Monday, June 29, 2009
Here's the problem: I am completely colour blind. I haven't a clue what colours I've chosen - only that I need contrast in order to see anything. I've also farted about with some of the fonts - I think. I was just goofing around with the settings so it may be all loused up. I guess you couldn't see the links in posts either - someone mentioned that to me the other day. Sorry about that.
Please let me know if these colours are quite horrid or make you barf or anything. I only put in what I can see from a contrast perspective - not colour. So help me if you wish but I'm afraid I can only try to improve - unless you are standing over my shoulder I haven't a clue what I'm doing.
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Thursday, June 25, 2009
With a new pool complex nearby, I've been taking the kids swimming quite a bit lately.
Now the problem with being a middle-aged guy (BIKINI) is that if you have eyes (
This can be problematic in that (NICE TATTOO) it is distracting as hell and hey I'm only human (BIKINI) and I've got to (focus focus FOCUS!!) on what (OOPS LARGE BOYFRIEND) I'm supposed to be doing here.
Anyway what I'm trying to say is that I'm there with my kids and I'm (SLEEPING ON COUCH TONIGHT) happily married and I don't mean to look but I have eyes don't I? Am I not a (CRETIN) human being?
It's not like I'm being an ogling pervert or anything. (LOOK AT THOSE! OH SORRY BUDDY).
It makes me uncomfortable (IS SHE TOPLESS? NO IT’S A
Anyway, there I was with the kids when I had to go to the bathroom so I got out of the pool.
For a change.
I can't quite remember what I was talking about just now (OUCH MY CHEST HAIRS HONEY). I'm so distracted these days (HOTTIE) what with work and all.
And here’s the other thing. Spouses have eyes too and you can’t tell me they don’t admire (PIERCING PLACEMENT) another guy’s abs any more than I happen to notice (
It is hypocritical to think that it is only men who can admire from afar someone whose (THOSE REAL?) body shape is perhaps more tuned than one’s own (DISGUSTING FLAB) physical presence.
I think of it as admiring a work of art, really (DON’T STARE! DON’T STARE!)
You know my latest column was going to be really funny but now I've lost my (IS THAT A BUTTERFLY ON THERE?) train of thought. (FACE LIKE AN OLD BOOT BUT WHAT A
I was also going to talk about how distracting it is to drive past the local beaches (BIKINIS OH MY GOD BIKINIS AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE! FOCUS! FOCUS! DRIVE THE CAR!!)
It is really (BIKINI) annoying to have to do this, but since I have to go to the office and back 6 or 7 times per day and I have to drive past the beach each time even though it’s 28 blocks out of my way (HOTTIE) I think it is really worth it (FOR THE ENVIRONMENT).
I wish I could remember what I was going to write about today. Huh.
Man my neck hurts.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I was in the drug store, trying to predict which ailment my kids would come down with next.
I started off by choosing Tylenol Cold, Tylenol Dry Cough and Runny Nose, Tylenol Cough, Cold, Sore Throat, and Runny Nose, and Tylenol Mostly Phlegm medications.
Then I got some Tylenol Zits, Tylenol Smelly Pee after Eating Asparagus, and Tylenol Sweat, Boils and Explosive Diarrhea.
Then I had to choose a flavour. There was Cherry, Bubble Gum, Grape, Peach, Pine, New Car Smell,
Diesel, Napalm, and Grilled Cheese.
I could administer the medication via liquid, tablets, liquid filled tablets, capsules, regular round pills, coated pills to avoid upset stomach, caplets, montagues, gel caplets, nose drops, eye drops, suppositories, skin patches, needle injections, caulking guns, postal delivery, express taxi, Morse code or Federal Express.
I think. I kind of blurred out for a while there.
Given the age and susceptibility of my children to viruses and other plague infestations, we’ve chosen to go the bulk route. We now have the Regular Tylenol Pumper Truck come by every Thursday to top off the tanks – so we’re good, and saving at least ten cents per dosage, not to mention getting airline points.
