Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Excuse Me While Take a Powder!

Excuse Me While Take a Powder!

Christmas Time. The time of year when traffic moves slower. People become dumber and children become even whinier. It’s the time of year when I would be willing to smash myself in my man bits with a sledge hammer rather than have to go shopping.

That being said, some manner of shopping is inevitable. Living on a border town and having the Canadian dollar nipping at the heels of the Greenback opens up an entirely new shopping experience for me. Aside from having to cross the border, shopping in the States is a pleasure. The people are just as dumb and slow as they are in Canada but the Americans do this crazy thing I have rarely experienced in Canada.

You know when you walk into a store, there are people that are supposed to help you. These are referred to as Sales Associates. While I was in the states I was approached by one of these ‘sales associates’ and asked if I needed help with anything. I quickly raised my hands in the air and yelled, “ I didn’t steal anything!” After a very uneasy chuckle the sales associate asked me if I wanted to try on the pants I was looking at. She directed me to a change room and instructed me to call her name if I needed and further ‘assistance’. Nervous and confused I hid my wallet in my underwear and tried on the pants. I knew something bad was about to happen. The pants were a little bit snug around my waist, which is a conspiracy against me and all size 35 waist pants I try on. I called the sales associate over and told her that I must have grabbed the wrong size. As I hid behind the door of the changing room she told me she would go get me the next size up. I knew she was lying and the hidden camera in the change room would be taping me standing in the change room nervously scratching my butt and obsessively pulling my socks up. Embarrassment coursed thru my body. Of all the days to wear a thong. About thirty seconds had passed and I was near tears when a soft voice was heard and a pair of pants were lightly placed on top of the change room door. Could it be? Is this really happening? I have heard of this sort of behaviour before. I believe it is called SERVICE! I was so happy that I tried the pants on, liked them, put them back on the hanger and walked out of the change room. I made it about six feet before I realized joy had fogged my brain and the pants I had worn in were on the floor of the change room. I didn’t care. I was feeling something I had never felt before. Satisfaction from shopping.

I paid for the pants and thanked the lovely lady who had ‘helped’ me and decided I needed more of this ‘Service’ thing. I bought more crap than I could ever use but I didn’t care. I was flying high on this crazy rollercoaster drug called Service.

When we crossed the border back into Canada I was on edge. I needed a fix-bad. “Pull into Home Depot!” I screamed. Trembling and shaking I walked into the store to buy a Round Tuit. I walked up and down the aisles looking for my little drug called Service. As I asked other shoppers for Service I began to crash. “Maybe they don’t have ‘Service’ in Canada?” I queried to Lori. “ I saw him. I saw Service. He was wearing a little orange apron!” I shouted as I ran to the end of aisle. With the hope of a young child wanting to catch a glimpse of Santa before he climbs up the chimney on Christmas eve, I jumped out of the end of the aisle and screamed “Service!” with my arms wide open. Service had already disappeared. Lori ran up to me and wrapped her arms around me like a protective loving something. “It’s ok Brooks. I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but there is no Service in Canada- now do up your fly!”

It can’t be. I refuse to believe it is true. I made Lori drive me to Canadian Tire. I walked around aimlessly for an hour. I never found Service there either.

I’ve grown up and matured a lot since last weekend. A lot of thinking has taken place over that time and some of it was done by me. Do Canadians in the service industry exist? Are they simply Hollograms put in place to help defend against shop-lifting? How can so many people possibly suck so bad at sales and SERVICE, in the same store, at the same time, that I could write this much gibberish about Service?

It isn’t just retail stores either. Lumber yards, restaurants and industrial supply houses suck just as bad. If I want to be ignored I will go home and stand naked in front of the television.

Buying anything in Canada is a task. You need one little microscopic screw to finish your masterpiece. You go to the hardware store and you get Igor the Mute janitor or High Pitched Voice Eyes Rolling Girl as your choice for assistance. Neither one knows shit about shit but Igor is somewhat amusing in the adorable way he tries to talk.

In a previous Rant I mentioned running bare ass naked down the aisles of these stores and tackling the Sales Associates. I now realize that this is not possible. You can’t tackle what is not there. I just want to know how the hell I got tazered and thrown out of the store so quickly when I dropped trow and ran into the Power Tools area. Little Ninja Bastards!

You’re not happy with your job. You don’t make enough money. Your boss is an idiot. I get it. I understand. You took the job though. Do your goddam job! Your job is to help customers. Customers come to the store to buy things. It’s really hard to buy things when you can’t find those things. Enter- YOU! The sales associate. Full of life and willing to help. I see you! You can’t hide behind that thing you’re hiding behind! Don’t run away you little bastard! C’mere! Here! Good boy! Where are the toilet Plungers? The industrial size plungers?

It hurts me to say this but when it comes to sales – Canada sucks. Our service industry bites. The US thrives on being able to sell things. Things we don’t think we need. They sell things that don’t even exist over there and we are damn happy to a premium for them. Sales in Canada on the other hand is akin to torture. “I will make you talk Sales Associate person! When and if I ever find you – you will talk!” You can actually hear the theme from Benny Hill playing as you chase down an employee at any big box store in Canada- unfortunately we never get the Sexy Party or the Sales Associate.

IF you are in Sales are there are a few things you should know;

1) I am the customer. I may not be right but I have the money.

2) One sale will lead to other sales. Help me out finding what I need and I will return to your store.

