November 29th

The date November 29th has always been an important date for me. Not only is it the day of my birth, a day that should become a mandatory day off from work and school for everyone, but because so much has occurred on November 29th, throughout the ages. Some good and albeit, some not-so-good. A lot of good and important people have been born upon this day. And from what I've read recently, a lot of people have also died on this day. However, so I hear, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

For instance, I read that in 1963, a Trans-Canada flight crashed 4 minutes after take-off in Montreal, Quebec, killing all 111 onboard. Not really a day for celebration. Actress Natalie Wood drowned off Catalina Island, in 1981. Much mystery surrounded the accident and the case has been recently re-opened for investigation, which many speculate is because a book has just been published on the subject and re-opening the case will boost book sales. Aren't writers just greasy, sometimes?

Actor Cary Grant died in 1982 at the age of 82. In 1984, a Korean flight disappeared near Burma, with 115 people aboard. Not surprising for that region. I've seen them drive cars. In 1991, 17 people were killed in an astounding 164-car wreck during a sandstorm on Interstate Number Five near Coalinga, California. It's not known if any Korean drivers were involved.

Although a lot of bad shit has rained down on this day, a lot of good has become of it too. For instance, in 1890, the Navy demolished the Army by a score of 24-0 in the first ever Army-Navy football game, which was played at West Point, New York. GO NAVY!! Ever wonder why the Air Force never plays? Fly boys throw like girls.

The first flight over the South Pole, was made on this day by U.S. Navy pilot, Lt. Cmdr. Richard E. Byrd. Kind of ironic... Bird. Byrd. GO NAVY!!!

In 1947, U.N. General Assembly passed a resolution calling for the division of Palestine between the Arabs and the Jews. I wonder how that's been going.... Hmm?

Also on this date, Bill Gates adopted the name Microsoft for the company he and Paul Allen had formed. And in 2004, handsome Japanese actor, Godzilla receives a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame.

It's the birthdays on this day, that have me the most stoked. There are many people born this day, both famous and alike. Pictured above, are just a few of those people. Tom Sizemore (Heat), Don Cheadle (Colors), Anna Faris (House Bunny), Garry Shandling (Iron Man 1 & 2), "Danger" Ehren (Jackass), Gena Lee Nolin (Baywatch), Jeff Fahey (Lawnmower Man) and Larry Joe Campbell (Hall Pass). Also included is fellow Canadian, Howie Mandel (Deal or No Deal). Not to mention, WWE Hall of Famer's "Mean" Gene Okerlund and Jerry "The King" Lawler, and future Hall of Famer, John "Bradshaw" Layfield, who ironically a few years ago not only shared my birthday, but we'd both injured ourselves by tearing our left bicep muscles. His, undoubtedly, from a mishap in the ring, where as my injury was far less glamorous.

I have always held this day in high regards. To most, it's just another day. To me, it's an occasion. Not only was this world blessed by having me born into it this day, but it should be a day held in high regard, like Thanksgiving or Independence Day or Christmas even. Every one should have this day off. Spend it with family. Spend it with friends. As soon as this is posted I'm going to go spend it with my boy, Monkey. Unfortunately, for me, today, I was woken up at the break of 6am with a mind-splitting migraine. Even now, after pumping myself full of prescription narcotics for fighting this ailment, my head still pounds.

So go forth, people. Give your loved ones a squeeze or a hug, I mean. Don't go all "Sandusky" on your family, like some kind of homo. Commemorate this day. Celebrate it! Make it an event. For it is a day that one of history's truly greatest human beings was born. ME!

Bodacious

I have a list of "sports" in my head. On one side are games that I consider to be actual sports and on the other, games that are NOT sports. What decides the criteria is whether I can do it or not. I'm not athletic by nature, so if I am able to perform the sport in question, then for obvious reasons, it cannot be considered a sport.

For instance, I cannot throw a football. Therefore, football IS a sport. I don't know how to skate, so hockey IS a sport. I suppose in that matter, so is figure skating. As well it should. I've seen "Battle of the Blades" in which former NHL'ers participate in figure skating competition for charity. I recall former Maple Leaf, Tie Domi, commenting during his stint in the first season, saying he thought it'd be easy, but he was greatly surprised by the work involved in perfecting the craft of figure skating.

