YPKY-MF!!

It's been my personal tradition for the last... I don't even know how long, to sit down, usually on Christmas Eve, snuggled warmly under a quilt watching my Christmas movies.  The line-up includes Die Hards 1 and 2, preceded (some years) or followed by Lethal Weapon.  Both have come under fire, this year, for not actually being "Christmas movies", but rather action movies that happen to take place at Christmas time.  Perhaps this is correct, but the tradition of watching these films and how they put me into the Christmas spirit, is not lost in this argument.

A customary movie that plays on (just about) every channel, is the Frank Capra classic, "It's A Wonderful Life".  The film which stars the late James Stewart who plays George Bailey, a man down on his luck and contemplating suicide, when an angel intervenes.  The angel takes (George) on a journey demonstrating the many positive impacts his existence has had on others around him.  I've never seen the movie, but I understand that in the end, everything turns out well and George returns home to celebrate Christmas with his family.

One can argue, and as I understand it, many have, that this film, though considered a Christmas tradition, isn't actually a Christmas movie, but simply a story that takes place on Christmas Eve.  That, withstanding, the same defense can be made for Die Hard 1 and 2 and Lethal Weapon, as well as "Running Scared" (Billy Crystal, Gregory Hines), "Getaway" (Ethan Hawke, Selena Gomez) and a plethora of others.  Even "Gremlins" is a film that only takes place at Christmas, but is hardly a Christmas-themed movie.

Let the naysayers have their way.  Most people who argue stupid points, won't listen to reason, anyway.  I say, "Wish them a 'Merry Christmas and shut the f*ck up'!!"  I don't give two shits.  My tradition is going to continue.  Granted I have so many movies to choose from, it gets difficult to watch everything in one sitting, so this year I'm going to edit some of it.  I believe the playlist this year will be as follows:

1. DIE HARD
2. DIE HARD 2; DIE HARDER
3. LETHAL WEAPON
4. GETAWAY
5. THE NIGHT BEFORE

And if there's time, I may squeeze SCROOGED, in there.

I'm shirking the usual pizza and going with another concoction, topped with a shit load of bacon, in case any of you were wondering...

MERRY CHRISTMAS, to all.  And to all, a good night...!

Bad Aftertaste

Nobody likes being sick.  Unless you're a kid, staying home from school and missing the big algebra exam, it's just about one of the most trying times of a human\s existence.  Between the sniffling, running nose and irritating blinding coughs, it's truly quite a bothersome ordeal.  My personal Hell is the coughing.  There are times that I get on a stria that is difficult to decipher whether it's a string of individual coughs strung together or simply one hellaceous cough.  Either way, the end result is the same.  I begin to get light-headed, accompanied by a severe headache that borders on a migraine level.  Getting sick completely sucks.  The only positive that comes from it, is the constant coughing is a good workout for the abdominal region.  I've had bouts of influenza and pneumonia where it felt like I'd just completed about a thousand and two sit-ups.

One memory that I have of being sick, is re-instilled every time I see a commercial for Buckley's Cough Syrup.  Several years ago, I was invited to accompany a friend to his parents house in another city.  It was an overnight excursion and as luck would have it, I became very under the weather.  I was quite ill, with all the fixin's that accompany such an ailment.  Runny red nose and a heavy cough from Hell.  My friend assured me that he had "just what the doctor ordered" by way of combating the illness that was striking me down.  Buckley's Cough Syrup.

I've never been a fan of cough remedies of any sort.  They'd always tasted horrendous.  Even the cough syrup that was administered to us kids, growing up, which was aimed at tasting "good", tasted quite bad.  So I was reluctant to try this remedy when my friend offered it to me.  However, in a show of solidarity, he opted to take some, too.  So I reluctantly agreed.

The directions for an adult dosage called for two tablespoons.  "The trick is," D_____ explained, "Don't swallow the first tablespoon."  He informed me that I was to take the first tablespoon and leave it in my mouth until I took the second tablespoon.  "Because," he went on to explain, "It tastes SO bad, that it's unlikely you'll take the second tablespoon."