3) Never roll your eyes at a customer. You are there to help the customer- you bitter little fuck!

4) Don’t pretend to be stocking shelves that are full. I know you are trying to hide in full sight but c’mon- you look like a retard pretending to put things on that shelf!

5) I admit I do not know the names of certain hinges or wall anchors. THAT’S YOUR JOB! Don’t look at me like I just fell out of the shortbus. Jerk!

Another service industry Blunder. Life is a negotiation. Get used to it.

When I have to stay out of town in a motel I like to get some value for my dollars. By value, I simply mean the place better be clean, have a shower and no dead bodies under the bed. To me this is worth $50.00 per night. Don’t tell me you are full up and only have the Heart shaped Jacuzzi room full. I can see there are no cars in the parking lot. It is eleven o’clock at night- you aren’t going to get many more people. I want the $50.00 room- not the vibrating $125.00 room. Don’t bullshit me. I know your little crap weasel manager who looks like a ferret with glasses is making you lie to me about rooms being available. Step up-make the sale. Part of something is better than all of nothing sweet cheeks. No? Thanks for your time- go fuck yourself. It’s amazing that when you turn to leave the hotel staff will inform you that a room just opened up and they are dreadfully sorry but there was a problem with the computers. It is usually this point where I keep walking out the door. LIARS! WHORES! I’ll sleep in my truck before I give you lying whores cent one of my money. WHORES! That’ll teach ‘em where the bears shit in the buckwheat! Many a night I have driven back to a construction site and slept in my truck gleeful that I really taught those pricks a lesson!

Brooks’ Tips on Buying a Car

1) Never take your wife with you when you go out to buy a car. I am generally easy to get along with, but when it comes to buying cars, equipment or property I am whirling dervish of a heartless bastard. I don’t care who you are- you will think I am a bigger asshole than I actually am once we sit down and start to deal. I negotiate every day and I know how to get what I want – and if I can’t get what I want I know I can always walk away. It’s not personal. It’s a simple – you have something I am willing to pay X amount of dollars for. IF we meet on the price and the scope of what I want, we are good. If we don’t I walk away. Don’t embarrass your wife when you negotiate – leave her at home.

2) Never ask for things you don’t want or need when you negotiate. “I’ll take the car but you have to put Christmas lights on it and 39 snooker balls in the glove compartment!” Stay on point.

3) Do not be friendly with salespeople. Their job is to suck as much money as they can out of you. You don’t have to be a prick to them but I find it helps.

4) Always be ready to walk away. It’s your money and if you aren’t happy with the deal- you never will be. Walk away if you aren’t satisfied with the deal.

5) Two major character flaws will hurt you when you buy a car or anything – Lack of intelligence and lack of patience. I have neither patience or intelligence so I know what I am talking about. Making a rash uninformed decision will cost you money and you will not be happy afterwards.

6) To help speed up price negotiations and a fair deal remember to take your handgun out of your jacket and place it on the table, barrel pointing towards the salesperson and say, “ I hope you don’t mind, I don’t want that puppy going off by accident like it did the last time I bought a car.” You will have a low low price and no haggling very quickly.

Myths and Rumours

1) All big box stores have teleportation devices for their employees – FALSE. All big box stores have trap doors and underground passageways to give the appearance that the sales associates have ‘disappeared’ into thin air or ‘teleported’ to somewhere other than the place you are.

2) In the rare case that you actually corner a sales associate caution should be used. TRUE! When cornered or asked to answer a question that requires any thought sales associates typically react in one of two ways.

a) The Old Possum Ploy – feigning a heart attack this sales associate will pretend he is dead – right there in the middle of the aisle. Try as hard as you want but kicking them won’t work. Running over to the automotive department for a battery and some jumper cables will not work even when they are attached to their naughty bits. This is the highest form of disciplined laziness.

b) The Old Deaf or Can't speak Trick - just walk away. Peaceful thoughts.

3) Breaking wind after a long night of cheap draft beer and Mexican food, while standing next to freshly captured sales associate is inappropriate. FALSE. Not allowing the sales associate to leave the immediate stinkified area is inappropriate. Funny, but inappropriate.

4) Asking for the store’s manager is a waste of time. TRUE. Do you really think that an effective manager would let his sales associates be so utterly useless? Asking and waiting for the manager to see you is useless. You may as well run around talking to a wheel of cheese for all the benefit of talking to the manager dunderhead will bring.

5) Sending a complaint letter to Corporate headquarters should help the company right? FALSE. Emails sent to corporate never reach the right department simply because this email function on the company’s website was never enabled. Grab your wheel of cheese and start running around again.

Simple But Effective Shopping Tips for Men

DON’T! Men aren’t supposed to be in malls. Malls were designed for women. Women are smaller and typically more agile then men so they can dart in and out of crowds easier and do acrobatic stunts over displays to grab, kick or punch their way to the last whatever thing they want and don’t need.

Alcohol, cars, power tools and firearms are the only items men should shop for. Not the lollygagging/browsing/price comparison shopping thing. Men have internal clocks that allow them only so much time in crowded places other than bars and strip joints. It’s like the longest breath we could ever take. After that – we gotta go or we may die. Shopping for these items is smash and grab guerrilla warfare. Run into the store for vodka, an air filter, a mitre saw and a 12 gauge- run out, gasping for air with Schnapps, valve stems, welding rod and Nerf Gun- doesn’t matter- don’t care. I am done Christmas shopping-enjoy your welding rod. No sales associates required.