On the other side of the coin though, there are "games", and I use that term lightly, like soccer. You run, you kick a ball. Oooh. Real f*cking tough. I'm asthmatic, but I can run. I can kick a f*cking ball. Soccer IS NOT a sport. Plus the fact that it's gay, doesn't help it's case none, either.

Golf, also, is not a sport. I can do it. Not well, but I can do it. Plus, it's more of a pastime, than a sport. It's just something men do to get away from their wives for a few hours. And given that most men, not all, but most men are married to nagging hags, the idea of escaping for a few hours on the course is far more appealing than putting a bullet in their head. I concur, fella's.

There is one "sport", that I don't consider to be a sport at all, though. It's not one that I can do, nor would I ever attempt to do. It's both, f*cking retarded and far too dangerous to try. That is bull riding. I can't help but wonder, how bored was the first guy in history, to ever try riding a f*cking bull? Bronco busting a horse, as cruel as that seems, I understand as people have been riding horses for centuries, if not longer. Riding a bull, on the other hand, what the f*ck? Riding close to 2000lbs of pure muscle, adrenaline, and anger, as it tries to throw you off and kill you.

The bull pictured above, is named Bodacious. During his career, in the 90's, no man was able to beat him. He, on the other hand, beat many a rider. To a pulp. It is written that Bodacious had one particular move he performed repeatedly. That was to put his head down in the dirt, bringing his butt high in the air, thus forcing the rider forward. Then Bodacious would whip his head back, smashing the riders face in the process. It's said that one rider thought he'd better the bovine, by wearing a hockey mask, but this still ended with his nose being broken and bursting his eye sockets.

Yet, when incidents like this occur in the rodeo industry, everyone is shocked and surprised. This is what confuses me. People acting like f*cking morons and being hurt as a result, and STILL people are surprised. If someone's spinning a loaded pistol like a cowboy, then drops and it shoots their face off, we're all like "What the hell did you expect was going to happen, you dumb shit?!?" So why is failing to ride nearly a ton of piss 'n' vinegar, such a surprise when it turns and gores your stupid ass?

I think most cowboys are a little gay to begin with. I mean, look at their clothes? Who spends that much time picking out a hat? And paisley? Don't get me started. Another blog for another day. But to "try and prove your manhood" by riding a bull? Talk about your "overcompensating". Yeesh!

Bad Touch

Seems that this Penn State fiasco is flooding the news reels as of late. The sex scandal in which one of the assistant coaches has been caught fornicating with children for the past fifteen or so years. This subject doesn't really affect me one way or the other, but after listening to the media banter back and forth on what should have been done, by whom, and when, I find myself, now, filled with some opinions on the matter.

Paterno, who up until just last week, had been coaching the Penn State Nittany Lions for close to fifty years. The man who holds records for the winning-most coach, with an astounding 409 victories, allegedly knew of the misconduct of his assistant coach, Jerry Sandusky, and some of the children who were in his charge. Subsequently, JoePa has been dismissed of his coaching duties, due to the black smudge he's put on the university. Although, when you look at all the details, it's been revealed that Coach Paterno did act within the guidelines that were in place for him for handling such misconduct. However, because the controversy is so blatantly wrong, he's going to be the fall guy for the entire scandal...

The scandal that erupted this past week, however, was the mention of then-graduate assistant, Mike McQueary, who'd reported to Coach Paterno, that he had walked in on Assistant Coach Jerry Sandusky who was at the time, sodomizing a young ten year old boy in the showers. Many have speculated as to why McQueary failed to stop the rape, even suggesting that if they were in his shoes, that they'd have charged Sandusky and not only removed him from the child, but would've assaulted him physically. I believe shock-jock, Howard Stern mentioned that he would've punched Sandusky's teeth down his throat.

It's tough to say what a person would or wouldn't do in such a situation. Everyone wants to believe that they're the tough guy who's going to save the day, but who can say for sure, how they're going to react to such a shocking discovery. I, myself, would have probably intervened, and likely would've gotten my ass kicked by the stocky naked guy with the boner. This, on the other hand, would've given the young victim ample time to flee to safety.

