the house. Similar to a midget crocodile hunter, he stalked his prey and chased it from room to room until the dog settled under a bed. Seeing as how the dog had nowhere else to go, the toddler crept under the bed, and grabbed the dog. Victory! This miniature collie will go well in his imaginary trophy case. Much to the toddler’s surprise, the collie didn’t want to go without a fight and swiped at the toddlers face, tearing the skin and leaving behind a sizeable gash.

If you haven’t already figures out, the toddler was me. I think I mentioned earlier in the blog how this was my story. Please keep up.

Well, my parents carted me away to the clinic where the doctor applied a butterfly stitch to my lip and instructed my parents to keep an eye on me. The trouble with a facial wound is that if the butterfly stitch were to come prematurely undone, it could result in a permanent facial scar, and in turn an unbalanced moustache. No sooner does the doctor instruct my parents to keep an eye on my lip as I tear off the Band-Aid and start picking at the scar. My parents knew at that point that re-applying the butterfly stitch would result in futility.

So, here I am today, with a scar on my upper lip and a story to share with the world. I’ve attached a photo of my big sis, my dad and myself, all sporting matching Band-Aid moustaches. I think it makes me look like a menacing Tattoo from Fantasy Island.

Enjoy the pics.

Oh, and if you were wondering, the collie’s name was Snoopy.

Giving up the Booze

Here it is, the announcement of the hour: I have given up booze for two months. Now, to those of you who are non-drinkers, or don’t consume booze while attending social gatherings, this may seem like a small feat. I assure you that it is not. I have been drinking some form of alcohol at least once a week for close to 10 years.

Although drinking socially for 10 years, with the occasional bouts of serious drunkenness, and projective vomiting wouldn’t sound like alcohol abuse, by pure definition, it is. I don’t consider myself an alcoholic, and don’t use alcohol to medicate. I enjoy sipping wine with meals, drinking beer with spicy foods, and having pints with friends.

So, why would I want to give up booze for two months? Well, for three reasons.

1) I want to save money (booze aint cheap unless you make it in your bathtub, or drink fermented pickle juice)

2) I am trying to cut out some calories. I’m not as active over the winter as I am over the summer, so I’d like to cut calories where I can. I’d like to have a six pack this summer and not the kind I carry around in a cooler.

3) I want to cleanse my body of toxins. I’ll just replace the booze with copious amounts of water

So, there it is. I’m giving it up. I have been abstaining from alcohol since Monday Jan 15. I have allotted myself 3 drink days. I plan on not using them, but you never know.

Hooray Accident season is here!

The first big snowfall in Southern Ontario brings a smile t the faces of plow operators, tow truck drivers, and amnesia specialists. Unbeknownst to some, every year, between the months of November and March, Southern Ontario is hit with Chances of snow, icy roads a freezing rain. Although this is an annual occurrence, many of us forget how to operate our vehicles in this challenging weather. If you are reading my blog, and have found this SURPRISE winter snowfall has caught you off guard, please read on for some helpful advice.

Please do not panic. Remain calm, and try to remember how you managed to drive in this weather last year. I know how easy it may be to forget a skill you use only one third of the year, but please try for me. Try to remember how sudden acceleration results in minimal progress. Keep in mind that not only is sudden braking impossible on ice and snow, but can result in a complete loss of control of your vehicle. Forget not to make lane changes well in advance, and be sure to use the signal.

No matter how late you get to work, you’ll be even later if your car is wrapped around a pole, so please drive safe.

I hope that I helped at least one person with my blog. Especially the bad lady driver with the green Toyota minivan (you know who you are).

PS> Remember 4 wheel drive really helps in acceleration & driving control, but will do crap all when you’re trying to stop a skid.

Vanity Mirrors – Your Driving Companion

I would like to remind all my female readers that the automobile vanity mirrors are to be used while the automobile is not in motion, and that rear view mirrors are not for checking your make-up. For 15 consecutive work days, I have found 14 women and 1 man preening in the vanity and rear view mirrors while driving an automobile. The man was a special treat as he was attempting the ever tricky “Moving while nose hair trimming” trick. I believe this trick was attempted by Harry Houdini himself, and caused the great one enough stress to almost quit the magic business.