Do Not fall for the ‘I need to pick up a few things at the mall. Let’s go together and then we can have lunch!’ trick. A ‘few’ things means the things are very large or there is a lot of them. She needs your pick up truck to fit it all in. She won’t be done picking up her ‘few things’ until the mall closes. Enjoy holding her purse, telling her the ninety five pairs of pants she tries on don’t make her ass look big and the 3 Tic Tacs stuck to the bottom of her purse will have to hold you over until you get home or die of boredom.. You Fool!

Enjoy your Christmas and all the joy it will bring. It will be over soon and returning to work will feel like the best vacation you never had.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Taken to School.

Taken to School.

I thought I would never forget what a party is and how to do it. On Saturday I was taken to school and made to realize I haven’t really partied since my late twenties.

I had a sense going into this thing that I would need to be prepared. That little voice in my head that usually tells me to light things on fire, had changed. It was telling me to put some aspirin and Tums in my pockets. Psshaw- I don’t need those things I told myself out loud. The voice in my head eventually won. I am thankful that I listened to it.

We arrived at the party and immediately were offered any type of beverage we could have wanted. I played it cool and decided to damage myself with beer. I wanted to be a friendly drunk and not the ranting lunatic that takes over my mind and body when I drink liquor. Brooks 1 – Raving Lunatic 0.

There was no small talk at this party. Not once was ‘How about this weather?’ or ‘Did you get all Christmas shopping done?’ uttered. Straight for the jugular, hell bent for leather conversation was the mission. ‘Did your wife let you wear you balls tonite, cause you’re going to need them!?’ was one of the first questions asked of me by our gracious host and Birthday girl. I rifled through my wife’s purse and as usual , came up short. Dammit! No balls- at least not mine, in her purse. I informed the host of my lack of balls. With all the compassion of a rabid wolverine she laughed at me and dragged me to the bar to do a shot. I felt much more relaxed when we finished our shot and the Birthday girl patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘You’ll get better at drinking Princess!’

It was about this time that a busload of people showed up and things started to get really going. Like a tsunami the crowd rushed by and engulfed the bar like locusts. I was impressed.

It was great to see some familiar faces from long ago. It was nice to see that everyone looked happy and had nice lives.

To the Bar! Shot after shot was poured. Toasts were made and faces winced as shots were swallowed, slammed and refilled again. My little voice told me to take an aspirin and a Tums. I obliged.

Holy Hell! How can a little woman drink that much? One after the other this little girl kept the drinks a flowin’.

Time to dance- not me but the chickies. I have no idea what the dance was called- possibly the ‘stagger step drink spill’, or the ‘someone’s getting lucky tonite’ shuffle. Likely it’s me and my failing vision but all of these girls looked awesome. I can say unabashedly that if I ever had to make a choice, I would take a good looking 40 something woman with confidence and poise over some self–esteem lacking psycho 20 something any day of the week. These woman were good looking and confident. I was very afraid of each and every one of them.

Shortly after eleventy two beers and 96 shots things got very very strange. A gorilla dressed up like Elvis appeared and serenaded the birthday girl. As far as I could tell the gorilla did a good job staying in tune and not marking his territory by thrashing anyone. He did get distracted by an impromptu Sipandbale dancer thrusting his way across the floor in what can only be described as a black piece of something glued to his nether regions. Much like a train wreck- no-one could look away.

I never found out what happened to that gorilla and the mysterious thong guy. I hope that they are happy. I hope they are doing what they like to do. Hip thrusting and singing their way to a place where they can be free and happy.

Things started to slow down and for me at least, age and lack of training kicked in. My aspirin and Tums had kept me in the game, well at least on the bench, near the game-but alas – I had been taken to school by a crazy little blonde chick on a mission.

Maybe I would have faired better if I had brought my stunt liver. Maybe I just can’t mix metaphors or alcohol. Maybe I am just getting old. Can’t be, I love alcohol!

I woke up foggy but not in pain. Thankfully the weather was not cooperating so I gave myself a pass on cutting firewood. Sleep it off or sweat it out. I chose the sleep. Oh sweet sleep. For me, nothing is better than sleep. Or waking up spooning a seventy pound mutt- that’s the best!

It’s been a long time since I have been to a party with that much, dare I say it?, energy. I don’t think there was one rational conversation in that house the entire evening- and I loved it. People were just being themselves and having a great time. They took Lori and myself in like we were old friends and it was a great feeling. I haven’t laughed that hard since I saw the fat kid a few doors over trip on the stairs and smash his ice cream cone into his face. Fat kids are funny!

I am torn whether I should get myself ready for my next show down with the little crazy blond chick. She is now 40 so therefore she is officially old. I have to check with Lori first so I unofficially drop the alcoholic glove and issue the challenge to any takers- my turf – your booze – January – woodlot- prepare to freeze and be beaten by the local Zero the Hero. IF you aren’t brave enough for that there is always the Goose in the spring. So long suck-holes!