I can't speak for Mike McQueary, except for the fact that he is a ginger. Bright orange hair and little to no pigment in his skin. This is likely why he failed to intervene. There's no such thing as a tough ginger. Throughout history, no tough gingers. Even Richie Cunningham, though he'd gotten into a scuffle or two with Ralph Malph and Potsie, The Fonz was always there to bail their wimpy asses out. Even Ron had Harry and Hermione to save his ass on more than one occasion. So there you have it. Even in Hollywood, there's no fiction so unbelievable as the premise of a tough ginger. THAT is why Mike McQueary never stepped in.

Although I make light of some of what has transpired, I in no way condone the mistreatment of children, in ANY way, especially the sexual misconduct that transpired over the past few decades.

There's talk now that Joe Paterno's name will be erased from the record books and from the trophy's that align the halls of Penn State. This I disagree with. I don't think it's right to erase someone from existence just because of an oversight. I say "oversight", because the man is in his f*cking 80's. He's eighty-four f*cking years old. Try talking to your grandparents about an adult man, in a prestigious position in society, having sex with children. They'll never believe such a thing could occur. Even though they've been on the planet since dinosaurs ruled the earth, and know how f*cked the world can be, they will never believe someone who is well-respected in the public, could manage something so heinous. JoePa, is the same way. It's been speculated that the man has been losing his marbles for years. So why omit his memory, when his is already beginning to fade.

Grade A Douche Bag

I recall as a youth, the many times that I found myself helping a friend's family, to herd their cattle.

My friend's dad, like my own father, was a farmer. He had acres upon acres of land that he sowed with seed every spring and harvested every fall. Unlike my father, however, my friend's family also partook in the raising of cattle. Their farm never raised the cattle for dairy, but for selling off of the beef. Noble in and of itself, I suppose. Contribute to the betterment of society through the culinary arts and such.

However, as I stated above, I often found myself helping out the family in moving the herd of cattle from one pasture to another. I'm unable to remember if it was moving them to the north pasture in the spring or if that came in the fall. Either/or, I don't really give two shits. All I know is that I was invited by my friend for a visit and a sleep over, entertaining ourselves with movies, games and whatever other mischief we could find ourselves getting into. Then in the wee wee hours of Sunday morning, there I'd be, along with his family out chasing cattle around like a f*cking retard.

What the hell did I care, where these f*cking beasts of burden wound up? But there I was, asthmatic little ol' me, huffin' and puffin' like a motherf*cker, chasing these cows around, trying to herd them into another pasture. And all on our feet.

The family, having had lots of practice, had a knack for knowing where they needed to be in order to prevent any strays from eluding them. Me, on the other hand, had no prior knowledge on how to telegraph where the f*ck the animals were going to run. Granted, I'd been rooked into a similar situation just a few months prior, but like most unpleasant experiences, both then and now, I often deleted any knowledge from my memory. I believe that if something isn't enjoyable, why the f*ck remember how to do it? Same thing happened here. The cattle, dumb as they are, were always able to outsmart the young version of me. Repeating that fact now, doesn't shine too favourably on my behalf. Oh well.

What I do remember, from these experiences on my friend's farm, is the constant belittling and the barrage of unfavourable comments that I'd receive from my friend's dad, Wayne. (Normally, I omit the persons name, but being that Wayne was, and I suspect still is, a HUGE C*CKSUCKER, I have no guilt in revealing his identity.)

So Wayne would rush up on me and unleash a fury of colourful metaphors and practically boot stomp my ass into the dirt, all because I couldn't corral HIS stupid cattle. What a douche-bag!

I remember seeing him years later, at another friend's wedding. I showed up with a gal pal of mine. We weren't romantically involved. She was simply a female who I was able to convince to be my "plus one" for this day of bliss. At the reception, Wayne, being half-cut already, not that I recall ever seeing him sober, came over to my friend T____ and I then proceeded to make small talk, which involved mostly belittling me and trying to make me look bad in front of whom he presumed was my girlfriend.