In any case, I’m amazed at how many people choose to sleep in the extra 10 minutes, rather than take the time at home to put on make-up, shave, pluck, brush, and style themselves. The above duties should not be performed in a moving vehicle.

I would really like to see the statistics of accidents involving beauty care products. Anytime there’s an accident and a bottle of booze is found in the wreckage, it’s assumed the driver was drinking or had open alcohol in the vehicle. I’d like to see the stats where beauty products were present, or found in the wreckage. I can almost guarantee you that it would outnumber alcohol related accidents 3 to 1.

A place of Sanctity

So, imagine, you’re in the can, trying to herd a turd and your blackberry goes off. You A) read the message and make a note to get to it later, B) Ignore it, but finish up so you can get out and return the message or C) Pinch and reply?

If you chose C, you’re probably like many people these days. Last night, I visited the mall, and had to visit the urinal, when I heard quick and precise tapping beside me. I heard the distinctive button tapping of a Blackberry keyboard. I polled some of my blackberry using friends and found that most of them will receive and reply to messages while in the can. Maybe it’s just me, but I think it’s completely wrong. It’s right up there with bringing the cordless phone into the lou.

Using a public toilet is bad enough. In the rare emergency situations where I need to use a public toilet, I assure you it’s a quick in and out operation with little time to sit and read email messages let alone reply to them.

Is technology so invasive that the toilet of solitude has now been infested with Blackberries, TXT messages and phone calls?

If ever I see someone with a Laptop in the john, I’ll be sure to take note and ridicule them appropriately. What ever happened to the rolled up newspaper, or the skin rag?

Sayonara UFO Canopy Monstrosity

Yes folks, as many of you don’t know. I have the pleasure of working in a Herman Miller cubicle. What? You don’t know who Herman Miller is? Well, he’s the Andy Warhol of office furniture. I could describe my desk as something in-between a helicopter and a wad of phlegm. It has been nicknamed the UFO, the Lily pad, the chicken wing and my favorite, the in flight beetle. I’ve included a photo. Unfortunately, this isn’t the photo of my desk. My desk is an off white and cream coloured mixture with a tan canopy. It’s accented by the red marble, yellow & grey walls in the office.

So, it’s not so much that I don’t like the desk or its situation. In fact my cubicle mate is super cool and with the mesh walls, it’s easy to carry conversations with her throughout the day. My problem is with the lack of privacy and lack of storage. The swing out drawer is large enough to hold a few CDs and a pack of Tic Tacs.

This week, I’ll be moving to a new desk, with storage, 3” thick grey fabric walls and privacy. Currently, my desk faces the VPs office. Everything I write, view, brows, research, or work on is on display like the woolly mammoth at the Royal Ontario Museum. I frequently get asked about my computer backgrounds, or what programs I’m using.

I will soon be a free man.

2006, please meet 2007.

The final Blog of 2006 Woo Hoo!

Then again, I really didn’t start my blog until this month. In any case, Happy New Year to everyone who actually takes the time to read my blog. To everyone else, you can have a mediocre New Year :P.

2006 ushered in a lot of change for me. I moved into a new apt. with a new roomie, switched jobs, and broke up with my girlfriend. Everything has been positive so far. I hope 2007 will be just as good to me. I could really care less for New Years day. Here is a brief list of my New Year’s past:

2006 Stayed in and got continually berated by my girlfriend (“She’s crazy” is a nice way of putting it)

2005 Cleaned up after a sick friend at a house party (puke never comes out of Suede)

2004 Rented a hotel and cleaned up after a sick girlfriend (Who’d have thunk that drinking the Jacuzzi water would make you sick)

2003 Got sick at a bar and narrowly missed a girl with projectile vomit (The beer had to be above 5%)

2002 Stayed in and played drinking games with a bunch of Americans (This water tastes like beer)

2001 Celebrated New Years in NY City with the soul leech (She sucked my will to live and that’s about it)

2000 Bus captained a trip to Montréal with my sister (Je suis un bon garçon, Je suis un bon garçon)

This year doesn’t seem to be shaping up to be any better. After having 3 different plans cancelled, I’m left to fend for myself this NYE. My options are as follows: Hang out with my cousin, her boyfriend, my sister and her boyfriend, and go bar hopping downtown, or go up north to a motel party. With ride in full affect the downtown option doesn’t seem like a viable one. I would like to go out and drink a bit this year.