Friday, November 12, 2010


Muslim group burns poppies on Remembrance Day –Toronto Sun
Rage fills me right now. Disgust and outright rage. ‘Muslims Against Crusades’ defiled Remembrance Day yesterday by burning poppies, disrespecting our moment of silence and informing us that Muslims go to Paradise and our soldiers go to Hell.
“We want the government to pull the troops out from these countries and to stop interfering in our affairs." Stated one of the non caped ‘Crusaders’. I’ve got news for you Skippy – you are in Canada and you better be a Canadian citizen but it likely doesn’t matter to you since you refer to your former home country as “ours”. I am guessing that you are in Canada for a hot meal and free healthcare.

Things I’d Like to Point Out.

1) I am not against Muslims, Jews, Catholics or any religion.
2) The only reason you can be in Canada or the US and have a right to protest is due to the fallen soldiers of Canada and the US fighting and dying in some foreign land to preserve rights you now enjoy.
3) Most Canadians are not bleeding hearts and we are getting tired of your bullshit.
4) I think you would be hard pressed to find any Coalition Soldier in Afghanistan who would not like to be home and not have to be in your homeland ‘walking the wire’ everyday defending the rights of people who wouldn’t stand up for themselves.

‘Crusaders’ – you fled your homeland. You didn’t stand up for yourselves or your beliefs when you had the opportunity. Canadian soldiers came to fight for your freedom and die for your freedom. You ran away. But here you are, safe and taken care of, disrespecting the soldiers who marched into Hell while you fled from it.

You are welcome to go back to ‘your’ country. Protest there for what you believe in. You can likely do that now since OUR soldiers have paid the price to give you freedom. You won’t go. You will stay here, in Canada and continue to be a victim of your own circumstance. You will stay in Canada and enjoy your right to protest and piss people off.

It is upsetting to me that these people were allowed to protest on Remembrance Day. It disturbs me that this manner of protest is allowed at all. I am embarrassed that any level of Canadian government would allow this slap in the face to our veterans and active soldiers to occur.
Perhaps there is lesson to be learned. ‘No good deed goes unpunished’. Possibly the next time our soldiers are called to some foreign shore to deliver freedom and the right of every human to exist with dignity and rights, we as Canadians should just coldly close the door and worry about ourselves. When refugees gather at our gates for protection and freedom we just close the gates and send them on their way.

I want to thank all of our Veterans and active soldiers who were and are brave enough to step up and fight for what is right. I can rant and write like to this because of the sacrifices you made.

Friday, November 5, 2010


It has come to my attention that some people think I am, ‘anti-kid’. Nothing could be further from the truth. I believe kids are a valuable resource, like playing cards or firewood.

I jabber on about kids and young people much like any old fart who espouses their generational logic to anyone who doesn’t want to listen. I don’t have kids so I think that makes me very objective on certain issues.

For Instance;
Many of you who have kids make it your mission to tell everyone that, ‘Having children was the greatest thing that ever happened to me!’ Devil’s Advocate – What else can you say besides nothing? You can’t reverse you having kids. Instead of saying nothing though, you feel it’s your duty to urge others to make the same mistake you did. “ You know…having my leg torn off by rabid bunnies was the greatest thing that ever happened to me! I feel so much lighter with just one leg! It’s great! You should try it!” Not gonna happen Stumpy! I confronted a friend of mine once with the same paradox, about having kids, not the rabid bunny thing. When he finally understood what I was really trying to tell him he actually agreed, and then took his foot off of my throat.

I have seen the ridiculousness of parenting, and I cringed.

If a child is unable to cut the grass because of allergies, why is ok to give that child money to go golfing? Did I forget to carry the zero? You gotta be shittin’ me?! Stop! Please do not say, ‘Golf is exercise for the kids and is safer than cutting the grass!’ Bullshit! Give the little lump of precociousness an old fashioned reel mower and a half an acre of crabgrass. His or her fifteen year old baby fat will be gone before school starts in the fall, and if they lose a digit or two good for you! It’s hard to hold a golf club with your thumb and pinky. No expensive unused golf clubs taking up space in the garage.