I contrast this variety of medicinal products to what I grew up with in the 60’s – Aspirin, Phenergan and a thick liquid we were told was Penicillin.
I have no idea what Phenergan was but we got it all the time. It may have just been rum in a medical bottle for all we knew. Same with the ‘Penicillin’ now that I think of it.
Here is how medical care in our house worked:
Kid has fever so high Mom is cooking fried eggs on kid’s tummy? Aspirin.
Kid wakes up with blotches everywhere and proceeds to urp all over the kitchen? Phenergan.
Kid comes home covered in scabs from ‘riding’ bike all day? Nothing. “Go wash your hands, it’s time for supper,” Mom would say. “And stop oozing all over the floor, I just waxed it…”
I have no idea when we got the Penicillin goop but I recall it having to be pretty serious when you did.
Medicine was simpler back then. Of course, everyone died by age 40 but hey – advancement comes at a price, right?
The nice thing is the human body is very resilient. You can do almost anything to it and still recover.
For example, my sister and her evil companion once squirted lemon juice into my eyes during a rousing game of “Let’s Torture the Little Brother.” In a testament to my intellect at the time, I let them.
The torture had little effect, other than the bloody nose I administered blindly to my sister via a well-timed right cross.
Medical authorities today claim my poor eyesight is a result of astigma-something and not ‘Shrivelling of the Eyeballs as Caused by Lemon Juice Infusion at Age 5’ or whatever.
The fact my eyeglasses today are as thick as a glass coffee table bears no relation whatsoever to this small act of sibling playfulness I am sure.
I forget what I was talking about.
Oh yeah. Medicine.
Here is a parting gift for parents:
In instances where a Spiderman Band-Aid does not stop the flow of spurting arterial blood from a child’s appendage, remember what the guys from the TV show “Emergency!” used to do and start an IV of Ringers Lactate.
I have no idea what that is but it usually worked, and the handsome Doctor at the hospital always called for it.
If that doesn’t work, then I suggest a dose of Phenergan and transport immediately.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
I sent in a couple of columns, one came in 3rd, the other (Tool Drool) placed as a finalist - just out of the money.
Here's the winning column: HumorPress.com 3rd place
I'd like to thank the Academy...
Actually I'd really like to thank the members of the writers group at Humor and Life, In Particular, who help me with every column.
Margie and the gang - you're the best!! Thanks for all your help and guidance.
Same with mowing the lawn.
My motivation for doing yard work was inspired yesterday by a faint cry for help from the overgrown side yard. Not sure what made the sound - bird, animal, kid - whatever.
I'll try to cut a road through the brush tomorrow maybe. We've got a Canadian in contention at the U.S. Open so it may all have to wait.
Might rain too.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I took the kids to an afternoon movie the other day, and as I was quietly eating my Goobers, trying hard to stay awake and not drool or snore too much, I drifted back in time…
'Riotous' would be a good description of the Saturday matinees we enjoyed growing up.
It was the Nova Theater for entertainment in our town (Mr. Tom Fowler, proprietor), and it was awesome fun.
We would gather outside the front door to commit minor acts of vandalism or robbery, until such time as we could enter and continue these activities inside.
We would purchase tickets and several pounds of candy and popcorn from the hotties behind the counter, upon whom we usually had life-threatening crushes, and we would proceed past the 'Cry Room' and into the theater proper.
The Cry Room was the place where, normally, mothers went if they had noisy, out-of-control infants. During Saturday matinees, however, it was where we went when our eardrums burst from the racket during the movie itself, as made by all us noisy, out-of-control adolescents.
In order to get to a seat we'd have to wade into a fray that was like a Wild West saloon in the middle of a good brawl. The air would be filled with flying candy, popcorn boxes, shoes, marbles, and occasionally, small children. Party!!
When the lights dimmed the background noise became a deafening roar as hundreds of kids yelled "Yay!!" at the top of their lungs.