My thinking is this. The suckier the New Years Eve event, the better the year turns out. That being said, I think I’m going to stay in and wallpaper my room in used postage stamps.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Suckiest computer in the office

Suckiest computer in the office

I know that in some third world countries, people don’t even have a computer to surf porn in their own houses, while I get the luxury of a portable porno downloading device. Yes, I have a work Laptop. But this isn’t your ordinary work laptop. This thing was built for business in the trenches. The latches and buttons are all made of metal. I’m sure that if it ever came down to me needing to use my laptop to shield my body, I could probably use it to stop high velocity sniper type bullets. Its bulk and rigidity is only surpassed by its weight. At just around 6 Lbs, this thing is a beast among laptops. The only downside of this laptop is that it moves slower than the fat kid in the “photos with Santa” line-up. I’m not going to get into technical details, but when it takes 2 minutes to switch between email messages, there’s something wrong. I am supposed to be getting a new computer since mine is the worst in the company. I have been told that the office no longer uses computers slower than mine, and mine is the only one of its kind. So here I am, with the most junktastic laptop the office has to offer.

I really needed to vent. It just took me 20 minutes to shut down and reboot my computer.

As a disclaimer, I’d like it noted that I in fact do not download porn on my computer. I just thought it would be a super cool introduction.

Moo-Shoo Nightmare & Spare Rib Sorrow

Two years ago, almost to the day, I was shot down by a cook at the Mandarin. Yes, Two years ago this week, I was stricken with food poisoning at the Queensway Mandarin. In an odd coincidence, two years later, my departmental Christmas lunch is being held at that exact same Mandarin.

A lot has happened in two years. I’ve switched jobs, moved out on my own, gone through two relationships, bought a new car, and became an official member of the Colombo mystery solvers club. A lot has changed for me, but the one thing that hasn’t changed is my fear of Chinese buffets. Is it shrimp, or is it chicken? You never know because they cover it all in sauce.

I hesitantly accepted the lunch invitation, in hopes that they’d change the location. Unfortunately, I am going to have to go to the Mandarin, and take on my second worst fear. I can only think about the Mandarin debacle aftermath. The cleanest way I can describe it would be to say I was burning the candle at both ends. Think about it for a second, then get back to me.

T minus two hours and it’s the moment of reckoning. If I come back a changed man, you’ll know why. Some people have a fear of flying. I have a fear of moo-shoo chicken.

Enjoy the holidays.

You’re not good enough for a card!

So, because I’m a festive guy, I like to give out Christmas cards to some of my coworkers. Now, I’m not the type of guy who slaps on a recipient name and a sender’s name. I’m the guy who throws in a personal message. Maybe the message is funny, or personal, or an inside joke, but in all cases, it’s personal and meant for the recipient. In an office of 200 people, of which, I work with 100, there’s only so many personal cards I’d like to write.

This year, I wrote and distributed 40 cards. 20% of the entire office got a card. That leaves 80% of the office cardless. While handing out my cards, some non-recipients asked me where their cards were. I could only reply by saying “I ran out”. My “Ran out” excuse has to be the worst excuse of all. But really, who asks for a Christmas card? I made sure everyone who wrote me a card received one in return, in addition to the people with whom I worked closely. I shouldn’t be obliged to give every person a card. They’re more like a prestige item. I would like my Christmas cards to one day become the “Beanie Baby” of the office. The type of stuff people get into fights over, and would sell their mothers for.

Ok, maybe I’m asking for a bit much here. But either way, if you get a Christmas card from me this year, you’re one of the lucky few. Cherish it and keep it in a box next to your bed.

Did I dodge a bullet or miss the bullet train?

While shopping for my older sisters Birthday gift (she’s a Christmas baby), I ran into an Ex girlfriend. Now, while this may not sound too strange, let me give you a little bit of history.

History:

She was my first ever girlfriend. We started dating in college, and maintained a relationship that lasted two years. I say “maintained” because by the end of it seemed like we were going through the motions of a normal relationship. Things were pretty much middle of the road. Aside from the usual couple’s spats, nothing significant happened. I eventually ended the relationship, hoping to find something more interesting, something less normal, something more me. That didn’t sit well with her, and we have never talked since. I saw her in the mall a couple of years ago. When I approached her to say hi, she took off with her mother and husband in hand.

