F*ck The Whales!!!

I love breasts. I am a great fan of them. Then again, I'm a guy, so that probably goes without saying. Whatever the size, it makes no difference to me. I like them all. Breast cancer, has got to be one of the most foul and evil creations ever to set foot upon this earth.

Cancer in general sucks ass, but for something so disgusting and evil to happen to something so pleasant and wonderful, is heinous at best. It's like obliterating teddy bears with mechanized steel and armory. Topping something as sweet as Peaches & Cream with vinegar and Tabasco Sauce. The two simply should never go hand-in-hand (pardon the pun).

So in addition to the many children's charities that I try to contribute to, I also try to give when I can, to various Breast Cancer charities. I say "To hell with the whales!!! Save the boobies!!!" Everyone benefits from breasts. When was the last time the whales did anything for ya? If you go whale watching, you may have a fond memory for a week or so, but if you see a nice pair of breasts....? That is forever!

As grand as the many charities are, for Breast Cancer, I'm beginning to think the promotion is getting a little over the top. I see in the flyers that come to my house, that you can now buy Breast Cancer tools. Pink hammers with ribbons emblazoned on them. (...Hee hee, pink hammers...) I even saw Pink Lemonade with the ribbons affixed to them. The think that I thought really went a little too far was the chewing gum (pictured in the bottom RH corner of the photo above). Each piece of gum had a little pink ribbon on both sides of it. I realize that it's probably only a matter of punching a few buttons into a computer to get this to happen, but Jesus Christ! When is enough enough?

As I stated before, I love breasts. I am a great fan of them. Breast cancer is amongst the greatest evils of this planet, right along with white supremacy and soccer. All of them should be abolished. I even don't mind all the pink shit. I'm a Bret Hart fan, and like the moniker he had "Real men wear pink!" However, the world is getting flooded with too many pink ribbons. It's a good think they're associated with breasts, cuz if they were associated with dick-cancer, I think they would've fallen by the wayside, long ago.

[The birds pictured above are Blue-Footed Boobies]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

The children have another day of preparation, donning their multi-colored outfits of princesses, gargoyles, twinky vampires, or superheros. My nephew, this year, is going to be one of the knights of the infamous round table, but not Sir Lancelot, because Lancelot was a douche-bag. (My sentiment, NOT my nephew's.)

Gone, however, are the opportunities for office workers and alike to wear their costumes, until next year. I believe so, anyway. It's been so long since I've worked in an atmosphere that allowed displays of Halloween folklore. There was a Subway where the owner, a fairly attractive cougar, had all of her (also attractive) female employees dress up in a menagerie of sexy-looking nurses, maid, and cops. Mmm. Sexy cop. I worked at a place a few years ago, where one of the girls dressed like a sexy cop. That image emblazoned on the inside of my brain. I may be hit with Alzheimer's one day and I may forget who all my friends and family are, but I believe I will always recall S_____ dressed as the sexy cop!

That's one of the reasons I love Halloween so much. I completely admit to that. I like the idea of dressing up in costume, but have never been real successful at it. Either that or never had the budget to do it write. But I love Halloween for the sexy garb. It's like that line from the movie "Mean Girls". Halloween, the one day a year a girl can dress like a total sl*t! I agree whole-heartedly.

God bless those young women. I suppose older women can do it too, but that's just shameful. Most times it's like seeing an animal suffering by the side of the road. You just want to put it out of it's misery. Too mean, ya think? Trust me! If you seen me in sexy garb, you'd want to put me out of my misery, too. If not for any other reason than, I've clearly lost my f*cking mind!

I love the sexy costumes. Sadly, another year has passed and thus, another opportunity to ogle the girls from afar. Not all is lost, though. Perhaps for lunch tomorrow, I may happen by a familiar Subway for a sandwich. If I'm lucky.... Some more happy memories for when I'm old and drooling in the old-folks home....

Better Than

"I recently became a member of an exclusive club." comedian Dane Cook announced to an arena full of his adoring fans, "It's the 'I dropped my phone in a toilet full of pee' club." The audience erupted in laughter at the premise, some I'm sure, also members of that same elite group. Well, today, I'm happy to announce that I did NOT drop my cell phone into a toilet bowl full of my own urine. However, considering this is a day in which I got shit on, it's only fitting that I be pissed on, as well.