He was correct.  The taste of Buckley's Cough Syrup is SO unbelievably bad that there was no freakin' way that I would have committed to taking a second administering of that awful concoction.  On the bright side, though, just as the slogan promises, it DOES work.  Overnight, my cough had pretty much disappeared entirely.

It tastes awful and it works.

In the years since then, I've battled many bouts of sickness, knowing full well the benefits of Buckley's Cough Syrup, yet I've never made any effort to add it to my non-existent arsenal of cold remedies.  Part of me is chicken shit.  A frightened child wrapped in the body of a grown male, afraid of two tablespoons of awful tasting medicine.  It's pathetic, really, when you think about it.  In the meantime, I still have that simple memory which I reflect on a few times a day, when I see that commercial, and it never fails to make me smile.

6.8 Million Reasons

The other day I was flipping through my Twitter feed.  It's a practice I do to pass the time, especially when I'm at work, killing time on my breaks.  Everyone who works there keeps the television channels tuned into either sports or news.  I haven't any interest in sports highlights, and even though the news can be interesting and even inspiring for this blog, a fifteen minute news cycle gets a bit tedious at best.  So I was flipping through Twitter when I happened across a posting from @TMZ, who was reporting on the latest Johnny Depp / Amber Heard divorce news.  It was stated that Amber was set to receive six point eight MILLION dollars from her divorce to Johnny Depp.  I found this number to be outrageous, considering the duo had only been married for a couple of months.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to comment on the situation and set forth to tapping away on my smartphone, like an angry Donald Trump taking a late night dump.  "$6.8M?? Weren't they only married for like a month or something? I'm not gay, but I'd marry $6.8M payday.  Even half that...😕"

It was a comment that came quick and straight off the cuff, but in retrospect, I probably would.  I'm really not gay at all and even if I was, I'd never go for someone like Johnny Depp.  He's greasy and gross.  However, that withstanding, I've also uttered the words; "You'd be amazed at what kind of bullshit I could put up with if I was getting a good payday out of it."  Granted, those words were spoken in reference to an actual paying job and not marrying me a sugar daddy.

The more I thought about the process, the more appalled I made myself.  I'm sure for a $6.8M payout, there'd be certain, duties that would have to be performed, none of which I'd be too enthused about, but when you compare them to $6.8M, suddenly the shock wears off a little.

The thought sickens me as I type these words, but a marriage has to be consummated in order to be legally binding.  I'd have to get blinding drunk and/or high to block out every ugly sin that would commence on the wedding night and with fingers crossed, we'd never have to revisit that horrifying experience, again.

People would talk, because that's human nature.  TMZ would be all over that shit and when asked to comment, I'd merely smile and utter $6.8M, bitches!  I don't think there's a man alive who wouldn't take a moment to reconsider life choices, for a $6.8M payout.

"Rumour is..., ya had to f*ck a dude..." some random guy would comment.

"Yes, but it was Johnny Depp."

Just about anyone would hum and haw at that and likely slough it off.  "He's greasy, but he's a hell of an actor."

It turns out that Johnny Depp and Amber Heard were married for more than just a couple of months.  It was a little over a year.  That's a few more ass poundings than I'd be willing to go through, but like I said, I'd be willing to get married for half of the $6.8M payout...

Apparently, she claims she'll be donating the monies accrued to charity.  Full disclosure.  I wouldn't.  Marry a dude for a year and give all the money away?  F*ck that.

A Debilitated Heart

A young co-worker, just eighteen years in age, but wise beyond his years, approached me the other night.  He had a look of seriousness on his face, asking a serious question and not wanting one of my usual smart-ass quips.

L_____ is, as I said, wise beyond his eighteen years, and we've engaged in some inspiring subjects while restocking the coolers at work, but this subject, as it does with many, was stumping him and it was easy to understand why.

"How do you know when a girl is really into you?" he asked.  For a moment, I was sincerely touched, but remembering that my luck with the fairer sex has not been what anyone would categorize as, ideal.  Before I could answer his question, he added, "I asked this girl out for a coffee and she said, 'Hell yeah!'"  I confounded.  Even in my (extreme) few successes, I'd never gotten a 'hell yeah" as a response.