He spoke of how useless I was with "this" and with "that", mostly topics he knew very little about, until he came to my efforts, or lack of, involving the herding of cattle. "Yep!" he boasted smugly, "Jeff'll never make a good cattleman. That much is for sure...!" Then he smiled like the Cheshire Cat at me.

"Why the f*ck would I ever want to be a cattleman?" I said calmly, my friend shocked at my comment. Wayne, looked baffled by my query. "Why would I want to be a cattleman? I mean, there's no money in it! Plus, the only place I'd want to see any cattle, is in 6 or 8oz portions on my plate, cooked to medium-rare with a baked potato and some string beans!" I shook my head in disbelief and made my way outside, my friend T____ following close behind. The last time I saw Wayne that day, was seeing that douche bag, standing alone in the living room of my friend's in-laws house, scratching his head and looking confused by what'd just transpired.

I did actually see that f*cker a few years later. It was after my dad had passed away from cancer and the vultures had all landed on our farm for the estate sale. Wayne was one of those bloodsucking vultures looking for some good deals. He came up to me and offered his condolences on the loss of my father. I don't know if it was sincere, as I doubt he ever liked me. I thanked him for his kind words, but I could tell that it was tough for him to be friendly towards me.

She Whistles When She Walks

"The only thing more pathetic than having 20 kids, is watching a television show about people having 20 kids." - Chelsea Handler

News broke last week about the Duggar family, who are showcased on TLC's "19 Kids and Counting", are expecting their 20th child. Holy f*ck! I can't help but reflect back on the days when my sister and brother-in-law's faces would light up with a sigh of relief when I'd step through the door. A break from their one and only child (at the time), who god bless him, was a ball of energy that would run them ragged for hours and hours. My appearance would give them the opportunity to rest and recharge their batteries. I can't fathom the idea of 19 little monsters running around wreaking havoc on a household. Insanity would soon follow, I'm almost certain.

I realize that every child that is born is a little miracle in and of itself, and having learned the history of miscarriages early on in the Duggar's family life, I understand that each and every child could be construed as a blessing. But Jesus Christ!!! When is enough, enough? Bringing just one child into a world that is already spinning out of control, is almost debateable in it's own right, but bringing nearly two dozen into it? What the hell?

They're quoted as saying "it's God's will". But even God himself has to be scratching his head with disbelief and confusion.

At least they appear to be able to afford such a large family, with the older kids able to venture out and earn some of their own spending money, and not having to rely on mom and dad. Unlike that Octo-mom bitch, who constantly has her hand out for monetary assistance.

Still... My head shakes with disbelief that people can be so irresponsible. Citing that it's "God's will". Maybe if God was wanting to form his own professional football team, but even then, the eldest children will be of retirement age by the time the youngsters will be eligible to suit up.

Using religion as an excuse for having so many kids, is irresponsible. Especially, when you consider most religions to be full of shit anyway. How many times has some radical used the bible as an excuse for their acts of terrorism or alike? Once more, there's God (if he truly exists) up there in the Heavens, leafing through his copy of the bible wondering "Where the f*ck did I say that?!?"

Grant you this, though. The creative process for making 20 plus pregnancies is fun. And if you look at any of the pictures of the Duggar family, they all look happy, especially the Michelle, the mom. Always bright and cheery. Always whistling... Not from her mouth, but when she walks...

[Insert joke here.]

A Guilty Pleasure

Due to a recent injury, I've been seeing a physiotherapist twice a week for a couple of weeks now. Thankfully, my therapist is female, as I've never been comfortable with a dude touching me in any way, even if it is in a professional manner. This is another reason I've opted for a female doctor.

Was doesn't hurt either, is that my therapist is kind of attractive too. Not drop dead gorgeous, like you'd see on the pages of the glamour magazines, but in her own sort of plain-Jane way, she's quite ravishing, and an awesome attitude to boot. We've engaged in small talk while she works out my kinks and what not. She does nothing more than flash a smile and a glance of disbelief when I revealed my belief that country music can turn a man gay, just like the game of soccer IS gay!

The other day, she began using a device my the lower thigh area, where the quadricep joins at the knee, the place where I've experienced the much discomfort over the past couple of weeks, expressed in a sort of ripping/tearing sensation. The device she uses projects ultrasound waves into the muscle and is said to promote healing and regrowth of the damaged area. To best apply the mechanism, which is used in conjunction with a gel, I need to be seated upon the cot, while she is in a seated position. To really work the area, she needs to lean in to apply some pressure.