My boss was in town, from his home base in Calgary. It's actually pretty great working for a company where your boss is one province away. There aren't any shenanigans taking place, but it's nice to not have someone breathing down your neck at every waking turn. I've been employed with this company for a little over six months now. When I signed my contract at the beginning of my tenure, I was promised a review at six months, with a $1 raise. I thought this was great, considering my previous job would nickel and dime you to death with measly twenty-five cent "slaps in the face" (as I called them). So when my boss-man rolled into town, I thought this was the opportunity to receive that raise.

I first received a sheet from him, on which had several words on it. Shit like "creativity" and "attendance" and other words associated with my position. I was to rate myself between 1 and 5, one being really shitty and five being absolutely perfect. I filled it out, being brutally honest where I thought I needed to be, and he did the same, adding comments on each line. Then shortly after lunch, I sat down with him to discuss what we'd written.

Apparently my being "brutally honest" paled in comparison to his read on me and my situation. He ranked me pretty f*cking low on most of the points. However, in discussing my take on them, I managed to change his mind more than once. Closer to four or five times, to be perfectly honest. He liked that I recognized where I needed to improve and adjusted the scores accordingly. After our talk, I felt relieved. It was one of the best reviews I'd ever had. Not like my former employer who'd rake you over the coals, then not offer up any guidance on how to improve. While basking in my accomplishments, I hesitated for a moment then asked about my raise, to which the boss-man responded, "I discussed it with B__ (who is the manager for western Canada), and we both agree that we're going to pass on giving it to you for now."

He saw that I was physically taken aback by this comment. "It's not that you don't deserve one," he explained, "it's just the sales are down in this branch." That's f*ckin' horse shit, I thought. Of course, the sales are down. There's ONLY two f*cking people working here. One's an idiot and the other's me, who doesn't know what the f*ck he's doing. "Maybe in the new year," he explained.

"Okay." I said, thinking that was a hell of a shot to take. I like to think, and he seemingly agreed, that although my knowledge and experience is limited in the hydraulics field, I've done rather well in the short time that I've been associated with this company. Although, getting shit on for something out of my hands, really doesn't seem fair.

So fast forward to my coming home. I had to go to the bathroom really bad. I had the first inklings that something was afoot, when I was at the grocery store. Being one who has an increasingly short span of opportunity between my body's alerting my brain to the need for bladder evacuation, I knew that my window was decreasing exponentially. Generally, not to share too much information with you, when my body "says" pee, I need to get to a bathroom quick! The same goes for the other end of the spectrum too, only I have a little longer window there because of the ability to clench my butt cheeks together. Stop the "turtling-effect", so-to-speak. But this was definitely urinary-related.

I rushed home, the best I could, obeying posted traffic speed limits all the while. Thank Christ the kiddies are out of school when I come home from work. I got into the garage and retrieved all my shit out of the trunk, and headed into the house. Times growing more and more desperate. There was now a little sidle and skip step in my walk, as I sang my ever-popular song, "Jeffy's Gotta Pee!" The lyrics are real simple. It goes like this. "Jeffy's gotta pee! Jeffy's gotta pee! Oh my god, does Jeffy gotta pee!" [repeat, second verse - same as the first!]

Now if anyone's read my previous blog, you'll know that I f*cked my leg up pretty f*cking bad the other day, after a nasty fall at work. The doctor says it's a groin pull and I'll take her word on that, but it feels more like a tearing of my quadricep. I haven't any strength in it and every step I take feels like flesh being violently torn from the bone, like watching a lioness tear into a wildebeest. So no matter how much volume I was giving the song, trying to make it down the stairs and to the bathroom was now a desperate battle, followed by removing my shorts 'n' underwear.... I'll spare you the details.

The end result was not pleasant. I sat on the seat, inspecting the aftermath. The only conclusion I could succumb to was "It figures that on a day that I'd get shit on, I'd get pissed on as well."

One proverb that I often repeat to those around me, seems eerily fitting here is "It's better to be pissed off, than pissed on." Now I can admit to being both.

Below The Belt

I used to hear about this athlete or that athlete being removed from the roster due to a groin injury. I never really understood what all that injury involved, but regularly thought that the athlete was being a primadonna. That the injury really wasn't that bad. That with a little bit of TLC, the slugger could lace up his skates or cleats and jump right back into the swing of things. I thought that all they had to do was "man up" and walk off their injury. Holy crap, was I in for a rude awakening.