A Gold Star for Everyone!
Understand this- not everyone is equal. We all have equal rights as citizens. That’s as far as equality should go. Equality is a right but lately it seems to be melded into a catch-all that has to mean everyone is equal. This is a lie and an outright bastardization of the true meaning of equality.
Why is it right to reward everyone equally? That’s not a reward- it’s a nail in societies casket. I’m sorry your husky special little guy looks like a puppy screwing a football as he gasps and gallumph’s his way to the already broken ribbon of the 40 yard dash. Tough luck kid. Just remember every sports team needs a statistician and someone to run the scoreboard. If the same wheezy kid kicks butt academically and averages 95% in all his classes, is it fair to give everyone 95%? I don’t think so and I believe you would be pissed if your little genius didn’t get his due. I don’t mean to stereotype the fat kid. They usually weren’t gifted academically or athletically.
Many years ago I was playing hockey with my nephew. I kept knocking him out of the way, shooting and scoring. I had finished three beers and figured I was up about 15 to minus 10. The little bastard slashed my shins and dropped me like a stone. He took off down to the other end shot and scored. He came back laughed at me and informed the score was zero/zero. I asked him how he figured the score was zero all. After he sighed in disbelief at how stupid I am I was informed that the teams in his hockey league were not allowed to keep score. Some of the parents (a small minority I found out later) didn’t want the kids to get hurt feelings by being told they lost. I slapped the glasses right off of my nephew and told him not to be stupid. He took off, grabbed the puck, and headed down the ice, whiffed at the puck and slammed into the net crossbar. The goofy little guy really needs his glasses. Five year olds are funny. Stupid but funny.
I left the little guy in a pool of his own blood to stay warm and stormed off to demand answers, more beer and some chicken wings.
You can rest assured I got those chicken wings and a cold beer and then got to asking some questions. The boy was right. They weren’t allowed to keep score. I was shocked but after and hour and a half of deferring and ignoring questions like,’ where is the boy?’ and ‘why can’t we see the boy?’ and ‘why is the boy’s coat blowing across the lawn?’ and ‘what are those coyotes doing out near the net?’ I had proof that we are all screwed. Shortly thereafter the door swung open and there was my favourite nephew. He looked a little pale and he must have tripped on his glasses, slammed head first into the ice and cut his ear wide open. The poor little guy vomited, mumbled something about wolves and head trauma, cried about his glasses and then fell asleep right there in the foyer.
If a five year old can stitch his own ear and gaping head wound you can be pretty damn sure he and the rest of his booger eating kind can count how many times they have put a puck in the net and how many times the other guys have put the puck in the net, perform some math magic and figure out who won the damn game. What soft brained, self-involved dolt could think this ‘everyone wins’ scenario is good for everybody? I’ll answer that by saying it’s the parent(s) who dropped the ball raising their kids. If you don’t teach your kids to fight and fend for themselves I truly believe you are not doing your job as a parent. Life isn’t fair. We all get up every morning and face challenges we may not want to deal with but we have to. If we don’t have challenges in our life we don’t learn.
I write this with conviction. I and others like me will ‘inherit’ your children when they go out into the workforce. If I inherit your children it is likely that they did not go onto to post secondary education proving my point that kids are dumb. I have inherited a few really good, hardworking kids. I have also gone thru ten times the number of good ones, of horribly misinformed and outright dumb and living in some entitlement ‘zone’ bad ones to be fortunate enough to get and keep the good ones I have.

The Misinformed and Hopeless I have had to sort out;
1) You don’t tell me what your work hours are going to be. I tell you. Like it or leave.
2) I don’t know everything but I have been doing this job for a very long time. You’ve been doing it for, oh, less than five minutes now so you know everything? Get over yourself kid.
3) Just because you took a day class to learn how to run a fork lift does not entitle you jump in my equipment and operate it.
4) I spent my time in the trenches so if you want to pout about me sitting in the operators seat of MY equipment you are definitely fighting a losing battle.
5) When you see me with a hand shovel on your site working- chances are I am doing your job.
6) See all those things lying on the ground that people keep tripping on? Do you see me picking that stuff up? Chances are I am doing your job.
7) Don’t tell me you need 15 minutes to wash your hands and to get ready to go home. The only way you could have possibly gotten dirty is if you tripped and fell into a puddle. You didn’t get dirty working.
8) If you see me driving a survey stake into the ground right next to you don’t be scared. I am putting the stake there as a reference to see if you are actually moving.
9) Don’t come to me when a piece of slag falls down the tongue of your boot. I told you to keep your pant legs over top of your boots roughly seventy two thousand times. I also told you to always carry a knife in your pocket. The knife is back up for your stupidity if you DID forget to put your pant legs over top of your boots. I know molten metal burns and I know you wish you could get your boot off. If you had a knife you cut your laces and kick your boot off and lessen the degree of the burn. If you had kept your pant legs over your boots we wouldn’t be having this talk. You see junior, I still have scars from doing the same thing.
10) Water up to your knees is a six pack. Anything over your knees is a case of beer. I had to buy so you have to buy.
11) You do not get to take your birthday off unless it falls on a Saturday, Sunday or Holiday. You’re a year older and no-one gives a crap. Grow up.
12) You forgot your lunch you want me to handicap a crew while you go and get something to eat? Why don’t you go home for the rest of the day and take tomorrow off too.
13) I swear on all things Holy- if your wife calls me and complains about the hours you are working one more time I am going to be forced to solve the problem, my way. Enjoy unemployment and all the time you will get to spend with your wife. She is always so pleasant to deal with.
14) No I do not want to hire your son. If the way you work is any indication of the mentoring you have undertaken with your son I am positive I could do better by leaning a broom up against a wall.
15) If I wanted a bad idea I would have asked you right at the onset of this catastrophe. Close your mouth and walk away.

This is business. If your kid can’t cut it feel free to blame me. Always remember that when your kid is thirty years old and living in your basement with his ‘old lady’ that you the parent are the only one to blame.

Kids need to get beat up, fall out of trees, cut the grass and have responsibility they don’t want and consequences they can’t bear. Please quit trying to be their bestest buddy. It’s a joke and you are the punchline. You can be friendly to your kids but until they are on their own you can’t be friends. It complicates the chain of command and gives the kids one more thing they can blame or guilt you with.

Teach your kids to overcome obstacles. Teach your kids consequences. Make sure they know you love them no matter how hard they make you hit them. Do you think I like having to write like this!