Today as she was doing this, I happened to look down. Normally, I look all around the room, taking in the various instructional posters and personal photographs which adorn the four walls of her tiny room. However, I glanced down and noticed that she was wearing a low cut shirt. Not only that, but I noticed I could see down her shirt. Not only that, but I noticed I could see, not just her underwear, but the ample bosom within.

Now I know. This is bad. I'm not proud of this act. It was purely innocent, but much like driving past a horrible car accident, I just couldn't look away. As I said before, she is quite attractive and unfortunately a guy such as myself, doesn't tend to do well with the ladies. I'm charming and charismatic, sure, but when I get around women... I just.... I just don't... Don't get me wrong. I'm so sexy it literally f*cking hurts, but I've never fancied myself as a ladies man, is all. Probably because I use terms like "fancied".

So no. I'm not proud and I'm not bragging. I, also, don't run from the truth, especially within the lines of this blog. I am fair game and open to revealing whatever the hell people wish to know in this forum. So it is on that note that I must confess that "I DID SEE NIPPLE!" There. I said it.

I also believe she caught me looking. I was probably gazing for far too long, the lull in the conversation, likely paused for too lengthy of time. But when my eyes finally met hers, she didn't appear angry or uncomfortable or ashamed. It was just business as usual. Which I'm glad. She's helping me out tremendously and my physical limitations are dwindling everyday and my strength is increasing everyday.

Greetings and Salutations!!

Back on October 24th, of this year, I had the misfortune of taking a nasty spill at work, and subsequently injured my left thigh region. The upper leg managed to swell up pretty bad, also resulting in excrutiating pain. It was pain like I'd never felt before, and that's saying a lot, considering how many muscle strains and tears I've endured over the years. The initial prognosis by my physician, was that it was a groin injury. Having never had one before, I had no reason to doubt that diagnosis, although with further examinations in the days to come, it was later learned that it was a quadricep strain, not a groin pull as initially believed. In hopes of allowing it to heal more quickly, I was taken off of work. Forced to stay home, lying back on my bed (for the most part), with my leg elevated. The shitty part was being virtually immobilized, but on the bright side, I was able to catch up on a lot of videotaped television programming.

I was informed by my physiotherapist that she'd spoken with my boss, who was not real pleased that I had been removed from active duty at work. He wanted me to return as soon as possible, which would've preferably been last Wednesday. I opted not, having finally rid myself a majority of the discomfort from the injury. I felt that if allowed the chance to rehabilitate at home with rest, I would less likely reaggravate the strain. Instead of returning immediately, I agreed to return to work today, November 7th.

Although I hadn't spoken with my boss since the week of the injury. He's based out of Calgary, so most times our exchanges are either via telephone, email, or those rare occasions when he comes to town. However, when I'd spoken with my physiotherapist last week, who relayed a message from the boss man, I suspected things may be a little tense this week. When I showed up for work this morning, immediately things felt a little off. He never said two words to me at first, instead shooting me uneasy glares. I don't know if he felt I was faking my injury for some time away from work or if, maybe, I was simply over-exaggerating it. Whatever the case, I felt his dissatisfaction. Then at about ten minutes past eight, he walks up to me and asks "How are your balls?"

I was speechless. Taken aback. "That seemed a little personal," I thought, but he just stood there in front of me, waiting for a response.

"What should I say?" I thought, "Shiny and sparkly? Smooth and silky?"

What the f*ck do you say to that question? I stood there before him for was seemed like an eternity, but actually it was only a few fleeting moments, before I informed him that it was a strained quadricep.

I later texted a friend about my morning greeting, to which he simply replied, "What a fag!" I never laughed so much in one day, of being virtually alone, as I did today. "How are your balls?" Ha ha..., PRICELESS!

Moving On!

All the crazy hub-bub filling the airwaves right now is the sudden dissolve of Kim Kardashian's marriage to NBA baller, Kris Humphries. "Irreconcilable differences" is the reasoning cited behind the divorce which follows just 72 days into the matrimony. Given that the union has only been 72 days in the making, makes me question if much effort was placed into reconciliation.