So, I bring myself back to yesterday. While shopping for a gift, I saw her in the mall with her husband, child in carriage and another one on the way. For a moment there, I dodged a bullet. The baby bullet. I knew she wanted to settle down and that wasn’t for me at that time. I was 23, had only had one girlfriend and was just starting my college social life. I couldn’t be tied down, and wasn’t about to go out and have fun behind her back. So I cut loose and let her on her way.

The sight of her with baby caused me to think about all my past relationships, and to wonder what they’re up to now. I’m not going to go out on a “High Fidelity” inspired Ex hunt, but I do wonder what else I dodged. I believe that all my past relationships ended for good reason. Whether it was her infidelity, my blasé, or not wanting to be with the most miserable person alive, I have decided to end three quarter of my relationships. I initiated the break up in 3 of 4.

So, am I being too picky, or is it a matter of not wanting to settle? I prefer to think that I just don’t want to settle. It’s really not fair to either party involved. My friends tend tot think I’m being too picky. But that’s only based on my history. There’s really no truth behind it. They tend to pint out the fact that I stopped dating people for the following reasons: Looked like a cat, smelled like sausage, didn’t have a job or car, was a drug dealer, was too old, was too young…

To me, these are just dates. They’re not relationships, and I believe that all the past relationships ended for good reason. Albeit I’ve only had 4 serious relationship, they all started with good intentions and ended honestly and for very good reasons.

I really do think that back when I broke up with my first girlfriend, I did dodge a bullet. However, it does bring something to light. I think I’ve come to the point in my life where I probably want to start looking for a serious relationship again, but really don’t want it to cause me to settle.

Who you got? Aunt Jemima Vs. Mrs. Butterworth

Yeah, so this morning, my roomie and I had a discussion about a fictional battle between Aunt Jemima and Mr. Butterworth. My roomie takes Aunt J because for someone who's "Just a head" she's created quite the empire, while Mrs. B is made of glass and easily broken.

I would think that seeing as how Mrs. B has arms and legs, her mobility and reach should be enough to take down the Face synonymous with Breakfast foods.

Continuing with the toipc, are Aunt J and Uncle Ben related? Is the quaker Oats guy and Mrs B getting it on? Who knows?

Out of all the Food-product mascots, I'd have to say the Jolly Green Giant has them beat. I know the Keebler elves could unite and may do some damadge, but I'm sure with enough Asparagus and Watter, The JGG would be able to drown the tiny Keebler village in a flood of asparagus smelling urine.

This is one heck of a first blog entry! See this level? this is where all my blogs will live. I'm not going to try to sound smart in intellectual, but I wll provide you with an amusing pre-work read, and through of the day.

So... Who you got?

I hate those MAC commercials

It has come to the point where I can’t go anywhere without watching those misleading MAC commercials. Not only are they inaccurate, but they’re also boring and not very funny. So, now I take it upon myself to start a legion of MAC rebels.

Don’t get me wrong, I use a MAC as much as the next guy (which is almost never), but I think that dude from old school needs a swift kick to the dingleberries. Next plan of action, get that nerdy PC guy a date. That’ll really show the MAC dude. Remember Nerd-o – Shit happens when you party naked!

The latest MAC ad depicts the Nerd-o computer guy covered with stickers and tags because he is being used to make movies, mix music, and play games. Nothing really funny or wrong with this picture except if you think back to one of the original commercials where the MAC has the edge because it can mix music, create movies, and the PC can’t.

I tend to think that the people who write these MAC ads have no long term memory, or are also used to create George Bush election speeches.

All in all, the MAC commercials depict half-truths, and misconceptions about PCs. This sounds more and more like an election ad.

I really think the PC guy should be more menacing. I think the Nerd-o guy is pretty cool actually. Maybe they should get K-FED to be the PC guy. Then everyone would hate it.

Finally if you need just one reason to hate a MAC, here it is:

A MAC computer killed Vanilla ICE, Steve Irwin and The Hamburgler.

(The above statement has no substance whatsoever)

Thanks for reading.