It would seem that the "Powers That Be", the gods of professional athleticism, have heard enough of my blasphemy and graced me with the very same injury that I've mocked others with for so long. Anyone who knows me, can testify that throughout my shitty, yet distinguished life, I've have suffered through a great many injuries. I've had a few surgeries, one that left me quite disfigured. And other injuries that probably should have hurt more than they did. I can assure all readers, that despite my grocery list of "who's who" injuries, I've not had to deal with the level of discomfort I am feeling with regards to this personal injury, which I acquired yesterday at work.

The day had begun like any other day. My co-hort, Mr. G_____ was not in, as he had other engagements to tangle with. I'd come into the main office, clicked on my computer, then went to the warehouse to turn on the lights and unlock the back door. As I approached the front office, I was about 15 feet from the door that divides the two rooms of the building when I heard the telephone ring. If you don't answer it right away, it goes to voice mail, which can be a pain in the ass sometimes, so I picked up my pace to beat the ringer. That's when my foot caught the corner of a rug that, to this day I can't figure out it's purpose by that door. Instead of a little hop and a skip, like usual, I instead came crashing down with a tremendous THUD! I must've twisted and contorted my body in such a way to prevent extensive injury, because as I sat there, against the coolness of the steel door, I didn't feel any pain. However, in the hours that followed, something began to augment.

Gone was my usual swagger about the office (and in life), and in it's place an increasing limp matched with agonizing discomfort. I went to my doctor earlier this morning, who ran a couple of tests and confirmed to me that I have a "pulled groin". I was overwhelmed with understanding and compassion. I actually felt bad for mocking all those athletes I'd heard of with similar injuries. I understood now, why they'd be removed from their respective active rosters. This was an injury that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. That is, except one piece of shit, who shall remain nameless, but looks like a "wisent". That idiot deserves to feel this kind of pain... For being a dickhead!

So to all the athletes who may come across this blog, please allow me this opportunity to apologize for mocking your groin injuries, past and present. I never realized the extensiveness of this discomfort and you can best be sure that I will never mock sports-related injuries again.

As for all the soccer players of the world... SCREW YOU!!! Soccer's not a sport!!! It's gay, but not a sport!!! I say, "Get up and walk it off, sissy!!!" The only groin pulls you guys are getting, are the one's you give each other in the locker room showers. Circle jerks, anyone?

Molestation of Justice

"Innocent 'til proven guilty". Hopeful words idolized by anyone on the receiving end of justice. "The opposition have to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am guilty of the offense accused of me, by my accusers."

However, in recent memory, these words are not in the vocabulary of most. I don't know if it's the advent of technology that has involved public opinion more now, than it ever did throughout history. I know the media, has always contributed in large part to public opinion, but with the added features to day-to-day life, I doubt that the 24-hour news channels are the lone contributors to the backwards thought of today's "man on the street". Although, the "absolute belief" in one's guilt was present during the Salem Witch Trials. Women thrown into the river... If they floated, they were heretics and burned to death. If they drowned... Then they were innocent of witchcraft, but still dead never the less.

Still, I am somewhat fascinated by this backwards thinking. How so many can be certain of one's guilt, even without hearing all the facts and evidence. Unfortunately, today we are a "CSI" generation, and most consider themselves "armchair forensic experts" on a variety of subject, though we lack the proper education. I, myself, not completely innocent of this fact either, finding myself faced with some legal troubles once upon a time, and referring back to my knowledge of TV's "Law & Order", desperate to find a legal loophole.

Listening to those around me, though, everyone seems so certain of guilt, it's almost frustrating enough to the point of wanting to scream. Case and point.., the recent Casey Anthony trial. "Tot Mom" accused of murdering her young daughter, Caylee Anthony. She was ultimately acquitted of the accusations, and people went into a spiraling uproar. The weeks following the acquittal, the news was riddled with discussion tables on how American Justice had let a killer walk free. Do I think Casey Anthony was guilty of murdering her daughter? It doesn't matter what the f*ck I think. She may have contributed to the accidental death of Caylee, but cold-blooded murder? Although it does happen, I would hope that most mothers would be incapable of such a horrendous act. But Double-Jeopardy takes effect, and she can no longer be tried for the death of the little girl. So drop it, already.