It's being reported that it was the busy schedule of the voluptuous Kardashian sister, that played a major part in the split. Burning the proverbial candle at both ends, she was jet-setting all over the country (and the world), appearing at several ventures. I'm not a huge advocate for celebrity crap involving anyone in the spotlight, especially if it involves the Kardashians. Frankly, I just don't give two shits. However, when their exploits are on every f*cking channel on the planet, and embossed on the covers of every periodical in the checkout line at the local grocer, it's a little difficult to escape the over-exposure.

What cued me in to the sudden split, wasn't actually any of these media venues, but it was a comment made by someone on Facebook, earlier today. They were exercising their disgust that the duo would sink a whopping $10 million dollars into a wedding, for a marriage that lasted less than one trimester, while starving children remained in the world. I don't know what one has to do with the other, but what confuses me further, is why a nobody from Facebook would give a crap about either.

I, personally, waste a lot of money on a wide variety of shit. At current, I own more DVD's and Blu-ray discs, than I will ever have time to watch, but I've never once been standing online at the video store and thought, "Hmm. I bet there's a starving little shit in Africa that could use a sandwich more than I need to watch the third season of 'Chuck'!!" Just as I'm certain that all the disloyal f*ckers who sucked $10M out of the Kardashian's and the E Network, never gave much thought either.

That addresses that. What irks me, is the ease in which people can dissolve something as beautiful as a marriage, without much effort in saving it. "In sickness and in health"; "For richer or poorer"; "For better or worse", these are all vows which are never addressed anymore. In fact, I believe this is, in part, why so many opt to write their own vows, so they don't feel obligated to keep to the former. It's a bubble-gum culture we live in. Popcorn and pizza, hot and ready at your fingertips after a few seconds in the microwave, rather than tediously watching over it as it cooks atop or in your oven. I've never had any soup that was slowly cooked over the burner on the stove, since I was a mere child. My patience can't stand that long, I need it NOW!

The same goes with people getting married. They want instant gratification. Slap on those rings. Chirp out a couple "I do's" and if you're not happy right away, then let's get a Cracker Jack divorce, so we can move on and ruin the lives of two more people.

Celebrities aren't the only one's guilty of this. They're likely the most guilty of perpetrating such practices, however, but definitely not the sole practitioners of speedy marriages. I have a cousin who was guilty of the same thing. I don't know how long she was with her beau, but the two decided they'd get married. I remember it was quite the affair. Not $10M worth, but it was a sizable event, all the same. My aunt and uncle and her two sisters, worked like motherf*ckers to get each and every detail perfect. From I remember, she was a lovely bride, decked out in a beautiful white gown. The whole day went off without a hitch and everyone involved, lived happily ever after. Well, NO, actually. The two of them, my cousin and her new husband, called 'er quits after only a couple short months. It was quite a shock to everyone in the family. What was more confusing, was why more planning hadn't gone into the aftermath of the marriage. "Irreconcilable differences" were cited, but what's more, I never got back the wonderful cow bell that I'd purchased for them for their wedding*. (*This was the first wedding that I decided to become "that guy" who bought the most absurd gift, and a cow bell that mounted to a wall, seemed like the perfect inaugural gift.)

Marriage is not to be an avenue to be trodden down lightly. I've considered it's bliss. I've seriously considered it. I even have a wedding song picked out for the occasion and a perspective-wife in which to propose to one day, if the opportunity ever presents itself again. I've thought out every prospective detail ahead of time to ensure a long and happy life. For when I get hitched, it'll be like the NWO said in the 90's..., "For Life!"

It does sadden me now, though, that Kim Kardashian marriage has come to an end. She and Kris seemed so happy in those photos on the cover of the National Inquirer. But it's not the lost between she and her former hubby, that bothers me so, but because I'm going to have to hear and read about this frivolous shit for the next six f*cking months. Move over Lindsay Lohan, there's a new bitch who needs to be the center of attention...! Seriously? I mean, who gives a shit. They tried marriage. They horribly failed at it. Now's the time to give them some space and move the f*ck on!!!