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The Death Knoll of Courtesy

The Death Knoll of Courtesy,

As I held the door to the local Tim Horton’s for a woman of about the same age as myself I can’t barely contain my want to, in a calm voice, say, “You’re welcome! Bitch!” I know I look like the type of person you would cross the street to avoid but as luck would have it we both happened to be entering the same building at the same time and through the same door. Since it outwardly appears that you are a woman I decide to be my normal self and open the door for you. This does two things. It means the door is held open for you showing COURTESY and it also means that I am letting you get in line before me inside. I know this is the wrong thing to do. After you self importantly ignore me for holding the door open for you I know damn well that you are the breed of human being that, even though you have been ordering the same thing for 30 years, you always feel compelled to read the entire menu board, slowly, before ordering the same damn thing – again. In simple terms – you suck as human being. You are rude, self- involved, and selfish-therefore you are a bitch! On top of your outright twittishness somehow, every time you order something you manage to forget that you eventually have to pay for the things you have ordered. I and the other aggravated people in line watch as you open every pocket your purse or steamer trunk sized ‘bag’ contains, patiently waiting for you as you decide to balance your check book and double check your grocery list in the midst of your searching for the $1.28 you owe for your diabetic coma inducing triple triple coffee. The poor girl behind the till is trying to decide whether or not to take a nap or kill herself. Do you see all the people behind you rolling their eyes? It is not admiration they are showing for you – it is contempt. Without a drop of sweat or any effort whatsoever you have the ability to annoy people just by being yourself.

Granted I am not a very patient person. I don’t like waiting in line. I don’t enjoy waiters or waitresses sitting down and trying to be my bestest buddy when I go out to eat. I think ‘flare’ on any uniform is a sign of at least partial brain damage. Thank you for sharing your family lineage with me. Where is my damn meal and why didn’t your father tie you inside a gunny sack with some rocks and throw you into a river? If I was your father I would punch your mother in the face for bringing you into this world. I am not rude or caustic to people (qualified- until they have gone past the three times and rage rule). For the most part I enjoy meeting new people. Original people. Not people who act ‘wacky’ or push a bad conversation much much further than it should go. IF I want ‘wacky’ I’ll talk to Crazy Vic the coffee truck driver. He drives around with aluminum foil in his pockets to scare of alien vampires. He was also around when the Saxons landed in England. Funny guy. Crazier than a shit house rat, but nice. I admire him for his originality. That is some good crazy!

Random Thought – Have you ever been ‘talked down’ to by a waiter or waitress? What the hell? You talk down to me? I am certain your degree in Social Science or Art Appreciation makes you qualified to comment on trivial, non life threatening issues like whether or not Chagal could beat up Godzilla, but really- you’re a fucking waiter! You could be replaced by an intercom and a hamster powered conveyor belt.

Now back to my whining. I have decided to start a list of things that need to be changed for the betterment of society;
1) If I hold the door open for you- acknowledge me, kick me, spit at me just realize that action has been taken to try and show you civility.
2) If you are pulled off the side of the road with a flat tire or mechanical problem please don’t ignore me or sit in your car and talk on your cellphone while I change your tire. I am not your underling. You never know how many lug nuts actually got tightened unless you see all of them get tightenend.
3) If I do not give your child money for her Chess Team trip to Ottawa for her school- don’t throw your arms up and get all indignant about my choice. My choice to ignore you and keep walking is about the only thing keeping your kid out of therapy for not having to witness her father get beat up by a parking curb.
4) Standing during an entire concert or hockey game makes you look like an idiot. You paid for the seat – use it. The people behind you think you’re a moron and would throw a pop on you but are worried that their aim isn’t the greatest.
5) Please stop telling me how smart your kids are. I know you are lying, unless they are adopted then there may be some hope for them.
6) Ask me or show me- I will respond accordingly.
7) Always say good morning. I don’t care if I caught you mounting the neighbours Husky- be polite-say good morning.
8) If you ever say or infer, ‘ Do you know who I am?’ I will punch you in the crotch.
9) To be continued

Tuesday, September 28, 2010



Let me begin by saying that I would love the waste of skin piece of shit douchebag who caused my adopted/mutt/ trash dog physical harm- I would love to meet you in daylight wherever you want. How the fuck could you cause harm to an animal whose sole mission is to wag his tail and protect his ‘owners’? You suck. Not only do you suck as person, I want to make it mission in life to make sure your kids know you suck. You scarred a dog- permanently. Whatever you did to this slobbery jack ass scarred his legs permanently. He is fine with it. He never whimpers or slows down because of it. It isn’t a handicap to him. I want to be your handicap. I want to show up to your house or place of work and kick you in the balls. You are a cowardly piece of shit and I want to cause you physical damage. You threw boiling oil or water on a dog that was lost and hungry. What was your master plan Copernicus?

Don’t misinterpret my rant as a need to gain entrance into the upper echelon of PETA. I don’t want or need anyone behind this mission. I want you to know I don’t need backing from anyone- I never will. I want you to step up and face an old fat bald guy. I WILL drive your head thru the asphalt of the nearest parking lot. Bring your friends. We’ll make it a day in the park.

His name is Bart. He hasn’t left my or my wife’s side since we were lucky enough to adopt him. It’s been 2 years since I have had this much belief in humankind and it’s a scarred black dog that makes me believe that people can forgive and forget.

Nothing would make me believe God/Allah/Yahweh is Just than seeing you being dragged behind GreyHound bus or Tanker truck with your scrotum wrapped around the driveshaft..

I want to punch your sister in the throat just to get your attention. I want to punch your wife/boyfriend in their naughty bits to discourage them from procreating. You don’t deserve children. You deserve herpes and severe scrotal trauma. Do not ever think you are a man. If I ever find out who you are- this fat bald guy is going to make you talk with a lisp and a stutter and hopefully cause enough trauma that you have to wear Depends for the rest of your life. ShitHead!
An Open Invitation to Anyone who harms a Street dog- ever!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

You Are Kidding Right?