I paused for a moment, attempting to recall some fragment of useful information, but alas I had to confess that my knowledge wasn't up to par.  That no tidbit of information from me would bear any fruit of usefulness.  "I don't know," I explained, "Usually when I ask a girl out for a coffee, she somehow hears it as 'Can I have sex with you?', although I'm really talking about a warm refreshing beverage."

He thanked me for listening and continued on with his tasks, leaving me to dwindle on my past.  Silently I reminisced about the many rejections I've received over the years, concluding on two that I couldn't distinguish between as being the worse rejections.  Later on, I approached young L_____ and asked for his opinion.  Like I said, he's wise beyond his years.

"I asked one girl out for coffee and she answered with a resounding 'NOPE!!'  No hesitation.  No thoughts on the matter.  Not even so much as eye contact.  I barely got the question out and it was a 'nope' with a hard 'P' sound." I explained.

"Well that was harsh." he said.

"The other rejection," I continued, "The girl paused, scrunched up her face and uttered with disgust, "Eww. No."

L_____ was taken aback, then started to calculate in his head which rejection was truly the worse of the two.  He went with the latter, stating that the exclamation of disgust was definitely worse.  All these years, I'd always considered the first as worse, as no consideration was placed into the decision, but upon reexamination, I'm going to have to agree with my young friend.  Pausing to think about it, then shrieking with fear and disgust, does seem more offensive.  Damn.  My life sucks...!

I've always suffered from seasonal depression.  My sadness and loneliness seems to culminate during the winter months.  Professionals have explained it to me that it's the lack of sunlight and that the sky always seems so dull and grey.  I've always disagreed, stating that it's because all the shit that most couples enjoy together, happens during these months.  My spell usually begins just before Halloween and extends off into springtime.

I've gone on to explain that Halloween is a time that is most enjoyed with a partner.  Go out to a bar or a party and have some fun and laughs.  I'm usually a designated driver, instead, often looked over by party patrons.  Next is my birthday.  I've never had a girlfriend or significant other to share my birthday with.  Probably explains why I prefer to hide away and ignore everything when November 29th rolls around.  After that, it's Christmas.  Everyone around me is bragging and showing me what they got for their loved one and all I can do is fake a smile and feign interest, wishing I had someone special to share the holiday with.  I did have someone special many many years ago, but she died in a car accident days before Christmas, so the season has always been a little tarnished for me, though I don't dwell on the negativity as much anymore.

I've never had a New Year's kiss.  While everyone around me is smooching to Auld Lang Syne, I'm left looking at the floor, reminiscing about the one year that I did have a girlfriend on New Year's Eve, but because she didn't like public displays of affection, I was rejected.  A few years later, I'd be celebrating the New Year with some friends at a house party, one woman spoke up and said, I'll give everyone a New Year's kiss, but not Jeff.  Talk about a proverbial kick to the junk.

St. Valentine's Day is next.  I got a dancing gorilla with a top hat once from a friend at work.  I kinda had the hots for her, but nothing every grew from that.  (Ironically, she was the one who uttered - "Eww, No.")  I still have that dancing gorilla today and on St. Valentine's Day, I press the button and watch him dance for a few seconds.  It makes me smile and feel special for a moment... I've never had anyone special to buy flowers or chocolate for.  No one to take out on for a romantic dinner.

I have had a few successes with women.  I'm not a complete loser.  I'm mostly a loser, but not completely.  However, on closer examination of what worked to get those successes, I haven't got the foggiest idea.  One or two of them were alcohol-related, so anyone's guess is as good as any.  A couple successes more were the result of off-the-cuff smart-ass remarks.  Endeavours that have not been successfully repeated.

I'm often told that I'm a nice person, but beyond that, I don't know what is wrong with me.  I know I'm not interesting.  I don't do anything interesting.  I don't have any hobbies that I can share with people.  No extra-curricular activities that can strike interest.  I haven't any passions that anyone deems interesting.  I'm afraid I'm a lone wolf, destined to walk the world alone.