Society is unable to simply drop stuff, though. Unless there's something else to distract them, they're going to lock their teeth into anything they deem an injustice, like a ravenous pitbull. Amanda Knox, recently released from an Italian prison, after charges of murder were dropped. I'd heard some about this subject over the past few years, but never invested much thought into it. Then one morning, as I readied myself for work, I overheard a discussion on CNN, about the consideration of the charges being reversed. She, her (then) boyfriend, and a drifter, were accused of murdering her [British] room mate. She'd always denied that she had anything to do with it, as did the boyfriend. The usual banter from anyone accused of any crime. The drifter, however, admitted to having sex with the victim prior to her murder. I thought to myself, "They think she helped a homeless guy kill her room mate? She'll be released." Low and behold she was, but in the weeks since her return home, I've heard the media constantly speak out about the injustice of another wrong-doer, being released back into society. HOLY F*CK, people! Just f*ckin' drop it! It doesn't even concern you.

The one thing that does continue to elude me. To confuse me further, is the Michael Jackson trial. Dr. Conrad Murray on trial for the alleged murder of the Prince of Pop, Michael Jackson. Again, another case of society deciding the already guilt of the man accused. Do I think the guy is guilty? Of course, I do. The man is clearly a f*cking idiot! At least with the previous examples, there is a plausible chance of innocence, even if people refuse to admit it, but Dr. Murray is clearly a moron, and whether he injected the pop star with the lethal dose or not, he made the drugs available to Michael Jackson, which should make him guilty, regardless.

That's not the thing that confuses me. Quite the contrary, his idiocy is quite apparent. What eludes me is society's love of Michael Jackson. As an artist, he was quite ingenious. I will grant you that. However, the man was a f*cking pedophile. He liked children, and not in a good way. He liked to touch them and who knows what else he did to them.

In the early 1990's, he was accused of child molestation! He never even went to trial for that, choosing instead to pay the child and his family an undisclosed amount of money, which dictates to me "Hey! I'm guilty of fondling your private parts, but I'll pay you lots of money to just go away and forget about it." And the kid did. And everyone did forget about it. Until it f*cking happened again.

Where was the undeniable belief of absolute guilt on Michael Jackson? Why is it if a pedophile gets murdered by his neighbours, it's looked upon as "justice", but Michael Jackson was upheld as an American icon. He gets accused TWICE of inappropriately touching children, but because he invented the Moonwalk, "he must be innocent". That f*cking bullshit!!!

Michael Jackson had a few popular songs, invented a cool dance move that is imitated poorly by millions, and liked fondling children. Not only did he get off scot-free, but he was also allowed to be a father, naming one of his children "Blanket"! What the f*ck kind of name is that for a kid? (But I digress...)

It is said that "Justice is Blind". I think society are the ones who are blind. No one's "innocent 'til proven guilty" in their eyes. Then if the accused are proven innocent, they rant and rave to be heard, when in reality, all that energy could be useful and more productive elsewhere. As for Michael Jackson... He's further proof that rich white men can get off any felonious charges in America.

It is probably not a popular belief, but of all the atrocities that occur in the world on a daily basis, the premature passing of Michael Jackson, probably wasn't the worst thing to ever happen. The world doesn't need another bubble gum pop song or a new dance step. And it definitely didn't need to see a third trial of molestation charges involving the Prince of Pop.

W.M.D.'s

I actually got a bloody nose from it. Kneeling over cleaning my little buddy, Monkey's litter box, the stench was SO foul that I got a bloody nose from it. My eyes were watery and burning, and all the while I was cussing up a storm.

For the life of me, I cannot understand how a creature, who actually smells half decent (usually) and look as cute as he does... (I mean, look at him. Just LOOK!) Cute, right?

Hopefully, in all seriousness, this blog doesn't get into the hands of those in the Department of Defense. I don't want them to "commandeer" my pet cat, to perform scientific experiments on him. Experiments like if you feed him something a little more corrosive than just Chicken-flavoured dry cat food and water, if his shit and piss can get more lethal than it already is.