You Are Kidding Right?

A few days ago, for whatever reason that triggered my anger, something everyone knows I am not prone to do, I finally said, “Enough!”

There is an obvious lack of manners in our society. General courtesy has gone bye-bye. I feel it is necessary to provide the following tips to all in the hope of bringing some courtesy back into our society.

Common Courtesy

1) Take that stupid fucking Ball cap off when you are indoors. I don’t care if your hair is a mess, if you are embarrassed because you are bald or you are trying to hide a gaping head wound. When you walk into someone’s house, a restaurant, church, a mall – TAKE YOUR HAT OFF! This applies to men. When the national anthem is played, when a funeral procession passes or when a lady is present- TAKE OFF YOUR HAT! The only free pass on the hat etiquette ‘thing’ is for religious beliefs or ceremonies, women, and when you are in public hallways. IF the Pope is walking thru the mall and we are positive he is a man – He gets a pass. Other than that it is in poor taste not to take your hat off. SideNote- If you are one of the douches that think wearing your ball cap cocked to the side is cool – get off my blog page. I don’t want you on here and if I see you and your stupid hat I am going to turn it the proper way by punching you in the face with a tire iron until it has rotated into the proper position. A ball cap turned backwards (outdoors) is acceptable if you are using an Auto-level, a transit or other similar instrument, or trying wedge your head in between a vehicles firewall and motor to effect some type of inspection or repair- other than that – you are a jack ass and get off of my blog page- Douche!
2) Pull up your pants or push down your underwear. Seeing the top piece of some girls string thong may make me and others giggle with glee for a second or two but the fact that you are showing your unmentionables to guys like me makes me wonder what kind of gal you are. Are you an Attention Whore? Do you have low self-esteem? Do you have high self-esteem? Did you buy the wrong size underwear? Did you borrow the wrong size underwear? Did you or the person you borrowed the underwear from wash them? Maybe I analyze things too much but you and your high riding unmentionables have just gotten me a smack in the side of the head by my wife. Gentlemen – do you have any idea how absolutely retarded you look when your pants crotch hangs down to your knees and your underwear is riding up near your belly button? You look like you just fell off the short bus at Value Village. You look Stupid. Stop it!
3) Acknowledge others around you. Say hello to people, give them the 'guy' nod just to let them know that you know they are alive. Eye contact is a good thing. It helps people understand you are not some drugged out bag of crap with bad intentions. If you say hello and don’t get a greeting in return who cares? You can always follow them to their next location and slash their tires and not feel bad about it. Hey, you tried to be courteous.
4) Turn your god damned cell phone off. I am usually the first person to walk into a meeting, shut my phone off and toss it on the table. It’s a sign that you are specifically dedicated to the meeting at hand. If you are so important that the meeting you requested can be interrupted by calls on your cell phone or text messages all the while wasting my time – you sir/madam can go have intercourse with yourself. If you are in a restaurant and it is your mission in life to disrupt other diners by talking nonsense on your cell phone, please don’t be weirded out when I start offering advice on what you should do. If I can hear you, in my mind you have made your conversation public, therefore I have been invited to partake in your conversation. If your kids keep calling you when you are out with friends you are legally obligated to return home and beat the devil out of them - it’s in the Bible I think. Instead of cell phones I think children should have GPS microchips installed in their frontal lobes. By tying this technology into your cell phone you will always know where the kids are, what rate of speed they are falling out of trees at - you would also be capable of violently shocking them causing them to wet their pants and need to return home to change- leaving the parents in full control and not vice versa.
5) Be on TIME. If I take the time to make reservations or plans for an event don’t piss me off by making me wait for you to get ready. If you are going to be late call me and let me know or offer to drive yourself. I can’t help it. I feel bad possibly making a restaurant I have chosen lose customers because you couldn’t turn your damn tv off and get ready. If you didn’t want to go in the first place-just say so. Don’t bugger up my night because you didn’t have the courage to say no. Also note that if you don’t like the restaurant or concert I have chosen to go to – FUCK OFF! Don’t try to change my plans. If you didn’t get off of your ass and try to organize something you have ZERO say in the matter. Your only recourse is not going. I have rule about meetings. I will be on time if I call a meeting. I will also make the meeting as short as possible. Any meeting over one hour is complete waste of time in my opinion. If you call a meeting and don’t show up within fifteen minutes of the start, and you haven’t called anyone to let them know you are running late – I leave. If you catch me at the door and demand that I return to your meeting- I will tell you to go fuck yourself. It may be ego kicking in on my part but you called the meeting, you needed to talk to me about something- not vice versa.
6) Respect the Ladies. Sure most women are insane and hard to understand, but be nice. If your wife or girlfriend is late getting ready for something – it is your fault for not lying to her and telling her your reservations were a half to one hour earlier than you told her. They can’t help themselves gentlemen. They want to look their best for you. Simply lie to them about the time you need to be somewhere. In the end it works out for better for both of you. She will look great and both of you will have something to discuss over dinner – mainly what an asshole you are for lying to her. TIP – it is the pants that always make her ass look big – not the other way around.
7) Chew with your mouth closed. I had no plans of entertaining a Garburetor over dinner. I don’t want to see food in your mouth, falling out of your mouth or being hurtled towards me or my meal while you try to tell some story while you have your noise hole stuffed with artichoke hearts and croutons. What the Hell is wrong with you?
8) Get your elbows off of the Table. I am not going to try and steal your food. Would you feel more at home if I put a trough on the table? You know that thing you’re sitting on? That’s a chair. Most chairs have back rests on them so you can…rest your back against them. If the chair doesn’t have a back rest it is likely a stool so therefore you are in a bar, not a nice restaurant. Don’t mind me staring at you. I am wondering what's going to come first. You chipping your teeth on the table or the hump sprouting out of your back from you hunching over that horrible way you do. If you are going to hunch over like a troll go find some bells to ring and get the hell away from me. I should punch your parent’s in the face for not beating table manners into you.
9) Move! You know you are in the way. I know you are stupid. Get the Fuck out of my way. You aren’t grocery shopping – you’re trying to have dinner by waiting for free samples. The store could be serving cat crap on a cracker and there you’d be waiting, blocking traffic. You suck. Punch yourself in the head. I don’t want to get stupid all over my fist.
10) The Service Industry. IF we are at a restaurant or bar together and the waitress seems to be trying – don’t make crass comments to her. She’s handling my food also and may be dating the six foot four inch cook in the kitchen who just got out of jail for raping sheep. I don’t like my food violated. If you want to be ignorant move to another table- I’ll violate your food with the gorilla in the kitchen. Vice versa – if you are in a store and no service personnel, sales associate or whatever they call themselves now is around, you are completely within your rights to run down the aisles bare assed and tackle them. Being bare assed just kicks it up a notch. The next time you sneak past the store’s security guards and then remove the disguise you had to use- I guarantee the staff in the store will remember you. Poor Hector. You used to be so full of life. Now you just stand around, suck your thumb and shuffle from side to side.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Ten Commandments – My Way Part Un.