With the lights fully out the fun would really start. If you've ever been to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show (and you should), you’ll have some understanding of the atmosphere.
Hurling flattened popcorn boxes into the light of the projector beam was a favourite activity, long flights being rewarded handsomely with applause, catcalls and showers of hard candy. Extreme praise was bestowed upon those who sailed their whirling projectile into the head of some anonymous victim in the front row, since only weird kids sat up there.
Rivulets of soda pop swirled and eddied around one’s ankles as occasionally we’d hear, during very rare quiet moments, the sound of marbles or 'boulders' being rolled in waves from the back of the theater. These could be heard smacking into feet and seat anchors as they accelerated their way down the inclined floor to the very front. This would elicit massive cheers for the ‘winner’ of each heat.
After the cartoons, the din would settle down slightly as we began to enjoy some dreadful “B” movie, usually something with cowboys or soldiers who could shoot five bad guys dead with only one shot. Who were we to question how six-shooters could carry 39 rounds of ammunition?
During the movie we were getting shot ourselves, with Hot Tamales and other confections. We could also observe the bald head of Tom Fowler (proprietor), walking up and down the aisles, inadvertently getting into the spirit of things by being beaned repeatedly with Hot Tamales and other confections.
He would be trying in vain to stop dozens of juvenile delinquents from putting their feet on the back of the seat in front of them (a criminal offense), by the expedient means of shining a flashlight at them.
This was effective for at least two milliseconds, until such time as the beam of light moved on to the next offender. The previous slouching miscreant immediately returned his feet to the seat while simultaneously feeling up his slouching, miscreant girlfriend.
Just as Mr. Fowler was leaving the theater, ears ringing and dinged head throbbing, some wag would, of course, hurl a popcorn box up into the nose of John Wayne, to the cheers of everyone, and the consternation of the always-suffering theater owner.
I'm sure the man must have had several nervous breakdowns. I can only imagine his nightmares, thinking of his children growing up amongst the rotten kids who patronized his business.
I hope he made a fortune.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Which is good since I have grown weary trying to open Tylenol packaging without resorting to power tools. My finger nails have been completely demolished removing multi-layers of plastic, entering secret passwords, tearing off the tops of bottles, having the box perform a retinal scan etc.
All this care for the family has left me exhausted and feeling quite tired. Run down sort of. A bit of a headache.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
In order to achieve considerable success with the publication, and perhaps save newspapers around the world from imminent demise, I think I may have to send in my name for the position.
I have a few Action Items that may help them. Consider:
- They have never had a picture of a naked, huge-breasted model on page 3 before. Suggesting that I be the first model will not be considered you rude and insolent person.
- Given my understanding of the male psyche, you could run a picture of a new table saw on page 3 and guys would get just as excited as with a picture of a naked lady.
- Calvin and Hobbes, quite rightly judged the Best Thing in Publishing History, has been allowed to stop. As publisher, I will bring serious influence upon the writer, up to and including waterboarding, to bring this cartoon back to newspapers! This plan alone would probably get me elected Prime Minister, should an election be called on the issue.
- A shameless gossip column, immune from prosecution, should be established immediately. Reading between the lines of political pundits is one thing - actually knowing who is boinking whom's assistant is another.
- Running humour columns on the front page may be self-serving, but newspapers need to take bold action in order to preserve market share as we know it. Luring humour writers into the fold and paying them enormous, guaranteed salaries with serious bonuses and built in Golden Parachutes would be well worth considering.
Mom is also feeling a bit buggy too...
So the theme for our house for the next few days will be Mucus with a side order of Loogies according to my charming son...
You know something is wrong with sons when they are too ill to play Wii - we'll administer that test when he wakes up later on.
On the plus side I guess I'll be able to finish off the box of Cap'n Crunch cereal all by myself this morning. AND get to read the box for a change.
Further reports from Action Central News when they arrive.
This is Chief Wet Cloth to the Forehead Administrator signing off...