There is no paint downstairs or even any dry-wall in the basement, where I keep Monkey's litter box, thank God. Otherwise, I'd be painting and re-painting the walls... Holy shit!!! As disgusted as I get with him and all the crap he's produced in his box, he comes to me later on, lays at my feet, looks up innocently and meows. He's such a sweetie, that as disgusted as I am, I gotta forgive him. It's not his fault his shit is so foul. It's probably mine for feeding him the food I do. But it's the only food he'll eat. Oddly, if it's not the same size and texture, he won't eat it...

He doesn't give me shit when I'm feeling a little gassy, so I can't stay upset with him. But if the army comes a callin'... They can clean his box. F*ck that noise! That shit is foul!

HUGH-ge Excitement!

In an era where we bear witness to all sorts of remakes via television and the movies, it's refreshing to see one that takes a unique twist. Although the movie "Real Steel" isn't touted as a remake of any kind, the intelligent audience member, can't help but revel in the similarities, story-wise, between the Academy Award winner, "Rocky" and this year's "Real Steel". The former starred Sylvester Stallone as a small time boxer who's given a shot at the title for a one time quest for glory. The latter, stars Hugh Jackman, as a once mid-card boxer who never made it to the big time, until now, via the strength and fortitude of a robot who's given a shot at the champion for a one time quest for glory... Sounds familiar, don't it?

"Real Steel" takes place a few years from now, when the crowd's taste for blood and action, far exceeded what any human being could dish out in a ring against one another. Exit the two-fisted gladiators, in with the computer and engineering geeks, who construct robots for full-size bouts of Rock 'em Sock 'em! However, while the film is fully capsulated by impressive digital effects, the story still carries itself on a human level. Jackman plays Charlie Kenton, a down on his luck ex-boxer and deadbeat dad, who in a moment of greed, agrees to take charge of his young son who's recently lost his mother, in exchange for money, with which he hopes to get his robot fighting career back on course. Throughout the story, he learns to love, not only his son, but himself.

It's a touching story, wrought with excitement and action, and riddled with some humour, as well. There is something here that will appeal to just about any sort of audience you put in the seats. Although, I doubt "Real Steel" will win any "Best Picture" or "Best Director" awards, it should still win in your hearts.

Backseat DRIVEr...

I read a boat-load of reviews about the movie "Drive" which stars Canadian heart-throb, Ryan Gosling. All the reviews about the flick came up quite positive, supplying all the "oohs" and "aahs" that are standard in the praising of a film. Even the movie previews online and that were briefly shown on television, seemed to boast the same appraisal of the movie. "Ground breaking!" said one rave. "Fresh and exciting!" read another. "The most original film in years!" was another positive review.

The preview that I viewed online, by my own admission, featured Gosling's character behind the wheel of a Mustang GT, pulling off some amazing stunts that I've not seen in years. Such excitement, were some of the maneuvers, that all the automobile stunts combined from the "Transporter Trilogy", seemed like a Sunday afternoon drive through the country, by comparison. Unfortunately... [Spoiler Alert] If you wish to see a movie chock-full of similar driving styles, you're better off to put the YouTube preview on repeat, because equally exciting stunts are not to be found in this movie.

Story-wise, I don't know who the critics were who claimed this movie to be "fresh" and "original", because it seemed like the same ol' formula movies that plague our movie screens week-to-week. Basically, this is a story about a mysterious loner, who is befriended by an attractive single-mother and the two become close, only to be confronted with her convict husband who comes back into the picture and soon lures the young mother of one into his dark criminal past, so in a moment of weakness, our "hero" steps up to help only to have the world come crumbling down around them all. You know, typical "boy-meets-girl-meets-convict husband-meets-dirtbag scum-meets-blood, murder & mayhem". We've seen it a thousand times.

So just when you thought the movie couldn't get much hokier, then there's a 180 degree flip and there ultra-violence that even made me a little disturbed. Just over-the-top violence that really didn't make much sense and... Oh... I don't want to waste any more of my time or thoughts on this decrepit shitty movie.

For those who haven't seen this movie, count your lucky stars and be thankful you never wasted your hard earned cash on this crap. This movie, "DRIVE" SUCKS MAJOR ASS!!! For those who spent their money, contributing to the $27M+, I am dreadfully sorry for your loss. And for those offering up such rave reviews..., when did you sell your souls, you lying piece of shit c*cks*ckers?!?