I am not a religious kind of guy. I was baptized and dragged to church in my youth. I didn’t ‘get’ religion. I understood the concept but just never got into it.

My disposition towards religion was cemented after attending a Catholic High School for two years. Priests and teachers shaking down kids for money for ‘Jesus’. The guilt pushed on kids and the general bullshit associated with not going to Hell.

For the last few odd years I have realized that I am not anti-God. I am anti-organized religion. I cannot understand the concept of paying someone on earth to get into heaven. Won’t my deeds and actions decide whether I go to heaven or not?

The foundation of Christianity is the 10 Commandments. I think they are the pretty good guidelines for living a good safe life. I think there may be some issues of the interpretation caused by two thousand years of interpretation.

The First Commandment: "Thou shalt not make to thee other gods"
I like it. This should include professional athletes, egomaniacs and politicians

The Second Commandment : "Thou shalt not profane the name of God."
I have a really tough time with this one. My first dog thought her name was “Goddammit”. I just rolls off the tongue too effortlessly and is more socially acceptable than the F – word.

The Third Commandment : "Thou shalt keep the sabbath holy"
Ever since shopping has become a competitive activity this Commandment has lost all meaning.

The Fourth Commandment : "Thou shalt honour thy parents"
Where to start on this one. I wish this was still the case but I hear kids say things to their parents’ I wouldn’t say to my enemies. I tried to honour my parents. This simply involved trying not to get caught when I was doing something dishonourable. When I did get caught thine parents’ smack on the ass usually brought me back into line.

The Fifth Commandment: "Thou shalt not steal"
Easy, simple and correct. Don’t Steal. What the hell is hard to understand about that? Every politician, at every level of government and every corporate raider should have the Fifth Commandment branded on their forehead. I plead the Fifth!

The Sixth Commandment: "Thou shalt not commit adultery"
There seems to be a lot of confusion with this Commandment but if President Clinton and Monica Dress Stain have taught me anything it’s that a cigar isn’t just a cigar.

The Seventh Commandment: "Thou shalt not kill"
I have interpreted this to mean I shall not kill people… who don’t deserve to die or gets in the way of my vehicle, or happens to fall after I push them in the stairwell. The really nice thing about this Commandment is that it does not specifically state ‘ No thinning of the Human Herd.’

The Eighth Commandment: "Thou shalt not bear false witness"
It is wise to never lie about bears.

The Ninth Commandment: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house"
I am good with this. If I coveted my neighbour’s house I would have to fill my house with feral cats, asbestos siding, 2 rotten motorboats, a broken down chicken coop/garage and collapse the roof on my house. Some things should not be coveted.

The Tenth Commandment: "Thou shalt not covet (or desire) thy neighbor’s wife, his manservant, or his maidservant, his ox, or his ass"

I don’t see what is wrong with coveting your neighbour’s wife. Especially if she has nice cans. The part about manservants and maidservants is a little antiquated and should be deleted. I live in Puce so coveting livestock is regionally acceptable and expected. I’m not a real judgemental guy so if you want to covet your neighbour’s ass go right ahead, I’ll be in the garage ignoring you and drinking my homophobia away.

Basically, if you aren’t a self centered douchebag, if you help people by stopping when they are in trouble, or keep driving past them because you are too stupid to help them, in a way, you are helping. Be nice. Help out. Say good morning. Don’t kill and don’t lie. I am pretty sure most of us will get into heaven.

I hope it is a heaven where the chicks are topless and the bar is always open.