Friday, June 12, 2009
I'm kidding! About the dog part anyway.
So I shove a funnel in her mouth every so often and pour in the Tylenol, and we watch Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses again. And again. And again.
I may curtail the medicine until her eyes roll up into her head, at which time I can turn off the DVD player and get some blessed relief. I'm starting to lose it already and it's only 9:30 or so.
Further reports when they are available.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I hope the police are forming a task force to combat this menace.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Once upon a time, in the
A Root Ball, wherein all the Handsome Princes in the land were invited to move the Great Tree from one location to another.
The only Handsome Prince to respond to the call happened to be one who lived right there in the castle!
At first the Handsome Prince did not want to participate in the Great Event, because he was hard at work with his three Evil Companions as they sweated and laboured, emptying the castle kitchen of chilled bottles of brown liquid.
How he toiled for his Evil Companions! “Fetch me another one!” they cried. “Got any chips?” they would bellow.
All day long he would toil for them between matches and during stoppages in play.
Then, when it came time for the Great Root Ball, they disappeared to the four winds, leaving our Handsome Prince all alone! How cruel these companions were!
They left our Prince without food, or drink, or proper clothing to wear to the ball.
Suddenly, his Manly Sportscaster appeared on the screen. “Of course you can go to the ball!” he said. “You have shorts upstairs in your drawer! And old shirts, and socks, and undies, and a pair of clippers you can put in the pouch on your hip!”
And so it came to pass that our Handsome Prince went to move the Root Ball.
It was a joyous affair, with hardly any swearing.
Our Hero dug and dug, all around the Great Big Magic Tree/Shrub Thingy, until the Great Root Ball came loose. And it was transferred to the new Great Hole that had been sunk into the Earth, which our Handsome Prince had also dug up all by himself instead of with the help of his Evil Companions.
And there was much rejoicing upon the land.
The Handsome Prince sprinkled Magic Bone Meal Dust into the hole and replaced the Earth and watered and watered.
Then it was time to leave the Great Root Ball or he would be late for the Great Championship inside the castle! He dashed off before the grateful Queen could discover who had performed for her this great service.
As she was admiring the work of our hero, she came upon some clippers.
“These must belong to my hero!” she wisely surmised. “I shall set out to find my Knight in Sweating Clothing and declare my love for him!” And so she departed the land and went into the castle.
She could not find the matching pouch for the clippers anywhere!
She searched and searched, until she happened upon our Handsome Prince, asleep in the dungeon where the Large Screen was, an empty pouch by his side.
She slid the clippers into the pouch – and they fit!
“This is my hero!” she said quietly to herself.
And she planted a kiss upon our sleeping Prince, and he did awaken suddenly, and he did smile wearily and did belch mightily upon the land.
And our beautiful Princess knew that all was right with the world once more.
The new phrase I have created is "Bladder-stretching sleep." As in "I had the most wonderful, 4 hour, bladder-stretching sleep last night."
I intend to sell it to the leading English authorities, dictionaries, writers and the like.
Your cards and letters are welcome.
I am writing to you today in protest.
On your labels, it clearly states that we should Refrigerate After Opening. I, and many others, must forcefully protest this directive.
Before I bring this action item to the full Food Rules Committee, might I point out that we are placing your jam or other condiment upon WARM toast? Have you any idea how jarring it is to feel cold jam upon nice, warm toast? This practise is clearly unacceptable and I am putting you on notice that I will henceforth place my opened jams and jellies in the pantry - where they belong!
I know this will allow dangerous bacteria to degrade my comestibles to the point of in-edibility (ie mold), but that will happen anyway. I understand that the penicillin-based life forms may cause my estate to sue your butt into oblivion once the CSI team determines the cause of my premature demise as a result of their consumption, but I feel this risk is worth taking, and so should you.