These days, life is especially tough.  I've not been able to secure gainful employment since being laid off from CNH in June of 2014.  I see many of my co-workers around and about and they've all found jobs to supplement their lifestyles, while I've been "lucky" enough to get hired onto a back-breaking minimum wage job that is slowly killing me from the inside out.  I've sent resumes to countless employers and even have an employment coach trying to help me out.  It seems like the more resumes that are sent out and the more rejections I get, the more useless I'm feeling about myself, every day.

I'm glad I have my cat, Monkey, otherwise I don't know where I'd be, if I were to be at all.

My birthday is on Tuesday.  I plan on staying home, with Monkey.  We're going to watch TV.  Share some laughs..., then I have to go to work that night. 😞
Damn!  My life sucks...!

My boy, Monkey.

Black Ice - What Lies Beneath

In the past, I've sometimes found writing this blog to be therapeutic and a viable way to work through whatever issues that may have been plaguing my thoughts at that particular time...
I hope this helps me, today....

Without revealing my chronological age, I can verify that I've been driving for quite some time.  Living in Canada, you learn to drive a vehicle in several different ways to successfully combat the several different road conditions you may encounter in any given season.  Springtime tends to bring a lot of rain, causing roads to be slick and wet during the day, only to turn icy at night when the mercury drops below zero ℃.  Summer isn't too bad, I've found, but as soon as the leaves turn colour and the snow begins to fly, that's when we, driver's need to be more weary.

Black ice is our worst enemy.  It's the thin layer of ice that blankets the road, which is nearly impossible to see with the naked eye, unless you're lucky enough to catch a faint glimmer of it.  A faint reflection of ice crystals catching the light at just the right angle, bouncing back to your pupil.  Most, sadly, ignore this and continue to drive just as they had been all summer long.  I've always credited myself as a better driver than these kinds of people.  I've always considered myself a better driver than most people, even on my worst day.  Last week, I had the absolute worst day of my driving career.

I'm not saying that I've never had an accident.  I've had a few misfortunes in my life.  I once lost control and crashed a small Chevrolet Chevette into a row of parked cars.  That was a terrible accident and I was severely injured at the time.  Most people, upon seeing the damage done to the car, questioned how I wasn't hurt more seriously.  It was a nasty one, I will admit, but afterward, I had no qualms about sitting behind the wheel.

This accident that I had on Thursday night/Friday morning, was unlike anything I've ever experienced.  I can say, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I'm afraid to drive.  I ventured out Sunday, but I was frightened by the aggressive drivers around me.  The big 4x4 trucks speeding up behind me.  I thought for sure, one of them were going to corral me into the ditch.  Last night I ventured out to buy some milk, which took me about four hours to get up the courage, as it'd been raining all day long.  The temperature was above zero℃, so there wasn't any icing issues, but it has snowed overnight and there are some errands that I sloughed off yesterday, that need to be done today.  As I look out the window, I can visibly see the ice and snow compiled on the city streets.  I don't know if I can go out in that...  Worse yet, I have to work tonight, which means venturing out in the cold winter night and driving that same route, passing that same corner where I lost complete control last week and slammed into the side of that silver GMC.

It took me about four hours to gain the courage to drive to the corner store for milk, yesterday.  I dread having to go to work, tonight...

I see on television, people who suffer severe anxiety following a terrible accident, and I've always mocked them.  Now I'm feeling about the same way.  I was feeling worthless before this occurred.  I feel even worse, now. 😣

I never found this to be therapeutic, this time 'round.
In fact, I feel a little worse off, now...

Working For The Weekend

As a child, I don't recall the seasons passing as quickly as they do, today.  If memory serves, the first day of school would arrive on a brisk autumn day, where the ground would be moist underfoot, by mid-morning.  The smell of wet wood and decaying leaves would fill our every breath, during recess, while a menagerie of scents and smells would invade our lungs in the classroom.  Chalk, paper and the rubbery hint of spent erasers.  That's what I remember most from school, at least.

These memories exist most prominent because they lasted for what seemed like an eternity.  First grade seemed to take forever to maneuver through, as did the second grade and the third and so on.  In fact, the years just seemed to drag on forever and ever.  I never once experienced the passing of time as quickly as I do as an adult.  I wonder if the same goes for school teachers..?