Perhaps you could create a separate brand of jams or jellies with more preservatives in them, such that they would be better suited to pantry storage and not refrigeration. Granted, this level of preservatives would cause my entire digestive system to completely collapse, according to leading health authorities - those being clerks in vitamin supplement stores. Still I must insist on this course of action.
Cold jams and jellies have their place, of course. Cold jam upon peanut butter in a sandwich we have no quarrel with. The minor temperature variations are of no great concern in this regard.
We, the Warm Toast Preservation Alliance (there is a subtle humour in the title there - Preservation...preserves...get it? Oh nevermind), officially demand action on this important refrigeration matter.
For and on Behalf of the Toast And Permissable Condiments Committee I remain,
Your Humble Servant.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
You know those ones where you start to rub your eyeballs and you wind up gasping and moaning and just really getting into it? Man it was awesome. My eyes tingled afterwards like you wouldn’t believe. I exhaled loudly out of sheer enjoyment.
The other people at the City Council meeting did not enjoy it quite so much. Based on the looks I got anyway.
Monday, June 1, 2009
I finally tried the Sinus-Cleaner-Outer/Ballistic Enema/Surfing machine at the new pool on the weekend.
It is an artificial wave thing that has jets of water shooting up a curved incline, directly into your nasal passages.
What we beginners are supposed to do is lay belly down on a tiny surf board at the top of the wave, and schuss gracefully down the watery hill, smashing into the lifeguards ankles at the bottom.
This I did unexpectedly well.
So there I was, stuck on the lower platform. In my mind’s eye I looked like a buff surfer dude. In reality I probably looked like an overweight killer whale at an aquarium who has just earned a fish by sliding up onto the deck and now has to lurch awkwardly backwards to return to the water.
Like the killer whale in my brilliant analogy, I too thought of taking a chomp out of the lifeguard’s leg.
Instead, I gracefully walrus-flopped back to the edge of the platform and began sliding onto the water shooting underneath me.
In order to slow the pace of my rearward hurtle, I also began swallowing most of the water jetting towards me at the thirst-quenching rate of 900 gallons per second.
Not only did the fluid irrigate my innards, the jetting water had also caught the waistband of my swim trunks and removed them with such speed and finesse that I did not notice their rapid departure.
I was later told they went sailing up and almost over the attending lifeguard positioned at the top of the wave. She did not see them coming and was splatted in the head and knocked to the ground, tangled in what appeared to be a two person canvas tent.
Because of the rushing water I didn’t feel a thing, other than an interesting sensation in the region of my hangdowns. Nor could I hear much because of the noise of the ‘rapids’. I thought the cheering and pointing from onlookers was a result of my surprising skill and grace at negotiating these hazardous, frothy waters.
I smiled proudly as my bare behind flashed its blinding, hairy whiteness to the crowd.
Mothers hid their children’s faces. Dads pointed and laughed. Grandparents on the viewing balcony squinted and clutched their chests at the sight.
Inexplicably, someone yelled a movie title at me. I think.
“Something something ‘Free Willy’!” he yelled, pointing, to which I replied “Yes they should!” or something like that. I was busy and couldn’t quite comprehend why I was having this bizarre conversation with someone I hadn’t even been introduced to.
It was about this time that I achieved a perfect state of equilibrium between the downward force of gravity and the upward force of rushing water.
I got stuck.
Perched somehow at the very top of the incline, my lower parts being forcefully yet gently massaged by the sweetly caressing water, I could neither move up, down nor sideways. I thought this was fine and dandy so there I lay for some minutes, hovering at the peak of the wave, smiling rapturously at the slightly alarmed-looking crowd, until I caught an edge somehow and joined the tumbling mirth, skidding into the splashdown area.
Seeing my swim trunks laying on the grate, I finally understood why all the lifeguards were now surrounding me with towels and disturbed looks on their youthful faces.
I understand the movie “Free Willy” is about a large, good-natured whale that experiences freedom and joy by flying through the water and air using its blubbery yet sleek, naked body.
I think I’ve seen it.