I woke up this morning, clicked on the computer and was shocked to see that the date already reads November 15th.  I remember the year just passing from 2015 to 2016.  It seemed, literally, like it just occurred a week or so, ago.  Granted, I remember the summer months, vividly, but they passed SO quickly.  In the blink of an eye.  Thanksgiving came and went even quicker than that, as did Remembrance Day.  Next is my birthday, followed by Christmas then it'll be a whole new year coming to pass.

I think I figured out the mystery of why time passes so quickly for Adult Jeff over Kid Jeff.  As a kid, you live life frivolously.  Going to school to hang and play with friends, never wanting the day to end, where as an adult, generally, we can't wait for the day to end.  We arrive at work, checking the clock and making that mental note that we only need to survive until our first break.  Then it's only an hour and a half until lunch time.  Thank God there's that break after lunch.  Following that, the daydream of how to get home while avoiding as much traffic as possible.

Everyone's working to get to the weekend and in doing so, we're neglecting to look around to see life passing us by.  I know I'm guilt of this trait.  I've been doing this so long, I've forgotten how fun life can actually be.  The moment I look on the calendar and realize that I have to return to work, I actually feel a piece of my brain, a part of my humanity, die.  Fizzle out like a spent candle and smolder into nothingness.

I can't believe the year is nearly over.  I can't believe it's less than two weeks until my birthday, where I'll be denying the passing of another chronological year.  Worst yet, I can't believe my four days off are over and I have to return to work, tonight.  F**k!!

Lemonade and a Shit Sandwich

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

What the f*ck is that supposed to mean.  When you have a string of bad luck, you should then embrace that bad luck?  That's f*cking stupid.  If life does nothing but serve up shit, ya don't make shit sandwiches.  You simply have to grin and bear it.  Granted...  If life continues to be nothing besides shitty, you should pretty much look at the constant.  That familiar face you see in the mirror.

I've had a shit ton of bad luck in the last few years.  I've been grinning like a motherf*cker, but it's starting to really wear on me.  I continue to put on a brave face and walk head-on into the abyss.  Lately, things have been starting to turn for the positive.  Starting with the job I got working for the city over the summer.  A decent wage for a fairly easy job.  Very little stress involved, aside the last couple of days when I caught that idiot co-worker sleeping on the job rather than working.  She threatened to get some guys to come and "talk" to me.  Other than that, I liked it, but it came to an end, then nothing.

I got a call about a month later and got hired with some shady cleaning company, but I wasn't too enthused about it.  I've never had a job that I wanted to quit before I'd even started.  Then, thankfully, last week I got a call from a local grocery store who hired me after a favourable interview.  I gladly called -- er, I mean, emailed the shady cleaner boss-guy (as he never bothered to give me a phone number.... or his last name) and let him know I wasn't going to take the job he offered.  The work I've been doing at the grocery store, is fairly easy, although I've been working primarily in the frozen food department, all the while fighting off the flu that I had recently.  A lethal combination.

I got a telephone call this past Wednesday for a job interview with some courier or warehouse job that is close to my house, the grocery store is half way across town.  Not a bad drive at 10:30pm, but hella long coming home in the morning.  Traffic is insane.

I like the work at the grocery store.  It's easy, requiring little thought.  The people at the grocery store, for the most part, are nice, but the pay is f*cking shitty.  Did I mention that wage is only a couple cents above minimum wage?  There's a night premium on top of that, too, but together, it adds up to pathetic.  Hopefully, the interview I have with this new place will go over swimmingly and I can quit the grocery job.

I broke my back in three places in January of 2014 and have done very little, by way of physical labour in the months and years since that day.  The grocery job is killing my back... for a couple cents over minimum wage...  I'd assume this warehouse job may be more of the same, but (hopefully) for a better wage.

I'm holding on to hope that eventually the City Transit will give me a chance and I can prove my worth there.  I know I can drive those buses and for the wage they pay, I won't mind where I have to drive.  Even if it's through 'the hood'.  It's amazing what I'll put up with for a high paying wage...  Maybe, that's what the saying means.  When people are continually shitting on you, just smile because you're getting paid a f*ck-ton of money for doing it!!